Chapter 45: The Magician and the Scholar
In a natural underground cave, only the very top allowed a beam of light to shine through.
A cluster of crystals used to diffuse light was illuminated by this beam, scattering the light and barely allowing visibility in the dark cave.
A bonfire had been lit, serving as the brightest light source in the cave.
"Ha, Yara wants me to go to her village," someone suddenly laughed and stood up, holding a piece of parchment in his hand.
The messenger delivering the letter trembled.
Beside this person lay scattered, bloodied human bones, bearing marks of gnawing.
They were human bones, scattered about; the messenger could barely discern that there were about four or five individuals.
And he knew that the other party's subordinates numbered only about four or five.
"She wants me to return to the village she established and become a commoner."
"She wants me, Fur Gutiérrez, to serve under her as a commoner?"
"Back then, when she recruited that clown Flayer Rafama, a guy without even a surname, Yara promised him a deputy position, yet I, Fur Gutiérrez, am only fit to be a commoner?"
"A commoner!"
Fur grabbed the messenger's clothes and yanked him over.
"Look at me," he said. "Do I look like a commoner?"
The messenger could see Fur's appearance.
His eyes were bloodshot, and both cheeks had rotting holes, revealing teeth covered in meat scraps.
His hair was dry and brittle, falling out in large clumps with a mere touch.
The hand gripping the messenger was withered, skin and bones, yet his body was extremely robust.
He looked more like a fusion of a human and a dried corpse than a person.
Fear rendered the messenger speechless, and his crotch felt damp.
"Can I still be a commoner?!"
Fur let out a wail, then forcefully opened his mouth, tearing open the flesh on his cheeks, and bit down on most of the messenger's face.
"Mm, gah..."
The messenger struggled, limbs flailing wildly, but this only seemed to enrage the other party.
With a sudden forceful tug, half of the face was torn off.
The limbs twitched twice before falling limp.
"Commoner! Commoner! Commoner!" Fur grabbed the messenger's legs with both hands.
"Noble! Noble! Noble!" One hand was withered, the other robust; he suddenly exerted force, tearing the messenger in half, blood spraying, organs scattering.
"Knight! Knight! Knight!" He wailed, emitting a ghostly blue aura that spread, devouring the internal organs and flesh, leaving only traces of blood and flesh.
His body suddenly vanished, then crashed into the wooden cage formed by hard wood surrounding the walls.
"Can I still be considered human in this state?!" He forcefully slammed his head into the gaps of the cage, his head halfway through, both ears and half of his scalp scraped off.
He stared intently at the person inside the cage.
It was an elderly man with graying hair and beard.
The old man sat on the ground, leaning against the wall, holding a girl in his arms.
One hand covered the girl's eyes, the other covered her mouth, leaving only her nose for breathing.
The girl's body trembled, terrified to the extreme.
"Of course you're human. You have a human body, you can speak human language, you can think like a human. Of course you're human," the old man tried to suppress his fear, speaking as gently as possible.
"Yes, I'm still human." The old man's words had an effect; Fur's voice gradually calmed down.
He withdrew his head.
The ghostly blue aura spread from the wounds on his ears, seemingly alive, pulling the torn-off ears back to their original state.
"I can't let myself become a beast," he said.
"I'm sorry for frightening you, esteemed scholar." He tidied his dirty clothes, hid his withered left arm behind his back, placed his robust right arm on his chest, and bowed like a noble.
"You must be hungry. I'll go find some food for you. Please wait a moment, and please comfort this lovely young lady. I mean no harm." With that, he turned and left.
The cave fell silent.
After a moment, confirming that Fur had indeed left, the old man released his hands.
"Don't be afraid, Melia. Don't be afraid. I'm right here," the old man gently comforted the girl.
"Mm, Melia isn't afraid." Although the hand covering her eyes was removed, the girl didn't dare to open her eyes.
She kept her eyes tightly shut, her body still trembling, her voice quivering.
The old man sighed.
His gaze turned in a certain direction.
"Magicians are indeed a hopeless bunch, daring to use necromancer's items on the living, especially something of the Necrospeech Black Star level," he cursed inwardly.
In the direction of his gaze, a completely stripped body was bound by its limbs and hung in mid-air.
His hair had been scraped off, perhaps too roughly, removing most of his scalp and revealing the white skull.
His eyelids had been cut off, leaving his eyeballs exposed.
The flesh on both cheeks had been gouged out, revealing white teeth and dark red gums.
Threads connected to hooks pierced the upper teeth.
The lower teeth were also hooked, pulled downward.
The upper and lower jaws were forced open, revealing a tongue-less mouth, with a piece of charred wood stuffed down the throat.
His chest had been cut open, the flesh seemingly scraped away bit by bit, extremely thin, faintly revealing a still-beating heart.
His fingers and toes had been smashed joint by joint with blunt instruments, and several finger-thick wooden stakes were inserted into his palms and soles.
The muscles of his arms and legs had been sliced open with sharp blades, forcibly separated and propped up with wooden sticks.
His waist and abdomen had been circularly cut, the flesh hanging naturally, leaving only a few strips holding the internal organs.
Iron rings pierced his spine, embedded deeply into the vertebrae.
He and the torture rack were suspended in mid-air, like some artist with a peculiar fetish, displaying a human-made artwork.
"You're still alive, right? Magicians don't die that easily."
"Do you feel pain? Or have you severed your senses?"
"Can you see your creation?"
"Using the Necrospeech Black Star the lord gave you as compensation for unpaid fees to create such a monster."
"I really hope you regret it now."
"But you crazy magicians, you're probably laughing now. This is your perfect creation."
"A monster between life and death."
The old man cursed loudly.
He still had a tiny fine needle on him, something he had hidden for self-defense, to be used for self-execution in desperate situations.
It hadn't been found by these bandits.
However, glancing at the gradually calming Melia in his arms, her eyes still closed.
Better wait a bit longer. I've lived long enough; even if I die now, I have no regrets.
But Melia is only fourteen, just past the curse; she can't die here.
Yet, despair inevitably appeared in his eyes.
Such a monster—who could save them?
"Damn, evil magicians," he couldn't help but curse.
Magicians, these dangerous beings obsessed with past histories, should all be burned to death!