“I do have something I want. I promise not to turn you over to the academy. In exchange… you know what needs to be done, though I won’t say it out loud.”
Wang Yue was, of course, referring to getting rid of the worm inside her head.
She chose her words with extreme caution, speaking in vague allusions to prevent the parasite from identifying her thoughts as betrayal. Her life was still very much on the line.
“What are you so wary of? Do you really not trust the great Audara Ias?”
“Hurry up. Stop wasting time.”
“Don’t be so impatient. First, let me explain the capabilities of this relic. By human standards, it falls under the category of a Special Grade Relic. Using such a thing merely to manipulate people is a tragic waste; its owner is a complete fool who doesn’t understand its true value at all.
“This Special Grade Relic is an autonomous type. Its autonomy is based on a pseudo-personality formed from a portion of the owner’s memories—essentially an imperfect Avatar. To certain higher life forms, it’s a low-level clone; to humans, however, its level of existence is actually higher than their own. Human bodies have a finite capacity for power. Unless you discard your human form, you can never ascend to a higher plane of existence.
“The relic’s method of control involves automatically analyzing the host’s loyalty. Its enforcement mechanism? Destroying the host’s brain.
“As I said, its autonomy is a pseudo-personality formed from the owner’s memories. This creates a fatal flaw—if you plan your betrayal using a language the owner of the Gaze Worm doesn’t understand, it won’t react at all!
“Furthermore, its visual synchronization only transmits information at intervals; it isn’t a real-time feed. This gives you the opportunity to fabricate what it sees. If it were real-time, the brains of you lower life forms—which lack compartmentalization and can’t think of two things at once—would never be able to handle it. Such inefficient surveillance would be pointless…”
After grumbling through the mechanics of the Gaze Worm, the octopus proceeded to explain the removal method.
Step one: Think about the removal plan entirely in a language the Bishop cannot understand. Since the thoughts cannot be identified, the betrayal punishment will not be triggered.
Step two: Climb a high tower and set up a site for a Descent Rite. Then, use a specific method to isolate mental energy, creating a mental sanctuary to prevent the Gaze Worm from transmitting the ritual process back to the Bishop.
Step three: Use the Descent Rite to summon a consciousness projection of Audara Ias.
The octopus gave her an incantation to summon its true body’s projection. By borrowing a fraction of its original power, it could seize control of the Gaze Worm and become the new master of this Special Grade Relic.
Wang Yue breathed a long sigh of relief. Using one enemy to strike another—it seemed Audara Ias might actually be the key to neutralizing the Gaze Worm.
“What about Veronica? How is she?” Wang Yue suddenly thought of the octopus-girl.
“That little thing? She will gradually remember who she is and recall her past. Nothing more,” the octopus in the jar replied.
***
Wang Yue and Medeili began their walk back.
Wang Yue remained silent, sharing nothing of her conversation with Audara Ias with the orange-haired girl. The Gaze Worm was still watching, and she couldn’t risk exposure.
Her goal wasn’t just to escape the Church’s control; she intended to use the information bridge between the Gaze Worm and the Bishop to feed him false information and exact her revenge. Wang Yue wasn’t the type of person to get slapped, curl up on the ground crying, and ask, “What did I do wrong?”
As they neared the classroom, a realization struck her. She muttered, “Wait, are we late?”
Beside her, Medeili nodded vigorously.
“Whose class is it?”
“Professor Tone.”
“Crap.”
Wang Yue did a quick mental calculation. The bell had rung fifteen minutes ago; they had missed a quarter of the lesson. She vaguely recalled that this was supposed to be Magic Creatures class.
In the previous session, Professor Tone had mentioned they would be dissecting something today. This was bad. Professor Tone was likely to dissect her instead.
Wang Yue scowled. It was all that octopus’s fault for yapping non-stop—and its name was so long that it took forever just to introduce itself.
Arriving at the classroom door, she pushed it open with trepidation. Instantly, a thick, overpowering stench of blood slammed into her!
It felt like a physical punch to the face, leaving her dizzy. Aside from the stinging scent of blood, the air was saturated with an acidic gas. Her eyes began to water. With every breath, her throat burned with a sour ache as if she had swallowed a mouthful of vinegar. Tears and snot began to flow uncontrollably.
What is this? A chemical weapon?
She forced her eyes open and saw that all the students in the classroom were wearing gas masks—dark green rubberized hoods with steel-rimmed circular lenses, with flexible tubes dangling down to connect to square air-purification boxes.
No one spoke. The silence was eerie as dozens of eyes turned in unison to stare at the pair.
Professor Tone stepped away from the lectern and walked straight toward Wang Yue and Medeili. She, too, was wearing a mask. The glass lenses obscured her stern gaze, but the sheer weight of her presence made Wang Yue’s blood run cold.
“Re… reporting for class,” Wang Yue stammered.
“The two of you, go and get Elephant Man Masks,” the professor said, her voice icy and devoid of emotion.
In this world, gas masks were known as Elephant Man Masks, and their construction was entirely different from anything on Earth. The hood was made of a soft, elastic leather with a natural grain, stitched tightly with waxed thread. The flexible tube was made from a whole snake skin, reinforced internally with wire rings.
Once the mask was on, Wang Yue could finally take a deep breath.
She tried to slink back to her seat like a thief, but she hadn’t even made it halfway before Professor Tone called out.
“Student Wang Yue.”
She froze and turned slowly. “Yes?”
“Did I give you permission to leave?”
“I’m sorry.”
“You seem to have no concept of time. Or perhaps you feel your knowledge is already so vast that you have no need for further instruction?”
It was a loaded question with no right answer. Both options led to a dead end. It was like being asked if she wanted to die standing or lying down.
Wang Yue lowered her head, putting on a pitiful, repentant act. In any other teacher’s class, a student who messed up could usually get away with a cute smile and an apology. But Professor Tone was different. Trying to act cute around her was a death sentence.
Several gloating looks came from behind her. Lilith and Lulu’anna were watching with immense anticipation to see what happened next.
Professor Tone remained silent for a moment, seemingly composing a punishment. Then, she pointed to a blood-red monstrous corpse lying on the dissection table.
“This lesson is vital. To make up for the seventeen minutes of class you missed, Student Wang Yue, you will be the one to dissect this Blood Demon. It should help reinforce your learning.”
Gee, thanks a lot, Wang Yue thought, her face scrunching up like a crumpled piece of paper.
The corpse was the source of the bloody stench and acidic gas. It looked limp and dull, emitting a foul odor of rot. It was unclear how long it had been dead.
So this is a Blood Demon?
In the previous Magic Creatures class, Wang Yue had studied the characteristics of a Blood Demon. She had seen illustrations in the textbook, but seeing a real one up close filled her with a suffocating sense of dread.
The Blood Demon before her had a sac-like head covered in blood-red tentacles. The tentacles ranged from thirty to fifty centimeters in length, dark red in color, with clusters of stinging cells that resembled octopus suckers shimmering with an odd light—like a burst, overripe pomegranate.
Arranged evenly around the head were twenty-four almond-shaped vertical eyes. They were half-closed, confirming its death.
The mere sight of that gelatinous head covered in writhing feelers and pupils triggered a massive wave of revulsion. A sharp, needle-like pain throbbed in her head, and her stomach churned. She felt a powerful urge to vomit.
I am never being late again, Wang Yue wailed internally.
Medeili, who was late alongside her, didn’t escape unscathed either. She was assigned as the assistant, tasked with sterilizing the dissection tools.
“Sorry, I dragged you into this,” Wang Yue whispered guiltily.
“Hmph,” Medeili huffed softly.
A Blood Demon was a massive source of mental pollution. An ordinary person staring at it for too long would experience dizziness, nausea, and anxiety as their mind was tainted by fear. Prolonged exposure could lead to madness. Fortunately, the students had already taken two classes on the occult; they focused their breathing and centered their spirits, desperately trying to maintain their Sanity.
The dissection table consisted of a complex metal frame supporting a smooth marble top. Cuneiform cooling runes were etched into the stone, and as mana flowed through them, a cold mist settled around the corpse, acting as a temperature control system.
A stainless steel tray held knives, scissors, needles, and forceps—a complete set of tools.
Wang Yue steeled her nerves and pulled on a pair of small latex gloves. With a sharp snap against her wrist, they fit snugly, feeling like a second skin.
