Academic gathering with a lich-Chapter 59 - 56: Mutation

Andrey slammed the white ball onto the table, and the impact made it bounce like jelly, plopping up and down. Prolonged contact had made Lyle realize his game-changing talent was sturdier than he had imagined.

He collapsed onto his wooden bed; the once rough edges had been smoothed to a curve. Though not as soft as the luxurious cushions of the Cup of Extravagance, this familiar discomfort allowed Lyle to truly relax.

As the first rays of sunlight touched the floor, Lyle bid good morning to the grape that was about to set out. Surprisingly, the light bat was diurnal. Lyle closed his eyes.

As the noise on the streets gradually became loud, Lyle found tranquility.

He couldn’t sleep!

After the appearance of the Talent Sphere, he had spent an entire night at Andrey’s, yet he felt not a bit sleepy. His body wasn’t sore, his eyelids weren’t fighting each other, and according to a physician’s self-discipline, Lyle determined that his body was normal, still a great young fellow.

But this was abnormal.

Twenty years of malnutrition, plus the past nights of arduous overwork—he had often complained about the sorrow of this era, where life crushed health, but now, he felt more spirited than ever before.

With his right hand, he gripped his wrist, feeling his pulse. His heart rate was normal, not the exacerbated excitement due to a surge of adrenaline. He washed his face, and aside from the water droplets in his hair, his appearance hadn’t changed.

It was as if he had been reborn.

The only difference between yesterday’s self and the day before was the addition of a shapeshifting Slime Ball.

And there was the mucus he had ingested.

Standing before the desk, he looked at the water-blue sphere emitting a faint glow, its surface covered with a thin mucous membrane.

So, does this thing also function as an Energy Potion?

The hack ball began to change, its surface mucus turning to the bright yellow of the previous night—it resembled a fried, big bun.

Lyle understood its meaning; the yellow mucus was the Energy Potion.

So, did the mucus also change properties according to its transformations?

It seemed a reaction mechanism was triggered, and the mucus layer turned black-gray. A hissing sound emanated from the bottom of the ball, and an unpleasant acidic scent invaded his mouth and nose.

"My table! Stop it now!"

It reverted to the transparent mucus, except the bottom part of the table had been corroded into a shallow round pit. The dark brown liquid spread along the pattern of the tabletop, eventually evaporating away.

Lyle opened the window to let out the pungent air.

As a breeze carrying the scent of soil, milk, and fresh grass blew in, Lyle leaned against the window sill, looking at the ball in his arms.

"So, you were more than just a decorative item after all."

Having discovered another advantage of the Talent Sphere, Lyle cheerfully began to cook, casually dropping some yellow mucus into the soup.

As a reward, he stuck a carrot on top of the ball; watching the tip of the carrot slowly vanish, Lyle nodded in approval.

Lyle planned to begin the awakening ritual for his Magic Wand today. The Dragon Staff made of Holy Spirit Wood was just right in his Chimera Pouch, but not now.

He intended to start the ritual during the Blood Moon because his first corpse revival coincidentally happened at that time; he felt in his heart that this was the most appropriate moment.

For now, the main task was to practice the Spell over and over again.

From the rundown alleys of Cassandra, dark whispers echoed; the shadows of stone houses stretched out, the sunlight dimmed a bit, a chill spread, and cats and dogs all fled from the area, leaving only the occasional caws of pitch-black crows.

No one frequented this place often, and even those idle troublemakers driven by curiosity would detour around under such an atmosphere.

Engrossed, Lyle did not notice the quiet outside, nor did he notice the ball placed on the table trembling. As Emo’s Spell fluctuated in volume, the ball rippled in response.

Nightfall came.

Lyle closed the windows and doors. The grape hung upside down from the beam, shining a faint light.

He moved the table to the center of the room, stacking the previous books and documents into a corner. Only three items—the Chimera Pouch, the Dragon Staff, and the Talent Sphere—were placed on the table.

With the juice of the Bitter Grass, he drew a Hexagram as instructed by the book. The symbol had to be complete and had to fully encircle the Dragon Staff.

This wasn’t difficult; although small, the desk had more than enough space for one Magic Wand.

The problem arose with the part eroded by the Talent Sphere’s corrosion, where the wood turned dark black, and no matter how much Lyle tried to paint over, it wouldn’t show.

Lyle had a brilliant idea.

He placed the Talent Sphere into the depression, picturing the missing part of the Hexagram in his mind.

With the help of the light and shadows produced by the ball, the Array became complete.

A voice inside his mind whispered, just now.

Lyle began to chant, driven by intuition.

He placed his right hand on the staff’s head nearest to him, murmuring the spell.

The runes on the hexagram started to light up, a pale white.

That pale white began to spread across the hexagram, following the lines he had drawn. As long as it completed the circuit, the ritual would be finished.

Lyle began to feel nervous.

Because the pale white was spreading quickly toward that shallow pit.

It was getting closer, three words left, two words, one word.

Then, the rune shadows within the transparent sphere also started to shine, but Lyle almost terminated the ritual.

Because the runes in the sphere were colored.

The bright colors mixed together, sparkling like a rainbow.

Why were they rainbow-colored?

Lyle saw that the advancing rainbow in the sphere seemed to pause for a moment, then turned into spreading pale white.

The runes lit up completely, and Lyle finally breathed a sigh of relief; by now, the Dragon Staff was suffused with bright light, almost blinding him.

"Mr. Plague Doctor, Mr. Plague Doctor!"

"He’ll be all right," a new voice said, as refreshing as a cold drink on a scorching summer day, or warm soup in deep winter. That voice could stoke desires deep inside, but it was hard to pinpoint what exactly made it so appealing. It was a woman’s voice, mature and enticing.

Lyle’s pupils gradually adjusted, and he opened his eyes.

The concerned grape was leaning over the table to look at him, her small black head raised high, gazing at Lyle’s cheeks, a kindhearted little girl.

On the other side, the dragon on that magic wand propped up its head with one front claw, its tail swaying on the shaft, those eyes also fixed on Lyle, slightly squinting. What was that, mockery?

The dragon had changed from white to a light pale pink. She was beautiful, very beautiful.

In fact, the revelation that the carving on his wand had come to life and learned to speak was something Lyle was somewhat prepared for. "So, I succeeded?"

"Of course, my master. I’d be very pleased to be used by you," the silky voice emanated from the dragon’s mouth, and Lyle felt as if he was staring at a fox.

It didn’t seem very promising.

"My wand, do you need a name? I think I should give you a good name to mark our cooperation," he said.

"Any name given by master would fill me with gratitude," the reply came, like an elder sister joking around.

"Hmm, how about I call you Little Dragon Girl?"

"Fine, then my name shall be Medusa, thank you, master."

"...It’s Little Dragon Girl."

"Me, Du, Sha, thank you master."

"...Pleased to meet you, Medusa."

"Likewise, dear master."

This thing is slightly problematic.

Lyle grasped the wand, as Medusa wrapped around his palm, weaving between his fingers. Looking at those fine dragon scales, a dragon named Medusa, the incongruity was strong, well, culture shock it was, he hoped it wouldn’t backfire on him in the future.

Lyle reached out to pick up the Talent Sphere on the table. It had contributed as well, all thanks to it.

Just as his hand was about to touch that moist surface.

A bulge popped out from the smooth surface, a liquid tendril latched onto Lyle’s arm, wrapping around it like a snake. The Talent Sphere transformed into a slender stream of water, reforming into a sphere on Lyle’s shoulder.

Lyle stared at his sphere in astonishment.

It wobbled on its own a couple of times.

"Gurgle."