The Wizard: Starting as a Corpse Collector Apprentice and Paying for a Monthly Subscription

"In that case, let's begin."

Without the slightest hesitation, Tyrion drew the blood-stained ritual sword with his other hand.

Dipping his own blood in it, he traced precise marks across the hard rocky ground.

"The five elements of a ritual: prayer, ritual circle, offerings, core, and objective."

Under the 30x overclocking state of the [Slacking Off Sacred Body], Tyron's brain was as calm as a precision lathe.

Those originally obscure and difficult-to-understand mystical symbols were now dissected into the most basic geometric shapes and energy conduits in his eyes.

The universal communication array, which originally required a senior apprentice to spend an hour to barely complete, seemed to come alive in Tyron's hands.

The curvature of every line perfectly matches the golden ratio, and the magical loop at every node is unobstructed.

Just two and a half minutes.

Even after two failures, a complex and precise sacrificial array still appeared perfectly.

"The magic array is complete."

Tyron sheathed his sword, and with a thought, retrieved the five [General Basic Offerings] from the monthly card's storage interface.

They were five small, palm-sized black wooden boxes, their surfaces carved with exquisite and luxurious gold patterns, emitting a unique fragrance that was difficult to describe.

Although I don't know what's inside, it's definitely a product of the monthly card, so it can't be bad.

He placed the five boxes on the five nodes of the magic circle, then solemnly knelt in front of the magic circle and gently placed the [Moonlight Holy Sword Amulet] at the core.

Everything is ready.

Tyron took a deep breath, adjusted his breathing, and began reciting the most basic, yet most stable, communion prayer:

"The light comes from the stars..."

"You look down upon the earth, and the world is illuminated by your gaze..."

"The lost traveler begs for your guidance; may your light pierce through the fog..."

With each syllable uttered, Tyren's spiritual energy flowed precisely into the magic circle like a trickle.

hum!

The magic circle was instantly illuminated.

The five black wooden boxes dissolved rapidly under the influence of magic, turning into five wisps of black and red smoke that converged toward the center as if they were sentient.

In the end, all the smoke was greedily swallowed up by the silver cross amulet.

boom!

A dark, cold, yet infinitely sharp moonlight suddenly burst forth from the amulet.

Tyron felt a blur before his eyes, and his body seemed to lose its weight.

His consciousness was forcibly enveloped by the moonlight, instantly rising and breaking free from the constraints of the material world, rapidly plummeting towards some unknown dimension.

……

When Tyrion regained consciousness, the surrounding scenery had completely changed.

This is no longer that cramped cave.

Instead, it was an underground space filled with a sense of oppression and antiquity.

All around were enormous stone walls that stretched as far as the eye could see, every inch of which was covered with densely packed runes.

These runes were not static, but rather moved and rearranged slowly on the stone wall like living things, radiating a chilling sealing power.

Tyron looked down at himself.

At this moment, he was in a spirit form, his semi-transparent body wrapped with countless black, twisted branches that resembled tree roots.

That is the embodiment of the pollution of the abyss.

These black roots have already penetrated deeply into his limbs and are spreading little by little towards his brain along his spiritual blood vessels.

Once the brain is touched, his self-awareness will completely collapse, turning him into a puppet of the abyss.

"Time is running out."

Tyron forced himself to calm down and looked up straight ahead.

There stood an indescribably huge wall.

On the wall, there were 36 enormous light rings suspended.

Each halo is composed of a vast number of complex runes, which, like a precise gear set, rotate wildly at different speeds and in different directions.

Every second, the combinations of runes undergo hundreds or thousands of changes.

"What a terrifying sealing technique..."

Tyron's pupils contracted slightly as his brain rapidly processed the information before him:

"The astral runes form the main structure, the Ian runes act as the logic locks, and the Karl runes handle the energy cycle..."

"This isn't a communication interface; this is the prison gate!"

"Could it be that Ludovel didn't die, but was sealed here?"

Just as Tyron was filled with doubt and uncertainty.

Roar! !

A roar, devoid of any discernible emotion, suddenly echoed through the massive rune wall.

Immediately afterwards, a visible ripple of moonlight surged out from behind the wall like a tsunami, crashing heavily onto Tyrion's spirit body.

Zizizi!

The ripples did not harm Tyrion; instead, they were like a sacred baptism.

The arrogant black roots on his body let out a shrill scream the moment they came into contact with the moonlight ripples, as if they had encountered flaming oil, and quickly withered and retreated.

An unprecedented sense of refreshment instantly filled Tyron's soul.

"it works!"

A look of wild joy flashed in Tyron's eyes.

"Such pure and domineering moonlight power...this shows that Ludwell has not yet completely fallen!"

"He's behind the wall! He's fighting!"

As long as we can get in touch with him, as long as we can borrow even a little of his power, the mere pollution of the abyss is nothing to us!

Tyronn's gaze was fixed on the rotating wall of runes.

"It is impossible to solve all 36 rings."

"But all I need to do is unravel the most basic first and second links, even if it's just a tiny hole the size of a pinhole, that's enough to transmit the information!"

Soon, with the blessing of the "Slacking Off Sacred Body," he gradually discovered the pattern.

This is essentially an extremely difficult dynamic Sudoku game.

Each change in the runes has its own inherent mathematical logic. As long as you find that one key point before the next change, you can unlock the lock.

"First step, three variables, rotate 30 degrees to the left, lock!"

"Second ring, six variables, reverse Fibonacci sequence, locked!"

Tyron's fingers moved rapidly through the void, each click precisely hitting a node on the light wheel.

Click!Click!

Accompanied by two crisp clicks of the mechanism.

The two outermost rings of light suddenly stopped, then slowly slid apart to the sides.

A hole the size of a fist appeared in the thick wall.

Without any hesitation, Tyron immediately stepped forward and peered through the hole.

next second.

His pupils contracted sharply, and his face showed undisguised shock.

Behind the wall lay an endless battlefield.

There is no sky, no earth, only endless darkness and chaos.

Millions of abyssal monsters surged, roared, and devoured each other in the void like a black tide.

These monsters were distorted to the extreme; some were covered in eyeballs, some were covered in tentacles, and some were just a clump of rotting flesh.

And right in the center of these monsters.

A towering mountain of corpses stands, formed by countless piles of bodies.

At the summit of the mountain of corpses stood a terrifying giant over fifty meters tall.

No, that can no longer be called a "person".

His body was entirely stitched together from various twisted and grotesque corpses and tumors, with every inch of his skin covered with wailing human faces.

Even his head was a fleshy ball made up of countless tormented heads.

Is this the legendary "Moonlight Holy Sword" Ludwell?

This looks more like a Lord of Hatred!

however.

It was right there in the gap created by the countless heads squeezing together.

There was a golden eye that radiated a firm, steady, and inextinguishable light.

That eye coldly watched the surging tide of monsters around it, without a trace of madness, only pure calm and determination.

He swung his only remaining controllable right arm.

What an arm that was!

Countless claws, tentacles, and suckers frantically wrapped around it, trying to stop its movements and drag this last shred of humanity into the abyss.

But those golden eyes only narrowed slightly.

All obstacles were instantly and forcibly assimilated.

More than fifty different shapes of hands and claws, driven by the same will, gripped a huge sword hilt tightly.

hum!

In front of the hilt is a giant sword that is forty meters long.

The sword's blade is crystal clear, as if it were polished from the purest blue-green crystal, radiating a sacred moonlight.

In this abyss of filth, darkness, and despair, it is the only color, the only source of light.

call!

The giant monster wields its sword.

A dreamlike, moonlit sword aura swept out.

Wherever it passed, thousands upon thousands of abyssal monsters were instantly annihilated, leaving not even ashes behind.

He danced amidst mountains of corpses and seas of blood, wielding the power of the moon in the body of a monster.

It seemed to have sensed the watchful gaze.

The terrifying stitched giant slightly turned its enormous, fleshy head.

The golden eye pierced through layers of void, through that fist-sized hole, and met Tyron's gaze.

In that instant, Tyron felt his very soul tremble.

A weathered, weary, yet still resolute voice resounded directly in his mind:

"A young wizard..."

"Why were you brought to such a hellish place?"