The Gate of Truth

Pale mana flooded into his body—languid, withered, and choked with deathly silence. Wayne felt as though he had downed a glass of ice water in the dead of winter; his gums ached, and an involuntary shiver racked his frame. The Book of Greed pulsed with rhythmic breath, sweeping away the maddening stillness within the mana. As the rotten turbidity cleared, an elegant, serene mana rippled with a limpid, flowing glimmer. Wayne could sense that what the Book of Greed swallowed was not mana itself, but some sort of energy entangled with it. At the same time, the book was quite a picky eater. Last time, it had actively tasted Monica's mana; this time, it was far more perfunctory—taking a bite merely because it had nothing better to do, going through the motions. Extremely perfunctory! The tiny opened eye showed no change either, remaining grayish-white and blind, unable to meet Wayne's gaze. Wayne didn't understand. The Book of Greed had deviated too far from his original programming intent; for now, he could only fumble through its rules step by step until he figured out how to use it properly. Monica transferring all her mana into Wayne and guiding it for his use demonstrated not only her trust in him, but also that she held high hopes for his potential. Wayne did not betray Monica's trust, and he truly possessed immense potential. A chilly lunar luster burst into brilliance, enveloping Wayne's body until his entire form blurred into a cocoon of light. *Such pure moonlight!* *Goddess above, he really is a genius!* Monica was both shocked and delighted. Having guided Wayne to cast magic for the very first time, she feared lingering might disrupt his mental focus, so she sprang away and stood on alert in the distance with tail raised, watching from afar. The oval cocoon of light expanded rapidly. A massive hand reached out, and a luminous silhouette over three meters tall broke free from the cocoon. Humanoid in shape, its facial features faded, concealing eyes, nose, mouth, and ears. Its simple modeling comprised nothing more than four limbs and a torso—crude to the absolute extreme. Watching from the side, William couldn't help letting out a soft grunt of surprise, feeling as if his own magic had been plagiarized. *For friendship's sake, I'll count it as an homage this time.* Monica was so thrilled her fur stood on end. Looking past the exterior to the essence: Wayne's magic was crude and rudimentary, visually unremarkable, yet the moonlight contained within was noble and serene, something never seen before—a benchmark worthy of a true believer of the Goddess of Moonlight. She had been right: Wayne would undoubtedly become a God-favored. Wayne didn't use magic to whip up an atomic bomb. That wasn't practical; never mind whether Monica had enough mana, even if he did manage to fashion one, he wouldn't dare use it. Equal opportunity destruction—he wouldn't even have time to run. By comparison, William's "little light man" mode was much more reliable. *Is this magic?* Wayne lifted an arm. A sea of white met his gaze; without eyes, he could see nothing at all—nothing but white and more white. Just as he wondered where his eyes had gone, the squelching sound of squirming flesh churned in the luminous figure's chest. A vertical slit ripped open across the breast, and a colossal eyeball snapped open. *He could see!* The world opened up before him with unprecedented clarity. Casting magic made Wayne feel as though he had merged into one with the Book of Greed. He could not see this world clearly, but the book could. That gaze cleaved through the haze like a sharp sword, revealing to him the madness lurking beneath the alluring veneer. The gigantic eyeball swept around. The figure of light turned toward William and Monica and gave them a thumbs-up to show he felt fantastic. "..." x2 William and Monica felt awful—not good at all. The instant the eyeball fixed its gaze upon them, goosebumps erupted as if they had plunged into an icy cavern, and their racing heartbeats thundered in their ears. Monica, for instance: the cat stiffened all four legs, fur bristling, tail erect, arching her back as she let out a shriek. To Wayne's ears, the shriek sounded delightfully encouraging. Heartened by his friend's cheer, he whirled around and charged forward. Veronica and Mike were locked in chaotic combat. As a descendant of dragon blood, her physical strength surpassed mortal limits and reached magical proportions, demolishing surroundings as easily as knocking down building blocks. Mike was being brutalized, unable to find an opening to cast any spells. Relying purely on his immortal body and the white gloves, he took a beating the entire time yet somehow managed to hold Veronica to a fifty-fifty stalemate. Veronica held the upper hand firmly, every punch fiercely savage, but Mike wasn't in the least bit anxious. With the priest's help, he had already become one with the town—a formidable law coveted even by the Goddess of Death, impossible to dispel with ordinary physical attacks. Moreover, the ritual was about to begin, and everyone would become his sacrifice. At that thought, Mike flashed a cruel smile. *Boom!* A white fist roared into him, sending Mike flying with the smile still on his face. Veronica looked in surprise at the drastically transformed Wayne. After a moment's thought, she understood what had happened. She twitched her lips in mild annoyance, then turned and withdrew from the battlefield. Of course, she had also been startled; that gigantic eyeball gave her a deeply unsettling sensation, an indescribable horror. "You deal with the Death Walker..." Only magic could defeat magic. Knowing she couldn't finish Mike off, Veronica set off to find the magic circle activating the ritual. Destroy the magic circle, and there would still be time. Mike pushed his mangled body up and met the giant eyeball's gaze. He froze instantly, an unspeakable terror welling up from the depths of his soul; he felt that if he looked at it any longer, he would go mad. *What kind of magic is this?* Wayne kicked Mike away, strode forward, and crushed him underfoot, grinding him into the ground. With their height difference, throwing punches was awkward; rather than waste time punching, he might as well jump on him a few times. Mike's body was brittle. After being ground down several times, large swaths of the human skin covering him sloughed off, exposing desiccated flesh no different from that of the townsfolk. He cast a fixed glance in the direction Veronica had gone, seemingly worried she would find the magic circle. Seeing this, William shouted a warning to Veronica: the enemy was panicking; the magic circle was nearby! Mike roared to cut him off. The black inverted triangle drawn on his white glove sprouted black tentacles, and eight spider legs scuttled across the ground, wrapping around the luminous giant's limbs to pin him firmly in place. Moonlight shone bright. The figure's hands transformed into two long blades, slicing through the air in arcs as limpid as flowing water, instantly severing the eight spider legs into pieces. The severed legs squirmed wildly on the ground, unable to attack further beneath the serene touch of moonlight. The luminous figure's hands shifted into two long spikes, driving straight through Mike's chest and shoulder to pin him to the earth. The eyeball on the chest stared down into Mike, reflecting his grotesque countenance and eliciting non-stop screams. Mike felt as though his mind were coming apart. A mind that had endured the trials of death proved utterly brittle in this moment; in that eye, he saw his hideous self and the Pale Moon hanging high in the night sky. Agony radiating from deep within his soul made him convulse violently, as if he were strapped to a roasting rack having his sinews torn out and skin peeled away. He was practically spent, powerless to resist. "Aaaargh—!" Mike wailed in torment. His hands wrenched open his own withered, yellowed ribs, exposing the shriveled organs within. Over his heart, a mysterious golden triangle symbol stood out vividly. Wayne looked at the symbol in surprise, sensing no death within it. Just as doubt rose in his mind, he was blasted back by a violent surge of golden-yellow light. At his chest, the giant eyeball ruptured. Grayish-white fluid slowly oozed out, and the eye clamped shut from the injury. Wherever the grayish-white fluid ran, skin tissue sprouted. Raised veins wriggled beneath the skin like parasites, twitching and shifting positions from time to time, leaving this new layer of skin uneven and pitted—the spitting image of the Book of Greed's cover. The golden triangle blazed with light, casting its projection across the face of the bizarre, enormous full moon. The air suddenly sank, and the entire space ground to a halt. The flames burning through the town stopped flickering. The zombie townsfolk fell dead silent. The wind died, the trees froze, and you could hear a pin drop. Veronica and William looked up into the sky, their bodies immobilized, expressions contorted, madness gradually welling up in their eyes. Monica was slightly better off: her black fur bristled, and she fainted on the spot with her eyes wide open. Wayne didn't know what the golden triangle represented, only that his supernatural intuition shrieked a piercing warning: the ritual was complete. Mike had carved the magic circle onto his own heart. "Hahaha—!" While everyone else was frozen in place, Mike's body slowly rose into the air. With hands raised high and a serene, tranquil look upon his withered face, he welcomed the advent of greatness like a pilgrim. Innumerable wisps of gray mist swarmed from every corner of the Town of Kafuno, converging into Mike's body. His flesh swelled and mutated, transforming into a colossal black ball of meat. About ten meters in diameter, the meatball was composed of greasy, filthy black human figures, as if soaked in pitch. Their limbs and joints twisted in perpetual writhing, and every face gaped open, releasing meaningless wails that pierced straight into the soul. *Bzzzt—* In that instant, Wayne's head felt ready to split open. His thoughts bordered on frenzy, and he nearly lost control of himself. At this moment, Wayne didn't realize that as the gray mist surged toward Mike, a portion had been intercepted by him—or more precisely, swallowed by him while merged with the Book of Greed. The mist entered straight into the Book of Greed, causing its second tiny eye to open. The giant eyeball at the center of his chest regenerated and slowly opened. Below the vertical slit of the eye, the oozed grayish-white fluid solidified into an inky blackness that could neither be washed away nor severed. At the same time, grayish-white tissue proliferation spread across his entire body from head to toe, thoroughly masking the silhouette of light. Within, flesh devoid of bones and organs began to fill out. *Thump!* *Thump!!* *Thump!!!* A rhythm akin to a heartbeat began to sound. The giant eye shifted, snapping its gaze onto the black meatball suspended in midair. *Want it!* "The Gate of Truth has opened! Starting tonight, the name of Mike Nelson shall echo across this land as a legend!" Atop the meatball, the upper half of Mike's torso pushed out inch by inch. From chest to abdomen, he merged with black arms and twisted faces; his mind reigned over the collective will of the Town of Kafuno. Now, he would sacrifice the town, sacrifice himself, to journey toward the Gate of Truth that all mages dreamed of. *Boom!!* Upon the lunar surface where the golden triangle was projected, a black void spiraled open. Behind it, deep cosmic space was studded with stars—infinitely vast, infinitely magnificent, harboring boundless possibilities. Wayne's mind exploded with a roar. His eye locked onto the Gate of Truth, iris contracting and expanding in rapid succession, trembling all over with excitement. *WANT IT!!!* The Book of Greed broadcast a rabid hunger to Wayne—so intense that the black meatball it had drooled over moments ago now held zero appeal, not even qualifying as an appetizer before the feast.