Chapter 11: Dark Energy·Sacrifice!

"Thump, thump, thump..."

Soon, the heavy footfalls of the old butler, Grank, could be heard climbing the stairs. Upon pushing open Young Master Zorn’s bedroom door and seeing the two "corpses" on the floor, Grank’s heart gave a violent jolt. Fortunately, these were unfamiliar corpses. Young Master Zorn was unscathed, and the rat-catcher, Bevis, was also present.

Hmm... and Vanessa was lying on the young master's bed. The chaotic scene left Grank momentarily bewildered. Fortunately, Zorn’s voice broke the silence, helping him clear his thoughts.

"Uncle Grank, please see Master Bevis out. And remember, take the back way. The patrols on Golo Street are out in force; with the sound of gunfire just now, I fear the night watchmen will soon arrive to inquire about the situation. Just tell them a strange bird was screeching outside my window and I drove it off. Also, give them some silver dragons so the officers can buy a midnight snack."

Soon, the old butler, Grank, departed with Bevis. Zorn then began to clear the battlefield. He tapped under the bed, and the white, furry monster chest he had brought back from the Rat King’s lair scrambled out, promptly spitting out two body bags. During this time, Zorn had gathered quite a bit of information about monster chests. Although there were "chest hunters" in Orgran City, no one had yet engaged in the business of chest farming. Clearly, the market for "monster chests" was still an untapped blue ocean.

He dragged the two men—not yet dead, but certainly beyond saving—into the body bags and headed toward the basement, his blood ritual chamber. The shares in the Steam Whale merchant vessel would earn Zorn a fortune, but in exchange, he had to pay a sufficient price. That price was the risk of being kidnapped by these two Tier 2 transcendents, which would have forced the helpless old butler to hand over every penny of his earnings to ransom Zorn—or perhaps, even then, he would not have been returned, leaving them both penniless and ending in a miserable tragedy.

Many "players" who plotted against the wealth of the Steam Whale fell at the hands of these two Tier 2 outlaws. If Zorn had been alone, he might have had to pay a steep price. But with the help of Bevis, who had already advanced to Tier 2, it was the "Thief" and the "Soul-Feeder" who would have to pay the price instead.

When Zorn went to find Bevis, he had also sent him to visit "Grandma Spirit-Witch." It was well known that Grandma Spirit-Witch was a neutral, lawful, mid-tier witch. Her status was extraordinary, and she possessed a vast collection of rare items. The "Sobriety Potion" needed to counteract the "Soul-Entrancing Incense" was not expensive. Bevis bought it, and Zorn paid for it. The two bottles together cost less than five gold pounds, plus the twenty gold pounds for Bevis’s combat services. The total cost did not exceed twenty-five gold pounds, while Zorn’s gains were far richer than he had imagined.

***

"Creak..."

As Zorn pushed open the door to the secret chamber, a multitude of towering white candles emitted a cold, ghostly light. The air was thick with an evil, sinister aura. At the center of the many candles, a small altar based on red blood-sandalwood remained in constant operation. Placed upon the altar, from left to right, were: a golden dagger, a fragment of an ancient wizard’s withered staff, and moon-flame hay stained with Zorn’s blood.

Within the pattern of the hexagram, each corresponding node held a thick white candle. At the very top, where the smoke from the candles swirled and rose toward the ceiling of the small chamber, a cluster of eerie black mist lingered, and a face beneath a mask writhed and twisted. From time to time, low, strange, and heavy hissing sounds emanated from it. Standing in this small basement felt like being in a dark purgatory.

For the past few days, this terrifying and grotesque power had been unfolding silently alongside the arrangement of the altar. Zorn, who always preferred to plan ahead, was waiting for that first glimmer of blood-light at the moment the Blood Moon arrived. To others, this was a power of danger, death, and terror. But to a Child of Destiny, a trendsetter of the era, a favored one of fate, and the perfect vessel for an Evil God, that power was desperately longing to achieve a perfect fusion with Zorn Corrick.

So much so that as soon as Zorn stepped inside, that sequence of power twisted and struggled, reaching toward him. The sequence and heritage of the Evil Spirit Wizard yearned to arrive at its rightful place.

"Oh! My lovely little one, there is no need to rush..." Zorn’s lips curled into a sinister smile. He reached out his palm, stroking the air before him, and whispered to himself, "Look, what have I brought you? Fresh and nutritious, delicious food."

At this moment, in the corner of the room, lay twenty or thirty shriveled gray rat carcasses, their lives and essence drained away. Of course, there were more gray rats kept in iron cages for later use. But eating these alone was far from enough.

Sacrifices! Zorn needed enough sacrifices. Only then, while inheriting the [Evil Spirit Wizard], could his spirituality be more abundant, his evil energy more potent, and his vessel more grotesque. And today, these two Tier 2 transcendents were the perfect sacrifices.

As Zorn chanted the sacrificial incantation, the life, essence, soul, and "spirituality"—the core of the transcendent—were rapidly drained from the dying "Thief." This transcendent spirituality was the most essential part of any transcendent. A perfect "Spirit Core" could, if handled correctly, give birth to a new transcendent. But now, both of these potentially expensive "Spirit Cores" were being sacrificed by Zorn.

Once the evil ritual had devoured the "Thief," it was the "Soul-Feeder's" turn. When Zorn opened the "Soul-Feeder's" body bag, the once burly man was now deathly pale, trembling violently. His eyes were tightly shut, yet blood flowed from them in a continuous stream, like two writhing fountains of gore. He had lived alongside evil spirits, robbing homes and extorting ransoms, a man inherently wicked to the core.

But from the moment he entered this seemingly ordinary cabin, he had merely glanced at the things deep within the altar—he swore he only glanced. In that instant, endless fear and darkness had already swallowed him. A terrifying, giant hand had reached deep into his soul and heart, methodically pulling out strands of memory, emotion, and humanity. Everything he was, before that terrifying power, had been easily laid bare, scrutinized, and analyzed!

Evil spiritual energy poured into him, just as a hunter injects digestive fluids into prey, corrupting and dissolving it, before savoring the meal. Watching the "Soul-Feeder" sink into fear and despair, Zorn’s smile remained calm and eerie. He would not provoke those he shouldn't, but he would never let go of any soul that needed to be redeemed and purified. For these damned criminals, this would be their best destination.

At first, the "Soul-Feeder" offered some resistance. But when the evil spiritual energy was fully injected, permeating deep into his sequence-spirituality, he quickly became pious and fanatical. He crawled out of his sleeping bag and, like a loyal believer, knelt before the altar. He muttered and cried out in a low voice:

"Great Evil Spirit Sovereign, you are my everything. I am willing to offer myself, hoping only that you might enjoy a moment of pleasure. I hope my bones may become a humble stepping stone beneath you as you ascend your throne."

Amidst the quiet and eerie pronouncements, his flesh, bones, soul, the "Soul-Feeder" spirituality, and the malicious spirits he had once imprisoned—all of it fell apart, transforming into a feast of flesh and soul, devoured by the evil sequence of the [Evil Spirit Wizard].

Zorn, from beginning to end, calmly scrutinized the scene. At the same time, he questioned the "Soul-Feeder" for information, such as where he lived and what wealth or funds they currently possessed. As transcendents who made their living through robbery, they still held a fortune. By using the methods of the [Evil Spirit Wizard], he could squeeze every bit of value out of these criminals.

Normally, once a transcendent’s "sequence spirituality" is polluted, they become strange and abnormal. As time passes, they gradually lose control, mutate, and eventually cause harm or trigger disaster. [Disorder] is the common trait of all pollution, mutation, and loss of control.

However, as the first world-class boss, the [Evil Spirit Wizard] mastered [Evil Energy] that exhibited remarkably superior [Order]. So much so that those polluted, enslaved, and controlled by it could remain undetected for a very long time.

The [Fighter] sequence can, at most, clench a fist and smash an enemy's skull. But the [Evil Spirit Wizard] can, through influence, silently complete the enslavement and pierce the enemy's heart. You never know when your colleague has already become a lackey of an Evil God. You never know that a certain noble has already been silently imprisoned by an evil spirit. You never know that the key person who provided you with intelligence has already set a death trap for you.

The Holy Sun Church, the Orgran City Hall, the Parliament of Ostandton—they would allow the existence of a hundred, even a thousand, sequences like the Fighter. But! They would absolutely never allow the existence of an [Evil Spirit Wizard], a being that bewitches hearts, possesses astonishing infiltration capabilities, can create believers, and carries the traits of an Evil God.

But the [Evil Spirit Wizard], that crucial part of the Ineffable Evil God, was about to be born. And his birth would not be changed by any will. This was the tide of the era, and even more, the trajectory of fate!