A Testament Of The Dark Magician

"Hm? What did you say? Oh, cat, got your tongue still kukuku-no matter, it'll soon loosen once I begin the body flickering ritual." 

Roland's eyes widened like two saucers. 

"W-w-wait, body what?" Rolands facade swiftly melted away. He struggled and fought tirelessly to release himself.

"L-let me go right now! You old freak, fight me fair! Just me and you, let's go."

"Old freak? Ara! There you are, that's the snotty-nosed brat with whom I made all those promises. No matter, I've prepared the hex to shut you up." 

"Okay, wait. Let's talk about this. If I've eaten what you want, surely there's a way to extract it from me without resorting to…such underhanded methods, no?" Roland pleaded in his childish voice.

The elder looked him up and down for a few moments, seemingly thinking deeply about the whole matter. He eventually shook his head.

Disapproving whatever it was he was considering. 

"If you weren't a conniving little weasel. Then I may have considered your proposal. But alas… we're here." 

He took out his wand again intently. Roland understood there was likely no talking himself out of danger this time. He could only pitifully watch the elder close his eyes solemnly. Secretly, he even wished he had met the previous owner of this body in person. He would've liked to have given him a whack against his head for all the troubling things he had involved himself in. 

The elder delicately held one end of the wand over Roland's little round face. The indignation of the approaching outcome felt like a direct vex to his spirit. Roland's childishly innocent face scrunched into a horrid mask, like a boy discovering one of the vilest potencies of humans for the first time. The act of Dishonour. 

This old crone was going to take over his body. Living through Roland's body just like he was doing. The irony wasn't lost. But the ire burned white all the same. 

[Book of Enchantments; Vol 86, Line 2…]

[Brain Rot]

'Brain What!' 

Roland stopped thinking and reacted. His hands were suddenly pliable. His bones felt like burning rubber when he finally slid them out of the tight iron grip, snapping a few finger bones along the way.

The elder wore an expected look of surprise when those iron chains rattled loose. He was left even more stunned by the sudden forceful blow of Roland's head smashing directly against his face. 

The old man comically flew backwards. Roland heard a resounding crash just before he watched the staggering elder land painfully between a soft wooden table. 

Roland shook his tiny head, throbbing with pain. His vision slowly refocused a few breaths later. He leant forward and carefully looked around the tightly clasped chains binding him to the sturdy work table. Luckily, he only needed to remove the iron chip from the hole, and the entire thing fell apart. 

'Heh-eh such an easy thing was supposed to hold me?' 

He jumped away off the work table onto fragile and very sore legs.

Without missing a step, he hastened towards the short table and snatched the scalpel into his hold. He spun around quickly, and simultaneously, the old man staggered to his feet. The old wizard looked mortified at the carmine drops falling against his open hand. 

'Shit-what's the plan now?' 

Roland scanned the old man's body and quickly noticed a missing stick. He searched the stone floor. The wand nestled just beneath a broken table. A glint of madness shone in his eyes, and Roland was poised to spring into action when suddenly.

"You think me a weak fool? That I wouldn't have myself armed without a wand-Pftt...idiot." The elder wore a confident smirk whilst he held out his right hand. Roland heard bones popping, crunching, and a slithering sound of contorting flesh writhing furiously from the elder's sleeve. Layers of sweat lathered against the old timer's forehead, and a bizarre white slime-covered tentacle popped out in place of his arm.

The tentacle was thick as a tree trunk and, concerningly, was only growing bigger. 

Roland sensed danger and wasn't prepared to be a docile target. He dove towards his left and leapt directly over the broken wooden debris. The tentacle slammed against the wall; Roland heard the pieces of stone falling, and his face turned pale in response to that destructive power.

He pushed off his heels and dashed forward towards the ascending stone steps. 

The old man's laughter tailed his shadow. 

Roland sensed something was off; he instinctively held his footing and jumped backwards away from the staircase. 

The thick, slimy hide slammed down against his intended path a breath later. Roland saw just how much damage the hard stone steps had taken and grimaced. His jump carried him back, but he adjusted his body just before the harsh landing and descended into a backward roll. 

The moment his heels found firm ground again, he pushed off again, this time circling around the wooden bench. 

The old-timer looked at him with questioning, murderous eyes. 

"Since when did you learn how to move like that? Tsk! No matter, once I take over your body, I'll take my time probing through every inch of your flesh-kukuku." 

Roland's frown only deepened upon hearing that. He would rather die than allow this weirdo old man to get his hands on him. 

He effortlessly twirled the scalpel between his fingers before holding it more aggressively. Before he made his next move, the briefest of thoughts crossed his mind.

His movements, instincts, and battle sense were the skills he had dedicated most of his previous life to hone. And his body still remembered them. No, this Iron Ranked body treated those skills differently. Not a single movement was wasted.

Roland's movements were becoming better and less predictable. The old man grew tired, raised his strange tentacle-covered arm, and unleashed a barrage of heavy attacks in quick succession. Roland kept his centre of gravity low and moved with the graceful spryness of a feline. The stone walls almost exploded each time that arm swung. Trying to run was only slightly prolonging the inevitable. 

From the moment he broke free. Roland understood it was kill or be killed. He managed to get close to the old timer, barely avoiding another heavy attack aimed towards his head. The writhing tentacle hovered above his head again. Roland didn't waste any movements and took the end of the scalpel into the large mound of flesh. Carving a clear red line that looked more like a scratch than a deep wound. 

Roland ducked low again and hastened for his retreat with a dissatisfied glare. 

"Not so fast, you slippery little pest!" The old man spat furiously. This time, he twisted his entire arm and swung it around like a windmill. Roland was caught flat-footed. He failed to account for such an attack, which slammed right against his midriff before sending him flying back against the heavy wall. 

The impact left an awful sound lingering in the silent air, as Roland's body slid away from the crevice made against the wall. He landed face-first in a heap against the ground and didn't get back up. 

The old fellow wore a triumphant grin against his wrinkled face. He walked cautiously towards what he expected was a half corpse by now. 

"Tsk! You almost gave me some trouble there little bastard. Hahaha- a shame you didn't reveal your skills to me earlier. I might've taken you on as my disciple." Said the old man, busying his aged gaze against the floor littered with stones and chips of broken wood in search of his wand. 

"Damn it! I don't have time for this." He bemoaned sourly to himself 

"Now then." 

The tentacle wrapped itself around the seemingly lifeless boy's body. And slowly carried him upright. Roland's head hung low without movement. The wavy strands of knotted locks shielded his face. The Old man tightened the grip around the boy's neck and pulled him closer. 

"Gyak!" Roland cried out in agony. His eyes snapped open, and the whites covered in veins started bulging out. The old fellow tightened the slimy noose. Tears streamed down the boys cheeks as he wheezed and fought desperately for air. This continued for a short while before his legs eventually gave out. And his head slumped down. 

The old man was over the moon. He carried the corpse towards him and inspected it a little closely.

"The body flicker spell becomes a lot harder if the target is dead. I should hurry this up whilst there's still a faint trace of life within him." 

Roland's body dangled stiff as a log. The old wizard was just about to start looking for his wand when he noticed the boy's lips slowly moving. 

"Huh? What is it, little prince? Speaking from the grave? Keheh. Sure, I'll hear your last words of penance." 

The wizard brought the boy's face closer to his own. Roland's mouth continued to move. But no audible words came out. The old wizard was starting to get annoyed. 

"Speak up boy!" He almost growled, strangling Roland's neck tighter. 

However, once the boy slowly held up his head. An ugly smirk etched against a bloody smile. And then the boy's voice finally broke free. A deep guttural tone, laced with murder. 

"Now…die." 

And within that moment, the seasoned elder felt something he had not felt in quite a long time, especially from anyone roaming these mortal plains. Where the essence of mana was so thin that it was barely traceable. And yet, that same fear briefly flashed through his mind. It was a real warning for him to be weary. 

A cold wind swept through Roland's mind. He still held onto the scalpel and slashed across the elder's neck. The rigid cold air was filled with a spray of carmine. Roland felt the pressure against his neck release. And the expected fall of their two bodies. Pain wracked his back. Roland tried to move, but his bones were as heavy as lead.

His breathing was still hoarse, but he wasn't as bad as he had led the elder to believe. Thanks to his weird body, he had already started healing the moment he ricocheted off the wall.

'That was a close one.' He thought, rubbing his chaffed neck to ensure his head was still intact. He painfully lifted himself into a seated position. Where he saw the elder convulsing against the ground, using his singular regular hand to help cover the gaping wound. 

There was a small window of regret watching the clearly elderly man writhing around the ground desperately. But those thoughts were nothing but cowardice, he told himself. 

A cold light appeared across his childish gaze while he stared at the final moments of the elder against the ground. The elder's eyes were open right until the final moments. Roland exhaled a deep sigh. He had killed someone.

'Tsk! Don't think about it. We don't have time to overthink it.'

He looked down at the hand still clutching hold of the scalpel, covered in wet blood. And he couldn't stop that same hand from shaking. 

After a short while, Roland calmed down. He twisted around to observe his strange surroundings. This place was likely the old-timers' hideout. What worried him the most was whether or not there were any more strong fellows within this place, and if so, how many more. 

'I can't expect to win all my fights that way. Not to mention, it's a risk between life and death. I can't play dead for the rest of my life here.' 

This encounter only confirmed what he already understood about this new world. Strength was absolutely necessary.

He picked himself up and staggered upright, holding onto the edge of the large wooden table for support. Roland still felt incredibly weak. Cursing at this childlike body with each painful step he took. But this fight had also unveiled one of his questions about Wizards. 

'Without his wand and that slimy tentacle arm. He wasn't that strong.' 

He drummed up this theory randomly in his thoughts—specifically after he was left completely powerless against that crazy girl with silver hair.

Wizards, in the fantasies he once read as a kid, insinuated a similar thing. 

"The main thing is…I won. Now then, how do I find my way out of here." 

Roland gingerly moved his body towards the collapsed short table. One of the things he was most focused on was the black wooden stick-like object. He noticed it during the fight and kept a close eye on where it ended up. 

Roland knelt down and cautiously picked up the magic wand with two fingers. He could feel his heartbeat racing out of excitement. To think this was actually a magic wand in his grasp. Muddled with his childlike infatuation towards mythical things being proven true, his rational and shrewd mind couldn't imagine how chaotic a world was where magic and wands existed. 

He learned that humans were all the same quite late. Despite being only 21 years old when he died, Roland felt like he had lived several lives within a short time frame. The awful things he witnessed stemmed from humans' greed and selfishness. 

He took a moment to recall that day he realised his friends had betrayed him. He lowered his gaze and turned towards the corpse of the old man.

"I guess some things never change…hm? W-wait. What's that?" Roland noticed something odd about the old man's corpse. He thought he could hear the tentacle still writhing around. But he couldn't see anything. Roland moved closer, making sure the scalpel in his hand was ready at any time. He peered around the dead body and almost jumped away out of sheer fright. 

Crawling away from beneath the corpse were countless tiny slug-looking creatures, forming a trail towards the outdoors. Only after a closer look did Roland see they were shaped and coloured exactly the same as the large tentacle arm from before. 

Seeing them made his skin crawl but also posed a frightening question in his thoughts. 

"Is he…still alive." 

Before Roland could think up another hypothetical, he felt a sudden weakness assaulting him all over. His vision blurred next. His attempt to move left his body swaying from side to side; he was losing his feeling in his hands first and then his arms. Roland instantly understood something was happening to him. His knees buckled, and his body crumbled down to the stone floor. 

He could still move his eyes, frantically rattling in their sockets whilst he could do nothing but idly stare. Just then, he heard a familiar dark voice caressing his ears. His heart skipped a beat as realisation kicked in. 

'Shit! I messed up. How is he still-' 

"You get full marks for the art of surprise…little bastard. But whoever taught you those fancy fighting skills should've told you one important thing." 

Roland couldn't actually see where that voice was coming from. The old man's corpse was still lying prone on the ground in front of him. Whatever had rendered him unable to move at this moment made it difficult for Roland to pinpoint the source of the voice. 

A slimy object writhed over the nape of his neck, and Roland remembered the flock of slug-like creatures escaping. The tiny creature slithered over his ears and onto the side of his face. 

The strange voice was supposed to sound deep, but Roland heard it in its miniature state, like a tiny villainous voice. 

"Rule number 1, boy, You should never turn your back on a wizard. Or, at the very least, you should've made sure you cut my head off, kukuku." 

Roland wanted to curse himself for being so lax in this situation. Of course, he should've finished him off. That was code 101 when dealing with enemies in a neighbouring camp. He felt depressed to know that not only had this childlike body's of his lost its reaction time. But his mind was also not as sharp as in his previous world. 

The slimy slug writhed down his face, stopping just before his open mouth. 

"I wanted to spare you the agony of experiencing this. But now I've lost another body. You've forced my hand." 

Roland wanted to scream the moment it happened, but it was already too late, the nasty slug creature crawled directly into his mouth. And made its way forcefully down his throat. He felt the air in his lungs being trapped and the horrific sensation of being choked whilst unable to move a single limb. He sputtered and convulsed in agony; whilst his body's natural defences got to work, Roland could feel his senses and his sanity fading into darkness. 

'No! Please No! Not like this! Someone help me! Help me…Ome…ga.' 

The slug successfully made its way down his trachea. Roland's vision darkened. His bloodshot eyes stopped rattling, and he finally fell still. 

The echoes of laughter bounced away. He was certain they belonged to the old wizard. 

Death was imminent.

The bitter truth of that was heart-wrenching.

But alas, his fate was inevitable.

Just before, he felt the familiar cold embrace of nothing. 

A chime echoed. A mechanical whirling sound like thousands of gears turning.

Each cog filled with all the hopes he summoned from his previous life.

And then he heard it.

As clear as a bright new morning. 

{Mental Sphere alimentation completed}

{Forced Upgrade Complete} 

{system 12.67% synchronisation with Acrux Completed} 

{Omega has successfully been rebooted} 

{Master, how can I be of service}