Chapter 25: Shaman (Part Two)

Ace looked at the old man before him in utter confusion. This seems to be a supervisor?

He tugged at the old man’s beard, making the old man grimace in pain. He then gently patted his own face. “Is this real? Is it so realistic?”

“Are you crazy? Stop right now.”

It’s too realistic, Ace lamented. It seems to be similar to the effect of the Ronamos Dream Theater. Unfortunately, although it can create the old man so vividly, the background is full of flaws. If it were a modern Earth city background, it would be a bit more convincing.

Ace looked at the forest with a blank expression, pulled out his short sword, and stabbed the old man in front of him, killing him.

“What are you doing? You’ve murdered someone.”

thud . Another classmate fell to the ground.

“He is a murderer! Catch him!”

thud, thud. Ace’s years of martial arts training were not in vain; his classmates and colleagues could not withstand his focused attacks. The crowd grew larger and stronger. Figures from his past life and this life appeared and attacked him. He began to get injured. He tried to pull out his Spell Book but found it did not exist here.

Since it is an illusion, perhaps I can break it with powerful imagination. Ace tried to imagine a giant robot, but nothing appeared. Maybe the imagination is too powerful. He imagined his Spell Book, but it did not appear either. A cold sweat dripped from Ace.

He could confirm this was an illusion, but he could not defeat the enemy with sheer imagination. This is different from what the novels in my past life described! Facing imminent death, Ace was not particularly afraid, but his mind was filled with chaotic thoughts and furious internal complaints.

Chaotic thoughts? Calm down. This is a supernatural world; only the supernatural can break the supernatural. Ace decided to risk everything: he immediately began to trace the Mana Rune and started to meditate. A mysterious rhythm seemed to exist, too far away to respond. Closer. A little closer. Ace finally connected with the rhythm. The crowd that had surged forward began to howl and shatter, and the illusion vanished.

Goll gasped for breath and sat down heavily on the ground. The enemies who had been chasing him were lying haphazardly on the ground. Goll struggled to get up. Having undergone the trial of the Sacred Item several times, he knew that the illusion could trap people, cause them to faint, or severely injure them, but it was difficult for it to kill them outright; a finishing blow was necessary.

He picked up the short sword from one of the veterans’ hands and recalled what the old Shaman had said, “To kill someone, you need to cut off their head or stab their heart. To strike a group of people, you must first kill the leader.”

Undoubtedly, the foreign boy at the back was the leader. He had also made Goll naked and touched him everywhere earlier that afternoon; he must die.

Ace opened his eyes and saw the barbarian slave holding a short sword with a ferocious expression, plunging it toward his heart. He quickly performed a desperate roll, narrowly dodging the thrust. Goll, surprised that Ace had suddenly awakened, was startled, but immediately chased after him, hacking and stabbing without any pattern.

This short sword is too difficult to use. The tribe’s bludgeon was much more comfortable. Goll thought, following Ace closely with his body and the short sword.

Ace frantically tried to draw his own short sword but couldn’t in his haste. He could only dodge awkwardly with a series of desperate rolls. This was Romon’s life-saving skill, which Romon claimed was the essence of martial arts, summarized from surviving numerous chaotic fights with his own blood.

Why is this foreign boy so difficult to deal with? Goll grew increasingly anxious, swinging faster, making it harder for Ace to dodge. After narrowly evading one strike, a gash was cut across Ace’s face. He could no longer evade the second swing.

He ignored the danger, pulled out the Spell Book from his pocket with his left hand, flipped to the first page, grabbed a lump of sulfur from his right pocket, placed it in front of the Spell Book, and, facing Goll’s descending sword, activated the spell model on the Spell Book with his mental power. The mysterious rhythm appeared, and the model runes on the Spell Book lit up sequentially. Ace released the sulfur with his right hand, and the sulfur instantly turned into acid liquid and splashed out!

Goll watched the acid liquid suddenly appear before his eyes, easily corroding the short sword and flying toward his head. He tried to open and close his mouth, but nothing came out.

“Sizzle…” The acid liquid corroded Goll’s upper body. The headless body swayed and fell to the ground.

Ace took a deep, labored breath, wiped the blood from his face with his clothes, and his hands and feet trembled. The intense tension, the brush with death, and the final feeling of survival were so intoxicating. Life was so wonderful, and victory was so captivating.

Ace stood up and reached out to search Goll’s corpse. Before long, he found the Wonder Goll had used to cast the illusion. It was a blood-red eyeball. Even a brief look at it made him feel dizzy and disoriented. Ace wrapped the eye and put it in his pocket.

He then pulled out some sulfur and threw it on the headless corpse. Taking his Spell Book, he flipped to the third page, Acid Conversion! The sulfur was converted into acid liquid. A “sizzle” sound of corrosion came from the headless corpse. Soon, it turned into a puddle of viscous liquid.

Ace scooped up some nearby dirt and covered the liquid. He walked, limping, toward the fallen hired veterans. He woke up the veterans who were trapped in nightmares one by one.

“That barbarian slave just now must have been a Shaman. Were you not affected by his witchcraft?” asked the veteran captain, Marun.

“No, I was farther away from you. I was shocked when I saw you all suddenly fall unconscious. That barbarian slave took your short sword and tried to kill you, so I rushed up to fight him. He cut my face. He seemed desperate to escape, so he didn’t stay to fight me. I was also worried about his terrible witchcraft, so I didn’t pursue him,” Ace replied, feigning lingering fear.

Marun’s expression was serious. “I owe you my life! This is a serious matter. We must report it to the city-state and hunt down this terrifying Shaman.”

“I’ll go back and have Carson find a carriage. You take a few men and try to reach the city-state before sunset to report to the Grand Inspector.”

“Good. We will wait here then.”

After having Carson prepare a carriage for Marun and the others, Ace returned to the master’s residence. It was already nighttime.

Marina looked at the sword cut on his face with distress. “This damned barbarian slave! He wounded my little Ace’s face. He must be caught and hanged!”

Ace responded to Marina perfunctorily. His mind had already flown to the blood-red eyeball he had just acquired. The supernatural world was so fascinating. As the only Spellcaster, the only Wizard Apprentice, in this world, Ace felt it was necessary to thoroughly research and experiment with the blood-red eyeball.

By the time Marina had finished treating the cut on Ace’s face and they had eaten dinner, it was nearly midnight. Ace quietly went out and dealt with the soil contaminated by the acid liquid and pus, creating false traces of an escape.

Returning to his room, he rubbed the blood-red eyeball, releasing a tiny amount of mental power to touch the eye. It seemed to contact something. His mental power was absorbed by the eye, and the eyeball flashed with an eerie light.