Diary of a Dead Wizard-Chapter 167: The Will of Malice

Saul suddenly stood up, and the chair behind him clattered to the ground.

Angela, who had already been distracted, jumped in fright. Her large, clear eyes peeked out from above the book like a startled fawn, darting anxiously.

She was fifteen this year, just beginning to show the grace of a young woman. Among the many wizard apprentices, her looks were quite striking.

Unfortunately, beauty held little value in the world of wizards. Weakness was only an invitation for others to attack.

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As she watched Saul step around the lab table and walk toward her, Angela’s gaze shifted from confusion to caution.

She stood up, already clutching a short black wand. “Saul, what do you want?”

Saul’s face was dark as he stared at Angela’s pale, exposed neck, saying nothing.

Angela grew more nervous. Saul’s expression had completely changed—he seemed like a different person entirely.

She quickly lowered her head and glanced at her left hand. Her expression instantly changed, and she stumbled backward in a panic, knocking her chair aside.

Raising her wand, Angela gripped it tightly with both hands, the tip trembling. “Saul, I think something’s wrong with you. Are you still conscious? I’m going to alert Car—ah!”

Halfway through her sentence, Saul lunged at her.

Angela hesitated no longer. She activated her wand, and a black beam shot toward Saul’s face. In midair, the black light transformed into an octopus, stretching out to block Saul’s escape from eight directions.

But Saul made no move to dodge. With a flick of his hand, a translucent worm shot out and collided with the black octopus.

Though the worm seemed illusory, it struck the octopus aside directly.

In the air, the black octopus began to sprout holes, like tender leaves being eaten by bugs.

Angela realized immediately that Saul had just used a First Tier spell—but how had he activated it so quickly?

Her eyes widened. She knew her wand couldn’t match a First Tier spell, and the only First Tier spell she had was a supportive one—nothing that could turn the tide.

She turned quickly to grab a crystal orb at her side.

But the moment she moved, her left foot was seized by a transparent hand. With a hard yank, she crashed to the ground.

“Mage’s Hand? He’s casting consecutively? Without even stabilizing his mental construct?” Ignoring her pain, Angela rolled over.

A sharp arrow formed in front of her forehead and shot out instantly.

At that moment, Saul was already midair, lunging toward her.

Seeing Saul suspended above her, Angela felt a flicker of hope. He couldn’t dodge now, and he’d already used his First Tier spell—maybe she still had a chance.

But in the next instant, a thick black tentacle, as large as a python, shot out from behind Saul’s neck and wrapped around the arrow.

Saul landed on top of Angela and pinned her to the ground. His skeletal hand showed no mercy as it pressed against her face, while his other hand took the sharp arrow from Alga and drove it toward Angela’s eye.

“Mmm-mmm-mmm…” The black arrowhead loomed large in her vision. Angela stared in terror, unable to scream—only muffled whimpers came from her throat.

But just before the arrow struck, it stopped a hair’s breadth away from her pupil.

Saul let the arrow drop.

He had used too much force—now it was broken into several pieces, clattering to the floor.

Saul slowly stood, releasing his grip. His bony palm left a horrifying imprint on Angela’s delicate face.

His gaze flicked to Angela’s left hand. Just moments ago, it had been pitch black, but now that Saul had let go, it was quickly returning to normal.

If he hadn’t been specifically watching her hand, he might not have noticed anything at all.

“Angela.”

“Hm?” Angela was trembling as she climbed to her feet, too afraid not to respond.

“I don’t know why, but I’m suddenly so hungry. Got anything to eat?”

“I—I don’t…”

“Then forget it.” Saul returned to the lab table, picked up the two books he’d brought, and walked off as if his earlier murderous intent had been nothing but a figment of Angela’s imagination.

At the door, Saul glanced back. Angela visibly flinched.

The door slammed shut with a bang.

Angela immediately sat up, her face filled with grief and fury. She frantically grabbed a short blade from the lab table. Lifting it high in her right hand, she prepared to stab her own left arm.

But her left hand suddenly turned black and swelled, dodging left and right. It morphed into the same black tentacle as before, evading her attack and quickly coiling around her right arm.

The tentacle constricted tightly, and Angela’s muscles and bones groaned under the strain.

She could no longer hold the blade—her fingers twisted, and the short knife clattered to the floor.

Her burst of resistance was easily snuffed out. Angela collapsed to her knees in defeat.

After a while, she suddenly began laughing through her tears.

“You dared to influence him? Do you think he’s just some ordinary apprentice? I don’t need to kill you—someone else will. Hahaha…”

The tentacle released her right hand and transformed back into a normal arm.

Angela fell backward, staring at the ceiling of the lab. She muttered to herself, “Your scapegoat’s already been caught. If you try again, they won’t fall for it…”

Just then, the lab door suddenly opened again, and half of Saul’s face peeked in.

Angela screamed and scrambled backward—only to realize something was off. She suddenly grabbed a shard of the broken wand and hurled it at the door.

“Get lost! Stare at me again and I’ll tear your face off!”

That half of Saul’s face immediately blurred like a watercolor painting soaked in water. The lines dissolved, the color drained away, and it turned into a pale mask that quickly withdrew.

…

Saul clutched two books and hurried toward the East Tower.

After reading about the Nightmare Butterfly, he’d suddenly felt the same overwhelming hunger as in his dreams.

At first, he thought the book had triggered lingering effects from his nightmare.

But then he realized something was wrong.

If this book were really that powerful, it wouldn’t be shelved on the fourteenth floor—it would be sealed deep within the library.

Even Saul, with his powerful mental force, had been so heavily affected.

If another apprentice read it, wouldn’t they go mad instantly?

Fighting back the madness, Saul entered a half-trance to search for the source of the disturbance.

Soon, he spotted a thin black thread linking him to Angela’s left hand.

Angela dared to make a move against him?

Saul sneered inwardly. He decided to play along, pretending to succumb and attack Angela in return.

During their clash, the black thread kept sending fear, confusion, and other influences into him.

But once he pushed past the initial madness, Saul’s mental construct began spinning wildly—and the thread could affect him no more.

Angela fell back again and again. The black thread eventually retracted.

And Saul—if he had just driven the arrow down—Angela would be dead.

But just as he hesitated, the diary suddenly intervened.

May 3rd, Year 316 of Lunar Calendar

The Will of Malice extends its invitation.

You joyfully accept, dancing with it hand in hand.

But take care not to damage its new body—

For then it will have to find another close by.

Too bad the poor Will of Malice doesn’t know…

That inside its new body is a hungry baby.

When the baby devours the innocent Will of Malice, It will grow into a wicked child.

Guess what?

When you become the Nightmare Butterfly’s new host…

How long will your sanity last?

Will you become Gorsa’s new collection piece,

Or Rum’s ultimate trump card?

Angela couldn’t be killed!

The moment the diary appeared, Saul’s fury dissipated completely.

So Angela wasn’t just suffering from a mental breakdown.

The true culprit was the Will of Malice.

The “baby” in Saul’s body was, of course, the Nightmare Butterfly’s cocoon. If it fully emerged, even True Wizards would go insane. Saul couldn’t risk letting it consume the Will of Malice.

He spared Angela—for now. But this matter was far from over.

Saul soon arrived at the second floor of the East Tower, outside the second corpse chamber.

He raised his hand and knocked three times—knock knock knock.

The room inside was silent.

The diary’s warning made it clear: the Nightmare Butterfly was about to hatch.

Perhaps all it needed was a little more energy—and the cocoon would become a butterfly.

The Diary of Death Wizard only issued warnings for things of true value. For it to acknowledge the Nightmare Butterfly’s cocoon meant it was no ordinary entity. If it hatched, Saul didn’t know if he could keep control with his current willpower.

“Senior Hayden, are you inside?” No reply.

The door was locked. Maybe Hayden wasn’t there yet.

Hayden never attended public lectures or worked in the lab. If he wasn’t here, he was likely holed up in his dorm.

Saul was wondering whether to go find him—when he suddenly heard a lock click.

The blood-red door opened a crack, and one of Hayden’s eyes peeked through.

Saul beamed. “Senior Hayden, I’d like to ask for a small surgery.”

Hayden’s eye rolled down to Saul’s name tag, and he immediately opened the door wider and stuck out his head. “Senior Saul, what can I do for you?”

It was a little awkward to call someone who entered the tower later than him “Senior,” but Hayden—pushing thirty and still a First Rank apprentice—had long since gotten used to it.

In the world of wizards, power was everything.

“I want you to remove something from my left eye. Of everyone I know, you’re the most skilled at that kind of surgery.”

Hayden’s face changed instantly, and he shook his head frantically. “No, no, no—I can’t! Saul, I’ve only ever taken things out of corpses. Never out of a living person!”

“It’s fine. I promise I’ll be just like a corpse—completely still.” Saul said sincerely.

(End of Chapter)