Academic gathering with a lich-Chapter 143 - 138: The Ominous Sign of Struggle
"Omen Giant?" The once painful and fearful visage was etched into Lyle’s brain, and now, looking at the Mutant, it resembled Him.
Absurdity, fear, and a sense of inescapable destiny precipitated into an inextricable despair in his mind, causing Lyle to feel somewhat breathless.
"It’s all right, Plague Doctor, it is merely your creation, that’s all," the scholar patted Lyle’s shoulder, using his body to block the void gaze of the Mutant. "I have already confirmed that a Mutant Object subjected to Advanced Remodeling possesses no intelligence—only the most basic instinctual drives of a living organism. Its stare is just a normal reaction to external stimuli. It’s merely subject to your creation."
Lyle composed himself and, encouraged by the scholar, looked again at the terrifying Mutant. It was identical to an Omen Giant from his memory, except that it was only the size of a basketball, with a hunched body resembling a small, emaciated monkey, but that ’faceless smile’ was perfectly retained.
"Why does my Mutant look like this?"
The scholar’s palm patted the wrist of his other hand, "You will need to find the reason yourself, Plague Doctor. What were you thinking when you were releasing the Advanced Remodeling?"
Lyle began to delve into his memory, "At that time, I was constructing Nia’s magic network model. It seems... I really did have some other thoughts—did I... want to create something truly terrifying?" His voice was uncertain, and his tone tented with unease, Lyle fell into self-denial.
The scholar paused for a second.
"You have done a remarkable job, Plague Doctor. You’ve created a very impressive Mutant. Using your own fear as inspiration is an exceptional and dedicated idea. I’m sure Arnold will be drawn to your work, and we will be able to rescue Vena very soon," he concluded.
"Oh, thank you, teacher. Vena will be free soon," Lyle responded.
The dragon came over, sharing the joy, "Plague Doctor, my student, your remedial course is also over. I’m very pleased to tell you that your grade for creating Mutants has been adjusted to perfect. In fact, if there were a word beyond perfect in this world, I would surely use it. Excellent work—a Spirit Summoner apprentice who can use Advanced Remodeling. I’m looking forward to your test results."
"Test results?"
The dragon rubbed his palms together, nodding. "The final examination for you Spirit Summoner apprentices, also marking the beginning of you officially becoming Spirit Summoners, is in a few days, in the White Bone Forest."
The ridiculous fear akin to a summer vacation ended without review, and on the first day back at school, being told by a teacher that the final exam is just a few days away. It was like the end of a college semester when a teacher gives you a week to review, but you can’t even remember the name of the course.
"But, teacher, I’ve only attended four classes, and I spent a lot of time on extracurricular activities (referring to working as a constable in Cassandra), shouldn’t you give me a few more catch-up sessions first?"
The dragon smiled gently.
"Even though your attendance is the lowest among all students, Plague Doctor, your academic performance could be described as excellent. Remedial classes are meaningless for an honor student. Other students who never missed a class couldn’t reach your level. Wouldn’t it be unfair if I gave you special treatment?"
Just because I’m an honor student, am I allowed to do whatever I want? Just because I’m an honor student, can I skip class? Mr. Dragon, your thinking is wrong. Every student should be treated equally, should have... I don’t want to take the exam.
In the end, Lyle was unable to persuade the dragon and instead garnered the dragon’s expectations.
With frustration, Lyle, along with Nia and the Mutant she was holding captive, followed the Mr. Scholar out of the White Bone Tower.
The Mutant held in Nia’s tentacles was very well-behaved, just like a doll, except for the turning of its head. Nia did not feel the same fear as Lyle regarding the Mutant after all, given her psychological advantage as the creator, it was well preserved.
Is it really just my own consciousness being excessive?
Lyle stared at the Mutant in Nia’s hands; this prolonged observation elicited a response from her. She handed over the toy she was holding.
"Gurgle, want a hug? A soft, little thing."
Nia’s voice and intelligence seemed to have grown a bit, as she now could say a complete sentence.
"No thanks," Lyle tilted his head, that eerie smile was inches away, and Lyle felt that, any second, malice would spill from the vacant holes of the white bony face.
Lyle noticed something abnormal. The Mutant, among its multitude of tentacles, had two unusually long ones dangling down like the slender arms of a squid or the bright tail feathers of a bird, trailing behind it.
"What is that, Nia?" Lyle pointed to the longer tentacles. There were no similar parts on the body of the Omen Giant; on its body, all the tentacles were arranged in a certain eerie, neat, and orderly fashion—with no extra pair.
Nia fiddled with the superfluous tentacles, and the Mutant resisted a little, but to no avail.
"Alianna taught me, the bow tie technique, but it failed. The tentacles are too slippery to tie."
Were those two tentacles originally intended for gift wrapping? Lyle looked at the futilely struggling Mutant and suddenly felt a pang of pity for it, a low-intelligence being created to be a bargaining chip.
...
The underground water reservoir door of Arnold had been completely replaced, but it wasn’t the barnacle clusters Mr. Dragon had imagined. Instead, it was a large, soaked, waterlogged plank covered with deep green seaweeds and some dehydrated dead fish, their white bellies up, stuck in the plank crevices. It was part of a sunken ship, and as Mr. Scholar tore it into wooden splinters soaked with saltwater, Lyle finally confirmed its true identity.
"Filthy insects! Despicable damned skeletons! Arnold’s new door, the new door Arnold finally salvaged, has been ruined by the big stinking bug again!"
In the face of the raging dwarf Arnold, whose mouth was spraying filth, Mr. Scholar simply activated a magical shield.
"I am very sorry, Mr. Arnold. The drastic measures were only because I couldn’t find your doorbell. We meant no harm. In fact, we’ve come to make a trade with you, concerning the Merfolk Vena."
As Nia appeared in Arnold’s field of vision, his dull, small eyes narrowed into slits, revealing an exaggerated smile with rotten teeth.
"Arnold’s beauty is coming back, of course, I’m very happy to trade."
Arnold reached out his hand toward Nia.
"Our bargaining chip is not that, but another Flesh Aberration she holds in her hand."
"Another? No one can change Arnold’s demands, no one," Arnold’s filthy eyeball caught sight of the Mutant and made eye contact with those hollow gazes. Surprise, yes, you saw a flash of surprise in those eyes as if coated with a thousand layers of grime, and then that surprise turned into panic, a quivering tremor. Arnold cradled his face in his black palms. Through the gaps between his fingers, his gaze became sinister. His voice wailed, with an urgent tone.
"My precious! My precious! Does Arnold really want this treasure? Yes! Arnold wants a treasure! Arnold must have that treasure."
When he lowered his hands from his face, it was as if he had acquired a new face, with eyeballs sunk deep into their sockets, black circles from prolonged sleeplessness, and his skin rough like dry, aged tree bark. His eyes held nothing but the Mutant. His eyeballs were irregularly twitching like in a spasm, his voice both a roar and a plea.
"Give me the treasure! Give it to me now!"
"First give me the Merfolk."
"Fine! As long as I get the treasure! Anything." Arnold snapped his staff in half and threw it into the water. That was the beginning, a commotion arose from the pool behind him, as if ten thousand Sea Beasts were battling within, the supporting pillars cracked with vibration, as if they might collapse at any moment.
A stream of water shot out of the surface, it was Vena. She didn’t look much different, except for a slightly pale complexion. The leeches on the back of her neck were gone, and after Mr. Scholar confirmed there were no issues, Nia handed the Mutant to Arnold, who was kneeling on the ground, while Lyle carried Vena away from the platform, which was starting to crack and crumble.
In the moment before Arnold vanished from his sight, Lyle saw it.
In the hands of the puppet-like Arnold, the Mutant, which had been facing away, rotated its head a full one hundred and eighty degrees, and its bone mask’s empty holes met Lyle’s gaze for the last time.
It was still that mocking smile.
