Diary of a Dead Wizard-Chapter 188: Disarray

Pushing through the entrance hall and opening a slightly shaky door, Saul kept alert for any movement from the old wizard as he stepped into the next room.

“It’s so dark in here, Saul. Can’t we light a lamp?” Victor had followed him in and now looked around the even dimmer room with a troubled expression.

Saul rolled his eyes in the darkness, wishing he could toss Victor out into the rain to snap his mind out of it.

But just as he took a step forward, the entire room suddenly lit up.

Saul froze, then turned his head to the side in alarm.

The curtains in the room had been neatly drawn aside, revealing rectangular windows and a beautiful garden beyond.

Sunlight streamed in through the windows.

Saul frowned deeply. “Is this… an illusion? Or a temporal-spatial distortion?”

He turned to ask Victor, but to his shock, no one was behind him.

The door had also silently shut.

Saul hurriedly reached out and twisted the doorknob.

It opened smoothly—none of that classic horror movie nonsense with locked doors.

Beyond it was the very entrance hall he had just passed through.

But now, the hall was brightly lit as well. Sunlight streamed in through windows on either side. There were no dark clouds or heavy rain anywhere. He could even see motes of dust dancing in the air.

Yet the hall was completely empty. No Victor, no sign of the elderly man or the boy who had come in later.

“Victor?” Saul called his brother's name in a hushed voice.

No response.

His grip on the doorknob tightened, and the metal handle began to groan under the pressure, warping out of shape.

“Spatial dislocation… temporal chaos… How could such phenomena occur in a place once occupied only by True Wizards?”

“That guy should still be where we split up,” Saul muttered. He wasn’t overly worried about Victor.

Victor had been a Second Rank Wizard Apprentices for many years now—he should be fine.

“Wandering blindly probably won’t lead me to Victor. I might as well look for the treasure first. Maybe I can break this illusionary maze.” Saul's eyes shifted, talking to himself. “Yeah, I must find the treasure first.”

Bang!

Just as Saul turned to leave, the front doors of the hall were violently shoved open.

A towering warrior clad in armor barged in with several subordinates.

Their eyes landed on Saul immediately.

“There’s someone alive here?” the warrior narrowed his eyes, his longsword already half drawn.

“Captain, could it be a wraith?” one of the soldiers asked.

“Doesn’t matter if it’s living or undead,” the warrior said, walking straight toward Saul.

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Saul didn’t back away. He, too, was assessing whether they were wraiths.

“Who are you?”

“You think it’s your place to ask questions, kid?” one of the soldiers sneered and suddenly pulled out a vial, ready to hurl it at Saul.

But a large hand clamped down on the soldier’s wrist and the vial—that same towering warrior in armor.

“I’m Olaf, knight of Viscount Buck of Highland. And you are?”

Saul didn’t answer right away. He tilted his head slightly, staring at the soldier who had nearly thrown the vial at him.

He’d seen that face just moments ago.

They had locked eyes up close. Though that face had been missing eyes and a nose, Saul distinctly remembered the scar at the corner of his mouth.

“Bastard, our captain’s talking to you!”

Saul’s silence was starting to irritate the other soldiers.

But Olaf remained still, his expression growing increasingly grim.

“What day is it?” Saul suddenly asked, cutting off the soldier’s angry retort.

The strange question stunned the soldiers.

Olaf responded in a low voice, “It’s May 14th.”

“So half a month ago, then.”

Now the soldiers were thoroughly confused.

Some even muttered, “Did we just run into a lunatic?”

“Did you just enter the Ralph Estate?” Saul asked again.

His bizarre demeanor quieted even the rowdiest soldier. They all looked at him in surprise.

Olaf lowered his hand slightly and stepped forward.

“We did just enter, under orders from the Viscount. But who are you? When did you come in?”

But before he could finish, a massive translucent hand suddenly reached toward them.

Olaf rolled away instantly. The hand missed him but snatched up the soldier who had tried to throw the vial.

“A w—wizard!?” Olaf instinctively dodged, but he wasn’t relieved—instead, his eyes filled with fear as he looked at Saul.

“W-wizard, sir…” the captured soldier was terrified. The arrogance vanished from his face, replaced with panic as he begged for mercy. “I—I didn’t mean to… please, have mercy…”

The Mage Hand brought him before Saul, then dropped him on the ground.

The soldier lay trembling on the floor, too afraid to get up.

Saul crouched and took the vial from the soldier’s fingertips.

It was cold and felt entirely real—not like an illusion.

With a flick of his hand, Saul conjured an arrow that pierced the soldier’s palm and nailed it to the stone floor.

“AAAHHH!” the man howled in pain, writhing uncontrollably.

Blood welled from the wound and dripped to the ground.

“The blood looks real too… not like an illusion.”

If this wasn’t an illusion, it was even more troubling.

Saul’s brief display of power left the soldiers shaken to their core.

This place had been abandoned for two years. The Wizard Tower hadn’t sent anyone to oversee it, and wandering wizards rarely ventured so close to a Wizard Tower. They never expected to run into another wizard here.

Their tightly gripped swords trembled in their hands, but not one dared to lift them.

In this world, who would dare to oppose a wizard?

Unless they had an even stronger one on their side.

“It was our fault, my lord,” Olaf lowered his head and sheathed his sword, the tip resting on the ground. “We simply didn’t expect to find you here. If we’ve offended you, please forgive David this once.”

Saul tossed the vial and caught it again. “What is this?”

Olaf pressed his lips into a thin line. “It’s holy oil enchanted with spell. It can harm spirits to some degree.”

Saul uncorked the bottle and peeked inside before resealing it.

A shoddy magical product—not even worthy of being called a proper magical tool.

There were a few particles of light-element inside, likely meant to exploit the natural opposition between light and dark to dispel weaker spirits.

Useless against wraiths—especially in a situation this twisted.

And if these people really had entered half a month ago, unless they’d brought plenty of rations, they should all be dead by now.

With that in mind, Saul waved a hand and dismissed the spell.

David flinched and clutched his wound, but still didn’t dare get up.

“Olaf. Come here.”

The knight stiffened, swallowing hard. He sheathed his sword fully to show no hostility, then nervously stepped forward.

“Turn around,” Saul ordered.

Olaf obeyed, not knowing what Saul intended.

Staring at Olaf’s back, Saul finally confirmed: this was the same man he’d seen kneeling in the entrance hall earlier, before entering the castle.

Because they had already died in the entrance hall, he was now seeing their past?

“You, come with me. And you too.” Saul pointed at Olaf and the prone David.

Olaf helped David up. They exchanged a grim look but dared not hesitate, quickly following Saul.

Passing through the inner door, Saul once again entered the bright adjoining room, this time consciously watching the two behind him.

But the moment he stepped into the room and took another step forward, Olaf and David vanished again.

Even with his semi-immersive meditative state, Saul hadn’t detected a single fluctuation.

His heart tensed, and then the world dimmed.

Rain pounded against the windows, crackling loudly.

He returned to the Ralph Estate half a month later.

Saul closed his eyes for a moment, the holy oil bottle in his hand still cold and tangible.

(End of Chapter)