Diary of a Dead Wizard-Chapter 213: The Interlayer (2)

Saul didn’t dare move, but his eyes never left the slender, noodle-like arms in front of him.

The fingers on those arms writhed gently, as if out of excitement, or perhaps spasms.

Gradually, they reached him.

Saul tensed immediately.

Because these arms were actually touching his soul form, stroking repeatedly along his legs, his hands, his face.

Saul wasn’t surprised they could make contact. Judging by how they appeared, these weren’t normal monsters at all—they resembled wraiths, composed of soul essence.

These were the same arms that had dragged in the Third Rank apprentice Ferguson. Their power was terrifying, easily comparable to a True Wizard.

Saul was now in soul form, with no magic or spells to rely on. His earlier burst of mental strength that tore apart the Crying Face might not even be enough to cut through these “noodles.”

His plan was to wait for the arms to retreat, then find a way into the storeroom.

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But the grotesque limbs only grew more enthusiastic in their groping, beginning to wrap around him, unwilling to let go. Even the ones that had initially missed their target were now seeking him out, one by one, binding him up like a mummy.

And as time passed, a chilling numbness began to creep across his surface, slowly seeping into his bones and organs.

Luckily, he was currently a soul with no real skin or bones. Otherwise his body might have already suffered severe damage, making it impossible to stay still.

Saul grit his teeth and endured, waiting for the arms to retreat, for the door to close, but what he got instead was the diary flying up in front of his face.

The hardcover book opened with a flutter of pages and revealed a fresh entry:

June 12th, Year 316 of the Lunar Calendar

You, who won't sleep properly,

have met those just as restless.

At first, they merely probed with caution,

but greed gradually triumphed over reason, or perhaps reason never existed at all.

They pull at you, eagerly inviting you to join the midnight revelry.

After tonight, may your corpse, what remains of you in this world,

Be discovered before it rots.

Saul’s eyes flew wide.

The diary’s words alerted him to something he hadn’t noticed: the arms groping his body had started pulling—gently testing, tugging him toward the door.

“Greed has overtaken reason! They’re trying to pull me in despite the rules?”

Having long grown used to the diary’s cryptic phrasing, Saul instantly extracted the real warning hidden within.

He no longer cared about the rules his mentor had laid down. He began to struggle immediately.

He clawed and tore at the arms and fingers entwining him. If they wouldn’t let go, he’d rip them off!

Sure enough, these arms hadn’t yet fully committed to dragging him in. His resistance freed most of his body almost at once.

Still disentangling himself, Saul turned and fled.

But the moment he tried to escape, he triggered the remaining hesitant arms.

Greed surged past their fear.

The arms swelled, thickening rapidly, fingers becoming strong and sinewy.

The hallway was suddenly packed with white limbs, their skin pressing and scraping together with slick, gritty sounds.

One arm still lying across Saul’s face ballooned in an instant, twisted fingers locking down on his face and blocking his sight—trying to keep him there.

Saul drifted forward, tearing at the fingers gripping his face.

But the thing had a strong hold. While it couldn’t completely stop him, it still clung to him tenaciously.

His pace slowed as a result. Saul couldn’t afford to be cautious anymore—he used both hands, even his teeth, biting down hard on the fingers wrapped around his face.

He thought he heard a faint scream.

The hand across his face recoiled instantly, snapping back like a rubber band and vanishing into the mass of limbs.

Saul finally accelerated again.

But the horrible scraping sounds behind him were getting closer. When he glanced back, a few fingers were already reaching for his back.

The diary still hovered before his chest—he hadn’t yet escaped death.

Grinding his teeth, Saul pushed to run faster. Suddenly, he heard a crunch from his mouth—he realized he’d bitten off a chunk of flesh from that arm.

“Pleh!” He spat it out immediately, unsure what he’d just chewed. While running, he roared at the arms gaining on him, “Come any closer and I’ll bite you all to death!”

Amazingly, the threat actually had some effect.

The nearest arm hesitated, freezing in place.

But that was all. The others continued surging after him in a mad frenzy, stretching toward the fleeing soul.

Another finger caught his ankle, nearly toppling him.

“This won’t work!” Saul adjusted his balance quickly. “Without magic, I can’t cast spells. If I’m forced to stop and fight hand-to-hand, I’ll eventually be overwhelmed!”

As a wizard apprentice, his mental strength was weak, lacking proper attack methods. The only time he’d ever used it to fight was through Byron’s consciousness platform…

And throwing bricks by hand.

“I can’t stop—if I stop, they’ll drag me back. I remember that even soul forms have methods of attack, but apprentices rarely learn them…”

Victor’s image came to mind—how he used his harp to control people’s thoughts.

“Victor didn’t release a single hint of magic. That’s why no one noticed what he was doing—it let him control others in secret.”

After all, a wary mind and a relaxed one are completely different targets.

Even a Second Rank Wizard would struggle to control that many minds at once.

That would contradict what Saul had learned in the Wizard Tower’s foundational courses.

The hands were nearly upon him again. Saul felt their icy presence brushing against his back.

“Gotta take a gamble!”

With no further messages from the diary, Saul made up his mind and began to activate his mental strength.

This time, he had no magic to guide a spell. But Saul didn’t stop—he drove his mental power like magic.

As it circulated, he felt himself twist like a vortex, reshaping with each pulse of energy.

It left his consciousness fuzzy, hard to maintain, but whenever he started to lose focus, he looked down at the diary.

And instantly snapped back to clarity.

Finally, a simple spell model took form within his soul body, channeling pure mental force.

Now!

Saul’s head snapped around a full 180 degrees, just like a true wraith, eyes wide as he stared down the oncoming arms.

Zero Tier Spell – Demoralise Gaze!

Whoosh!

It was like someone hit pause—every single warped arm froze, stuck in place.

Saul didn’t stick around to admire the chaos he’d unleashed. He whipped his head back around and kept running.

His choice had been correct—because three seconds later, the frozen arms exploded into a frenzy again, growing wildly in rage.

His mental energy had been heavily drained—he wasn’t sure he could pull off another attack.

Then suddenly, he burst into a brightly lit area.

The pale, pursuing arms instantly began to smoke—like they’d touched hot metal—recoiling with agonized spasms.

At the same moment, the diary finally snapped shut and drifted serenely back to his left shoulder.

“Ahh…” Saul nearly collapsed, his whole soul body on the verge of exhaustion. He slowly sank to the ground and murmured to himself, “…I’m alive.”

(End of Chapter)