Mystery: From the Shadow World

Chapter 46 The God’s “Response”

As night fell, Philip, who had already parted ways with Old Neil, returned home with the materials he had bought and the food from Iron Cross Street, ready to start carving the talisman in his memory after dinner.

On the dining table, the lunch that Philip had left for Admisol had disappeared, and the door of the bedroom on the second floor closest to the stairs was tightly closed.

He went to the kitchen and started cooking, while reading a book and reviewing the relevant information about making talismans in his mind. Admisol in the bedroom also walked out directly after hearing the noise.

These days he has adapted to living in this house with his eyes closed and wrapped in a cloth. It can even be said that as long as Philip asks, he can close his eyes and handle any housework in the room, which is completely equivalent to a menial servant.

It seemed that the Tarot meeting would be held tomorrow, and he didn't know if Mr. "The Hanged Man" had any good news. Philip swallowed a piece of white radish, hesitated for a moment, and still did not take the initiative to mention it to the other party, so as to avoid long-term expectations.

That definitely wouldn't be a pleasant feeling.

After dinner, Philip was about to go back to his room, but then he seemed to think of something, turned around and said to Ademisol who was bending over to clean the table: "No matter what noise you hear later, don't pay attention to it."

He was unsure what would happen if he prayed to the gods for power to create a spell. Even if it was a low-level spell that did not require the assistance of ritual magic, as long as the great being he was praying to had malicious intentions, it would teach him a lesson.

Philip returned to his room, took out four silver pieces from his pocket, opened the bedside table, took out a silver knife, set up the spiritual wall in the room, and began to carve.

Low-level spells were actually not difficult, nor were they overly dangerous. In essence, they simply involved using a container that could hold something to pray for strength from higher beings, and then maintaining that strength through the use of spells and symbolic symbols.

Even ritual magic is not necessary.

In this case, even if you act like a traitor, such as a follower of the Goddess of Night making a talisman of the Eternal Sun, it won't be a big problem. After all, if the gods even care about such things, they must be too busy.

Even so, Philip did not let down his guard. He focused all his attention on the knife and silver sheet in his hand. Spiritual energy steadily gushed out from the tip of the knife, carving a string of spells on the surface of the silver sheet:
"The Bound God."

This refers to the deity believed in by the Rose School's Temperance Department, the Bound God.

As for the other party's name, no one remembers it.

"Philip's" parents once told him that since some time ago, the status of the Bound God has become different from that of other gods. Even the honorific name should be avoided from being silently recited in the heart, as it would come at a very painful price.

As time went by, even the members of the temperance movement no longer remembered His name.

Well, it also has something to do with the fact that people are almost being killed.

Philip was also cautious about this, and he didn't even want to take risks at first, but now he had to seek hope as much as possible, hope that could help him escape from his current precarious situation and survive safely.

If he were to encounter a Sequence 5 from the Indulgent Faction, or any other mid-Sequence expert, the only person who could possibly save him would be Mr. Fool, to whom he hadn't even spoken his name, and to whom he couldn't even ask for help. The risk was too great.

And he didn't dare to completely trust the other party.

According to the philosophies of both the abstinence faction and the indulgence faction, the former's faith in the "Bound God" and the latter's faith in the "Mother Tree of Desire" are not necessarily hostile, but their relationship is likely to be anything but friendly. You can try to gain control. Even if there is a genuine problem, the consequences of this minor trick, which doesn't even involve ritual magic, are certainly not fatal. At the very least, you can hold out until Monday to seek the Fool's help.

As the carving of symbols and spells was about to be completed, Philip closed his eyes, exhaled, and then opened his eyes again. His spiritual power gushed out and projected onto the tip of the silver knife, making the final stroke.

At the moment when his spiritual connection was revealed, Philip suddenly felt a strange and unfathomable mysterious power emerging in the room. The familiar feeling deep in his memory made him want to relax, but this power changed drastically in an instant.

Resentment, madness, anger.
These mixed negative emotions, mixed with a tremendous and terrifying force, swept out from the burst silver medal, penetrated into his forehead, and attacked his mind without reservation.

Philip's breathing stopped, his eyelids gradually closed, and he didn't even realize that the silver knife in his hand fell and hit his knee. He fell straight back.

At the end of the boundless shadow, it seemed as if a pair of invisible giant hands were desperately reaching out to the almost negligible embers, trying to touch something, trying to obtain something, but in the end it was in vain.

Angry and crazy mutterings were heard.

In the scorched area illuminated by the embers, Philip stopped struggling and forced himself to stand up. The wounds on his palms, which he had pinched with his nails to suppress his mental agitation, were bleeding.

He raised his head and silently looked at the undercurrent in the distance that was gradually subsiding. Suddenly, he smiled with some relief, a slight and bright smile, but not a real smile.

After only a few seconds, Philip stopped his fake and forced smile.

He opened his palm and looked down at the wound on his palm. Then he took a deep breath, opened his bright sapphire eyes, and stared at the direction where the shadow had disappeared. Without the slightest hesitation, he taunted, "Fuck you, is this all you have?"

"No matter who the f**k you are, I'm telling you, if you have the guts, then come and show yourself at my doorstep right now, or I'll curse you every time I see you until I'm completely dead!"

Philip completely let out the emotions that had been accumulating in his heart. After shouting without any regard for the consequences, his expression froze and he stood calmly in place, ready to accept the situation that followed.

However, after more than twenty seconds, there was no more movement at the end of the endless shadow.

Seeing this, he let out a breath, turned around, and immersed himself in the flames behind him, which seemed a little unstable again in the darkness, and left this place.

As the warmth brushed across his cheek, bringing a moment of relief to his soul, the young man in the room propped himself up from the floor and saw the spiritual knife in front of him and the broken silver pieces.

Philip's eyes flickered as he sat there staring for more than ten seconds. Finally, he suppressed all his emotions and just kicked the fragments into a mess, making them slide everywhere.

He grabbed the mattress with both hands, rolled over and lay on it, stretching towards the ceiling. The whole process was unusually calm. Then he muttered to himself with an expressionless face, "It's really, damn it."

Wait, that's not right.
Philip, who was still immersed in unspeakable emotions, frowned and asked in a puzzled voice: "How come you digested so much of the potion all of a sudden?"

(End of this chapter)