Academic gathering with Lich colleagues

“Yes, Mr. Plague Doctor,” the little cutie bowed, her bat wings unfolding like flowers, enveloping her body like a lady lifting her skirt. “My name is Grape, and one of my hobbies is reading the newspaper, the Andre News.”

"It's nice to meet you, Grape. Could you help me find Onion? He's also a light bat like you. I'm not particularly good at distinguishing between you two."

"Of course, sir, the inability to distinguish between different races is a common trait of all living beings, unless it looks really special."

"Yes, just like you, Grape, your black fur is quite beautiful."

"Thank you." Grape chirped happily, flew around Lyle once, and finally returned to the back of his hand.

"Is there something you need to convey? Please tell me directly, sir, and I will pass it on properly."

“Well, I made a deal with Onion, promising him a carrot as payment.” Lyle took the carrot out of his pocket and showed it to Grape. “Could you take it to him for me? I’ll give you a reward in return.”

Grape's tiny head glanced at the carrot, then turned to the lens on the bird's beak. It stretched out its claws and lifted the carrot to make sure it was a weight it could bear.

"Of course, Doctor of the Epidemic, I will do my job well, and I do have some wishes that I hope you can help me fulfill."

"Okay, if I can do it."

“Mr. Plague Doctor, you are truly a special person.” Grape hovered in front of Lyle’s mask, looked at it carefully again, then flapped its wings and flew away.

"Thank you, I will cherish this special feeling."

……

The Magic Research Club is one of the older clubs, so their offices are on the first floor, quite close to the main entrance, which is very convenient.

It is also particularly eye-catching, being a fog door. As the name suggests, there is a blurry white fog at the entrance, a cloud floating on the wall. Moreover, if you are not a member of the club or an invited person, there is really only a wall behind the fog door.

The fog formed a vortex, and at its center was a mirror, a magic mirror, a creation of magic.

The gentleman stepped forward.

"Mirror, mirror on the wall, who is the most handsome man in the world?" The gentleman displayed his sense of humor.

The mirror began to blur, then became clear. Lyle curiously looked inside and saw... another mirror inside the mirror, and his own reflection was on it.

A roguish voice rang out, "The most handsome person in the world is, of course, you, Grandpa Magic Mirror. Who doesn't praise me for being handsome or beautiful when they look in the mirror?"

The gentleman looked at Lyle, "It always surprises me. Last time, its answer was, 'Raymond, if you don't like it, go bite him.'"

"Gentleman?" Another voice appeared. Lyle looked for the source of the sound and found that the previously intact wall had suddenly opened a crack. A shadow peeked out from behind the wall and waved to the two of them. "This way."

The gentleman and Lyle obediently walked over. "Aren't you going through the main entrance? Miracle."

The figure known as the miracle looked around, then, like a thief, pulled the two into the hollow, and the walls reassembled like a zipper.

“If you go through the front door, you’ll get caught by the law.”

Why is the lawyer arresting you?

"It wasn't this experiment, I meant the awakening ceremony. He meant it didn't comply with regulations and had to be banned, so we had to start it secretly."

"Unlicensed spellcasting?" Lyle was a little worried; illegal operations usually didn't end well.

Miracle looked at Lyle, sizing him up. "Do you have 120,000 Oriol? Give me 120,000 and I can do it according to the rules. I have the proper ritual permission to cast spells."

Never mind what I said.

“Miracle, don’t you know the Plague Doctor has a desire for money? Don’t scare him.” The gentleman turned to look at Lyle again. “Don’t worry, Miracle is a very mature spellcaster. He just doesn’t like to do things the rules. It’s just a small change. Trust me, the Plague Doctor will not harm you.”

"I hope so."

The three walked down the dark corridor.

"Is the Lawyer also in the Magic Research Society?"

"Yes, magic is law, and law is law, is there a problem?"

"no problem."

Chapter Forty-Three: The Ritual of Fantasy

After walking for about a minute or two in the darkness, Lyle saw a dimly lit room in the dim candlelight. They were really careful, not even using light bats, but using old-fashioned candles instead. At least the candles didn't have mouths that would give away their transgression, or perhaps it was part of the ritual.

"Spells are mysterious, and mysteries cannot be made public. The first lesson for spellcasters in the Magic Research Society is to keep the mystery secret. The fewest witnesses guarantee the highest success rate. This is not fiction. Many new powers have emerged from the solitary research of one person."

The speaker was a gentleman, and through his eyes, he could see into people's hearts.

Lyle heard a bubbling sound, a sound he knew all too well—the sound of broth boiling. He saw a large black pot, big enough to easily hold him, with a large spoon stirring it. A cool, spicy aroma filled his nostrils, with a hint of mint? It was hard to describe. Lyle felt an urge, an urge to jump into the pot and drown in the broth.

Another voice came from the dark corner beside the cauldron, “Grab him. His talent hasn’t awakened yet, and the temptation of his instincts is too strong. I want him to be at least ten steps away from the cauldron before I can prepare the potion.”

Miracle reacted quickly; he snapped his fingers, and the stones on the wall stretched into a whip, binding Lyle like a snake.

The gentleman helped Lyle up as he was falling. "Hang in there, Doctor. This is normal. It's your biological instinct. It senses an opportunity for evolution. Don't give in to it. Be patient. It's alright. Everything is normal."

“That’s not normal. A normal reaction wouldn’t be this intense. The strongest addiction I’ve ever seen, besides his, is trembling all over. Look, he can only move his feet now, and he’s trying to climb over here. Why is that? Is it a side effect of the desire?”

"I don't know, but isn't this precisely why we're here? To study the laws governing the existence of desire, to find inspiration." A miracle began to inscribe a magic circle on the stone slab in the very center of the room.

It was an inverted pentagram with a complex structure.

"A miracle? I've never heard of that. The awakening ritual requires a demonic magic circle. Are you planning to borrow power from a demon?" The gentleman, acting as a caregiver, raised his question.

"Ignorant! Does that mean all the pentagrams in the world belong to the devil? Yes, I need to borrow his power. After all, the God of Magic is like a rusty iron machine that has crashed. Any behavior that doesn't follow the rules is not allowed. Did you see the goat skull? No! Did you see the Soul Coin? No! Did you see the Contract Parchment? Still no! The material I need is just this."

Miracle proudly pulled out a cloth bag. Inside was a lump of blackened, rotting flesh, tender and oozing juice. "I call it the Flesh of Deception. It's an artificial flesh block synthesized to resemble a sea monster. I'd rather make a deal with a fool than a cunning devil who believes in contracts. Yes, my beneficiary is an ancient god slumbering in the sea of ​​stars. Once He consumes this, His power will flow out like constipation, and be used by me."

"A terrible analogy. On behalf of the literary society, I express my disapproval of your comment."

"Tch, a literary society that wastes its time on frivolous pursuits, disdains true beauty, I don't care for it at all."

"Oh, you didn't submit any articles this year?"

"..."

"Alright, I'm done here. It's really time-consuming to prepare the potion using the abandoned equipment," Mr. Inspiration scooped up a spoonful to check the color; it was pitch black in the dim light. "All set. I'll add some chopped green onions to thicken the sauce, and the potion will be ready."

"Scallions? Inspiration, you've altered the potion again without permission. I'm warning you, if it fails, I'll write an article to ruin your reputation." The gentleman still valued the safety of his junior plague doctor.

“It’s alright. Don’t you remember his talent for inspiration? His talent is creating false propositions and using unconventional methods to achieve his goals.”

"Alright, now that we have the potion, the magic circle, and the awakening materials, let's begin the ritual."

Inspiration magically transferred Lyle to the center of the pentagram pattern on the circular slate. The ink was still wet, and the extending liquid, like tentacles, seeped into Lyle's clothes.

"Take off his clothes; it's inconvenient to observe the experimental results while he's dressed like this."

"No way! Andre guarantees the privacy of every member. Withdraw it now, or I'll report you both to the law right now."

"Gentleman, that's enough. You were the one who contacted us in the first place, and now you want to kick us out of the water? You're crossing the river and burning the bridge, and we haven't even crossed the river yet."

“I had no idea you guys had designs on members with desires. We were just getting what we wanted, but now I’m starting to regret it.”

"Never mind, inspiration's here. Just get dressed and pour the potion on."

Inspiration commanded the cauldron to fly up, its scalding liquid pouring down and slapping Lyle, who instantly stopped struggling and stopped breathing.

Hallucinations arise from this.

It's like floating on a dark sea, with the deep ocean behind you and the starry sky in front of you. But the lights don't seem bright. It's not the darkness that sets off the light, but the light that sets off the darkness. It's a sickly, infected light.

A sound seemed to drift into my ears, like an obscure, unknown ballad.

"The tears of the sleepless soak my eyes, and I will sink blindly."

Lyle sank into the abyss. He stretched out his hand, and what flowed from his fingertips were only the tiny bubbles that had escaped during his struggle. The light drifted away from him, and even the faintest glimmer of light, distinct from darkness, was unattainable, merging with the darkness.

"The silhouettes of the innocent climb up my back, and I will no longer be alone."

Lyle could feel the growth; something resembling rust or plant was growing on his back. He looked at his palm; it had melted into the seawater, leaving only its dark green outline. Before long, he would be completely devoured.

“The mercy of the heartless takes my arm, and I will witness my… God.”

The ocean current shifted, pulling Lyle further away, towards a faintly glowing figure. He drew closer, closer, and closer still, but he couldn't make the outline any clearer, until…

He moved.

Lyle realized that it wasn't a human figure, but... a pupil, a unique vertical pupil. The starry sky was its eyelids, the ocean was the white of its eyes, and the human figure was its pupil.

Yes, I witnessed His true form.

Blind arrogance and reckless behavior.

The pressure of the deep sea crushed its fragile shell in an instant.

"The desires of the ignorant awaken the arrogance within, which devours my God."

Lyle's shattered limbs, like drifting debris, gradually blurred, becoming a phantom, a new pupil.

I am Him, you are the dregs.

The starlight disappeared into the ocean, paying no attention to the debris. A phantom rose from the seabed and heard the stars singing for Him.

"To propagate His people."

Lyle opened his eyes wide and awoke from his hallucination.

Chapter Forty-Four: A Strange Talent

The dim candlelight forced its way into Lyle's vision, prying open his eyelids. He was like someone forever trapped in darkness, seeing light for the first time, only feeling its blinding glare. Only when his rigid brain, like a rusty gear, began to turn again did the delusions frozen in his mind begin to melt away, flowing into inconspicuous corners, like a dream.

Lyle realized that the ceremony was over.

The remaining soup was still warm, and the viscous gel stuck to his coat. The slippery feeling was transmitted to his brain through every pore. What made him most uncomfortable were the tiny bits of scallion stuck to his coat, which had clumped together like a plate of stir-fried vegetables placed on his abdomen, and there was quite a lot of it.

"How are you feeling, Physician?" The gentleman looked over with concern, while Miracle and Inspiration seemed more concerned with the scallion bits, staring at the whole patch of green solidified in their abdomens, speechless for a long time.

"My head feels a little heavy, and my body feels a little sticky. Other than that, I don't feel anything special. Is this a failure?" He brushed off the extra things on his body. The stone chains binding him were gone, and Lyle stood up easily.

“If you’re referring to your innate ritual, then it has been successful.” The gentleman pointed behind him to the stone slab where Lyle had once lay. The original spot was spotless, but in the center of the slab, there was a small dent, with broken stones scattered about.

"Did I break it?" If I broke it myself, I can only apologize and I will not take any responsibility. This stone looks quite sturdy, but I didn't expect it to be so fragile.

"That's the revealing stone, part of the ritual, the foundation stone. In earlier times, people would place shaped stones in the open air, waiting for lightning to shatter them, and judge good or bad fortune from the fragments—yes, like divination. We determine our own talents by reading and writing the fragments."

Lyle looked closely at the scattered stones, which seemed to have no discernible pattern.

“This is (an egg), this is (thinking), no, the angle of observation is wrong. Based on where the plague doctor just lay, it should follow the spine, starting from the head, this direction, this is, crooked (thinking), should be understood as (daydreaming) or (delusion),” Miracle stroked the stones, muttering incantations, whispering like a demigod performing a spell. “Egg of daydreaming? Egg of delusion?”