Black flames began to burn within the Forest of Desire, twisting and leaping in sinister patterns. Tree after tree caught fire.
Crackling sounds echoed as the Fire Rune in the sky grew enormous, and in an instant, my vision was consumed by a vast sea of black fire.
Each burning Desire Tree exploded in the black flames, then toppled over. The fire spread rapidly, and now the Fire Rune in the sky stretched over ten meters, though its growth soon stopped.
The inferno continued to sweep through the forest, the ground turning to scorched earth as thick smoke billowed upward. Yet within ten minutes, the flames subsided, and the Fire Rune in the sky crumbled into ash, fading away bit by bit.
Gradually, the flames in the woods died out. Everywhere, trees lay collapsed and smoldering, some not completely burned, their trunks glowing red and still emitting smoke. With such power, the forest should have been reduced to ashes, but the destruction stopped abruptly.
The Wraithlord shook his head helplessly in midair. I floated up and surveyed the scene—the area burned in the Forest of Desire was about the size of a football field. Many of the trees behind were charred but still stood tall, falling short of the Wraithlord’s expectations.
Now, the vast swath of destroyed forest began to restore itself, as if time were reversing. Bit by bit, the woods reappeared before my eyes. It was clear the Wraithlord was deeply disappointed.
“See? What use is this power recorded on page 78?”
I grunted in response, but then recalled that the Wordcraft power used here by the Old Eccentric was likely stronger than the one the Wraithlord had just demonstrated.
We then began heading back toward the Lake of Desire. Once there, the Wraithlord returned to his room, looking ready to go back to sleep. I reached out my hand.
"Let me have a look."
Finally, the Wraithlord took out the book and handed it to me. I hurried to the desk, heart pounding with anticipation. Just as I was about to open it, the Wraithlord turned to glance at me and smiled.
"You'd better be careful. This book is full of strange things. One careless move and it could kill you."
With that, the Wraithlord lay down again. He didn’t need to warn me—I already understood. The Wordcraft power from page 78 didn’t look impressive, but it shocked me: you didn’t need to use any personal strength, just write a word and such effects would follow. If it were a complex string of characters, perhaps there’d be even greater results. I kept this thought to myself.
Spending time with this guy, I’ve started to notice certain clues. I wondered what would happen if he finished all ninety-nine pages—maybe they record the method for merging the Three Souls and Seven Spirits. That’s my biggest worry. If he resurrects, there may be no one in this world who can oppose him.
All I want is the power recorded in this book, to truly master it for myself. I have to slow the Wraithlord’s progress. Now I understand: to fully grasp the Wordcraft on page 78, you must use it to achieve earth-shattering destruction before you can turn to the next page.
From the Wraithlord’s expression, it’s clear he won’t be turning the page anytime soon. He spent so long reaching page 78; I don’t need much, just enough to comprehend the contents of thirty pages. As for the Wraithlord, I need to find a way to stall his progress.
The best way is to disrupt his reading. I plan to take the book elsewhere and figure out how to crack each page’s secrets myself.
Once the Wraithlord was sound asleep, my only thought was to steal the book and get it out of here, stopping his Human Soul from continuing its study. That’s the best solution.
Having made up my mind, I left the watery room within the lake and quickly moved into the Forest of Desire. But just as I reached for the book, I realized I had nothing on me. Stunned, I rushed back and, sure enough, found the book lying on the table in the room beneath the Lake of Desire.
"Looks like taking it away from here isn’t possible after all."
With no other choice, I sat down and prepared to open the first page.
I stared quietly at the blue cover of the Blank Desire Tome, swallowed hard, and began to open the first page. Suddenly, I felt a powerful suction and instantly lost consciousness.
The moment I opened my eyes, someone grabbed my arm and pulled me up. Immediately, I heard shouts of battle outside.
"Move quickly! The enemy is here—wake up and grab your weapons to fight back!"
After getting up, I realized I was inside a tent. As I wondered what was happening, the shouting outside grew louder and flames flickered everywhere. The straw tents were easily set ablaze. The people around me were all tribal warriors—bare-chested, wearing animal skins, faces smeared with camouflage.
I didn’t think too much. Just as I tried to use my power, I realized I seemed to be human. I touched my own body in disbelief.
"What’s going on here?"
As I spoke, several of the tribal warriors beside me were struck by arrows and fell to the ground. I quickly rolled aside, the air thick with the stench of blood. Shouts and screams filled the chaos. I grabbed a stone spear from the tent, scanning my surroundings. Spotting an unburned area, I rushed over, soon escaping the burning tribal territory. I looked around and climbed up a thick tree—I had no wish to join the slaughter, and I was baffled by my inability to use my powers.
Gradually, the shouting faded. The tribal lands had become a sea of fire, the entire tribe facing annihilation. The charred stench of corpses filled the air, while the attacking tribe began to loot.
They took all the usable weapons and food, clearly pleased with themselves. Soon, only corpses remained on the ground. I stared in shock at the scene before me—it didn’t seem fake. How had I ended up here?
And what was all this before my eyes? The only thing I remembered was losing consciousness after opening the first page.
Now, as I looked at the bodies on the ground, I saw wisps of white drifting out—souls. The souls of the dead were beginning to float free, and soon their wails merged into a chorus of sobbing. Old men, children, women—none were spared. The enemy had slaughtered everyone in the tribe. I’d made the right choice hiding in the tree; it saved my life.
What I was seeing must have been at least five or six thousand, maybe ten thousand years ago. Back then, Hell had rulers—the Wraithlord’s three children had taken up the mantle—but there was no proper system for collecting souls.
Sure enough, the souls wept for a long time, whispering among themselves. I saw blackness begin to seep into what had once been white souls. The heavy filth of this place was absorbed by them, and soon they turned black. The transformation was so fast, it caught me off guard.
From what I know, after death, it should take days for a person to become a ghost. But here, they turned in just half an hour. I saw a mass of ghosts begin drifting down the mountain. Puzzled, I climbed down from the tree and followed.
Every last member of the tribe had turned into a ghost, and they all seemed intent on revenge. I followed at a distance, wary of the difficult mountain path.
As the ghosts moved, they absorbed even more filth, growing stronger with each step.
After several hours of following them, I finally reached the enemy tribe’s territory. It was night, with dawn still far off. The enemy tribe was celebrating, bonfires blazing high. I noticed totems at the entrance—when the ghosts approached, the totems with human-like faces suddenly emitted a blinding white light.
A whole group of ghosts trying to get close for revenge was instantly reduced to ash. The few survivors left in sorrow, while the enemy tribe seemed to notice the ghosts’ movements. I crept closer, hiding in the grass.
"Good thing we were prepared, or tonight could’ve ended badly. Tell the shaman: those restless souls have been wiped out."
Although my body felt solid, I found it strange—after running so long through the mountains, I didn’t feel tired at all, nor the slightest bit hungry.
It seemed only a few in the enemy tribe could see ghosts, but they couldn’t see the lingering resentment left by the dead. That hatred quietly spread through the tribe’s territory.
The next day, the tribe’s shaman sensed something was wrong and began a ritual to exorcise evil. But just as expected, it was useless. The tribe’s totems could block ghosts, but they couldn’t purify the filth.
Plague began to spread through the tribe, and soon people started dying one after another. The power of the totems waned, and the ghosts of the slaughtered tribe returned.
As more people died, the totems lost all power. The newly dead, just turned to souls, were devoured by the vengeful ghosts.