Chapter 129: Soulwalker
With a deafening roar from Gallax, gray flames erupted all around, filling the tomb with a choking stench of sulfur. This was Grayfire—the fire of decay. The Wasteland Domain where Gallax dwelled was a world perpetually burning in Grayfire, a flame that devoured the souls of all living beings. Until a soul was utterly destroyed, Grayfire would never be extinguished.
The moment Grayfire ignited, Leon felt the temperature around him drop sharply. What had merely been a gloomy crypt now seemed to transform into an ice cellar. The raging Grayfire nearly reached Leon’s feet, and it looked as if a single flicker of the flames could ignite his soul at any moment.
Yet Leon stood firm, unmoving, his gaze fixed on the furious Wasteland Lord as if he were merely watching a play.
"Fine. One hundred years..." After a brief standoff, Gallax’s voice suddenly softened, unexpectedly: "Just a hundred years. This is Lord Gallax’s final concession—and your last chance, human."
"Heh, esteemed Wasteland Lord, your generosity moves me to tears." For the first time, Leon smiled. When he looked at the Wasteland Lord, the previous wariness in his eyes was gone. "But I still refuse!"
"Impudent!" Gallax exploded with rage, and with another roar, the Grayfire surged higher, turning the tomb into a sea of gray flames.
A wave of bone-chilling cold swept over him, and Leon couldn’t help but shiver. Yet his eyes remained locked on the contract, on the true name of the Wasteland Lord written in Nether script. Moments later, a smile crept onto Leon’s face again. He gently brushed his finger across the Wasteland Lord’s true name, and instantly, several magical runes dissipated—the true name vanished under Leon’s touch!
"You... you... you dare defile Lord Gallax’s true name? Shameless thief! You have insulted Lord Gallax’s dignity. Your soul will be forever lost in the flames of the Abyss! I will turn your body to ash and scatter it across the Wasteland Domain! I will imprison your soul for eternity! I will make you—"
The deafening roars grew louder and louder. Chunks of earth fell from the tomb’s ceiling, and the whole crypt seemed to tremble under the Wasteland Lord’s wrath.
But at that moment, Leon uttered another incantation.
"Now let me see what you really are!"
The spell Leon cast was the third-level True Sight, renowned for piercing all illusions and revealing the truth behind every facade. As the incantation fell, a flash of light appeared in Leon’s eyes.
"You damned human!" The Wasteland Lord’s projection let out a shriek. The enormous shadow that had loomed over most of the tomb’s ceiling shrank rapidly under the gaze of True Sight, finally transforming into a ring that clattered to the ground.
"Human, I curse you!" As the ring hit the ground, a dark silhouette burst forth.
"Relic Spirit!" It happened so fast that Leon could only cry out in alarm. The shadow lunged at him, and with no time to think, Leon pointed his Soulbound Staff, sending a chain of flames to coil around it as he threw himself backward.
Leon didn’t expect the flame chain to hold for long. After all, this was the Relic Spirit of an Essence Relic, a terror said to rival Title Archmages. If his flame chain could restrain it for even a second, that would already be a miracle...
"Damn it, damn it, you cursed human!" Just as the flame chain struck, Leon heard another agonized scream...
What’s going on...?
Startled, Leon looked over and saw, to his shock, that the formidable Relic Spirit of the Essence Relic was actually trapped by a second-level spell!
"You... you... just wait till I get out! I’ll bite you to death!" Yes, inside the blazing chains of fire, a palm-sized wolf cub was howling curses. The only odd thing was that its body was translucent, as if it might dissolve into the air at any moment.
Wait a minute—this is a Spectral Wolf!
Despite the name, Spectral Wolves aren’t undead. They are true soul creatures, living in the Northend World without a physical body—entirely spiritual beings. They are born with mastery over soul-based arts, and the illusions they create even carry traces of the laws of reality.
That’s no joke—a mirage touched by the laws of reality is almost on par with places like the Death Garden. Push it a bit further, and it could become a real world.
In fact, the supreme beings among soul creatures are the legendary Dream Kings. It’s said that every dream of a Dream King is a real world.
The Dream King endlessly slumbers and reincarnates in countless real worlds. If the Dream King ever truly awakens, those worlds would instantly vanish—the resulting power could destroy everything.
Moreover, soul creatures are almost immune to all physical damage, and even most spells barely affect them. Only attacks that target the soul directly can truly harm them.
However, soul creatures are extremely rare in Northend. Even in the peak eras recorded, Leon could only find less than ten documented cases.
Who would’ve thought he’d find one here, in a prince’s tomb from the Third Dynasty?
And what’s more, this one is a soul creature that has become a Relic Spirit...
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But why is it so weak?
Leon couldn’t help but cast a disdainful glance at the Spectral Wolf. This was supposed to be the Relic Spirit of an Essence Relic—how could it be bound by a second-level spell like Flame Chain? Was this thing even real?
"What are you staring at? Once I get out, I’ll bite you for sure!" Leon’s disdainful look made the Spectral Wolf bristle instantly.
"So, you’re a Relic Spirit, huh..." Leon finally understood. The Spectral Wolf before him was definitely the Relic Spirit of an Essence Relic, but for some reason, its power was extremely diminished. Otherwise, how could it be trapped by a Flame Chain?
For Leon, this was a real opportunity...
A chance to master an Essence Relic!
"If you’ve got something to say, say it quick and let me out, or else..." Even bound by the Flame Chain, the Spectral Wolf remained as arrogant as ever.
"Or else you’ll bite me, right..." Leon touched his nose, thinking, no wonder that Grand Mage from the Cloudspire Tower could handle you so easily—so this is your level of intelligence...
"But before you bite me, can I ask—what’s your name?"
"How could someone as noble as me just tell you my name..." The Spectral Wolf’s voice dripped with disdain. As a proud Relic Spirit, how could it simply reveal its name to a human?
"Doesn't matter if you won’t say—let me guess..." And Leon really started guessing.
Leon recited more than a dozen true names of Essence Relics in Nether script. Each one earned a scornful laugh from the Spectral Wolf, but Leon wasn’t in a hurry.
The Grand Mage from Cloudspire Tower had his glory days in Northend for about a century. During that hundred years, there weren’t many Essence Relics—maybe thirty at most, all recorded in the library.
Unfortunately, when Leon read those records, he was only studying Nether script, not paying attention to which true name belonged to which Essence Relic.
So now Leon had to guess...
But guessing wasn’t a problem. There were only about thirty true names—he’d get it sooner or later.
Sure enough, when Leon spoke the twenty-third true name, the Spectral Wolf, who’d been sneering all along, suddenly went silent.
"So it’s you—Wraithwalker Jon." Leon smiled as he spoke.
"So what if you know Lord Jon’s name? What difference does it make?"
"Heh, nothing much. I just wanted to let you know—exploiting loopholes in Soul Contracts comes at a price..." With that, Leon ignored the Wraithwalker still bound by the Flame Chain, pulled a goose-feather quill from his pocket, and began scribbling on the parchment.
"Damn it, what are you doing!" As soon as the quill touched the parchment, the Spectral Wolf’s voice was filled with terror.
Because the Spectral Wolf could clearly sense that the damned human was altering the Soul Contract he’d drafted. As a soul creature, there was no way Jon wouldn’t notice such changes on a soul level.
He still didn’t know what the damned human was up to, but every change to the Soul Contract sent a jolt of dread through the Wraithwalker.
But it was already too late...
No matter how much the Wraithwalker cursed, he couldn’t stop Leon from writing his own name on the Soul Contract...
"No, no, no... Shameless thief! Despicable human! What are you doing!" Instantly, the Wraithwalker struggled furiously within the Flame Chain.
Then the Wraithwalker realized there was no need to struggle—just as he moved, the Flame Chain fell away.
But the poor Wraithwalker didn’t cheer or roar; instead, he looked at Leon with a gaze full of complex emotion. In that instant, he knew the Soul Contract he’d drafted had taken effect.
Only, in a very different way...