“If we rule out the possibility of soone altering her appearance, she really does look exactly like the forr master of the Wizard Tower, Camus, from two generations ago.”
Steward Hope also jumped down, examining the unconscious wraith.
There was a hint of complexity in Hope’s gaze. Though he had already acknowledged Saul as his master, seeing the face of the forr tower master still stirred complicated emotions in him.
After all, Camus was the original founder of this Wizard Tower.
He quickly reined in his feelings and stood up to offer his suggestion. “Master, before leaving the Wizard Tower, Wizard Camus had already wiped all traces of her presence from within the tower. Even the characteristics of her ntal energy fluctuations in our mories were erased. So I can't make an accurate judgnt either.”
Saul crossed his arms, looking troubled.
If this wraith really was the forr tower master Camus, then he would have to proceed with great caution.
But if she wasn’t, it was even more problematic—an identical soul appearing out of nowhere was bound to suggest so greater conspiracy.
He glanced at the small-scale swamp—the one originally ant to be Little Algae’s new ho, but now marked with a death warning by the diary.
“When I first built the Wizard Tower, the diary didn’t issue any warnings. Even when I decided to move in here, the diary didn’t react. So, it’s safe to assu that whatever danger lies beneath the swamp won’t erupt in the short term.”
But still, having sothing akin to a ticking ti bomb beneath his feet wasn’t exactly reassuring.
“I should still go see what’s really down there.”
But the question was—who to send?
He couldn’t bear to risk any of the four consciousness. Even the least useful, Herman, would occasionally offer valuable insights.
“Right—I almost forgot. I haven’t used the fifth page yet.”
The fifth diary page contained the First Rank fire-elent wizard Kent, whom Saul had captured at Bayton Academy.
Since Kent was particularly knowledgeable in fire-elent spells, Saul had kept him around as a reference for teaching. As a result, his soul energy had grown quite depleted.
To summon him, Saul would need to open the ntal realm and inject him with energy.
“Previously, whenever I brought a consciousness projection out of the diary, I always used a vessel so they could act through a physical body. But in fact, the process of injecting into a vessel is essentially just separating the projection from my ntal body. So… could I skip the vessel entirely and let them exist directly in soul form?”
Saul glanced at Steward Hope standing beside him and kept thinking.
“Just like the Steward—he exists in a rather unique way. Clearly a soul body, yet looks almost real. Even his touch feels nearly lifelike. If he hadn’t voluntarily walked out of the black iron coffin, I might not have realized he’s not a living human, but part of the Wizard Tower’s soul system.”
“Hope,” Saul said aloud.
“Yes, Master,” the Steward replied instantly, bowing with a posture of absolute readiness to receive orders.
“I have several relatively intact soul bodies, but they can’t remain stable outside for long. Is there a way to make them exist like you—appear nearly alive, move around freely, and return to the soul container at will?”
Hope did not disappoint.
“There is a way. And for you, it’s not too difficult. Just cover the soul’s outer layer with a mbrane made of light-elent magic. That will let the soul appear to have a real body. However, this mbrane is purely camouflage. It can’t give us the physical properties of a real human body, nor can it withstand strong attacks. It's only good for basic utility.”
“Light-elent magic?”
“This spell is etched on the surface of the black iron coffin. I can point it out for you.”
Saul hadn’t expected that the runes carved onto the outside of the black iron coffin hid a spell.
He nodded. “Let’s head back up,” he said to the Steward.
He had Little Algae coil up the unconscious “Camus”—as he was tentatively calling her—and bring her along as they left.
Little Algae hadn’t managed to fully root in this spot, so it was a bit irritable, but it still obediently followed Saul’s orders and left the second basent level.
Camus was motionless now, just like a corpse.
But Saul hadn’t forgotten how fiercely she had grabbed his hand just monts ago!
“Her mode of existence is sowhat like the Steward’s too, except the outer shell appears different. Worth studying.”
Back in the first basent lab, Saul quickly drew a soul-binding magic formation on the floor and placed Camus inside it—to prevent her from waking up and causing trouble.
Then, under the Steward’s guidance, he transcribed the hidden spell structure from the black iron coffin’s surface.
The spell was called Mimic Body. It wasn’t especially hard—at least not for Saul in his current state, who could now learn and master it on his own.
With Hope and Agu also giving him so helpful pointers along the way, Saul was able to cast the spell within just two days.
Though the result wasn’t yet as refined as the light-elental shell the Steward used.
Next, Saul entered the ntal realm and pulled out the weakened Kent. He infused him with just enough soul energy to move—after all, Kent would likely be sacrificed to whatever unknown danger lurked in the swamp.
Having spent nearly half a year trapped in the black diary page, Kent no longer had the arrogance or hostility of his forr self when facing Saul again.
Perhaps due to the influence of the “stars” in the ntal realm’s space, Kent seed a little ntally off after returning to the real world.
He could still engage in magical discussions just fine, but otherwise resembled a robot who only followed simple instructions and returned basic feedback.
“Those stars inside the ntal realm are definitely a serious threat—but unfortunately, I still don’t dare touch them.”
Self-experintation was the most dangerous form of magic.
A single mistake ant there might never be a second attempt.
So even though he was aware that those stars inside his ntal realm could be a hidden danger, Saul still had no way to deal with them for now.
Luckily, the diary hadn’t issued any warnings about them yet. So Saul could still sleep soundly at night.
“Go on now. Head beneath the swamp and see what’s really down there.”
Wrapped in a Mimic Body, Kent moved stiffly, but still advanced step by step toward the swamp on the second basent level.
Saul kept a close watch on the diary.
If the diary warned that Kent’s descent would bring Saul fatal danger, he would imdiately call off the test.
But even after Kent was fully swallowed by the swamp, the diary gave no reaction.
Five minutes later, his anxious head popped back up from the surface, followed by his whole body and legs.
He walked back to Saul, and in his eyes was a trace of fear.
“No. Danger.”
His voice was utterly flat.
“Nothing at all? Nothing that seed unnatural or different from the surrounding environnt?”
“No.”
Saul was puzzled. He looked at the swamp again, now seriously considering whether he should go down there himself.
This ti, the fleeting thought of going down there personally didn’t trigger the diary’s warning!
“What’s going on? Is it safe for to go down now? Was the previous danger already gone, and the force that sent Camus up here already left?”
His mind was filled with question marks.
But he knew he wouldn’t get answers just by thinking. Saul finally decided to investigate personally.
Just as he was preparing for a spirit-separation spell, Little Algae tapped him on the shoulder and then pointed its small head toward the swamp.
“You want to go check for ?”
Little Algae nodded.
“There might be danger.”
Just because it wasn’t deadly for Saul didn’t an it was safe for Little Algae.
Little Algae responded by growing a separate branch right in front of Saul.
“A clone? Alright then. Be careful. If anything feels wrong, cut it off imdiately. Don’t hesitate.”
Little Algae nodded and extended a black, vine-like tendril into the underground.
Ten minutes later, the tendril erged again, joyfully swaying side to side.
The danger was truly gone.
At the sa ti, the tip of the tendril opened up in front of Saul and spat out a bit of dark brown soil.
Saul casually grabbed an empty petri dish from storage and caught the soil.
“What is this? You think sothing’s off about it?”
Little Algae nodded.
Saul gently stirred the small lump of soil with a glass rod.
Soon, he spotted tiny black specks—powder that didn’t dissolve into the rest of the dirt.
“This might be the trace left behind by the danger that made the diary issue a crisis alert!”
Saul’s eyes lit up as he scratched Little Algae under the chin.
“Good job, Little Algae!”
(End of Chapter)
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