Diary of a Dead Wizard-Chapter 216: Octopus Saul

Saul looked at this version of Angela—stern, poised—and suddenly, the gnawing hunger in his stomach didn’t feel so urgent anymore.

Perhaps seeing a familiar, truly real person had helped him pull his mind back from the brink.

Even so, the newly evolved tentacles around Angela didn’t retreat. His tongue flicked out a few times, nearly brushing against her face.

Right then, Angela abruptly turned and walked deeper into the laboratory. Saul quickly retracted his tentacles to avoid touching her and raising suspicion.

Unaware that a bizarre aura was lingering around her, Angela walked briskly toward the back cabinet.

As soon as she opened the cabinet door, a chorus of desperate cries echoed out—“Help me!”

This was the cabinet used to store the puppets for Mental Aptitude testing.

The puppets were still more or less neatly lined up inside, but as the cries grew louder, their small wooden bodies began to tremble.

They shivered faintly, and gradually started inching toward the front.

Angela’s left hand suddenly lifted and waved at the puppets inside, then quickly grabbed one.

But as soon as she pulled one out, the remaining puppets grew even more restless.

They trembled violently, as if about to tumble out of the cabinet at any moment.

The noise drew Saul’s attention. He raised his tentacles, mouths opening one after another, aimed toward the puppets in the cabinet.

“These little things look pretty tasty too,” Saul thought, hunger flaring up once more.

Just as Angela frowned and was about to shut the cabinet, she suddenly noticed something. Total silence. The puppets stopped crying for help and ceased their shaking.

She looked at her left hand. “If you could shut them up, why didn’t you do it earlier?”

After a pause, she frowned and muttered, “What? It wasn’t you?”

Angela slammed the cabinet door shut and spun around, eyes scanning the room. Her voice rang out sharp and commanding: “Show yourself!”

Saul froze. Did she just spot me? Should I just eat her now?

But before Saul’s battle between logic and hunger reached a conclusion, the door to Kaz's lab swung open once more.

A man stepped in, bearing a seven-tenths resemblance to the late Bill, who had died in Hanging Hand Valley.

Unlike Bill’s ever-mocking expression, this man was deadpan, with a cold, shadowy air.

He stepped in, shut the door behind him, locked it, and stared icily at the visibly tense Angela.

“Caught you this time, follower of Bichye.”

Angela’s eyes went wide. “Billy?!”

But before she could react, her left hand acted first.

It shot forward, five fingers unleashing a twisted gray energy.

Billy, however, merely opened his mouth and muttered something under his breath. The approaching energy fizzled with a sickening sizzle and dissolved completely.

Angela’s tension skyrocketed. Her left hand threw the puppet it held.

Billy caught it barehanded. With a sharp squeeze, the puppet wailed in agony, and its hollow eyes wept two streams of blood.

He tossed the now-broken puppet into the yellow garbage bin near the door.

Then, slowly, he advanced toward Angela.

Angela looked more anxious than ever, though her eyes were darting rapidly, clearly seeking a way to escape.

When Billy was within three meters of her, he halted.

“You’ve been harboring a wraith in your body? Apprentices these days are gutsy. I’ve seen this method before, but executed far more skillfully. Don’t tell me… you bought a defective version from the Mutual Aid Society?”

Angela’s eyes widened in shock. She froze. “Wait… was it you who sold me that priest’s method?!”

Billy frowned faintly. “Did I word that poorly, or is your hearing just that bad?”

That’s not what he said at all!

At that moment, a shadow crept across the floor beneath Angela, slinking toward Billy.

From the side, Saul noticed a faint dusting of purple motes forming around Billy’s body—so subtle they’d be invisible to the naked eye.

As Angela’s shadow neared those motes, it began to sizzle, burning with an acrid smoke.

But Angela couldn’t see the motes or the smoke. She only realized something was wrong when the shadow vanished without a trace—her face paled instantly.

Saul, too, grew curious about the purple motes. Curiosity overtook his hunger. He extended a few tentacles toward Billy, one of which stretched out a tongue in an attempt to snag a mote.

But the moment it touched a mote, a hole was seared into the tongue tip.

The tentacle trembled, quickly withdrawing the burned tongue.

“This Billy… just like his brother Bill, specializes in poison-based elements.” Saul marveled aloud. Then, with a leap, he launched himself to the ceiling.

The next instant, Billy turned sharply, scanning the room. The purple motes around him flared outward in a sudden burst, but Saul had already retreated to the ceiling.

Billy didn’t detect anything unusual. He assumed Angela had made another futile attempt.

He withdrew the motes and resumed his approach.

Angela, terrified, backed away rapidly—her spine thudded against the cabinet behind her.

She couldn’t possibly win a head-on fight against a Third Rank apprentice like Billy.

But all her secret tactics had failed one after another. Even the illusions conjured by her left hand had vanished the moment they neared Billy—corroded into nothing.

Against such a notorious Third Rank apprentice… she was powerless!

“You plan to hand me over to the instructor?” she asked, helpless now, switching to seduction as a last resort.

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She looked up at Billy with trembling lashes, a tear sliding down her cheek to her chin.

But beauty tricks that might work in the mortal world often fell flat in the wizarding world. And Billy was no exception—he remained utterly unmoved by her tears.

“If I’d wanted to catch you, I wouldn’t have let you go last time.”

“Last time?” Angela’s voice trembled. Wait… does that mean it was Billy who let me get away last time when I lured that boy out as a decoy to escape Kongsha’s pursuit?

“That’s right. I was watching from not far away when you knocked on that boy’s door.”

Angela couldn’t deny it any longer. Her tears dried as she stared at Billy warily. “What… exactly do you want?”

Billy crossed his arms and leaned against the door. “I need the Prayer of Bichye to harvest enough wraiths for crafting a soul toxin.”

“You’re insane! I don’t know what a soul toxin is exactly, but to make one powerful enough for a Third Rank apprentice… How many people do you think that would take?! Even the instructor would rip me apart for that!”

Billy showed no sign of caring about her outburst. He waited until she finished yelling, then lowered his voice.

“Have you been holed up in the Wizard Tower so long… that you’ve forgotten how vast the world outside is?”

Angela was taken aback.

Billy continued, “People—there are plenty outside. I’ll provide the site. You do the killing. We split the souls fifty-fifty.”

Angela bit her lip. She’d already killed many, yes, but she’d never considered mass slaughter.

Yet Billy spoke of lives like they were just numbers.

“Do I even have a choice?” she whispered bitterly, lip trembling.

“You do,” Billy said, lifting his eyes.

“Death.”

(End of Chapter)