Myths Reawakened

Wayne swallowed hard and held his breath as he stared at William’s palm. The flash had been so fleeting he almost dismissed it as a trick of light. He already knew there was another side to the world when he heard about the urban legends, and what happened earlier had proved him right.

What a terrible revelation. The world seemed suddenly hostile to ordinary folk like him. He would rather everyone be as mundane as himself, not fantastical beings beyond his imagination.

Unless he wasn’t mundane, either. Case in point, the Book of Greed! Never had he wanted to open the book so badly.

“Who marked you?”

William’s question only compounded Albert’s confusion. It took him a moment to remember something, but before he could confess, the mark of Death’s followers on the back of his hand morphed; four tentacles stretched from each side of the upside-down triangle, clawing at air like a sketch of a black spider.

It wasn’t so much inked into his skin but branded into his bones and soul. The eight spider legs climbed along his veins like poison, spreading quickly and covering the entire arm in no time.

Albert groaned in pain like he was fighting and struggling against something, his face distorted. Yet the more he resisted, the greater his torment. It got to a point that he couldn’t even breathe properly, let alone speak.

William’s fingers clenched around Albert’s wrist, and the warm flash of light dispersed the darkness and forced the spindly legs to retract. Albert’s groans took on a different quality. At the same time, Wayne felt another wave of desire from the Book of Greed, which made him salivate.

This is the worst. I’m salivating over William, of all people!

With his pain soothed, Albert reverted to his stupefied state and spilled the beans on the meeting he had attended in the warehouse area. He didn’t know much about the Death Sect; he wasn’t even a fringe member, but an accidental recruit. Years of working under demanding mistresses had left him looking barely alive—unsteady gait, dim eyes, sickly figure—which had attracted the attention of Death’s followers. They’d mistakenly led him into their base in the warehouse area.

Albert dared not resist such a mob, so he drank the black rum and got himself marked as a follower of the Goddess of Death.

His information wasn’t particularly valuable except for confirming the warehouse location. When William pressed further, Albert mentioned several names, most notably Pluto, the harbor worker.

Mrs. Reiner, Albert, and Pluto were all connected. The energy of the Deathwalker surrounding Mrs. Reiner had likely come from Pluto. Even if he didn’t turn out to be the Deathwalker, he would be an important lead.

“Come on, to the warehouse area!” Veronica decided without hesitation, heading out with the black cat Monica cradled in her arms. William knocked Albert unconscious and grabbed a blanket to cover him before running after her.

Wayne hesitated. His instinct told him that they were marching toward danger, and he would surely regret it if he followed them, but if he didn’t... he knew he would regret it even more!

Thinking about the dangerous world and the Book of Greed, which had refused to open for him, he caught up with them with his teeth clenched.

Once they reached the street below, Wayne glanced at his watch and asked, “Are we heading to the warehouse area now? It’s getting late. It’ll be dark when we get there.”

It had taken quite some time to get to Albert’s apartment from the port, and it would take just as much time to head back to the warehouse area located near the port. Although Wayne would never admit it aloud, the city at night unnerved him. He would prefer to undertake this mission the following morning.

William could read his reservations. He clapped him on the shoulder and squeezed it, his large hand hefty, strong, and incredibly warm. “You must have figured it out. Yes, Veronica and I are both mages. While the night may be intimidating, moonlight will be guiding us every step of the way. It’ll be alright.”

Thanks for the reassurance, but must you touch me like that? And sure, a delicate beauty like Veronica makes sense as a mage, but a muscleman like you? Really? Couldn’t your magical academy find a more suitable candidate?

Wayne’s eyes twitched as the heat radiated from William’s palm threatened to leave a brand on his shoulder. He said awkwardly, “I’ve only read about mages in fiction. It’s supposed to be quite difficult to become one, isn’t it? There’s a high bar for natural talent. Do you think... that I can become a mage?”

“Yes,” William said seriously. “But you must find your faith first.”

“Shut up,” Veronica interrupted him in an icy tone. “You talk too much. Don’t get an ordinary person involved.”

“I know, but Wayne is already involved. He’s haunted by death. The Deathwalker has clearly marked him...” William argued, his voice quieting with each word, betraying his obvious fear of Veronica.

Wayne’s eyes widened. Haunted by death? Marked by the Deathwalker? What does that even mean? Please elaborate when it comes to a life and death matter!

“Don’t worry. You’ll be safe once we raid the Death Sect base in the warehouse area.” William patted Wayne on the shoulder once more, surreptitiously injecting him with light when he thought Veronica wasn’t watching.

She glanced at him and didn’t say anything.

***

In the taxi, Wayne kept to himself with his eyes closed. Under the guise of resting, he flipped through the Book of Greed.

Yes, it opened!

William hadn’t told Wayne what magic was, but he had applied a ward on him. It was a simple combination of mana and faith that would protect Wayne when death came knocking.

Wayne didn’t know and didn’t have the presence of mind to notice. As soon as the light entered his body, the Book of Greed devoured it, which unlocked its content for his mind’s eyes.

Well, there wasn’t much to be read as the book mostly consisted of blank pages. The good news was that his name appeared on the first page. The bad news was that the book differed so much from the one he had originally coded that it might as well be its own thing.

He didn’t know where the difference had come from. Maybe Jose had secretly added his personal twists, or the many intentional bugs they crammed in had resulted in unexpected properties.

While creating the Book of Greed, Wayne had combined a wide array of properties such as title buffs, stats-doubling bonuses, immunity to all elemental damage, and connections to the Outer Gods. One of its functions was the sacrifice mechanic: it could sacrifice a player to acquire all items in their inventory and ban the account for seven days.

He admitted that it was an OP, game-breaking power that was brutish and unreasonable, but a gamemaster’s exclusive legendary item should be powerful to maintain order. Players were known as the Fourth Crisis, after all[1]. Without proper authority, a gamemaster would become a pushover at their mercy.

Those properties and mechanics were absent from the Book of Greed he now held. Perhaps they needed unlocking, or maybe they’d been deleted entirely. Even the few functions still available were severely nerfed. The sacrifice mechanic, for example, had become the ability to form a contract with a soul.

Wayne attempted to use it on Veronica first, but failed. His plan to bind a magical girl to his service was thwarted. Then he tried William with the same result. He couldn’t even form a contract with Monica.

It made sense that he couldn’t enslave mages and their pet. He was too green and weak. But really? He couldn’t even create a contract with the taxi driver or any of the pedestrians?

He had finally activated his cheat and was ready to leave his mark on the world, but it proved to be no better than nothing, and he had even lost a ward to it! Was the cheat nerfed too much, or was he, the user, too useless?

The more he thought about it, the more he felt exploited, but then the Book of Greed picked up on a soul he could form a contract with.

Wait, a vengeful spirit?

Crimson codes surfaced on the blank page to draft a contract. All he had to do was sign it. Without hesitation, he signed his name with a thought.

The lowly one who prays, the wronged dead with grievances, I’ve heard your pleas... Under this sacred contract, all that you have will be mine. Your past remains your own, but not your future... You’ve gained another chance at life. You will become a vengeful spirit and slaughter for your master and your god.

(一`´一)

What the hell. That sounds positively villainous!

1. Players of the game Stellaris first began to call players the Fourth Crisis due to their unpredictability. The phrase has become a well-known reference to players. ☜