Chapter 133: I'm Hungry

 Dawn broke.

Saul saw himself walking.

But this sight wasn’t from looking down at his own staggering feet or the walls retreating on either side. Instead, he could truly see himself.

Saul was sitting on his own left shoulder, watching himself sway unsteadily, stumbling forward with a grin on his face.

Seeing this, Saul didn’t feel fear or worry—only the anticipation of verifying his hypothesis about exorcising the wraith.

The wraith had already entered his body, controlling him as he walked forward.

Meanwhile, the real Saul—his consciousness, or perhaps his soul—was sitting atop a thick, red, hardcover book. As Saul’s body moved, the book gently rose and fell.

Whether it was due to being freed from the constraints of his physical form, Saul felt that he was temporarily missing the emotion of fear.

Yet he didn’t find it unsettling at all. On the contrary, he felt great, as if he had been cleansed of impurities and could now focus entirely on thinking.

"So, I’ve successfully lured the wraith into my body. It probably thinks my consciousness was erased the moment it entered."

"This is a little different from what I initially expected," Saul muttered, looking down at the diary beneath him. "I didn’t expect the Death Wizard’s Diary to actively accommodate my consciousness—or rather, to hide me. But it makes sense. After all, it once absorbed Sid’s consciousness on its own. This means I don’t have to fight the wraith’s consciousness directly or hide in some corner of my body. I’ve smoothly passed the first and most dangerous phase."

"Now comes the second phase." Saul crawled to the edge of the hardcover book and peered down at his limp hands hanging by his sides. "I need to use the Spirit Grease to extract the wraith’s soul energy and separate it from its consciousness."

The Spirit Grease in Saul’s hands had the ability to store souls. Its essence was to slow down the dissipation of spiritual energy.

As a result, spirit entities were naturally inclined to transfer into Spirit Grease.

Perhaps this stemmed from all living beings' basic instinct to survive.

At this moment, the wraith’s chaotic and unstable consciousness had not yet noticed that its soul energy was slowly being drawn into Saul’s hands.

Once the balance of power tipped in Saul’s favor, he could attempt a counterattack and reclaim his body.

However, since his consciousness had been ejected, he couldn't control his body, nor could he actively manipulate his hands to accelerate the process.

Thus, whether or not the wraith could be weakened and whether Saul could successfully counterattack remained uncertain.

Turning theory into reality always came with a significant risk of failure.

The still, silent diary beneath him gave Saul most of his confidence.

For now, all he could do was wait—wait for the right opportunity.

With nothing else to do, Saul simply sat cross-legged on the hardcover book, watching as the wraith-controlled version of himself walked step by step toward the entrance of the underground cavern.

He observed as if he were watching a play, completely at ease.

As if he had forgotten that if he failed to reclaim his body, he would perish entirely, becoming nothing more than nourishment for the wraith.

Just then, a group of people stumbled into the cavern, coming face to face with Saul and the wraith.

Saul straightened slightly, looking at them.

At the forefront of the group stood a muscular man, his entire body wrapped in a layer of silver material, resembling an iron giant.

Herman, with his silver skin, turned back and commanded his subordinates, "Don’t let the Wizard Tower people inside. If they can’t feed those head monsters, throw in a few more!"

After issuing this cold-blooded order, he turned to a third-level apprentice beside him. "Have you contacted the captain?"

The apprentice, holding a fist-sized eyeball, replied anxiously, "No. Those head monsters seem to be distorting the force field."

Herman grabbed the apprentice by the collar. "Of course they are! Why do you think you couldn’t see them at first? Find a stable period in the force field and send the signal quickly! We must contact an official wizard if we want to get out of here! Damn it..."

Before he could finish, Herman suddenly turned and saw "Saul" standing in the darkness.

A rare look of delight flashed across Herman’s eyes.

Swish!

Herman turned into a silver streak, instantly closing the distance to "Saul"—but stopped right in front of him.

"Kid, were you abandoned by your companions? Why are you only coming out from underground now?" Herman grabbed "Saul" by the throat, applying just enough pressure to make him feel suffocated but not enough to crush his neck.

"Someone who could kill one of the Eight-Headed Thrall heads, and who could always choose the safest paths while fleeing underground... That can’t just be luck."

"Saul," with his eyes narrowed, took a moment to comprehend what Herman was implying.

But before he could respond, Herman suddenly swung his hand, tossing "Saul" toward his subordinates.

"Keep an eye on him. When we get back, I want to dissect him myself."

"Saul" crashed to the ground at the feet of an apprentice, who immediately crouched down and extended his hand. Green vines sprouted from his palm, attempting to bind "Saul"’s neck.

However, the moment the fresh green vines touched "Saul"’s skin, they withered and crumbled to dust.

Before the apprentice could even register the failure of his spell, "Saul" suddenly raised a hand and pressed it against the apprentice’s face—then yanked hard.

A white, ghostly figure was forcibly ripped from the apprentice’s face.

The apparition’s eyes, nose, mouth, and ears were just irregular, hollow voids, like a human skin being peeled off alive.

The "skin" opened its mouth wide, seemingly about to let out a final, desperate scream—but before it could, an invisible force distorted it and sucked it into "Saul"’s palm.

It all happened too fast. By the time "Saul" stood up again, Herman’s smile was still frozen on his face.

"Saul" let go, allowing the now lifeless apprentice to collapse to the ground.

He propped himself up on his knees and slowly stood up, his limbs slightly uncoordinated, his movements stiff.

But his grin was wide.

"Hehehe... Do you know why the head monsters drove you all here?" "Saul" tilted his head at an odd angle, his voice slightly distorted. "It’s because I’m hungry."

With that, "Saul" suddenly lunged at Herman.

However, Herman reacted swiftly, transforming into a silver flash and shifting three meters away in an instant.

Missing his intended target, "Saul" merely grabbed another apprentice standing beside Herman.

The moment "Saul"’s palm touched the apprentice’s chest, yet another white specter was extracted.

The ghostly figure still bore a half-formed look of horror. Before it could even cry for help, it was sucked into "Saul"’s palm.

Herman, who had witnessed everything, once again retreated behind his subordinates. He struggled to steady his breathing, but when he spoke, the tremor in his voice betrayed his fear.

"A wraith... an official wizard-level wraith..."

In truth, Herman didn’t even need to say it.

The moment the wraith effortlessly slaughtered two third-level apprentices—who were completely unable to resist—everyone in the cavern understood the horror they now faced.

Just as they had been driven into the cavern by the head monsters earlier, they now fled in panic once again.

Because wraiths feared sunlight!

Weaker wraiths would be dissolved under direct sunlight, and even powerful ones would be weakened.

But the group that had escaped the cave felt no relief.

Because the outside world was just as perilous—swarming with head monsters and the Wizard Tower apprentices they had barricaded outside.

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