Magic Jar

The freezing wind howled. Sunlight filtered through the thin cloud cover, casting a harsh, glaring light across the white ice plains. Rolling mountains rose and fell in jagged peaks. Shrouded in deep layers of shadow, a pitch-black spire loomed from the depths of the range. Its razor-sharp spires reached toward the sky like upright talons, poised to rip the heavens apart—a chilling sight to behold. This was the Tower of Polar Night. At this moment, Mantou and his two companions were on the tower's lowest level. Tiansheng Zhankuang led them deep into a hidden chamber and pressed a hidden mechanism. "I fought my way in and found this thing here." Before them sat an eerie urn. Its spout was shaped into a hideous dragon's head, and from within came faint shrieks and wails, as though countless souls were trapped inside, writhing in agony, alongside a deeply hidden, sinister chuckle. Singo studied the urn closely, trying to discern what it was. "This thing looks familiar..." Mantou, however, walked straight up to it and said, "At a glance, it's obviously magic equipment—maybe something like a soul banner. You guys just watch. I'll go grab it and take a closer look." Remembering something, Singo urgently called out, "Wait—" "What did you say?" Mantou had already laid both hands on the vessel, and he turned his head with a puzzled look at Singo. "Nothing happened. What are you getting so worked up about?" Yet in the very next instant, his eyes rolled back, then snapped into eerie vertical slits shimmering with fanaticism. An illusory specter surged out of the urn, plunging straight into Mantou's nose and mouth. *Magic Jar.* This was the notorious sixth-level necromancy spell. The magic jar served as a soul receptacle; the moment someone touched it, the soul inside would attempt possession, seizing control of the host's body and trapping the host's soul within the vessel. The possessed creature's soul could perceive its surroundings from the container through its own senses, but it could not move or take any action. "Mantou" looked down, stroking his new body. Claws lightly traced every scale and muscle of the half-dragon, his expression brimming with absolute ecstasy. "Ah, what an exquisite body. "A flawless bloodline fusion without any adverse side effects... the flame and might of a red dragon. In nearly a century of experiments, I've never possessed a specimen so perfect. Good thing I left a fragment of my soul here to guard against these shameless thieves." Singo asked coldly, "You're not him. Who the hell are you?" Tiansheng Zhankuang gripped his battleaxe, veins bulging along his arms as he prepared to enter a Rage at a moment's notice. Both understood clearly that Mantou had likely been possessed by the boss. Yet "Mantou" paid them no mind, continuing to bask in his new vessel, sighing as though reciting poetry, "Just what kind of power is this? As I suspected, the master of this body—that red dragon—is unquestionably an even greater creation. How utterly fascinating." Only then did he finally take notice of the two standing before him. Though it was still Mantou's face, the crimson slitted pupils glared fixatedly at them, making their hair stand on end. "Ah, two more precious specimens. Today truly is a bountiful day." The entity occupying Mantou's body bowed slightly, offering a rather polite greeting. "Right, I forgot to introduce myself. I am a wizard, an artist, and a disciple of dragons. You may call me by the name I bore when I was once mortal—Vagnerd. "We should be spending a great deal of time together from now on." Vagnerd pulled his lips back, flashing a chilling grin. Vagnerd, the Dragon-Mad Black Wizard, was once a mortal abducted by the Cult of the Dragon. After watching his wife eaten alive as a sacrifice with his own eyes, he had gone completely insane. He threw everything away to pursue the power of dragons, turning his own daughter into a monstrosity with his own hands and raising countless draconic abominations in the tower—even including a genuine white dragon. Unlike the Cult of the Dragon, Vagnerd's worship was not about serving evil dragons like gods. He revered only their raw might. For the sake of that power, he had devised potent spells to entrap true dragons, not hesitating to discard his beloved daughter and treat her as a lowly specimen to be experimented on at his whim. "Oh? Wait, my dear test subject is still questioning me?" "To think that someone with red dragon blood flowing in his veins would say such things." Vagnerd leaned his ear close to the magic jar, seemingly listening intently. Inside, Mantou's soul was cursing him up and down with righteous fury, calling him a beast who used his own daughter as a lab rat. As a player, though Mantou was infuriated by having his body stolen, he was not afraid. After all, he could just respawn; at worst, he would lose a bit of experience and start over. "You absolute fucking bastard, doing that to your own daughter! You deserve to be—" Hearing Mantou's barrage of curses, Vagnerd actually chuckled softly. "You mean my daughter? "I loved her dearly. I poured all the very best things into her, but her own bloodline was simply too inferior to live up to my expectations. "She refused to accept the glorious evolution, so I had no choice but to replace her arms, her torso, her legs... with the finest draconic organs. "Look at those scales, that surging dragon blood, those powerful muscles—isn't that ten thousand times stronger than her frail original shell? She is my most satisfying creation right now, far more perfect than all my previous works." As he spoke, Vagnerd's tone grew obsessed once more. *Whoosh!* Taking advantage of Vagnerd's momentary lapse in focus, Singo struck without warning. A Hunter's Mark appeared upon Vagnerd's head, and an arrow shot forth in the blink of an eye. Yet a pitch-black magical forcefield manifested around Vagnerd's body, effortlessly reducing the sharp arrow to splinters. "This is your companion's body, you know. "If this soul fragment of mine dissipates, his body will die along with it, and your companion will be trapped in the magic jar forever." Tiansheng Zhankuang, however, let out a berserk roar and charged forward right behind, leaping down with a vicious chop of his battleaxe. "Die!" "Completely indifferent to whether this body's owner lives or dies? How intriguing." A glimmer of amusement shone in Vagnerd's eyes. Infused with dread energy, his gaze turned hollow, like bottomless black holes. *Eyebite.* Black radiance flashed. Tiansheng Zhankuang, who had met his gaze for merely a heartbeat, fell fast asleep, collapsing onto the icy stone floor. Singo was unable to react in time and was struck by the spell as well. However, a needle with a built-in trigger plunged violently into the back of his neck, jolting him awake from the magical slumber in an instant. It was a contraption he had specifically commissioned from the Machine Cult to counter just such a predicament, capable of automatically waking him the moment it detected an onset of sleep. "Oh?" "What an interesting little toy." Vagnerd grinned, his eyes once more flaring with crimson magical luminescence. *Dominate Person.* His lips twitched slightly. Though he spoke no audible words, the command had already been issued. Singo instantly felt an overwhelming mental force dominate his consciousness, leaving no room for the slightest resistance. Though this was merely a soul fragment of the black wizard, the potent mental power accumulated over a century was vast as the abyss, leaving a player still in the novice stages entirely powerless to fight back.