Chapter 151: Saul Hasn’t Returned Yet

["The dead? So, I’m already dead? That’s right, I died in Hanging Valley. That despicable Kenas family betrayed me! Damn those demons of the No Man’s Land! They fabricated the lie about a Tier 3 Wizard’s death! Those vile scoundrels!!!"]

Although Saul couldn't hear the voice, the diary faithfully translated Morten's resentment.

"Hmm, I see. Great Emperor, please introduce the wizardry you excel at. For example, are you skilled in soul curses?"

["Souls? I would never study something so impractical. Only tangible power that I can grasp fascinates me!"]

In that case, the wraith shouldn't have left any hidden dangers in my consciousness space. Of course, I still need to conduct a thorough check.

Since souls recorded in the diary couldn't lie, Saul felt somewhat relieved. He feared his headaches were due to the wraith leaving behind some curse in his body.

Curses were the most elusive and enigmatic powers—even a Tier 3 Apprentice would rarely dabble in this field. One misstep, and the curse could backfire.

It was proof of Sid’s unwavering determination to kill Saul that he dared to use one forbidden ability after another.

"Then, can you tell me more about your great-granddaughters, Yura and Kira?"

["Yura and Kira? They both have wizard talent, and not bad talent at that. Their personalities are equally stubborn—one is fully devoted to studying the mind, while the other is always tempering her body..."]

Time passed quickly, and soon, the blue hourglass reminded Saul that it was almost ten o’clock.

Even though Morten’s handwriting remained clear, Saul put away the diary and stopped asking questions.

Reflecting on Morten’s words, his expression became somewhat solemn.

"The struggle in the wizarding world is truly brutal. Compared to it, those who died in the Wizard Tower are nothing. If it weren’t for wizard-controlled human forces maintaining development and continuity, this world would have long been reduced to ruins."

"For now, I’ve confirmed that my headaches are primarily due to mental instability caused by battles within my consciousness space. The wraith’s residual presence is minimal—its only effect on me is a few nightmares."

"However, the spiritual grease in my pouch still can’t be used."

Although most of the soul fragments absorbed by the wraith had dissipated when it collapsed, many had been actively absorbed by the spiritual resin.

And before the resin melted, a transformation occurred—a qualitative change brought on by quantitative accumulation.

Saul took out a black crystal ball from the cabinet, holding it in his skeletal hands.

"68 joules..." Saul set down the black crystal ball and sighed. "This expedition was much shorter than expected, but the gains were immense. Once I reattach my plastic bones, my magic power will likely surge again—perhaps even reaching 80 joules. That would put me close to the 100 joules required for a Tier 3 Apprentice."

Who would have thought that Saul, having just entered Tier 2, had already increased his magic power by more than half?

"The real issue is that I still have no clue about the positioning device for advancing from Tier 2 to Tier 3. Although my diary is naturally a positioning device, it’s clear that just possessing one isn’t enough. As seen during the consciousness battle, I can only wield the diary like a brick for smashing, rather than using it directly to affect conceptual structures like others do."

At that moment, a series of rhythmic knocks interrupted Saul’s thoughts.

It was likely Senior Byron looking for him.

Still, Saul turned his head and asked, "Who is it?"

"Saul, are you back?"

It was Byron’s hoarse voice.

Saul smiled. "I’m back."

He got up to unlock the door, but midway there, he heard Byron seemingly speaking to someone else.

"…He’s not back yet."

Saul’s steps froze in mid-air.

A lively yet slightly fawning voice responded, "Maybe he’s... caught up with something? Should we come back tomorrow?"

Saul lowered his foot and raised his voice. "Senior Byron? Senior Wright? Is that you?"

But the people outside acted as if they hadn’t heard him at all and continued their conversation.

"Hmm…"

"Byron, tomorrow, you have to put in a good word for me!"

"Hmm~" A dismissive, drawn-out hum.

"Don’t be so heartless! How about I gift you one of my maids?"

"Hmm~~" Another prolonged refusal.

The voices gradually faded into the distance, leaving Saul standing stiffly in his room.

After a long while, as if coming to his senses—or perhaps gathering his courage—Saul slowly turned around.

He saw himself sitting quietly in the chair, head slightly bowed, as if asleep.

Saul stood there, frozen for a long, long time, before finally lowering his gaze to his hands—hands with intact skin—that trembled slightly.

"I... am dead?"

He forced himself to stay calm.

That momentary shock upon seeing his own body had nearly shattered his consciousness.

Fortunately, Saul stabilized his mind in time, preventing himself from collapsing.

"Impossible." He closed his eyes, then reopened them—his body was still sitting quietly in the chair. "The diary hasn’t given a warning, and I can still sense my connection to my body."

Though faint, the connection was firm.

A wandering spirit of the dead wouldn’t have such a secure sense of belonging.

Saul walked back to the chair, attempting to sit back into his body.

But when he stood up again, he was disappointed to find that only his soul had moved.

Turning his head, he saw his body still seated like a statue—its chest rising and falling, yet as lifeless as a corpse.

Saul knew that even though he was alive, prolonged separation of soul and body was dangerous.

He tried various ways to return to his body, but all attempts failed.

Glancing at his shoulder, he saw that the diary was now floating beside his soul.

This reassured him slightly—at least, the diary was still with him.

"Maybe I should seek help? But I don’t know if anyone can even perceive my existence."

He walked to the door, habitually reaching out to turn the handle—only for his hand to pass right through it. His upper body lurched forward, slipping through the door and into the corridor outside.

Saul quickly steadied himself and tried to move forward, only to find an invisible barrier blocking him.

Now halfway stuck in the wall, he could see the corridor ahead but, when turning back, could also see his dormitory.

"I’ve accidentally learned to phase through walls," Saul chuckled wryly and continued exploring.

After circling around, he discovered something strange.

He was restricted to a circular area and couldn’t move beyond a certain distance from his body. However, the center of this circle wasn’t his body.

His body was merely positioned at the edge of the circle.

His soul could move freely within this circular boundary.

When Saul stood at his dormitory door, the maximum distance between him and his body equaled the circle’s diameter.

"Why is this happening?"

Saul couldn’t figure it out.

If his body was anchoring his soul, the boundary should have been centered around his body.

But now, it was as if the true anchor restraining him was somewhere between his physical body and his current location.

After failing to uncover more clues, Saul stood at the edge of the boundary, facing his body, pondering his next move.

"If I can’t return to my body, will I die for real?"

As soon as he had this thought, a deep fatigue welled up in his soul.

At that moment, the diary flew open in front of him and rapidly wrote:

---

Lunar Calendar Year 316, April 23

Feeling proud after vanquishing a wraith?

Excited about your sudden surge in magic power?

Do you sense an improvement in your mental strength?

But too much excitement isn't good.

You’ve run into another problem—

Your body and spirit have both advanced,

And now, they’re fighting each other.

Caught in the middle,

You were kicked out.

You might find shelter in the diary,

But can your empty body resist for long?

Perhaps it will welcome…

A new tenant?

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