Diary of a Dead Wizard-Chapter 474: Whose Garbage Taste Is That!?

Saul was determined to get his hands on the Evolution Diagram.

The moment he laid eyes on that meditation diagram, he was certain it shared the same lineage as the Erosion Diagram, and it suited his current main study path perfectly.

Unlike most dark-element wizards, Saul’s focus was on the soul. This was a much more difficult path than researching corpses and flesh—one that no one without some sort of cheat would dare to take.

Even if Saul could exchange for a suitable dark-element meditation diagram from Wizard Jonah, it would never be as compatible as the Erosion Diagram.

Shaya was still hesitating, but Saul could tell he was already tempted. It was just that his long-held cautious nature made it hard for him to take that final step.

“I know Wizard Shaya is afraid of death,” Saul continued to pitch his case, “but the more you fear something, the more likely it is to come. Running away won't solve the real problem.”

He was still thinking about what kind of motivational drivel he could throw out next when Shaya suddenly returned to his seat.

Before speaking, he raised a hand and activated a protective barrier, then used a transmission spell to communicate with Saul.

“I’m being haunted by a rather terrifying wraith,” Shaya said. His face was pale, and beads of sweat gathered like beans on his forehead.

Wraiths, much like wizards, varied in strength.

The newly born, weaker ones typically had the power of a Third Rank apprentice and could easily be eliminated by a true wizard. But certain unique wraiths—those that had existed for a long time or were heavily polluted—could turn around and kill a true wizard.

When Saul heard this, his eyes narrowed as he swept his gaze over Shaya from head to toe.

He didn’t find any traces of a wraith on Shaya, but the man didn’t look like he was lying either. Saul could only lament how the Erosion Diagram’s semi-immersive meditation method was becoming less and less effective.

“You’re trying to sense the wraith on me, aren’t you? It’s no use. You won’t see it. Even I, who specialize in lightning magic, can only see it at certain times.”

Only visible at specific times?

“When do you see it, then?”

Shaya pressed his lips together. “When I’m dreaming.”

According to him, he had been haunted by this dream-wraith for over two years.

Every time he dreamt, he would find himself in a narrow, freezing room filled with people. But every face was a blur.

He walked beside them, pushed and squeezed on all sides. Even if he wanted to stop, he couldn’t. Constant shuffling, constant pressure. A soft rustling sound always lingered in his ears, and the path ahead stretched endlessly, with no clear end.

“In the dream, I can’t move according to my own will. I just mechanically follow the crowd forward. But deep down, I feel an overwhelming terror—something tells me that continuing forward will lead to total destruction.”

It seemed to be his first time talking to anyone about this. Shaya’s expression was distant, almost dazed.

“Every time, I wake up by forcing myself out of the dream. And that’s why I’ve become afraid to sleep at all.”

Saul understood. Although wizards could replace sleep with deep meditation, real sleep was still essential.

If Shaya hadn’t slept properly in two years, it was no wonder his nerves were shot and his body was so thin.

“Before the dreams started, did anything strange happen?”

“I know you might not believe me, but really—nothing special.” Shaya gave a bitter smile. “I’ve been at Bayton Academy for over a decade. I’ve been on plenty of wraith hunts. But when the dreams started, I hadn’t participated in any for over two months.”

“Then how can you be sure that the nightmares are caused by a wraith, and not just mental stress?”

“Because shortly after the dreams began, there was one time I didn’t turn in a captured wraith—I kept it for an experiment. That night, though I didn’t intend to sleep, I dozed off anyway. And that wraith appeared in my dream.”

Shaya’s cheek twitched. “The people around me suddenly went mad. They all charged at the wraith and devoured it. When I woke up, I rushed to the lab next door and found—the wraith that had been sealed in the jar was really gone!”

Just dreaming shouldn’t make a wraith disappear. Saul began to suspect that Shaya might’ve been sleepwalking.

Seeing Saul’s expression, Shaya seemed to guess what he was thinking. “After that, I ran more experiments. I placed wraiths in a lab next to mine and set up multiple inescapable magic formations. If anyone entered, there would be traces left behind. But each time I woke up, the wraith would be gone, and there was never a mark on the formations.”

Watching Saul frown deeply, Shaya’s heart grew uneasy. This was his first time sharing his story, and laying his soul bare like this made him feel incredibly vulnerable.

After a pause, Saul suddenly asked, “When those people in your dream rushed up to devour the wraith… what were you doing?”

Shaya froze, his expression beginning to twist.

He suddenly shot to his feet and tried to cancel the protective barrier and leave.

But just as he raised his hand, a shadow lashed out toward him—it was a massive black tentacle!

He jumped back instantly, lightning crackling in his hand, but his back struck something soft. Turning to look, he saw another tentacle pressing against him. It wasn’t attacking, just restraining.

“Relax,” Saul said gently from his seat across the table. “I’m only doing a preliminary check. If you really want to resolve this wraith issue, then stop hiding things at crucial moments.”

Shaya’s face darkened. He raised his hand to press down on the tentacle behind him. But the tentacle immediately withdrew without resistance.

“Shouldn’t you ask for permission before doing a scan?”

“Sorry, but you keep dodging, and I don’t like wasting time,” Saul replied as he withdrew both tentacles.

Just now, he had concealed Soul Fishing within his Touch of Torment, but still found no trace of a wraith on Shaya.

Could that wraith really exist only in his dreams?

Looking at the bristling Shaya, Saul suddenly suggested, “Shaya, could you fall asleep in front of me? Just once?”

Shaya looked like he was about to explode on the spot!

After being sneak-attacked by Saul, now he was being asked to sleep in front of him? Who was dreaming now!?

Yet half an hour later, Shaya was leading Saul into his villa, his mind dazed.

“Have I gone insane? I actually brought a guy who might kill me back home… just so he can watch me sleep?”

Maybe it was the two years of torment that had worn him down. After Saul agreed to a series of conditions, Shaya somehow agreed.

He led Saul into his lab and began setting up multiple linked magical formations—one to protect himself, and one to trap Saul.

If Saul tried to break free, it would create a loud disturbance, waking Shaya immediately.

And since Shaya stood at a key point in the formation, he could use it to launch a deadly counterattack at any moment.

Watching Saul stroll casually into the trap meant for himself, Shaya’s face scrunched up like a wad of paper.

For someone as perpetually paranoid as Shaya, he simply couldn’t understand how Saul dared to step into that binding circle.

All it would take was a single thought, and Shaya could seal the formation and attack from the outside—enough to kill.

He couldn’t help but wonder: was Saul truly unafraid of a fellow First Rank wizard’s attack?

The confidence… was ridiculous.

That thought only made Shaya more uneasy.

Could this all be part of a larger trap? Was Saul planning to kill him and loot his home?

After wrestling with himself for a while, the hope of escaping the nightmare finally won out. In the end, Shaya activated both formations as agreed.

It was his impulsive confession that had led to Saul offering to help. If he missed this chance, who knew how long it would take to muster the courage to tell anyone else?

Nervously, Shaya stepped into the protective circle and lay down on the ground. Turning his head to speak the cue—“You can begin”—he suddenly saw a giant pink couch appear out of thin air behind Saul.

That couch looked very soft and comfy.

He looked at Saul—hands resting on his abdomen, body sunk into the cushions—then back at the cold stone floor beneath him.

Shaya: “Who the hell needs sleep here!? That tacky pink… whose garbage taste is that!?”

(End of Chapter)

[It's gift from Gorsa: The Pink Couch]