Diary of a Dead Wizard-Chapter 406 : False? Real?

"They killed Master Gorsa!"

Haywood was unusually furious, his skin-and-bones hands clenched into fists, waving in front of his chest.

It was as if he wished he could go beat those rebels up all over again.

"I knew those eyes in the interlayer would fabricate a history for this past hundred years," Saul found it amusing.

In their constructed version, it made sense to depict Gorsa as betrayed and killed.

After all, those eyes, when still alive, might have died because of the Tower Master as well.

Then, after death, they were forever imprisoned within the interlayer, dozing off day after day.

Still, Saul feigned a shocked expression. "You’re saying someone killed the Tower Master and destroyed the Wizard Tower?"

He then suitably showed some doubt. "A group of First Rank wizards? How could they possibly kill the Tower Master?"

"I don’t know the specific details," Haywood said with a regretful look. "At that time, it was the final stage of Lady Yura's resurrection experiment. I had exhausted my strength preparing the preliminary stages and had to rest in the First Storage Vault."

"Who would have known that, in my half-awake state, a massive surge of magical and mental power would suddenly erupt from the upper levels of the Wizard Tower. I was just about to get up when a loud explosion rang out. I was knocked unconscious almost instantly, without the slightest chance to resist."

"When I came to, I wanted to see what had happened. I saw several mentors attacking Master Gorsa together. The master's state was clearly... not right, not right..."

The elderly Haywood began trembling all over. As the wind swept by again, half of his silver hair was blown away, revealing skin underneath that looked terribly burned.

At the same time, Saul saw that at the back of Haywood’s head, where Heidi had once parasitized, was now a deep hollow, as if half his brain had been gouged out!

"I originally intended to save the master," the old Haywood went on, completely unaware of his physical changes, still staring blankly at the sky. "But when I approached, the master's body suddenly began bursting out with snowflakes."

Saul frowned. Snowflakes? Not blood? Isn’t that the same way that half-elf died? Could this illusion be referencing my recent memories?

Considering that Wizard Towers, as grand constructs belonging to families with at least Third Rank wizards, might have had some creatures with abilities akin to Nightmare Butterflies, Saul couldn’t completely rule it out.

But he had the diary for protection, and his soul's own history was safeguarded by untouchable secrets. Normally, it shouldn’t have been easy to read his memories.

Or perhaps this illusion was like a dream: initiated by someone else, but with the content manufactured by himself.

Of course, there were other possibilities too, like the content being drawn from another's thoughts...

Intent on deducing the origin of the illusion, Saul probed further, "Why would the master's body burst out snowflakes?"

Haywood shook his head blankly. "I don’t know. No one knows. I only saw those snowflakes… those snowflakes polluted everyone—every spirit, every plant within a kilometer radius."

"I was so afraid, so very afraid. I didn’t think about anything, just fled into the abandoned underground laboratory and hid deep within the Soul-Devouring Mire. But even then, I was still contaminated. It was Heidi who voluntarily absorbed all the pollution, then self-destructed and separated from my body to save my life."

"I wandered in a daze for decades before slowly regaining clarity. After capturing a hunter from outside and questioning him, I learned how much time had passed. I learned that nearly everyone from the Wizard Tower had died. Only I and a few wizard apprentices who were away managed to survive."

The old Haywood lowered his head and extended his hands from his sleeves.

Those hands looked like gnarled branches in the dead of night, so stiff that even the slightest movement seemed difficult.

"But I lost most of my power as well, barely qualifying as a First Rank apprentice."

After speaking, he raised his head again and gazed intently at Saul’s face.

"Where did you go, exactly? Some thought you died. Others guessed you had discovered the Tower Master’s contamination early and fled. But seeing you today, you seem exactly the same as when you disappeared."

Haywood’s gaze dropped from Saul’s face to his clothes, "Even your clothes are exactly the same. Not a trace of wear or damage. It’s as if time itself stopped flowing for you."

Saul took a step forward, his boots rustling through the weeds.

"Me? I somehow fell into a pit. When I climbed out, I found the world had become like this, and you came to tell me a hundred years had passed."

He continued approaching Haywood.

At first, Haywood showed no reaction, but slowly fear crept into his eyes.

He took a step back, stumbled on the rubble behind him, and staggered a few steps.

Seeing the retreat, Saul immediately pushed off with his feet, lunging forward at full speed.

Haywood tried to flee, but with his broken, battered body, how could he outrun the young and strong Saul?

In no time, Saul grabbed the back of Haywood’s neck and slammed him against a broken wall.

"What are you doing?!" Haywood struggled in panic, looking nothing like the top Third Rank apprentice he once was a hundred years ago.

It seemed that pollution and death had drained all his spirit and vitality.

"Relax. I’m not planning to kill you," Saul said casually as he subdued him, clearly not wasting energy just to deal with some illusion construct.

As the only creature in the entire illusion that had independent consciousness and reaction capability, Haywood’s numbers and data were worth studying.

Saul extended his mental power, feeling the fluctuations in response. Then he carefully examined Haywood’s injuries and body condition.

"These numbers feel so real," Saul murmured as he released the elderly Haywood, suddenly less sure of himself.

Is this really just an illusion created by the resentful eyes?

Unless they experienced it personally, how could they fabricate such realistic data?

Haywood coughed weakly twice. Judging by both his appearance and the data Saul had just sensed, his body was extremely frail.

It was a wonder he had survived a hundred years.

At that moment, the sunlight behind the two began to dim.

The sun was setting.

Haywood didn’t seem angry. "Were you testing me? I know it’s hard to believe, but it’s all true. It’s getting dark. We have to enter the ruins of the Wizard Tower. Otherwise, we’ll have some deadly guests coming for us."

Seeing how calm Haywood was, Saul stopped pressing him, "What kind of enemy? Can’t we just leave?"

Haywood was already turning to walk back.

"It’s useless. Whether you stay outside at night or try to escape, those creatures hunting you will find and kill you. I once wandered the surrounding forests, captured a few hunters, and almost died out there. If I hadn’t realized in time and rushed back here, I would’ve been killed by mutated ordinary people."

"Those horrors seem to have absorbed all the resentment from the Wizard Tower—unspeakably terrifying, unspeakably strong. They forever shroud the area around the Tower like a nightmare."

"That strong? Even leaving isn’t an option?"

"Exactly," Haywood said, and seeing Saul hadn’t followed, he turned back with a helpless look. "Are you coming or not? Don’t worry about traps. As you saw earlier, I don’t even have the strength to activate a large-scale magic formation. I wouldn't stand a chance against you."

Saul chuckled and finally followed him.

"I’m just curious about those enemies you mentioned. From your description, they sound like wraiths."

"If only they were just wraiths. Once it’s completely dark, you’ll see for yourself."

Haywood led Saul through a door on the west side of the tower.

Since only part of the first floor and a small section of the second floor of the Wizard Tower remained, Haywood had been living on the west side’s first floor these past years.

It had originally been a kind of garbage dump, but because of that, many useful supplies could still be found.

In this rubbish heap, Haywood had built a small shack.

Upon entering the rickety structure, the first thing Haywood did was light a candle.

The candle was very familiar—one of those white candles seen everywhere in the Wizard Tower.

"After dark, you must never leave the light of the candle."

Haywood turned back. The pale candlelight illuminated his face, making the scars on it look even more horrifying.

"Otherwise, you’ll die too."

(End of Chapter)