The First Magic World War

As Charles had anticipated, the basement of the small building was indeed quite large. The kitchen near the staircase was roomy enough to accommodate seven or eight cooks working at once. Although there were no windows, ventilation ducts and chimneys prevented it from being dark and stuffy.

The remaining area was divided into four large storage rooms and one small one, designated for storing food, wine, firewood, and slightly more precious items. One of the storage rooms had a small pile of firewood, while the others were completely empty.

Charles didn't stay long after ascertaining there was nothing objectionable, and he went upstairs.

Although his new home was still lacking many things, such as sufficient clothing, Charles decided to take a good day's rest and not go out.

He returned to the small study, took off his coat, placed the Vampiric Hand Axe hidden in his sleeve on the desk, and hung the gun holster, along with the newly purchased replica antique rapier, on the wall.

Charles lay on the sofa and practiced Bloody Glory for a while.

This was something the previous occupant did daily. Having crossed over with a restless heart and been too busy with work, Charles had not practiced in a while.

Now that life had finally settled down, Charles decided to dedicate some time each day to practice this Transcendent secret technique.

Hundreds of years ago, Protagora, the Great Philosopher of the Human Race, in his youth, swore to create a secret art to slaughter all of the Blood Clan after his beloved wife was abducted by them, her fate unknown. Grieving, he traveled the world, learning dozens of skills, and engaged in battle with countless Blood Clan masters, eventually spending forty-five years in seclusion on the highest peak of the Old Continent, creating Bloody Glory.

Bloody Glory consists of two parts: Protagora Breathing Method and Blood Banquet Meditation.

The Protagora Breathing Method can refine thirteen Blood Clan secret spots, condensing thirteen Bloody Vortices, whereas the Blood Banquet Meditation nurtures thirteen Unique Skill Runes, bestowing the Cultivator with thirteen extraordinary abilities.

With this secret technique, Protagora single-handedly slaughtered thousands of the Blood Clan and even annihilated six of their thirty-seven lineages, reducing them to only thirty-one. At the peak of his fame, his name alone could make the young of the Blood Clan cry at night.

In his twilight years, Protagora generously bequeathed this technique to four universities for free: Royal Hogwarts University, Hatingen Thunder and Storm University, Sheffield University, and University of Georgia.

Thanks to the selflessness of this great philosopher, as a student of Sheffield University, Charles had the opportunity to learn this technique.

Protagora's unique breathing method matched the rhythm of Charles's restless blood, producing a surging tide with every breath in and out.

It was the first time since crossing over that Charles had immersed himself in cultivation.

Protagora had once written in his handwritten secret scrolls, "There are thirty-seven Blood Clan lineages, and theoretically, Bloody Glory can condense thirty-seven Bloody Vortices. Regrettably, I was unable to fathom the profundities of this art; may future scholars complete it."

In theory, condensing a single Bloody Vortex allows one to attempt to nurture Runes with Meditation Technique, thereby acquiring a Unique Skill.

In practice, most who cultivate Bloody Glory refine seven or eight Bloody Vortices before they begin to practice the Blood Banquet Meditation. Many spend their entire lives without successfully meditating on any Rune, and only a select few manage to master one or two Unique Skill Runes and gain Special Abilities.

Charles had only condensed a Bloody Vortex at the brow point, allowing him to obtain the Insight Rune, which was somewhat inexplicable and purely due to good fortune.

The Power of Insight dispersed slightly with the refinement of Bloody Glory.

Although Charles's eyes were closed, he could still remotely sense everything within the study.

The fluctuations of the Bloody Glory rolled over the Vampiric Hand Axe placed on the desk.

This exclusive weapon of the Blood Clan resonated subtly with the Bloody Glory within his body.

Charles allowed his internal Bloody Glory to naturally extend towards it.

The Vampiric Hand Axe trembled slightly and suddenly displayed an insatiable thirst, frantically absorbing Charles's Bloody Glory.

Without opening his eyes, Charles let it consume his Blood Energy, curious to witness any peculiar transformations the vampiric weapon might undergo after being infused with the Bloody Glory.

After more than ten minutes, having absorbed enough power, the Vampiric Hand Axe abruptly sent back a strange surge of Blood Energy. As Charles rejoiced, a diary hidden on the bookshelf seemed drawn by the aura, leaping out and hovering in the air, its pages rustling as they flipped.

An authoritative voice echoed from an unknown distance directly within his mind, "How are you still alive?"

"Mortal, you actually deceived me!"

Charles was shocked, feeling a coldness in his limbs, completely unaware of what had happened.

Ever since returning from Synis, he had never looked through the original host's diary, always worried about getting entangled with the Evil God again, and now he evidently had no need to worry...

The Evil God had not gone far!

Facing this desperate situation, Charles was not willing to succumb without a fight. Just as he was about to grab the Vampiric Hand Axe to resist, his body suddenly emitted rolling black mist, exhaling an evil breath not of this world. An infinite corridor appeared before him, and a creature over three meters tall, with a skinless, crimson body, wielding a giant spiked mallet, stepped out of the void.

The majestic voice thundered across heaven and earth, mixed with boundless anger, "Mortal, you still seek to conspire with Agmilas against me... He is but a mere oversea Evil God..." As the strange aura of the diary wafted towards the monster in the infinite corridor, the authoritative voice declared the battle begun, "Agmilas! With only a trace of your insignificant memory remaining, do you seek to stop me?"

The creature, towering over three meters tall, wielding a giant spiked mallet, its skinless, crimson body suddenly howled to the sky like a primordial beast. The endless corridor layered upon itself, releasing a maelstrom of Fel Energy beyond mortal imagination, trying to stop another Evil God attempting to descend through the diary.

The two overwhelming forces used Charles's consciousness as their battlefield, striking together with the force of thunder igniting the earth's flame.

Unable to bear it, Charles let out an agonizing scream. His brain felt as if it was brutally impaled by a wedge, the pain unimaginable.

In just an instant, the pain exceeded the limits of endurance. His consciousness was torn to shreds by the two powerful Fel Energies, and he felt as if the world ceased to exist.

The once ordinary diary now had countless pages flying chaotically, its cover bulging incessantly, sometimes revealing a castle, sometimes the infinite corridor, occasionally a dignified middle-aged man sitting in a luxurious chair, and at times the skinless, crimson creature; a Blood Flame hand reached out from the diary, only for a giant spiked mallet to scatter it...

Time passed indeterminably, within the cluttered room, all that was left was Charles Mecklen lying on the floor, his breath nearly gone.

Beside him lay the diary with a pitch-black cover, and on the floor was a line of blood-drenched, hastily written words: I will return to claim the soul owed to me, as per the covenant.