Manaless Mage-Chapter 322: What are you doing here?

Harry stared down at Adolf’s barely conscious figure, the faint remnants of a smirk still dancing on his lips.

He wasn’t surprised the man was still clinging to life—not after all the desperate strength he had shown earlier.

But there was something... interesting about the silence now, something that pulled at Harry’s thoughts and narrowed his eyes.

"Hmm," he muttered, a strange glint flashing in his gaze.

He crouched once again, lowering himself beside the smoldering wreckage of what had once been Adolf Rashin.

The heat around the man’s body was intense, his scorched flesh still hissing softly as it cooled against the blackened earth.

Harry didn’t flinch. He reached forward and gently placed a hand on Adolf’s head, fingers threading through the ash-coated strands of what was left of his singed hair.

"You probably still believe your mission is so holy," he whispered, voice laced with disdain. "Colluding with demons... how disgusting."

The words were quiet, but they carried a deep bite of contempt—enough that even in his broken state, Adolf’s ruined face twitched.

The brief change in expression didn’t escape Harry, nor did the almost imperceptible surge of anger that passed through the charred husk of a man.

Harry’s eyes narrowed as they began to glow bright blue. The hue deepened as arcs of faint energy rippled from his palm and danced across Adolf’s skull like strands of lightning.

He took a deep breath, internally steadying himself. "Never thought I’d use this so soon," he muttered, sighing softly.

Then, with a simple thought, he activated the skill.

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[Memory Manipulation]

—Manipulate the memories of any one you wish.

For this skill to activate, the target’s mental stats would have to be lower than Host’s.

Note: Requires body contact with target to activate.

=====

His hand suddenly lit up with a faint blue glow.

A rush of sensation hit him like a tidal wave.

His vision blurred, the world around him twisted, and in the span of a heartbeat—

He was somewhere else.

A cascade of images surged into his mind, flashing so fast they were almost impossible to process.

The sensation was like diving into a roaring river of thoughts, each one fighting for attention. But then—something clicked.

Time slowed.

And the memories started to take shape.

Contrary to the name, Memory Manipulation didn’t just allow Harry manipulate memories, it immersed him into them.

It was like he was there, and the memories were scenes being replayed in real time.

The first memory was vivid.

Too vivid.

He was back in the middle of the battlefield. The same battlefield where their fight had taken place.

He saw himself, or rather, a memory of himself, hovering high above as fire dragons soared downward.

He watched Adolf scream defiantly into the sky, watched his transformation into the twisted demonic form, saw the fear on his face as the first dragon descended upon him.

Harry grimaced at the rawness of the memory.

It wasn’t just visual—he could feel Adolf’s panic. The absolute despair as he realized he had no way to counter the assault. The desperate final thoughts that crossed his mind before the explosion hit.

Harry quickly shifted his focus, pushing the memory further back.

And then—

It rewound.

He blinked.

The world shifted.

Suddenly, he stood in what looked like a dark chamber—one Harry didn’t recognize. The lighting was dim, and the air thick with malicious energy. The stench of blood, sweat, and burning incense lingered.

Adolf stood in the center, whole and healthy again in this memory, his robes pristine, his breathing steady.

He was speaking.

"...we’ll strike during the tournament. The instructors should be to invigiliating to watch over all the students... then we’ll swoop on, and take that Blackheart girl."

He was planning the invasion of the tournament.

Just like he had expected, they were indeed after Miranda.

As for the reason, he didn’t know yet.

Harry watched carefully. Runes floated in the air, dark crystals arranged in a semicircle around a map of the beast forest the tournament was being held.

Other figures in cloaks stood silently, nodding at Adolf’s words.

"All we have to do is appear... the teleportation artefact is already in place." Adolf continued. "Our intel says he’ll inform us when it’s time."

Harry frowned slightly. ’Of course, they have someone... an instructor, or an adventurer, I wonder who that is.’

His eyes swept the room, burning each face into his mind.

But just as he began to study the layout of the chamber, the memory fractured again—snapping backward.

Another shift.

This one was more jarring.

Harry gasped softly as the scenery changed once more.

Now, Adolf was on his knees.

His face was lowered. His entire body trembled slightly, though whether it was from fear or reverence, Harry couldn’t tell.

Around them was only darkness—pure, suffocating shadow. No walls. No floor. No ceiling. Just endless void.

Before Adolf stood a tall figure.

Harry’s eyes narrowed.

The figure was completely shrouded in darkness—more of a shape than a man.

A tall humanoid mass of inky black, with thick smoke wafting from its form like it was perpetually smoldering.

Shadows clung to its body unnaturally, refusing to be pierced by the memory’s ambient light.

It didn’t have a face.

Or at least, not one Harry could see.

The smoke curled around its head like a hood, concealing its identity entirely.

The memory continued.

Adolf didn’t dare speak. His head remained bowed.

The shadow said nothing at first, merely staring—or perhaps watching—with a silence that seemed to press down on the air itself.

Harry tried to get a better look.

He leaned forward in the memory, tried to see past the veil of darkness hiding the figure’s face.

However, all he could see was nothing.

He circled around, took a different angle.

Still nothing.

It was as if something was actively blocking him.

His heart thudded louder in his ears.

Again, he tried, over and over again, but the result remained the same.

And then—

The shadow moved.

Its head turned.

Not toward Adolf.

But toward him.

Harry froze.

The shadow’s unseen gaze locked onto his, piercing through the layers of memory like it had always known he was there.

A chill rushed down Harry’s spine.

’No way,’ he thought. ’This... isn’t possible.’

He was just peering through Adolf’s memories. Just a viewer—an observer. He couldn’t be seen. That was the rule.

The skill didn’t put him in the memory. It only let him walk through it.

So how...?

The shadows around the figure writhed, as though stirred by some foreign wind.

And then—

The figure’s lips moved.

A low and quiet voice, like a whisper from behind a thick veil.

But Harry heard it.

"What are you doing here?"

Harry’s breath caught.

The words slammed into him like a thunderclap—not because of their volume, but because of what they implied.

The figure was aware of him.

This wasn’t just memory. This wasn’t a fragment of thought. This... thing... was watching him.

Crack!

The memory—no, the entire space—shivered around him, as if the world itself was unraveling.

Harry instinctively stepped back.

"No," he whispered. "You shouldn’t be able to see me. This is a memory—just a memory!"

But the shadow didn’t move. It just stood there, watching him with its unseen eyes. The smoke around it thickened, beginning to twist like a vortex, swirling faster and faster.

Harry’s skin prickled.

He couldn’t move.

Couldn’t think.

Could barely breathe.

And then—

The memory shattered.