Wizards: Starting with Fairy Crests

067: Record

The texture is not smooth like skin or a collar.

Instead, it felt damp, cold, slippery, and slightly grainy, as if you were touching a wriggling, half-rotten piece of meat!

"Ugh—!"

The sensation coming from my fingertips was not just a disgusting touch, but also a bone-chilling, soul-piercing pain, and... the tangible feeling of being bitten hard by something!

Raymond screamed and jerked his hand back!

The tip of his right index finger, which he had just extended, had vanished without a trace!

The cut was jagged, not smooth from a sharp weapon, but more like... being bitten off by a wild beast! Blood was gushing from the severed finger.

The excruciating pain and horror left his mind blank. He staggered to his feet, turning his head in terror to try and see what had happened to his neck.

In the instant he turned his neck, out of the corner of his eye, he caught sight of a polished bronze shield hanging beside him, used for grooming.

The smooth surface of the shield clearly reflected the view behind and to the side of his neck—

There, where there should have only been skin and collar, a fist-sized, wriggling purplish-black tumor had suddenly bulged out!

The surface of the tumor was covered with uneven, folded skin that looked like ulcers or breathing. A crack opened in the center, and the edges of the crack were jagged, tiny, sharp teeth that gleamed with a dark, cold light.

At this moment, dark red blood, mixed with an unidentified viscous fluid, was slowly dripping from between his teeth—

That was the blood from his fingertips!

What's even more terrifying is that the tumor wasn't an inanimate object.

It...it's moving!

It was as if a deformed head, parasitic on his neck, was struggling to "turn around" and "look" at Raymond himself through the cracked, tooth-filled slit!

"Hah...hah..." Raymond made a suffocating hoarse sound in his throat, his pupils shrinking to the size of pinpoints due to extreme fear.

He wanted to scream, but found he could barely make a sound; he wanted to tear at the horrific tumor with his hands, but his body was stiff and his blood was cold.

The other guards inside the tent also witnessed this horrifying scene, and they were so frightened that they collapsed to the ground or stumbled backward, knocking over objects.

Chaos erupted inside the tent, filled with terrified gasps and sobs.

In the shield's reflection, the purplish-black "head" seemed to have finally completed its "turn." The gap was now facing Raymond's terrified, contorted face, and then...

Slowly, a huge, silent "smile" filled with endless hunger and malice was revealed.

At the same time, a cold, slippery, scarlet tongue carrying a strong, ghostly, and decaying aura emerged from that mouth filled with sharp teeth.

Like a venomous snake emerging from its hole, it slowly but resolutely... extended out, its tongue twitching slightly, as if savoring the delicious taste of Raymond's fear and pain in the air.

The "gift" from the Netherworld, transcending dimensions and distance, has finally been "delivered" precisely at this moment.

The ghouls' devouring began.

A moment later...

Inside the tent, a deathly silence mingled with the pungent smell of blood and the lingering, otherworldly stench of decay, almost suffocating the senses.

Viscount Raymond's massive, imposing body lay slumped in a bizarre, contorted position beside the bearskin chair, already lifeless.

His eyes were wide open, his gray-brown pupils unfocused, frozen in the boundless fear and agony of his final moments.

The most horrifying thing was his neck—

The purplish-black tumor had already "bloomed," like a parasitic, evil flower, gnawing away at half of his neck, leaving it a bloody mess and exposing the pale neck bone and broken blood vessels and muscles.

The tumor itself seemed to have exhausted the power that had been "projected" and was slowly turning gray and shriveled, with its edges beginning to turn into fine black ash that fell off.

But the terrifying marks left by those sharp teeth and the pervasive eerie chill are still clearly visible.

On the ground, a pool of filthy liquid, a mixture of blood, unidentified slime, and a little ash, slowly spread.

Several soldiers who were lucky enough to escape being "accidentally" injured by the ghouls slumped in the corner of the tent, terrified out of their wits and pale as ghosts.

One of the youngest men had a large wet patch between his legs, the pungent smell of urine mixed with the stench of blood. His teeth chattered, and he even forgot to breathe.

Time seemed to freeze for a few seconds in this extreme terror.

"kill--!!"

"For the Thorn Flower! For the Earl!"

"Charge in! Slay the traitors!"

Outside the camp, without warning, deafening shouts of battle, the clash of weapons, screams, and the neighing of warhorses erupted!

The firelight suddenly flickered and became chaotic, with shadowy figures moving about as the fierce battle raged.

Chris led the Armor Rock City suicide squad, like a dagger of revenge, and launched a surprise attack on the camp at its most chaotic moment due to the sudden death of the lord!

The young soldier who had wet his pants inside the tent was startled awake by the sudden sounds of fighting, and his instinct for survival temporarily overcame his fear.

He scrambled to his feet, opened his mouth, and tried to shout a warning through his very bones to the outside of the tent: "Enemy—!"

The word "attack" had not yet been uttered.

He only felt a cool, lightning-fast touch on the side of his neck, as if he were being gently stroked by the coldest shard of ice.

The sound stopped abruptly.

His eyes widened, and he futilely covered his throat with his hands, only to feel warm liquid gushing out from between his fingers.

He staggered and turned around, the last thing he saw was the darkest shadow in the corner of the tent behind him.

Over there, a petite and delicate figure silently "emerged," just like a drop of water separating from ink.

Lucy.

She wore tight-fitting dark gray leather armor, almost blending into the shadows. Her hood was pulled down slightly, obscuring part of her face, revealing only her beautifully shaped chin and a touch of pale lips.

Her unique silver-gray long hair was tied into a neat short ponytail at the back of her head, with a few strands hanging down beside her cheeks.

Those silver vertical pupils, which gleamed slightly in the dim light, were now calm and still, as if the blow that severed his throat was no different from brushing away dust.

She raised her right hand, and from the tips of her slender fingers extended half-inch-long, sharp, silver keratin nails, with a drop of bright red blood still clinging to the tip.

He casually brought his finger to his lips, and with a gentle lick of his small tongue, he swept away the trace of blood.

The movements carried a feline elegance and a natural cruelty. There was no emotion in the silver pupils.

In her left hand, she held a memory crystal ball the size of a fist, with what appeared to be slowly flowing mist inside.

The surface of the sphere shimmered slightly, indicating that it had just completed a record-keeping operation.

The entire horrific process of Viscount Raymond being bitten to death by ghouls, as well as the initial reactions inside the tent, were completely preserved inside.

Lucy moved with light, almost imperceptible steps, as if walking on cotton, until she reached Raymond's gruesome corpse.

She crouched down and took out several small tools from her waist: a sealed box of bone fragments and a specially made, thin-bladed knife that gleamed with a cold light.

Avoiding the wounds that were still radiating a chilling aura, he precisely and swiftly cut off a small piece of intact skin and a few strands of hair with follicles from Raymond's inner arm, which was not yet overly eroded, and from the hairline behind his ear.

Then, using the knife, he gently scraped a small amount of the mixed sample from the area around the corpse's wound that was most stained with otherworldly slime and putrid blood.

She carefully placed all the samples into different compartments within the bone fragment box and sealed them.

The entire process was calm, professional, and efficient, as if they were not dealing with a recently cursed and tortured corpse, but collecting ordinary experimental materials.

Outside the tent, the sounds of fighting grew louder and louder, and the firelight shone through the tent fabric, casting flickering shadows inside.

You can hear the chaotic cries of the Blackrock soldiers: "The Viscount is dead!" "He's from the Thornflower!" and the furious roars of the Armor Rock soldiers seeking revenge.

Lucy carefully put away the collected sample boxes and glanced once more at the chaotic scene of war and flames outside the tent.

The shouts of ordinary people, the clash of weapons, and the dying wails of those people seemed to be separated from her by an invisible barrier.

She tilted her head slightly, her silver vertical pupils blinking in the shadow of her hood, and whispered something in a soft, calm tone that only she could hear:

"Task log complete, sample collection finished. The 'cleanup' here... let them handle it themselves."

The voice was ethereal, with a touch of inhuman quality.

After speaking, she didn't linger. She reached out and gently pulled down the brim of the hood that already covered most of her face, making her aura instantly appear even darker and thinner.

then,

Like a wisp of smoke dispersed by the wind, she took a half-step back, her figure silently disappearing into the lingering shadow in the corner of the tent.