The moment he was stared at by the blood pupil, Ansen's heart suddenly tightened. The biting coldness instantly solidified his consciousness, and the whole world turned scarlet.

But the brain cannot control the body, and it does not prevent him from pulling the trigger - especially when the right index finger has already been bound by the [smoke chain] and was forced to pull in advance.

"Bang!"

Kolo's head exploded in an instant, and the lead bullet penetrated directly from the bridge of his nose to the back of his neck. The bone fragments shattered into mist, wrapped in plasma and various brain tissue and organ fragments, sprayed everywhere. The headless corpse fell straight forward.

At the door.

The sense of restraint was instantly lifted, and Anson, who had no time to blink, endured the soreness of having a foreign object in his pupils, decisively took out his anonymous glasses and activated the [Mist of the Undead].

The reason why I didn't wear glasses at first was mainly because I was worried about arousing the other party's vigilance - I had a record of fighting with the Faithless Knights, and since the other party was targeted, they must have obtained the necessary information.

Transformed into smoke, he slowly "floated" into the lounge. After confirming that there was no magic reaction around him, he released the state and gradually gathered into a solid body.

However, just as he returned to normal, the cold touch hit him again, eroding his consciousness like a highly addictive stimulant.

Anson could clearly feel that his reactions were starting to become sluggish. Although his body and limbs could still move normally and freely, he seemed to be separated by an extremely long distance from himself, and it would take a long, long time before he could respond.

Almost at the same time, the shadows in the lounge began to distort abnormally, and began to stretch like tentacles, attacking him from all directions.

"...The power of black magic is based on mental manipulation. The powerful mental power can even react on entities after reaching a certain level - of course, this requires extremely strong power - to guide, persuade, deceive them or them according to one's own wishes

Act..."

"...some inexperienced people will regard 'bending a spoon' as an ability only possessed by conjurers; although there is no denying that they can indeed do it, it is actually an advanced skill of black magic..."

As his thinking gradually slowed down, fragmentary flashbacks about the "Great Magic Book" appeared in Anson's mind:

"...The black mage's techniques are mainly inductive. Whether it is mind-reading or forcibly controlling someone, breaking down the inner barriers is the first step. Among them, the dream-like illusion, which is used to simulate real illusions, has proven to be extremely effective..."

Countless shadows gradually swallowed up the light in the room. In the darkness, one could vaguely see twisted figures, slowly standing up from corners and invisible places, carrying the figures from the chest.

A dull growl.

Anson instinctively wanted to lift the "dagger" revolver, but his gradually eroded consciousness made the simplest movements extremely slow. Even breathing and turning his eyes were very difficult.

"...But dreams are not omnipotent..."

The right hand holding the revolver was shaking like an epileptic, slowly raising it bit by bit, aiming at the slowly approaching shadow; its shape could not be discerned, and the heavy footsteps sounded like nails hammering Anson.

of temples.

"... Maybe it's an opportunity, maybe it's the awareness of an unreasonable anomaly... You can eliminate the interference of dreams and maintain the most basic sanity and sobriety..."

Holding back the pain, Anson desperately pulled the hammer of the revolver.

"Bang!"

The dazzling gun flame illuminated the surrounding darkness and also illuminated the ferocious shadow that was slowly approaching.

Former Speaker Harold, whose heart was blown out and his eyes and nose were gouged out, appeared in front of Anson, his bloody mouth grinning crookedly, and his broken teeth biting a lead bullet.

"...So, you have actually recovered your senses a long time ago, right...His Excellency Anson Bach?"

The flashback in my mind suddenly turned into Chloë Musk's sneer.

Anson's eyes suddenly opened wide, he suddenly woke up and at the same time, he aimed at "Harold" and frantically pulled the trigger.

"Bang! Bang! Bang! Bang! Bang!"

Two shots to the head, two to the chest, and one to the torso... The scream that ripped through the air instantly shattered "Harold's" head, and immediately tore the entire upper body into a puddle of indistinguishable pieces of flesh, with broken internal organs mixed in.

The putrid plasma gave off a strong stench.

But then more shadows emerged from the darkness. The twisted figure seemed to be Harold, but also seemed not to be Harold. The impatient growl seemed to smell the scent of prey.

"...I have to admit that you are really an excellent actor. Even I was almost deceived by you; unfortunately, no matter how successful the liar is, he cannot turn lies into reality..."

"...What I didn't expect is that the rumor is actually true. You got the "Great Magic Book" from Clovis Cathedral. This is really an unexpected surprise..."

The murmur in his mind continued. Facing the shadow that was getting closer and closer, Anson snapped his fingers with a "pop!"

Curse magic, [Rising Fire].

boom--

The golden red firelight instantly swept across his vision, and countless twisted shadows struggled in the sea of ​​​​fire, burning and melting, illuminating the entire lounge.

But in the raging sea of ​​​​fire, there was no figure of Chloe Musk.

While the sea of ​​​​fire had not disappeared, Anson immediately started the fog pipe, letting thick white smoke begin to fill the lounge.

Almost as soon as the flames dissipated, the dark shadows grew wildly again, passing through the layers of fog created by the smoke, and struck Anson with incomparable precision.

"...Do you think that as long as you open the casting range and activate the spell magic, you can avoid being affected by the 'dream'? Hahahahaha...a naive idea..." Chloë Musk sneered lazily:

"...What exactly gave you the illusion of 'successfully casting a spell' instead of standing still?"

The moment the words fell, that "familiar" feeling of stagnation invaded Anson's consciousness again; the figure that was about to dodge staggered, and almost jumped directly into the shadow coming towards him.

Anson, who was in a state of confusion, slid away from the approaching shadow and activated [Smoke Entertainment Home] again with a snap of his fingers.

The surrounding smoke began to spread rapidly and began to burn fiercely in the air; the gray-white flames seemed to have some kind of stickiness, firmly covering the shadows, and igniting every corner of the lounge.

But just when he commanded the "smoke flame" to burn quickly and directly burn out the shadows, the raging fire suddenly began to weaken and extinguish... and finally returned to its original form of smoke.

"...Oh, my respected Lord Anson Bach, you don't really think you can escape from the 'dream', do you?" Chloë Musk's mocking murmur sounded again:

"...I saw through your evil plan from the beginning, but I just didn't want to expose it directly, until you thought you were right...stepped into the...trap I had prepared..."

"boom--!!!!"

The dark shadow turned into a bottomless abyss under his feet, and a huge tentacle stretched out from it.

The stunned Anson immediately tried to dodge. While snapping his fingers with his left hand, the muzzle of his right hand was already aimed at the root of the tentacle. However, his slow consciousness made everything in vain... The cold touch and the salty smell of the sea aroused something.

While reminiscing, it instantly wrapped around every corner of his body, and then tightened hard.

Click! Click! Click! Click!

Accompanied by a series of heartbreaking cracking sounds, Anson, who was trembling suddenly, was strangled into an extremely twisted shape by the cold tentacles.

The corners of his mouth opened slightly, as if he wanted to say something else, but his wide-open eyes gradually became dim.

The next second, Anson Bach's eyes were blank and his words were frozen on his lips...

It turned into drifting smoke, and re-condensed into its original body three steps away, intact.

Curse magic, [Smoke Man].

Almost at the same time, his left hand, which he snapped his fingers into, stretched out a "pistol" gesture in the direction of the tentacles.

"boom!"

The golden-red light beam instantly penetrated the entire rest room, splitting the ferocious tentacles in two; the severed piece of flesh seemed to be twitching like a life, and was gradually devoured by the flames that burned it.

"...You...you just refuse to give up, refuse to give up this meaningless struggle..."

It seems that it is different from before. Ke Luo's babble seems to be a little more angry and impatient: "...even if you continue to resist, do you think you can escape from the 'dream'? Even if I stand here, you can't even think about it..."

…”

The words stopped abruptly.

The dark lounge suddenly became quiet.

The expressionless Anson's mouth slowly raised.

"You...stand...here." With an inexplicable and strange smile, Anson deliberately said word by word:

"Did I hear you correctly?"

There was no sound to answer him. Whether it was deep in his mind or in the lounge wrapped in shadows, the surroundings suddenly became eerily quiet.

"As you know, because of a very 'accidental' opportunity, as a conjurer, I have a very basic understanding of black magic; including its principles, methods of casting spells, advantages and disadvantages."

"Although unlike the Conjuration Mage, almost every Black Mage's spellcasting logic is very strange, just like every Blood Mage is unique... But under the surface differences, there is still a certain behavioral logic that must be followed."

Anson wrote lightly while skillfully reloading the "dagger": "This logic can be a strong influence on reality, it can be a curse, hallucination, dream, emotion..."

"And you...Mr. Chloë Musk, your ability...is 'babble'."

"First use 'thread' to lock the target, then rely on 'wave' to create a dream, and finally cast a spell through 'whispers' to affect the caster and reality."

"Every word you say will become true... Very powerful black magic, but this is its 'logic'; the 'babble' that is effective for the person being cast should also be effective for you - and it cannot

Feel free to change it.”

"So, let me make a bold guess..." Anson, who was talking to himself, slowly raised the revolver and pointed the muzzle at his temple:

"Once you say, 'I'm standing here,' you can't leave, right?"

There was no response in the empty room, only his own echo.

Anson chuckled confidently and opened the hammer with force:

"Then, the dream is over...it's time to wake up."

After the words fell, the smiling Anson's expression suddenly turned cold, and the muzzle of the gun that had brushed against his temple was pointed straight ahead.

………………

"Bang!"
To be continued...