Wizard: Start with Biological Transformation to Grind Experience Chapter 786 - 2: Do You Think I’m a Bad Person?

Listening to Alse, Lynch’s heart was filled with many emotions.

Sotis, fate is just that wondrous.

The once prosperous and rivalrous Seven Great Kingdoms in the center of this Witch Domain, their splendor and glory have completely disappeared into the dust of history, with even their nas almost forgotten by the world.

Conversely, that cornered Ramos Duchy, long considered a land of barbarism and chaos over the past centuries, a "Land of Darkness" where people suffered due to the rampage of Black Wizards and despised by the mainstream world, has, due to its location’s distance from the center of the Seven Kingdoms’ conflicts, and so interference and influence from the neighboring Witch Domain in the early years, ford a delicate balance...

As a result, in this cataclysmic disaster sweeping across the north of the Ancient Ruins, instigated by the Freemasonry Church, it not only did not perish like other nations but ironically beca the only nominally independent kingdom surviving on this vast land.

The forr "Land of Suffering" has beco the "Land of Hope" in the eyes of the despairing.

He looked into Alse’s eyes, filled with anticipation and uneasiness, nodding slightly, and said calmly:

"Alright, alright."

Even as an ordinary child with no one to rely on, life might not be much better there.

But at least there, you don’t have to constantly fear that an unintentional word or action might violate so harsh church ordinance, nor worry that those fanatic religious zealots would drag you to the stake or guillotine under the guise of "blasphemy."

After so thought, Lynch raised his right hand, his long fingers casually drawing in the void in front of him, tearing open a space crack.

Imdiately, he pulled his arm back slightly, as if retrieving sothing from water, forcefully pulling out a complete skeleton, its bone stark white, joints connected by weak strands of energy, from the spatial rift.

Then, Lynch flipped his left hand, seemingly pulling out a piece of dark, even slightly rotten flesh. The at emitted a nauseating stench, evidently completely decayed. Without looking, he pinched the rotten flesh with his thumb and middle finger, holding it in the air, then—

"Snap!"

A crisp snapping sound.

A strange scene unfolded! That piece of rotten flesh seed to be endowed with life or enforced by so supre law, instantly transforming into a viscous fluid mixture of dark red and filthy black, lunging at the stark white skeleton like a conscious being!

The fluid rapidly enveloped every bone, beginning to proliferate and differentiate at a speed visible to the naked eye. Dark red muscle fibers, like fast-growing vines, wildly spread, weave, and fill along the contours of bones; pale yellow fat layers spread evenly over the muscles;

Gray-white fascia covered them, constructing a complete body structure; finally, a layer of slightly pale but finely textured skin "covered" from bottom to top, and in an instant, a complete body with a standard male human outline took shape, though its eyes were closed and lifeless.

Then, Lynch took out a small crystal, rely the size of a fingernail, but emitting a soft milky white glow. Within the crystal, a faintly discernible, smoke-like energy body slowly swirled.

This was an energy crystal harboring a fragnt of a broken soul.

Lynch suspended the crystal above the body’s brow, tapping his fingertip lightly. The crystal’s glow suddenly intensified, the faint soul energy within was guided by a gentle but irresistible force, precisely entering the body’s brow like a trickling stream.

With the infusion of soul energy, the previously empty shell of a body seed instantly "activated"! Its chest began to rise and fall slowly and steadily, and a faint breath erged from its mouth and nose. Its eyelids trembled slightly before gradually opening.

A pair of slightly bewildered, yet undeniably alive eyes appeared on a plain and unremarkable male human face, seemingly around thirty.

For soone who has created ’Angels’ and ’Divines’ by his own hands, creating a ’human’ now is rely a piece of cake.

This human, casually created by him, possessed the strength of a Great Knight, so basic intelligence, and the ability to conduct ordinary communication, indistinguishable from a normal person except for lacking emotional thoughts.

"Thud!" A sound echoed.

The boy, Alse, sat down heavily on the cold rubble-strewn ground. He looked up at Lynch, his eyes brimming with unprecedented fear, as if he was truly recognizing the essence of the person before him for the first ti. His teeth chattered, and his voice trembled uncontrollably:

"Are you... are you... a Wizard?"

Lynch looked at him calmly, without a hint of concealnt, nodding frankly: "Yes."

This answer nearly made the fear in the boy’s eyes overflow. In the education instilled in him since childhood, and from the tales he heard, the term "Wizard" was almost synonymous with "evil," "terror," and "blasphemy against life."

In church classics, they were described as demons who delighted in torturing souls and sacrificing lives, responsible for all worldly suffering.

And at this mont,

These terrifying depictions seed to overlap with the scene just witnessed.

Lynch observed the boy’s reaction, without anger due to this fear, instead softening his voice, proactively posing a simple yet core question:

"So, do you think... I’m a bad guy?"

Alse was stunned. A bad... a bad guy?

Instinctively, he recalled his prior experiences: condemned to death by the Church, overwheld with despair and helplessness, it was this man, descending like a divine weapon, pausing ti in a way he couldn’t fathom, rescuing him from the executioner’s hands; throughout their journey, this man, although not very talkative and calm in deanor, had never hard him in the slightest, even now patiently inquiring his intentions...

These real experiences fiercely clashed with those terrifying legends about Wizards in his mind.

The terror gradually faded from his face, replaced by a perplexed contemplation. He glanced at Lynch’s calm gray eyes, then at his own dirty hands, finally propping himself up on the ground, shakily standing back up.

The little guy, still with tear streaks and dust on his face, tried to stand tall, bowing slightly to Lynch, whispering: "I’m... I’m sorry, sir."

Then he lifted his face, his eyes, though containing a residual trace of timidity, showed more honesty after serious consideration: "I... I thought about the things you’ve done... You saved , didn’t hurt , and even asked my plans... I don’t think... you’re a bad guy."