Chapter 133: I'm Hungry

Morning came.

Saul saw himself walking.

But this “seeing” wasn’t because he lowered his head and looked at his own staggering steps, nor the walls on both sides sliding past—he literally saw himself.

Saul was sitting on Saul’s left shoulder, watching Saul’s face with a smile as he wobbled and jerked forward step by step.

And seeing this, Saul surprisingly felt no fear, no worry. Only anticipation—anticipation that would confirm his theory of having destroyed the wraith.

The wraith had entered his body and was now controlling it.

While the real Saul’s consciousness—or perhaps his soul—was sitting on a thick red hardcover book, gently rising and falling with each of his body’s steps.

Maybe it was because he had escaped the restraints of the physical body, but Saul felt like the emotion of fear had temporarily gone missing.

And yet he didn’t feel uncomfortable in the slightest. On the contrary, he thought he was in excellent condition. Like he’d purged a lot of impurities and could now focus purely on thinking.

“So I’ve successfully lured the wraith into my body. It probably thinks my consciousness was destroyed the instant it entered.”

“This isn’t quite what I expected,” Saul glanced down at the diary under his butt. “Didn’t think the Diary of a Dead Wizard’s would actively harbor my consciousness—or maybe hide it for me. I guess it’s possible. After all, it once actively absorbed Sid’s consciousness. So I don’t need to fight the wraith head-on, or hide in some corner of my own body. I’ve smoothly passed the first, and most dangerous, stage.”

“Next is stage two.” Saul crawled to the edge of the hardcover book and looked down at the two hands hanging at his sides. “Use the soul resin to extract the wraith’s soul energy and separate it from its consciousness.”

The soul resin in Saul’s hands had the power to store souls—and their nature was to slow down the dissipation of soul energy.

Because of that, soul forms instinctively tended to flow into soul resin.

This might stem from the survival instinct that all living things possess.

Now, the wraith’s chaotic and unstable consciousness hadn’t noticed that its soul energy was slowly seeping into Saul’s hands.

Once the balance of power tipped away from disparity, Saul would be able to attempt a counterattack—take back his body.

But for now, with his consciousness cast out, Saul couldn’t control his own body—nor speed up the soul extraction process.

So whether the wraith could be separated, whether he could succeed in turning the tables, it was all an unknown.

Turning theory into reality always comes with a high risk of failure.

The silent diary beneath him was what gave Saul most of his confidence.

And now, what he needed was to wait—for the right opportunity.

With nothing else to do, Saul simply sat cross-legged on the hardcover book, watching the wraith-controlled body walk toward the tunnel’s entrance.

Leisurely, like watching a play.

As if he’d forgotten: if he lost this battle, he would die completely—becoming food for the wraith.

Right then, a group of people suddenly stumbled into the cave—and came face to face with Saul and the wraith.

Saul straightened a bit, examining the group across from him.

At the front stood a muscular man, wrapped in a silver material from head to toe—like a giant of steel.

Herman, with his silver skin, turned and ordered his subordinates, “Don’t let the Wizard Tower people inside. If they can’t satisfy the Head Monsters, toss a few more out there!”

After giving the cold-blooded command, he asked a nearby Third Rank apprentice, “Have you contacted the captain?”

The apprentice clutched a fist-sized eyeball, answering anxiously, “No. The Head Monsters seem to distort the field.”

Herman grabbed him by the collar, lifting him. “Of course they do. Why else do you think you couldn’t see them at first? Find the stable window in the distortion field—send the signal fast! We have to contact a True Wizard if we want to leave! Damn—”

Before he could finish, Herman turned his head and saw “Saul” standing in the darkness.

A rare flash of joy crossed Herman’s eyes.

Whoosh—

Herman turned into silver light and instantly appeared in front of “Saul”—but stopped just short.

“Kid, were you abandoned by your teammates? Why are you just now coming out from underground?” Herman gripped “Saul” by the neck, his fingers applying just enough pressure to choke—but not snap—his windpipe.

“To have killed one of the heads of the eight-headed slave, and repeatedly picked the safest escape routes underground—this can’t just be luck.”

“Saul” squinted slightly, taking a moment to understand what Herman was saying.

But before he could speak, Herman suddenly flung him toward his subordinates.

“Watch him. When we’re back, I want to dissect him personally.”

“Saul” landed at an apprentice’s feet. The apprentice crouched down immediately, green vines sprouting from his palm, trying to bind “Saul’s” neck.

But the vibrant vines withered and turned yellow the moment they touched “Saul’s” skin—instantly crumbling away.

The apprentice was still shocked by his spell failing when “Saul” suddenly raised a hand and pressed it against the apprentice’s face—then pulled.

A white phantom was violently ripped from the apprentice’s face.

Its eye, nose, mouth, and ear areas were nothing but twisted voids—like a human skin torn from a living person.

The “skin” opened its mouth, trying to scream in its final moment—but was instantly warped by an invisible force and drawn into “Saul’s” palm.

It all happened so quickly that when “Saul” stood up again, Herman’s smile was still frozen on his face.

“Saul” let go, letting the breathless apprentice collapse.

Bracing against his knees, he slowly stood. His limbs moved stiffly, with jerky coordination.

But his smile was wide.

“Heheheheh… You know why the Head Monsters drove you all here?” “Saul’s” head tilted, his words slightly slurred. “It’s because… I’m hungry.”

And with that, “Saul” lunged at Herman.

But Herman’s reaction was fast. He instantly became a streak of silver light, shifting three meters to the side.

Just a moment too late, “Saul” could only grab another apprentice next to Herman.

The moment “Saul’s” hand touched the apprentice’s chest, another white phantom was torn out.

The phantom’s face was twisted in mid-scream, frozen in fear—before it could even cry for help, it was sucked into “Saul’s” palm.

Herman, watching the entire scene, blinked again to the rear of his team. He tried to keep his breathing steady, but the tremor in his voice still betrayed his fear.

“Wraith… a True Wizard-level wraith…”

Not that Herman needed to say it. When the wraith slaughtered two Third Rank apprentices with no resistance, everyone in the cave realized what kind of horror they were facing.

Just like when they were forced in by the Head Monsters, they now scrambled to flee the cave in panic.

Wraiths fear sunlight!

Weaker wraiths can dissipate under direct sunlight. Even powerful ones will weaken if exposed.

But no one was celebrating outside the cave.

Because the outside wasn’t safe either. Still crawling with Head Monsters—and those two Wizard Tower apprentices they had barred from entering earlier.

(End of Chapter)

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