Wizard: I Have a World of the Dead

The entrance to the stronghold was just twenty paces ahead. Two bonfires were still burning beside the gate, their orange flames flickering and illuminating an open space inside.

Galton stopped in his tracks.

Behind them, more than twenty trainee knights also stopped in their tracks.

No one speaks.

No one is breathing.

Everyone stared wide-eyed at the front, their eyes filled with disbelief.

All that could be seen on the ground ahead were corpses lying haphazardly.

Six.

No, not only that.

From the entrance of the village all the way into the depths of the open space, there were corpses everywhere.

Some lay on their backs with their eyes wide open; others lay face down on the ground with horrific wounds on their backs.

Some were cut in half at the waist, with their upper and lower bodies separated by several steps; others had half their heads shattered, with red and white matter splattered all over the ground.

The blood soaked through the dry grass, giving it a dull sheen in the firelight.

"What...what's going on?"

"This...this was all done by the young master?"

"One...one person!"

"How is this possible?!"

The trainee knights were shocked.

Gail didn't speak. He gripped the hilt of his sword and walked step by step toward the pile of corpses.

He walked to a corpse, squatted down, and reached out to turn the person's face over.

Bronze skin, rough leather pants, bare upper body, and crisscrossing scars.

Asdok people.

He stood up again and looked at another body. Also an Asdok. And yet another.

He straightened up and his gaze swept across the entire battlefield.

Six. Eight. Ten. Fifteen. Twenty—

He counted them one by one, and when he reached the end, his pupils contracted slightly.

Twenty-three bodies.

Twenty-three Asdok corpses lay scattered across this small clearing.

Some died by the campfire, some by the wooden fence, some at the entrance to the mountain path, and some under the trees.

Not a single one survived.

Not a single Asdok escaped.

Gail stood amidst the corpses, silent for a long time.

"Sir Gael..."

Matthews' trembling voice came from behind me.

Gail did not turn around.

"These... these were all killed by the young master? The young master... alone..." Matthews asked.

Gail was silent for a few seconds.

He then corrected Matthews's mistake: "Watch your title, Matthews, the apprentice knight. This is not 'young master,' but your lord, our Baron!"

Matthews' body stiffened, and he quickly replied, "Yes...yes, sir!"

Gail nodded, then looked toward the mountaintop.

You can vaguely see flickering flames over there.

He drew his sword and declared with a powerful voice, "Now, immediately, draw your cross-shaped swords and follow me to the Baron's aid to wipe out these Asdokians!"

"Kill these Asdokians!"

......

Meanwhile, Lynch and his skeletons had already reached the mountaintop.

He lay hidden behind a thicket of bushes, peering through the gaps in the leaves, his expression turning somewhat strange.

What are those Asdokians up to?

The mountaintop ahead is a natural, flat platform, about a hundred paces in circumference.

In the center of the platform stood a strange building—

altar.

It was a round platform made of rough stones, about half a person high, with dense patterns carved all over its surface.

The lines were crooked and twisted, not like words, but more like some kind of distorted symbols, which seemed to be slowly wriggling in the firelight.

A dozen torches were planted around the altar, their orange flames flickering and illuminating the entire platform.

Within the torchlight, more than twenty Asdok men, each wielding a scimitar, stood motionless in a semi-circle facing the altar.

Their bare upper bodies gleamed with a bronze sheen in the firelight, and their expressions were so serious they bordered on fanaticism.

Above the altar stood several thick wooden stakes.

Several young girls were tied to the wooden stake.

They were completely naked, their hands were tied behind their backs to the wooden stakes, and their heads hung limply, their faces obscured.

But their bodies were blindingly white in the firelight, and each had a horrific wound on its throat, wrist, and ankle.

Fresh blood was slowly seeping from those wounds, flowing down the skin and dripping onto the stone surface of the altar, gradually filling the eerie symbols.

In the very center of the altar stood a person.

An Asdok person dressed in strange clothes.

He wore a long robe that reached his ankles, made of some kind of animal hide, covered with colorful bone fragments and feathers.

He wore a mask carved from bone, with two holes cut out in the eye sockets, revealing a pair of bloodshot eyes.

He held a long wooden staff in his hand, which was also covered with twisted symbols. At the top of the staff was a fist-sized stone that gleamed eerily in the firelight.

The man was jumping and leaping on the altar.

His movements were exaggerated and contorted, sometimes leaping high into the air, sometimes crawling on the ground, muttering incantations.

The tone was extremely strange, sharp and piercing, like the howl of a wild beast or the groan of a dying man.

"Huff... Hah... Huff... Hah..."

The Asdok people around the altar responded in unison, their voices deep and fervent.

"Waaah—"

"Waaah—"

"Waaah—"

The flames flickered, blood flowed, and the twisted symbols gleamed a dark red light in the blood and firelight.

Lin Qi squinted.

What are these guys doing?

His gaze then fell on the girls who were tied to the wooden stakes.

Not moving at all.

Is he dead or alive?

Is Margaret inside?

He couldn't see their faces clearly.

But anyway—

Lin Qi withdrew his gaze, his eyes turning cold.

No matter what these Asdokians were up to, he had no intention of letting them continue.

Leave one alive later, we'll find out by asking.

He took a deep breath and pulled down the visor of his helmet.

"Click".

Behind him, five skeletons silently rose to their feet.

"superior."

Five skeletons shot out of the bushes like arrows.

Elite Skull Number 2 charged ahead, gripping the greatsword in both hands. The blade trailed a cold light in the firelight as it rammed straight into the nearest Asdok.

Before the man could even react, he was struck in the chest by a sword.

"Crack!" The sound of ribs breaking was clearly audible. The person flew three or four steps away and crashed into a stone on the edge of the altar, where he remained motionless.

Skulls 1, 3, and 5 followed closely behind, attacking the enemy formation from the flank.

The rusty sword pierced his throat, the flail shattered his skull, and four or five of the Asdokians surrounding the altar had already fallen before they even understood what was happening.

"Enemy attack!"

A loud roar exploded out.

He was an exceptionally robust Asdok man, a full head taller than his surrounding tribesmen, his bare upper body covered with crisscrossing scars.

He held a sword in his hand that was longer and wider than the other scimitars, its blade gleaming darkly in the firelight.

leader.

He glanced at the charging "tin men," a fierce glint in his eyes.

"Stop them!" he roared. "Don't disturb the shaman's ritual!"

The remaining Asdokians, as if waking from a dream, grabbed their scimitars and charged at the skeletons with howls.

More than twenty people against five skeletons.

They have a numerical advantage.

but--

Skull No. 2's greatsword swept out, simultaneously cleaving the two Asdok warriors at the forefront in half. Blood gushed out, entrails spilled out, and they didn't even have time to scream.

The flail of Skull No. 3 whistled down, the iron ball slamming into the head of an Asdok. The skull shattered, and red and white matter splattered everywhere.

Skull 1 and Skull 5 stood back to back, thrusting their rusty swords out from the left and right. The two Asdoks who were trying to attack from the side simultaneously clutched their throats and fell down, mouthfuls of blood and foam gushing from their mouths.

Skull 4 stood on the perimeter, firing bone arrows one after another, each one precisely piercing the eye socket or throat of an Asdok.

The scimitar struck the plate armor, sparks flying, but only leaving shallow white marks.

The skeletons felt no pain, no fear; they simply reaped lives with each sword strike, each axe swing, each hammer blow.

Less than three minutes.

Of the more than twenty Asdok people, most of them fell.

The remaining few, gripping their curved swords, retreated step by step, their faces filled with terror.

"What...what are these things...?"

"They are not human...not human..."

The leader stood at the front, with four or five wounds on his body. The deepest one stretched from his left shoulder all the way to his waist, with the flesh torn and blood dripping.

He was panting heavily, his eyes filled with shock and anger.

Seeing that the battle had completely turned one-sided, Lynch, who had the upper hand, was preparing to wipe out all the Asdok people in one fell swoop.

But just then...

Suddenly, a strange sound rang out.

"Whoosh whoosh whoosh—"

It sounded like something was burning, or like a gale sweeping across a wilderness. The sound came from the direction of the altar, growing louder and closer.

Lin Qi suddenly looked up.

In the center of the altar, the shaman, dressed in a strange robe and wearing a bone mask, had stopped jumping and hopping.

He held the wooden staff with both hands, raising it high, the dark red stone at the top of the staff gleaming intensely.

On the surface of the stone, a ball of flame was actually gathering out of thin air!

Lynch's pupils suddenly contracted.

"boom--!"

Flames shot out from the staff, leaving a scorching trail in the air, and flew straight towards the No. 5 skeleton closest to the altar, slamming into its chest.

Instantly, the steel bodysuit began to melt.

The steel softened, flowed, and dripped like wax, revealing the underlying skeleton.

Lynch was taken aback.

He stood at the edge of the battlefield, looking at the pile of wreckage, his pupils suddenly contracting.

fireball.

That's a fireball.

A buzzing sound came from Lin Qi's mind.

Then, a thought exploded in my mind—

"Fire...fireball?"

He murmured, "Magic...magic!"

His eyes widened as he stared intently at the shaman.

"This world..."

His throat bobbed, and he swallowed hard. "This world actually has magic!"

He looked again at the shaman wearing a bone mask in the center of the altar.

Strange attire, bizarre wooden staff, eerie altar...

At this moment, these thoughts raced through his mind, instantly sketching out an image.

An image that appeared many times in the childhood memories of the original owner of this body.

Lynch took a deep breath and exclaimed in shock, "A wizard..."

"This guy..."

"This guy is a wizard!!!"