Chapter 194: Shifting the Calamity Eastward

Worms have arrived—can death be far behind?

Everything played out before Saul’s eyes like a silent film, yet the horror was undiminished.

His mind began racing as he stared at the diary in front of him.

This latest entry confirmed that he had died inside the worm’s belly and that the worm was tracking Saul by scent.

“No… based on the previous entries, the danger I avoided was Victor. The final death came from that white worm.”

That bloated white worm, as large as an elephant, slowly twisted its body and turned toward Swan.

Its body scraped against the ground with a sickening noise, like something being crushed beneath a millstone.

Its face—when it came into view—made Saul’s blood run cold. His eyes widened, and he nearly cried out.

The front of the worm had a human face.

That grotesque face looked waterlogged and ballooned, deathly pale and wrinkled.

Its eyes were a murky gray, as if someone had jammed a needle into them and stirred—its irises were completely clouded over.

Its nostrils were stretched grotesquely wide—big enough to fit a child’s head inside.

When it opened its maw toward Swan, Saul saw no teeth—just several human heads rolling inside its throat.

Those heads stared blankly outward, not a single one struggling.

Swan saw them, too.

As his gaze met those lifeless eyes, his screams faded into silence.

He understood now—resistance was useless. His mouth hung open, lips trembling faintly as he murmured a plea to no one.

Though Saul stood just a few meters away, watching the man and the worm, he could feel Swan’s utter despair.

The diary had already warned him: if he encountered the worm, with his current means, he’d be swallowed whole.

Saul clenched his fingers tightly.

But just as the worm’s gaping mouth was about to snap shut around Swan, it suddenly stopped.

The human-faced worm’s nostrils expanded and contracted, expanded and contracted…

That grotesque, bloated head began to retract—vanishing back into its mountain of white flesh.

Saul immediately sprinted toward the stairs—where Victor, bound but calm, was watching him.

There was even a hint of amusement in Victor’s eyes.

Sure enough, in the corner of his vision, Saul saw it—the worm’s tail was writhing. That milky white, greasy body melted and reshaped itself rapidly. The human face that had vanished at the head now reemerged—from the tail!

And it was facing Saul.

Up close, that face looked like it had been soaked for days in stagnant water—cracked, wrinkled, and reeking with a greasy stench.

The strange odor was so foul that even Saul, who had grown used to the stench of corpses, felt nauseous.

The worm inhaled deeply near the stairwell where Saul was trapped. Its grotesque face lit up with excitement.

“Heiya~ heiya~ heiya~”

It laughed. Who knew which organ produced such twisted, distorted sounds?

Its nostrils pulsed rhythmically as it inhaled Saul’s scent with visible ecstasy.

Through the slightly parted mouth, Saul could still clearly see those numbed human faces tumbling endlessly within as the worm’s muscles contracted and shifted.

Saul wanted to attack the worm, but the moment the thought arose, the diary warned him: any aggression would provoke the creature and lead to instant death.

He forced down his surging magic and focused his mind.

“Scent, smell… it was about to eat Swan, but then suddenly became fixated on me. What’s on me that it finds so irresistible?”

Saul tried slowly backing away, but the diary warned him again: any sudden movement, and he’d be devoured.

Then, something flashed in his mind.

If the worm was attracted purely to his own scent, there would be little he could do to hide it without alarming it.

But the chances of a powerful worm being uniquely drawn to Saul were infinitesimal.

Like pulling a random person off the street for a DNA test and finding a 99% match.

Which meant… something else.

Saul had only brought one item that belonged to the castle itself.

And items from the same origin might carry the same essence.

An idea sparked in Saul’s mind.

This time, the diary didn’t flip to a new page.

A glimmer of joy passed through Saul’s eyes, which he quickly suppressed, replacing it with terror and sorrow through sheer will and years of honed acting skills.

He slowly turned his head toward Victor on the stairs.

Victor remained bound by the tendrils of Little Algae, his expression as calm as ever.

Even slightly amused.

“I have only one shot,” Saul told himself.

“Victor,” he whispered through a narrow slit in his lips, keeping his voice low, but he knew Victor could hear him. “Why did you kill so many? Why toy with me? If there’s something you want, we can trade. We’re both apprentices—benefit should outweigh death, shouldn’t it?”

Victor blinked slowly.

Little Algae’s tendrils began to loosen.

But Victor’s body was still covered in frost—Saul’s magic kept him immobilized.

“I didn’t kill them,” Victor said, narrowing his eyes. “Not a single one.”

“So that’s how it is.” Saul’s tone turned cold. “If you won’t save me, I’ll drag you into the worm’s gut with me!”

Victor shrugged dismissively. “Fine. Death awaits everyone. Threats don’t faze me. A castle, a storm, and you—what an honor, brother.”

He slowly raised a hand to his chest, bowing slightly.

“Since that’s your answer…” Saul suddenly moved—not toward Victor, but at him.

He tossed something.

A small ceramic vial with a sealed top.

The worm, which had been sniffing Saul intently, snapped to attention. Realizing its meal was about to flee, it opened its maw wide.

But Saul didn’t run or resist—instead, he cast an Arrow Spell at the vial in midair.

Smash!

The spinning ceramic vial shattered in the air, releasing a pale yellow, oily liquid.

Due to inertia, most of it flew toward Victor.

Victor’s eyes went wide. Frozen in place, he could only watch as he was doused in a full-body splash of “Holy Oil”!

(End of Chapter)

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