Passerby Villain In A Wizard World-Chapter 196: Did I Just Jinx It?

While Ian and Ignysyl were busy closing the portal after Ron fainted on the ground, another person was standing in the corner of the hall, extremely confused.

"What happened? Did that guy go mad?"

Carl muttered to himself, still trying to process the bizarre sequence of events.

He first saw Ron clutch his abdomen in pain and shock, then beg for mercy, only to start laughing maniacally before collapsing. It made no sense.

Although it might have seemed like Ian took a long time to do everything, to Carl, it all happened so fast that he remained rooted in place, full of confusion.

"Hey, old man. Did you feel anything?"

Carl asked the only being he believed capable of clearing up his confusion. But unfortunately for him, this time, even Ruther was just as perplexed as he was.

"Maybe he suffered a backlash from the spell. After all, nothing good comes when dealing with the Abyss."

Ruther could only guess. And the way Ron behaved did seem as if he was possessed.

"But didn’t you say that ritual in the book was real?"

Carl asked in confusion, believing the incantation written in that book to be true.

"Who knows? Don’t dwell on those things. Instead, look at the portal—don’t you sense something odd?"

Ruther didn’t want to talk about something he had no understanding of and diverted Carl’s attention to the swirling portal in the air.

"Yeah! That demon seems to be stuck. And why is the pressure so intense? Hey, did we accidentally summon something powerful?"

Carl’s face grew solemn as he took in his surroundings. The grotesque, otherworldly landscape, the demon’s eerie howling, and, most disturbingly, the increasing dread that seeped into his bones—it all pointed to one thing: something had gone horribly wrong with Ron’s summoning.

"Hm! It seems so. Do you want to leave? It’s not safe to stay here for long. You’re too weak."

Ruther advised, sensing the growing danger, although he didn’t tell him that he was at even greater risk in his spirit form.

Hearing his words, Carl looked at the slowly closing portal, hesitated for a moment, and then said,

"Let’s wait a few more minutes. The demonic essence is already so close. If I miss this chance, it will take too long to obtain it again on Calvora."

Carl decided.

In fact, what he had told Ron earlier was indeed true. The demonic essence could help someone become a second-class wizard if they followed the method in that blood-colored book—though it came with a cost.

But Carl had no intention of helping Ron in the first place. He wanted the demonic essence for himself—to use as a key ingredient in a potion.

"Then be careful. I have a bad feeling about this. Leave if the situation worsens."

Ruther didn’t try to persuade Carl further and simply warned him before falling silent again.

...

On the other side, as Ian approached the portal, the voices in his mind grew louder, their whispers turning into an overwhelming barrage of chaotic murmurs.

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However, strangely enough, the moment he activated the black streak on his Life Core, the crushing pressure that had nearly suffocated him earlier completely vanished.

’I feel like I’m not using this form correctly. Maybe I need to awaken my bloodline again?’

Ian pondered about how, until now, his bloodline had only been in the initiation realm and that he was using an unusual method—employing the Ethereal Disguise secret technique—to turn into this form.

And, of course, this wasn’t the proper way to use it. After all, in his blue form, he had found nothing special about himself except for his eye color. Well, although learning water-type spells did feel easier, it was quite underwhelming.

"Grr... Gr..."

"Help!"

The agonized cries from the other side of the portal echoed eerily without a pause as Ian made his way up.

But it didn’t take long for him to reach the portal’s location with the help of the scattered skeleton remains that filled the air.

And once he was in the range, Ian immediately chanted a spell firing it immediately.

"Tidal Push!"

With Ian’s shout, a violent surge of water erupted from his palm, twisting into a raging torrent as it hurtled toward the portal. The force behind it was enough to tear through boulders, yet—

"Fwoosh!"

The moment it reached the portal, the entire column of water vanished into thin air, erased as if it had never existed. No explosion. No resistance. Just... nothing.

’Sigh... so, the spell won’t work, huh? Guess I’ll have to push them by hand.’

Ian thought bitterly, realizing that a normal elemental spell couldn’t touch those existences, and he didn’t have a dark-elemental spell in his arsenal to try again, although he doubted even those would be effective. Judging by the situation, even weapons like swords seemed ineffective.

Which meant he had only one option.

He could only attempt what he believed to be the best solution for the moment.

Thankfully, he had already reached the Grand Knight realm, and his physical strength should be sufficient to push away the grotesque skeletons.

’Let’s do this in one go.’

He decided and channeled all his life energy into his fist, his hand glowing with an intense, fiery hue. He then locked his gaze on a large skeletal arm blocking the portal and lunged forward, delivering a devastating punch aimed at clearing the obstruction in one strike.

From a distance, he looked like One Punch Man—except he appeared to be punching thin air.

"Boom!"

"What is he doing?"

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While Ian was busy trying to clear the pesky skeletons’ remains in the portal, Ignysyl, of course, noticed his actions.

However, even with his bloodline inheritance, he had never heard of anyone affecting space through sheer physical strength.

So, he was quite confused about what Ian was trying to accomplish—until he heard Ian’s sharp command.

"Do it! Use all your power, fast!"

Ian shouted to Ignysyl as he realized that, although his direct punch had destroyed the obstacles in the portal, there were just too many.

And their numbers only increased as time passed, signaling that the entity on the other side was drawing closer.

"Drak’toruun."

Although confused, Ignysyl didn’t hesitate and followed Ian’s instruction, using another dragon chant in an attempt to close the portal.

’Woah, it’s actually closing. How did he do that?’

Then Ignysyl immediately noticed that the restriction he had felt when trying to close the portal before had suddenly weakened significantly.

Yet all he saw was Ian punching the air, seemingly blasting nothing. Even as a dragon, he couldn’t perceive what Ian was able to.

"Help! NO!"

However, while Ian and Ignysyl were pleased, the poor demon was not, as it let out a guttural, desperate howl with newfound strength.

"Too noisy!"

"Boom!"

"Ah!!"

But this time, Ian was too close, and the unpleasant guttural cries, combined with the constant background noise, irritated him further.

Annoyed, he directed a punch straight at the demon’s head, sending its body shooting through the portal.

Well, in his anger, Ian seemed to have accidentally helped the demon instead.

"Fast! Use everything you’ve got!"

Ian didn’t care about the demon as it was already quite injured. Instead, he ordered Ignysyl to act quickly, feeling that the skeletons around the portal were growing stronger. It was becoming harder and harder just to push them away.

’Fortunately, they can’t see me. Otherwise, this would be even worse.’

Ian sighed in relief—until he suddenly saw one of the skeletons turn its head 180 degrees, staring directly into his pitch-black eyes, locking its empty eye sockets onto him.

And it wasn’t just that one.

Every single skeleton hovering around the portal, around Ignysyl—even those wandering outside—turned their heads to stare directly at him.

Even the dismembered arms and legs without distinct heads seemed to be staring at him, making his skin crawl.

Instantly, a suffocating silence filled the air.

Ian felt an unnatural chill creep up his spine.

’Damn! Did I jinx myself?’

Ian cursed his instincts as he suddenly felt the crushing pressure return—the same pressure that had vanished when he activated this form.

Now, he really wanted to slap himself—or, more precisely, his mouth.