Chapter 228: Verbal Curse of Mental Disturbance

Chapter 228: Verbal Curse of Mental Disturbance

Hayaek and Youni each retrieved a small silver badge from their pockets and handed them to Luo En.

Each badge bore an intricate personal crest, with the School’s insignia engraved on one side and a unique rune combination on the other.

“These are our Mana Communication Badges,” Hayaek explained, his rare smile softening his usual sharpness. “If you ever encounter difficulties or need information, use this to reach us. Though we’re stationed on the fringes, our experience and connections in certain fields might prove useful.”

Luo En accepted the badges, sensing their complex internal structure. These were single-use alchemy devices that would dissolve after imprinting one’s mana signature. Capable of transmitting messages across vast distances, such devices were standard for Full Mages and select High Apprentices. Exchanging badges symbolized more than communication—it was a mark of recognition and camaraderie.

“Thank you all for your support,” Luo En said, bowing with the precise elegance of a mage. “If there’s nothing further, I’ll take my leave.”

“Go,” Hayaek nodded, his gaze lingering. “Ai Lun’s been waiting impatiently for you.”

Luo En paused, then understood. His connection with Madame Ellen was no secret to the School’s elders. Though she remained on the fringes, her former status and strength still commanded respect from the old guard of mages.

As the meeting hall doors closed behind him, Hayaek’s quiet words followed: “Black Mist School will always welcome you back, Lalf Full Mage.”

Standing in the corridor, Luo En basked in the morning light filtering through stained glass. The world felt renewed—colors sharper, sounds clearer, mana more tangible. His first formal audience as a Full Mage was over. Now, it was time to visit the mysterious witch who had guided him onto the True Path. His figure vanished down the hallway, leaving only a faint wisp of energy fluctuation that soon dissolved into the early morning air.

——————

Holy Disk stood at the edge of the Black Mist Jungle, feeling the throbbing of the Throne Seed within. That blood-red orb pulsed like a living heart, channeling shivers of power through his limbs.

“The time has come,” he murmured, his mutated right face twitching as eyes of varying sizes blinked in sinister rhythm.

After the Void Spider Magus had dropped him nearby, he’d been lurking at the School’s periphery, waiting for the perfect moment. Now, the critical juncture had arrived.

He pressed a hand to his chest, activating the ancient incantation. The words scraped like shattered glass. As the last syllable faded, power erupted from his core. His body twisted and swelled, doubling in size. Veins surged purple-black, etching themselves like living runes across his skin. His arms elongated into thick bone blades; bat-like wings tore from his back. His head mutated beyond recognition, a grotesque fusion of Abyssal features.

“Power. This… is the power of an Apostle.”

Holy Disk’s guttural roar brimmed with ecstasy. It was as though he stood above the cosmos, the Abyss itself bowing to him.

“Now… it’s time to visit the Bloodline Altar.”

He knew only in this state could he breach Valen’s Protective Formation. The Bloodline Altar’s nodes were essential for tracking Luo En.

Unfurling his malformed wings, he tore into the dawn sky, racing toward the School’s outskirts. The air thinned before him, space itself seeming to yield. This was the wonder of Apostle’s Power—it bent Abyssal rules even in the surface world, granting him unnatural advantages.

Within minutes, he reached the Bloodline Altar’s control zone. A semi-transparent magic array shimmered ahead, its runes and mana circuits glowing faintly. Valen’s reinforced seal.

“Just a seal from a Dusk Sun Rank mage,” Holy Disk sneered, his seven eyes glinting with contempt.

He thrust his mutated right arm—a grotesque fusion of three bone blades—into the array. Dark purple mana pulsed like living tendrils. The barrier shattered like glass, cracks spreading with a piercing mana scream.

Stepping past the broken boundary, he felt the Abyssal mana intensify. It swirled around him, resonating with sinister harmony.

“Bloodline Altar… this caged ‘miniature Abyss.’”

His voice turned almost tender: “Today, I grant you freedom.”

Beyond ruined corridors, he reached the Core Area—a vast chamber with an ancient stone platform inscribed with runes. Twelve crimson-lit crystal pillars surrounded it, bathing the space in eerie red light. Above the platform floated a massive red crystal, the node’s core and the seal’s anchor, forged by the Archmage who’d modified this space.

Holy Disk’s mutated eyes fixed on the crystal, his tongue licking cracked lips.

A faint mana fluctuation stirred behind him. He smirked, suppressing his Abyssal mana. Letting the others underestimate him—Apostle’s Power was precious, every drop to be savored.

“The School’s defenses are tighter than I thought,” he mused. “Soren, that old fox, remains vigilant even now.”

“Identify yourself,” Soren’s voice boomed from the entrance, steady and wary.

Holy Disk turned slowly, shadow hiding his mutated right half. Only his partially human left face emerged.

“Soren… long time.” His voice retained a familiar cadence, laced subtly with Abyssal resonance. “You look more worn than last we met.”

Under Apostle’s Power, he sensed Soren’s energy—Dawn Star Rank peak, formidable but inferior to Valen’s Dusk Sun Rank. Worse, Soren’s fluctuation carried faint instability, evidence of recent strain.

“That voice… could it be?” Soren’s eyes narrowed. “Zhou Te? Impossible. You’re not supposed to be—”

“Dead?” Holy Disk scoffed, deliberately tilting his face toward the light.

He let Soren see the half-familiar, half-distorted visage:

“Missing. Departed. Fallen. People always use such words for colleagues who chose different paths.”

Holy Disk released a shrill, grating laugh, like nails scraping across glass.

He spread his arms wide, displaying his grotesquely mutated body like a trophy:

“But I’ve already earned Apostle Sir’s favor. I now wield the power to destroy your School!”

Soren’s expression darkened instantly.

“Apostle… the Supreme Apostle of the Abyss Eye?”

As an experienced Full Mage, Soren immediately grasped the gravity of the situation.

The Supreme Apostles weren’t ordinary Awakening Beings—they were the highest echelon of that terrifying organization, each possessing power rivaling an Archmage.

Holy Disk saw the flicker of shock and fear in Soren’s eyes. Exactly the reaction he wanted.

In a mage’s duel, psychological advantage often mattered more than raw mana strength.

Already, Soren’s emotional turbulence was affecting his Mana Stability.

Holy Disk keenly seized on this wavering focus, escalating his psychological assault:

“Soren, we worked together for years. Aren’t you curious? Don’t you wonder why I chose the Abyss? Why more and more mages abandon the so-called ‘orthodox’ path to embrace Awakening Beings?”

With every word, he deliberately infused his tone with a specific frequency fluctuation.

This was his specialty as a curse mage—the “Verbal Curse of Mental Disturbance,” capable of disrupting an opponent’s cognitive coherence through precisely modulated speech.

“Enough, Zot!” Soren snapped, unintentionally revealing his own emotional turmoil.

“No matter who you were before, you’ve become Abyss’s puppet. Nothing you say changes that.”

Even as he spoke, Soren began weaving hand seals—the opening gestures of the “Multi-Twist Shield,” a moderately effective general-purpose defense spell.

Holy Disk knew he couldn’t let his opponent gain the upper hand.

“Multi-Twist Shield? Tsk tsk. Still fond of flashy spells, I see.”

Holy Disk’s seven eyes rotated simultaneously, their pupils flashing sinister crimson:

“Pity you’re no longer at peak strength. Maintaining the Bloodline Altar node drained so much of your energy, didn’t it?”

Soren hesitated slightly. Holy Disk knew he’d struck home.

Luo En’s ascension had just occurred, and the Black Mist School’s entire upper echelon had invested substantial effort.

Especially Soren, assigned to maintain the Bloodline Altar—his spiritual energy reserves were undoubtedly depleted.

In that fleeting hesitation, Holy Disk silently completed his favorite curse spell—the “Single Ring Death Gaze.”

“Soren, old friend, do you remember the research project we worked on together?”

Holy Disk’s voice suddenly softened, as though reminiscing about a cherished memory:

“The study of human limits. The critical threshold between pain and pleasure. You called it too dangerous back then… but now, I think you should experience it firsthand.”

As these words spilled out, an invisible curse mana spread silently, like a venomous snake coiling around Soren’s spirit barrier.

This wasn’t a simple power clash—it was a precise “lock,” designed specifically for Soren’s spiritual structure, fitting like a key sliding into a lock.

He felt a sudden spinning sensation. His half-formed “Multi-Twist Shield” collapsed mid-creation.

Spiritual energy flowed sluggishly, as if ensnared by an invisible viscous slime.

“This… curse—”

Soren struggled to break free, but horror gripped him—the harder he fought, the deeper the curse sank into his spirit:

“Zot! You… how could you—”

“How could I unleash such powerful curses?”

Holy Disk chuckled softly:

“This is what you rigid mages will never understand. The Abyss’s path seems perilous, but it offers shortcuts beyond imagination. Powers traditional mages spend decades mastering… Abyss’s gifts deliver in an instant!”

As he spoke, his right arm’s mutation fully revealed itself—three bone blades, cross-interlaced and gleaming with sinister purplish-black mana.

This wasn’t mere Abyss contamination—it was refined “Soul Corrosion Agent,” capable of eroding a soul’s foundation while damaging the physical body.

Soren’s eyes widened. He felt his body rapidly slipping beyond control, his spiritual energy flow slowing to a crawl.

At the critical moment, he fought desperately to break the curse’s grip.

But those once-familiar incantations scattered like sand in the wind, refusing to condense into form.

Holy Disk gave him no chance. His figure blurred almost instantly, leaving only a purplish-black afterimage in the air.

“Farewell, Soren. I wonder what the Crystal Spire will create from your soul…”

The bone blades mercilessly pierced Soren’s chest.

At the moment of penetration, a surge of Abyss mana directly injected into his heart, causing the surrounding flesh to decay and rot.

Soren managed only a stifled groan before collapsing like a severed puppet.

A sickly satisfied smile curled Holy Disk’s lips.

Even a Dawn Star Rank Mage, caught completely off-guard, couldn’t survive such a precise, fatal strike.

Especially when Soren was already weakened, his spiritual energy and mana far from peak levels.

“How… dull.”

Holy Disk murmured, his eyes gleaming with triumph.

He knew he hadn’t even used the Throne Seed’s full power during the confrontation.

Apostle-enhanced mana was as precious as rare potions—every drop meticulously rationed.

Coldly, he yanked the bone blade from Soren’s chest, extracting a still-faintly-pulsing heart.

A thin layer of Dawn Star Rank Mana Crystal substance coated the organ, glowing faintly even after separation from the body.

“A Dawn Star Rank Mage’s heart… such a exquisite mana source.”

Holy Disk examined the still-beating organ in his grasp, seven eyes gleaming with greed.

He opened his grotesquely mutated mouth, sharp teeth glinting, and swallowed the heart whole.

Warm blood trickled down his jaw, the crimson liquid leaving shocking streaks across his mutated skin.

“Exquisite.” Holy Disk licked his lips, savoring the taste:

“Pity the time’s urgent. Can’t fully indulge in this body.”

He turned toward Soren’s fallen form, a mocking smirk twisting his features.

“But I imagine even a Dawn Star Rank Mage like you won’t die easily. Perhaps you’ll linger… but—”

His seven eyes simultaneously flashed icy light.

“No matter. Abyss contamination has entered your bloodstream. It’ll soon corrode your spirit world, utterly destroying your consciousness. Death will be a mercy for you.”

With that, Holy Disk strode toward the floating red crystal, ignoring the dying Soren behind him.

His objective was clear—use the “Apostle’s Power” to destroy the Bloodline Altar’s core seal.

Releasing the suppressed Abyss mana within would create greater chaos.

Amid the resulting pandemonium, approaching Luo En would become far easier.

Reaching the crystal’s base, Holy Disk raised both hands. A surge of purplish-black mana erupted from his palms, serpentine tendrils wrapping around the crystal’s surface.

Cracks spiderwebbed across the crystal, accompanied by piercing shattering sounds. The entire space trembled.

Holy Disk’s seven eyes blazed with frenzied light.

He felt his power resonating with the sealed Abyss mana within the crystal, amplifying each other, gradually breaking through the seal’s constraints.

“Keep going… stronger… ahhh!”

With a shriek, Holy Disk pushed the Throne Seed’s power to its absolute limit.

An unprecedented energy fluctuation erupted from his body, directly impacting the crystal’s core.

(End of Chapter)

Chapter end