Like a tender-hearted lover, Glafx lowered his head and placed it beside Ovid’s frozen face. He looked as though he was compassionately kissing and whispering softly. He then lightly touched his lips to Ovid’s left shoulder, where he sucked softly.

Like a young man drinking a cold beverage, his dried skinny cheeks vibrated in a rhymic manner as fresh blood gradually flowed through his lips and quenched his dried throat. The blood began to affect his scattered organs which had been exposed for untold years.

After a moment, the young man raised his head and looked at the person trapped infront of him. His eyes filled with warmth as he glazed at Ovid pitifully. A warm and sophistic aura revealed on his face. Even the red stain occupying his dehydrated lips made he appear full of wisdom as well.

Ovid’s body was completely subdued by the seemingly young man, his body becoming so weak that he even struggled to breathe. Yet Ovid seemed dull, without any expression or reaction on his face, despite that he was now as weak as a newborn.

He was well aware that he probably won’t live past this day. Yet strangely, he did not beg for his life. Even when he felt the sharp pain on his shoulder and was repulsed by the man’s act, he remained calm. For this was another teaching his mother had instilled in him since youth.

The Sage Glafx looked gently at Ovid’s pretty face and said, “Your blood is filled with extremely pure mana. It is just a pity that you have too many traumas in your heart, or else its quality would be the best I’ve ever experienced.”

Upon hearing these words, Ovid’s lungs that were moving at a steady pace fastened, but he still showed coldness on his face. Seeing the strange scenes occurring after Glafx spoke, his pupils narrowed.

Sage Glafx’s skinny and ghastly face began to inflate, his wrinkled and pale lips appeared to be reddening. In total, it revealed the former glamour he must have possessed before his imprisonment.

Ovid, seeing the strange change, asked emotionlessly, “What is this?”

Sage Glafx, who was now eyeing the eagle beside him, perhaps thinking of chopping it into many pieces after all the suffering it caused him, glanced at Ovid and said gently, “A type of Demonic Incantation inspired by the Charybdis.”

Seeing a hint of confusion in Ovid’s eyes, Glafx found the reaction quite ordinary. The skill Sage Glafx used to rejuvenate himself was very strange, and could not be found written in any records. However, it was extremely well known within the higher echelon of the clergy for being the darkest and most evil form of diabolical technique, for it allowed the practitioner to consume another’s blood and flesh and obtain their ability. Since it involved the consumption of human flesh, even the mainstream diabolical sects had forbidden the practice.

From that alone, it could be interpreted that this was truly the most vicious skills of all.

Perhaps to suppress the fear in his heart, Ovid mumbled, “I doubt that you were complicit in your imprisonment, much less reflected on your sins. In fact, you were probably the reason why Saint Gael perished from this world.”

The young man kept quiet for a long time before a pleased looked appeared on his face as he said arrogantly, “Nice observation. But no one has the right to judge me, whether it’s you, or Gael, or even Alexander.”

Love this story? Find the genuine version on the author's preferred platform and support their work!

Ovid’s voice trembled slightly as he asked, “You never told me who you are.”

“Indeed, a name is of little meaning and ones’ status is similarly worthless. Although I am a teacher, I am first and foremost, a follower of consequentialism. Then again, it is foolish to use such things to standardise a person.”

The wise look on the man’s face disappeared as the harsh wind blew into the burial chamber. He struggled from his entrapment between the thick roots of the great tree, his movement full of care and charm as he calmly said, “I am a person, naturally I am susceptible to change. I can be a saint at some times, yet a demon at others. In the end, I can only say that I am a person.”

(*cough cough, I know that is scepticism)

After the man finished the sentence, he revealed a pitiful look as he lifted Ovid’s slender arm, lowered his head and took a nibble. As the bite was quite small, it was with relative ease that Glafx tore the flesh and put it in his mouth. He began to focus on chewing the piece of raw meat in a serious manner.

All raw meat was hard to chew on, not to even mention something as disturbing as human flesh. So while Glafx’s hollow cheeks slowly moved up and down, it was chewed on very methodically.

As the flesh was absorbed, his deep sockets and hollowed cheeks were refreshed. His face regained vitality.

The little arm was like a piece of ivory delicately carved, and with that heart-throbbing sound, it was chipped away alive with a piece of flesh. Blood ran down the wound, and Ovid’s face was pale but stubborn and silent, refusing to utter a single sound of pain.

He had never expected such an outcome. Never did he thought that the venerable Sage Glafx was actually such a horrible monster that would eat human flesh.

As Ovid feel the control of his body becoming weaker and weaker, he thought that Glafx must have lost his sanity over the countless years of torture. Just when Glafx was edging closer to death, he had entered the tomb and became a ‘get out of jail’ card.

So the whole process regarding inheriting a legacy must have been a rouse to lower his guard. Combined with the various techniques used to manipulate his emotion, Glafx had successfully led Ovid to a close enough distance to manipulate his body.

Ovid then asked, “I don’t know you, but couldn’t you have convinced me to help you free instead of taking such a risk?”

The man smiled and said, “The confinement was created at Gael’s peak. I should be the only one capable of breaking it after getting my powers back. I had to eat you if I want my power back.”

“Even if I can’t break the confinement, my teacher can,” Ovid then said.

The man laughed and added, “Indeed, a saint is capable of breaking this confinement. Shame that they are not as naive as you, and is fully aware of the story. No matter how loved you are by him, he would certainly kill me without hesitation.”

Ovid paused and said, “You are very disliked?”

These words were said in a particularly pure and blunt manner, and even Glafx could not help but choke at such a question. While he was aware that back hundred thousand years ago, there were many critiques of him, none have said it so directly.

In the end, the man sighed and continued, “Honestly, I believe it is destiny that brought you on my death bed. Although I had a hundred thousand years to cultivate, I was not prepared for your arrival, so used a technique for torture… I did not expect that at the last moment, you would regain clarity, and even converse with me. How did you do that?”

Ovid thought that there was no reason to restrict his mouth and the man was probably waiting for the flesh to be absorbed. He answered honestly, “Maybe I wasn’t tempted enough?”

The man frowned a little, appearing especially dashing as he asked, “Is my legacy not enough for you?”

Ovid answered, “I want immortality, but I don’t believe you.”

The man said, “I didn’t lie to you. I seriously discovered the secrets to skip the long road, and arrive straight at sainthood.”

Ovid froze and said, “I still have a long life ahead of me.”

Sage Glafx quipped, “Your life isn’t long at all, even if you live past fifty, a saint could theoretically live for over a million years. In such cases, how is anything more attractive than my legacy?”

Ovid tilted his head, “I am the successor to a saint already. If I was going to become a student of anyone, I would choose one that is more straightforward.”

When the young man heard this, he choked once more.

Ovid continued, “Mother told me that someone at the top is never generous since that is not competitive, and the person would inevitably lose their privilege. So the more generous you act, the weirder I felt.”

“I wonder if the story you told me was true, or was it made up to fool me?”

He was curious about this story since he was a very logical person, and wanted to seek the truth. He did not realise how creepy it was that he was casually conversing old stories with the man currently cannibalising his flesh.

The young man said, “A good fiction (lie) is always two truths and a lie. I merely skipped over some matters. I was certainly Gael’s teacher and a librarian, and I was the one who taught Alexander magic. But I did it knowing full well that he would go against the elves.”