The Dark Mage Of The Magus World-Chapter 76 - 77: The Footsteps

Hutson scanned his surroundings through AI chip’s environmental detection—

Nothing.

The house was empty. There was no one inside.

Yet the entire structure trembled, as if some unseen force were hammering against it with unnatural strength.

The blows against the door grew more violent, more desperate.

Hutson narrowed his eyes. "I saw people in there just moments ago."

A man and a woman. They were there, he was certain of it.

And now?

They were gone.

No transition. No sound. No trace.

Even AI chip failed to register the exact moment they had vanished.

Hutson’s instincts screamed at him.

Leave. Now.

Turning sharply, he began retracing his steps toward the mountain path leading out of town.

Tap. Tap. Tap.

Footsteps.

Hutson froze.

The moment he stopped moving—so did the sound.

Slowly, he turned.

Nothing.

A long, empty path stretched behind him, void of any visible pursuer.

Even AI chip’s scans detected no other lifeforms in his immediate vicinity.

Hutson’s expression darkened.

"Dark Energy Shield."

"Mana Barrier."

"Frost Armor."

Layering three protective spells onto himself, he steadied his breathing before continuing forward.

Tap. Tap. Tap.

Again.

This time, he felt it.

A presence.

It was right behind him.

A breath—cold and shallow—whispered against the back of his neck.

Hutson whirled around.

Nothing.

His mind raced. His field of vision expanded as AI chip generated a three-dimensional model of the surrounding area.

No anomalies. No entities. No distortions.

But something was there.

Hutson picked up his pace, breaking into a full sprint.

The footsteps followed.

Faster. Chasing him.

Then—

He stopped abruptly.

His surroundings had changed.

Hutson’s gaze flicked to the landscape, his brow furrowing.

Something was wrong.

He turned. The valley below stretched in the distance. He could see the mountain road leading down, the way out of this cursed town.

He could even see One Line Sky—the gorge they had passed through to enter.

Then why was he on the mountaintop?

He had been walking toward the exit.

Yet, somehow, he had arrived at the highest point in town, where the houses were clustered together the most densely.

That house he had knocked on earlier—the one with the butcher’s sounds—

It had been far below, near the tavern.

So why was he here?

Hutson’s pulse slowed as realization dawned.

The town was distorting reality.

He took a deep breath, then retraced his steps toward the town’s exit.

When he passed the same house again, it was silent.

No hammering.

No desperate strikes against the door.

It was as if nothing had ever happened.

Hutson tightened his jaw and made a wide detour, avoiding the building entirely.

The tavern came into view.

Inside, the lights still glowed—but the interior was silent.

Hutson peered through the door.

Everything was exactly as they left it.

The buttered ales remained untouched, their golden foam still fresh.

Nothing had moved.

And yet—

Tap. Tap. Tap.

The footsteps never stopped following him.

He gritted his teeth, forcing himself to remain calm.

Was it an echo? A distortion of sound?

No. It was something worse.

Something unseen.

A chill brushed against the back of his neck.

Hutson exhaled slowly.

"I need to start studying necromantic magic. My current spell repertoire is far too limited for dealing with this."

He had a theory now.

He was being hunted.

Not by something alive.

But by something already dead.

One Line Sky came into view.

A few more steps, and he would be out of Creek Valley Town.

But—

He was back on the mountaintop.

Hutson stopped cold.

He hadn’t noticed when it happened. He had no recollection of turning or shifting direction.

And yet, here he stood, above the town once more.

His breathing slowed.

"The stars..."

Closing his eyes, he reached out with his mystical senses.

The positions of the stars had not changed. They aligned exactly as they should.

This was not an illusion.

This was something else.

Hutson’s gaze swept over the town, taking in the faintly glowing windows of distant homes.

For the first time, he felt a hesitation.

If even the mountain road was compromised, then the only option left was—

The heart of the town.

Hutson took a step forward, then stopped abruptly.

A three-story house stood nearby, lights glowing warmly within.

Unlike the other buildings, this one felt... lived in.

Music drifted from its windows—

A violin.

And—voices.

Real, living voices.

Hutson’s eyes flickered.

Then, he saw it.

A garden.

A vast plot of land, enclosed by an ornate metal fence, its vines creeping like twisting veins.

He knew those plants.

He had encountered them before.

Moving closer, Hutson slowed his pace, his gaze sharp and wary.

The footsteps behind him grew louder.

Then, AI chip scanned the garden.

For the first time tonight—

It detected something.

"Demon Flowers."

Hutson’s eyes narrowed.

The entire garden was filled with Demon Flowers—one of the primary ingredients in Dawn Elixirs, a volatile potion component.

And he had dealt with these before.

Recently.

His fingers tensed.

This wasn’t just some cursed town.

Someone had been cultivating these flowers deliberately.

And whoever they were—

They were still here.

The footsteps behind him stirred the garden to life.

The Demon Flowers lifted their heads—each revealing a face stunningly beautiful, yet disturbingly unnatural.

No two were the same, yet they all shared a bewitching allure, their petals curling into sultry smiles.

Their stems and vines swayed sinuously, imitating the graceful movements of a woman’s waist.

Hutson, however, remained unaffected.

His Dark Energy Shield rendered him immune to their charm.

Without hesitation, he reached into his spatial ring and retrieved a herbal digging tool.

Then, in one swift motion, he leapt into the garden—

And began digging.

"Ah! Ah! Ah!"

The first strike of his shovel sent a piercing wail through the night.

But it wasn’t a scream of pain.

It was a moan of pleasure.

Hutson’s expression darkened as he realized—

The face within the flower twisted, its sultry smile contorting into something far more depraved.

Ignoring the unsettling display, Hutson focused on his task, clearing away the earth beneath its roots before gripping the thick, pulsing stem.

With a firm tug, he began pulling the plant from the ground.

The Demon Flower convulsed violently, its cries growing louder, more fevered—

As though the roots were its most sensitive spot.

It twitched.

It shook.

It quivered.

Then—

With one final spasm, the flower collapsed limply against Hutson’s body, its long vines draped over him in exhaustion.

The expression on its face...

Hutson barely spared it a glance before shoving it off with a disgusted frown.

Without hesitation, he stuffed the entire plant into his spatial ring.

One down.

On to the next.

Demon Flowers were valuable commodities, their roots and essence crucial ingredients for powerful alchemical potions.

A single plant could be sold for a small fortune in magic stones.

And here?

An entire garden full of them.

Hutson wasn’t about to let this opportunity slip away.

Ignoring the depraved moans filling the night air, he methodically dug up plant after plant, stuffing each one into his ring.

Before long, he had collected sixteen.

Then—

Something moved inside the house.

Hutson froze, shovel in hand.

Something was watching him.

He turned.

The window had opened—though he hadn’t heard a sound.

And within it—

A woman stared at him.

No, not a woman.

A woman’s head.

Severed. Disembodied. Floating.

Her wide, unblinking eyes bore into his, filled with an unnatural intensity.

The night grew even colder.

Hutson’s fingers tightened around the shovel.

Something was very, very wrong.