Academic gathering with Lich colleagues

"..."

The Pharaoh remained silent for a moment.

Its body began to shatter, freeing the monster bound within. You can hardly imagine, and probably wouldn't believe, that the stone withered, shriveling like a fruit, and then turning into sand.

Behind the statue was a shadow, like a large cloth stretched out in the air, with a pair of pale eyes carved on the top protrusion.

As if time were reversed, the flying sand and gravel flowed back to their original place, forming a bandage-like garment that wrapped the black cloth.

Those bandaged hands tied a bow around their sides.

"Now I finally understand why you are a Pure One. You are much cleaner than us, completely impartial. It's a pity I had something to do at the recruitment event, otherwise I would have personally taken you to witness the darkness of this world. By the way, I am darkness. Welcome to the Literature Club."

Mr. Darkness extended his bandaged hand. "The seal is broken. You can shake my hand now."

Aren't you going to consider my opinion?

Lyle grasped Dark's hand. "I've heard so much about you, Mr. Dark. I am the Plague Doctor."

Lyle exerted a little force, his dark hand squeezing it like a balloon, and black air was squeezed out from the gap, hissing in the air like snakes.

Lyle noticed that several patches of his glove, where it had been in contact with the skin, had been corroded. The next instant, he released his grip.

"You'll get used to it," Mr. Dark said, covering the bandage on his arm again.

"Mr. Darkness, your body..."

"It's completely void. If it's not sealed, it will destroy the world."

A human-shaped natural disaster.

"The Salvation Society?"

“The Salvation Society.” Mr. Dark took out the black dragon badge and pinned it to his chest.

"Alright, come in quickly, the gentleman has been waiting for a long time." Darkness pointed to a colorful light screen, like a giant bubble.

The two went inside.

The floor of the Literature Club was multicolored, and the light from the light bats shone on the bubbles floating in the air, creating a dreamy feeling with a girlish touch. There were colorful mushroom-shaped buildings, like a fairy tale world. The only flaw was the figures in black robes walking on the ground. They were all members of the Literature Club. Some were creating literature, some were practicing magic, and some... were they proselytizing? They looked like mortals who had stumbled into a fairyland.

"Isn't it beautiful?"

"Yes, the atmosphere of the literary society is really special."

"What if I told you that the floor you're standing on, those houses, even the tables and chairs, are all cannibalistic?"

"?!"

“Young man, a beautiful appearance is used to hide a vicious inner self. This is the result of natural selection. These mushrooms, don’t they look beautiful? How do you think they grow so big? We use the corpses of animals and plants as fertilizer for them, and they can even digest living people.”

“Mr. Darkness, talking behind people’s backs is not a good habit. My babies are not in any danger.”

Approaching us was a mushroom-shaped creature.

Its entire body was covered with colorful mushrooms, barely resembling a human figure.

"Hello, new sir, it's a pleasure to meet you. I am the mushroom master." He took off the large mushroom from his head and did a hat-tipping ceremony, but did not put it back, because in such a short time, the previously empty space had been densely covered with mycelium.

"Don't listen to the dark nonsense, my mushrooms normally grow by drinking water." In other words, he didn't refute the fact that they eat people.

“The mushroom master is my supervisor. We both belong to the category of… well… we can’t be in close contact with too much. His spores will parasitize everything they come into contact with. Yes, his mushrooms can grow as long as there is water, and of course, other bodily fluids such as blood can also grow. The spores will also produce special digestive enzymes to dissolve any anhydrous substances they come into contact with into absorbable colloids.”

"Yes, this method of reproduction is uncontrollable."

Chapter 47 is truly too dark.

"In one experiment, a primeval forest was wiped out by these wildly growing mushrooms. It's a bit of a stretch to call it a living organism. It doesn't have a life cycle. Feeding, reproduction, and seeding all happen simultaneously."

"Even now, we are surrounded by its spores. Because the invisible tiny spores refract light, the scenery here is somewhat hazy."

Seeing Lyle start to fidget with his clothes, the Bacteria Master smiled. "It's alright, Mr. Plague Doctor. Here, their activity is suppressed, and they are basically harmless."

“This is Mr. Dark’s territory, you could say it’s his annihilation domain. We’ve implemented specific restrictions to ensure the mushrooms’ low activity.”

"The huge bubble outside the literary society is a barrier, a specific killer against this kind of fungus."

"Even if you're reluctant, it's okay, because the number of spores around Mr. Darkness will decrease drastically, but I couldn't believe it when I saw the collection report."

“What’s there to be surprised about? They’re just submitting to my aura.” Mr. Darkness covered his face with his palm, his eyes peering at the two through the gaps in his fingers, followed by a booming laugh that soared into the sky.

It looks so cringeworthy.

"Mr. Darkness always has some strange aspects, you'll get used to it."

"I don't want to be talked to like that by a mushroom person. Even your mushrooms have submitted to you. Haven't you seen the truth? This world should be captivated by my majesty, hahahahaha!"

“Mr. Darkness, magic also has its basis. You didn’t do anything at the time. I’m more inclined to believe it was the biological response.”

So, is it a reflex arc similar to a conditioned reflex? "Wait a minute, Mr. Monarch, you mean these mushrooms are actively avoiding Mr. Darkness, and they have a complete neural network that responds to external stimuli!"

"Are these mushrooms sentient?"

"I can't be sure, it's just a guess, but even a guess makes me incredibly happy." The Spore Lord gently stroked the mushroom head growing on his chest. "These little cuties, if they had thoughts, would they call me Dad or Mom? Ah, I can't wait to find out. Should I start researching how to create a new race of Spore People?"

The fungus master indulged in fantasies about the future.

Darkness ignored the fungus master and led Lyle toward the large mushroom-shaped building in the center. "Don't worry about him. Once he enters that state, he won't wake up for two or three hours."

Lyle nodded. The infatuation shown by the Bacteria Master was exactly the same as that of Mr. Dragon; both were people who dedicated their bodies and minds to a certain kind of thing.

Inside the room, which was the true headquarters of the literary society, was a hidden world. The torches on the walls were pale white, which, combined with the dark black stone interior walls, the goat skull carvings that could be seen everywhere, and a large number of figures wearing black robes.

The ceiling was covered with a dark black curtain that dragged on the floor, a completely useless decorative piece that would obstruct walking.

Mr. Darkness casually tore off a piece of cloth and draped it over himself, completely covering his bandaged head, and marched forward with his head held high.

The surrounding club members also gave their president face; perhaps they also enjoyed this kind of role-playing. As Mr. Darkness advanced, they lined up on both sides, clearing the way and bowing.

Lyle hesitated, wondering whether he should continue following along.

Mr. Darkness was like Moses parting the seas before him, and Lyle, feeling he wasn't part of the literary society, didn't want to participate in their mass performance.

Mr. Darkness arrived at the highest step, where a bone throne stood, made of the bones of different creatures. At the top of the back of the throne was a huge canine skull, its canine teeth well-preserved and still retaining its former majesty.

Mr. Dark sat down without complaining about the discomfort. With that, the first act of the performance ended, and the crowd, like a cult gathering, sat at Mr. Dark's feet.

No one made a sound; Lyle could only hear his own heartbeat. The Dark Lord beneath the black robe had a glint in his eyes, probably because the bandages on his face had come loose again.

He lowered his voice, and although Lyle didn't know how the ethereal spirits changed their timbre, it was indeed a completely different voice.

"Tonight, the Dark Guild has welcomed quite a few new members. Very well. In the name of me, Grand Duke of the Void, Edmond Jean Dark, I swear that in the future, you will be glad you made the choice you have today."

"Our enemy is Merok Raymond, an apostle sent by God to purify the world, the vice-ruler of Heaven, the arm of God, and a seraphim who can turn back time by a hundred years."

"He was indeed a formidable enemy. Even against me, the enemy of the world, he was only slightly outmatched. But today, my mercy has ended. By seizing the power of the ancient Egyptian sun god, I have successfully defeated him and captured the new generation of the Son of Light. Yes, that's you, Plague Doctor!"

As Mr. Dark pointed in this direction, the people around him cleared the stage, making Lyle stand out like a plucked chicken.

Mr. Darkness, you're really something! You're so capable. Making up stories to embellish your own image is one thing, being an extra is another, but I was just dropping by, how did I become a special guest?

Lyle quietly enjoyed social death.

It's so dark.

Chapter Forty-Eight: The Man of the Secret Contract - Mr. Reporter

Mr. Darkness quickly returned to his private room, and everything around him was tidied up, just like a film crew disbanding.

The bed curtains climbed back up the roof and transformed into stone carvings. The bone throne creaked and stretched out, splitting into the skulls of sheep, dogs, and deer. Soul flames reignited in the eye sockets, though the eerie feeling did not lessen much.

The crowd, gathered together, took off their black robes and swarmed into their rooms like ants returning to their nest.

The scene returned to the atmosphere of a real literary society.

"How does it feel, Son of the Holy Light?" A teasing voice came from behind him as a gentleman in a tuxedo carefully folded his black robe; he was clearly part of the performance as well.

"Fright, and an indescribable sense of shame."

The gentleman held up one hand to cover his face with his mask, saying, "You've only experienced it once."

"Should I feel satisfied? Why should I put on such a shameful performance?"

"Because it's necessary. Mr. Darkness, he actually has a bit of... well... that kind of unrealistic, indistinguishable way of thinking about the real world."

It's just chuunibyou (middle school syndrome).

"Moreover, his inflated self-esteem will affect his combat effectiveness. We have to help maintain his high-end combat capabilities to deal with Raymond, who can come to us at any time to express his feelings."

"Come on, let me introduce you to some friends. You might end up interacting with them quite often in the future."

And so they were led through a side door.

Behind the door was a typical reading room, decorated in a style similar to the Cup of Extravagance, with a large round table in the center and bookshelves on both sides. Two figures turned their heads as Lyle arrived.

A fashionista dressed like a grotesque freak, wearing a deer antler crown, an unidentified animal skin coat, a grass skirt tightly tied around his waist, and white fleece tights that were recently trending, is a patchwork of different eras. It's like an advertisement crammed into your eyes and invading your vision. You can understand two things: first, the vast span of human clothing evolution; second, the extent of human brain damage in its late stages.

The other wasn't much better. Buried among the manuscripts was a Greek-style silk robe, a thin layer draped over the body. Logically, the remaining skin, exposed naturally, should have possessed a timeless, harmonious quality, like an immersive oil painting. However, it was mechanical. The remaining parts—exposed mechanical limbs, and a cube-shaped metal head on the neck—whether brain or a hood—exuded a strong science fiction vibe. The clash between nostalgia and futurism created a surreal and absurd effect, almost like a toothache. For a more concrete understanding, one could refer to the phrases "Namo Gatling Bodhisattva" and "Omniscient and Omnipotent Nuclear God."

“You might not recognize him, but this is the reporter.” The gentleman pointed to the man with the deer head.

"And this is...?"

“William Wiján,” the mechanical scholar interrupted.

"We like to call him Mr. Delusional. You'll find out why later."

The reporter stood up, steadyed the antlers that were swaying due to inertia, and grasped Lyle's arm, speaking sincerely.

"Mr. Plague Doctor, we couldn't have a heart-to-heart talk last time due to special circumstances. The regret of last time has brought us this opportunity. The goddess of fate has indeed been kind to me."

Lyle watched as the antler crown began to sway with the reporter's waving hand, the sharp antlers almost piercing his head.

Leaning back slightly, he said, "It's also a pleasure to see you again, Mr. Reporter."

"Hehe, you must come to my shop if you have the chance. You can tell at a glance that Yi Yi is a very sincere buyer."

"Hmm? Are you a businessman, sir?"

"I sell some special things."