Knights and Magic Wand
Chapter 279 - 279 140 The Real Culprit_2

279: Chapter 140: The Real Culprit_2 279: Chapter 140: The Real Culprit_2 Refining the most significant way of influencing all things through language, compiling it into different sets of terms, rearranging and reassembling them to aid Magic Power in affecting the elements, creating a series of Magic reactions, this is the “spell.”

And “Ancient Lorelette Language” was the ultimate creation of ancient Mage pioneers of Miss Lora’s civilization, who had explored the essence of language and writing to its extreme.

However, this also brought a problem.

As the ancient Magic pioneers became increasingly powerful, the original language and writing used by the Lorelettians were also constantly iterated and transformed drastically.

This led to too powerful Lorelette Mages, who merely by speaking and writing in this language, could cause unpredictable Magic reactions.

Recited commands could summon winds and thunder that enveloped the skies.

Angry rebukes could sentence people to death.

Written words acted like commands driving the elements.

Since then, powerful Lorelette Mages had to degrade and abstract the original powerful language in order to ensure the safety of ordinary people in conversation, creating the later “Lorelette Language.”

However, as time passed, the Lorelettians had long vanished, Leon did not know why, and Lola did not answer his questions during their casual conversation, considering it a disappearance of an entire civilization, Leon dared not offend by probing deeper.

But in this era, the original “Post Lorelette Language,” created for normal communication, had also become a medium for casting spells through the study by contemporary Spellcasters and the replication of the inherent rules.

Although compared to “Ancient Lorelette Language,” the “Post Lorelette Language” used by Mages now, contained far less power of the true ancient “spell.”

Leon’s will slowly sank into the orderly forming Magic ritual, he closed his eyes, concentrated, and once again experienced the memory resonance felt by his consciousness during the summoning of Wandering Souls.

There was none of the mysteriousness brought by Miss Lora.

Nor the magnificent waves seen when summoning Galron.

Leon could only feel, from the endless darkness after closing his eyes, fleeting, hard-to-form, almost imperceptible residual perceptions.

In a trance, resonating with traces left by it, vague memories swept across his heart.

…

the excitement of the first sword swing…

the pleasure of successfully hunting wild beasts.

…

the great joy of marrying his wife…

the complete happiness of the birth of his offspring.

The rumbling drum sounds and horn sounds played beside his ears, long swords cutting down enemy flags, horse hooves trampling over mountains of corpses, bloody and boldly howling wolves echoing through the battlefield.

Bravery bestowed glory onto his bloodline, he seemed to see the glorious moments of leading the Wolf Pack.

…

everything stopped abruptly.

Pain, coldness, surprise, confusion.

And endless anger…

Heart shattered, caught off guard, a feeling of helplessness spread inside, his consciousness seemed to fall into a bitterly cold deep sea in reluctance…

Time seemed to freeze.

Everything stilled at the last moment of consciousness.

His spine cold, Leon tried to open his eyes amidst confusion.

But the boundless darkness still enveloped his field of vision.

Quiet ripples emanated beneath his feet…

He explored the darkness, seemed to see something, yet seemed to see nothing.

There was something there, that was a…

large…

very large, very distant, indescribable, unperceivable gigantic entity.

What exactly was it?

Leon could not sketch Its existence nor be sure if it truly existed.

Or perhaps there was nothing, just his own illusion.

But where was this?

The moment the question arose, the solid space made Leon suffocate.

Not suffocation by strangulation, but suffocation that completely filled his mouth, nose, and every sensing gap.

Then, a massive cacophony of howling noise instantly filled his brain.

…

Revenge!…

Revenge!…

…

Revenge—

Leon heard countless shrieks of revenge, wailing cries of men, women, elderly, and children merging into one, rushing towards him like a mountain tsunami, as if countless invisible palms were grabbing at his entire body.

Suddenly, those resentful cries and shouts sharply pulled away, growing distant.

No.

It wasn’t the voices that were receding; rather, he was rising!

And rising with him was a familiar voice, full of unwilling roars.

“…I shouldn’t have died there!”

“I shouldn’t have died in humiliation like a stray dog in a forsaken prison!

That shouldn’t have been my life!

…It shouldn’t have!!!…”

In the darkness, Leon saw Canis’s face contorted with rage.

“…Let me have my revenge!

I want to kill with my own hands the bastard who buried everything of mine!

I want to crush that man’s throat with my fangs!”

Teeth interlocked, the transformation was chaotic—a human face sometimes roiling in a roar, and sometimes it became a wolf head with crimson eyes.

The pungent smell of blood made Leon frown slightly; without a doubt, Canis’s soul had become what the Magic Guidebook defined as a standard “resentful spirit.”

“I cannot promise anything…

but I assure you, if I find the killer, I will let you settle this score as much as possible.

However, you must obey my commands; this is your only chance to return to the world….” Leon promised in his mind.

“Then, it is agreed!”

The spectral wolf head let out a hoarse roar of anger.

As the contract sealed by the witness of the Dead Sea was reached, the hideous twisted ghostly visage gradually reverted to Canis’s appearance.

Leon shuddered all over and truly opened his eyes.

The whirlwind around the Array rustled the surrounding treetops.

The black Netti Card between his fingers turned into flowing light that surged into the center of the Array, intertwining and merging with the radiant base of the ritual.

Until the Magic Card, the corpse, the armor, and the weapons were woven and solidified.

The light dissipated.

The Knight of Valor, clad in Wolf Pattern Plate Armor, with a Sword at his waist and a Riding Spear in hand, reappeared in the world.

“I never thought I would have to face you in this guise…

Wizard of the Thorny Flower Family,” Canis muttered in vexation.

“What?

After all this, I give you a chance to live again and seek revenge, and you still complain?” Leon folded his arms, confident and fearless.

The contract was sealed; the other party couldn’t back out.

Lady Aphrodite’s Great Magic with the Dragon of the Dead Sea, it wasn’t a mere second-rate Undead Summoning Magic.

Canis, a mere Martial Artist, whether alive or dead now, couldn’t possibly overcome the constraints of the Ancient Dragons said to be from the creation of legends.

“Whether I have complaints or not, I now must obey the God Vinoles, who governs death; you are now my Lord,” Canis admitted helplessly with a sigh.

Despite the memories of that indescribable sea of despair being erased, the feeling that transcended horror still lingered in Canis’s mind.

That place was the end of everything, a perpetual void, an endless darkness.

“Vinoles?

No, his name is Yin Nie; don’t misstate divine names carelessly, beware lest you return to the Dead Sea, and death smites you with a tail whip.” Leon flaunted his newly acquired magic knowledge.

Vinoles was the god of death in the local legends of Orland.

But compared to the folk myths of the Northern Kingdom, Leon trusted more in Miss Lora and the rational Lorelette Magic Guide.

“Say what you will, but don’t forget your promise.

I want to personally slaughter the bastard who murdered me,” Canis gritted his teeth and reiterated, clenching his Riding Spear.

“I don’t mind you taking revenge for yourself.

Since that guy wanted to pin your death on me, I haven’t finished with him either, but before that, you at least have to tell me who exactly killed you?”

Leon posed the most pressing question to the victim, “Was the person who assassinated you that night a very attractive woman with a good figure?”

The female poet Larian encountered was the assassin Leon suspected the most.

Hearing this, Canis’s expression registered some surprise.

“A woman?

What woman?”

“Not her?”

“Of course not!

I don’t know what beautiful woman you’re talking about,” the Wolf Family Young Master retorted, furrowing his brows.

He then angrily disclosed the true culprit, “The one who snuck into the cell that night, pretended to break the shackles to help me escape, but then speared through my chest…

it was Met!

It was that accursed Northern Wizard!!”