Greatest Legacy of the Magus Universe

Halbert Dawson felt several ropes restricting his movement. A groan escaped his lips as he slowly opened his eyes.

What… what happened? He thought, utterly confused.

His gaze landed on the familiar ceiling of his study. He felt disoriented, trying to recall what had happened.

Then, his eyes widened.

The last thing he remembered was Adam striking his face with a vicious punch. And then, he lost consciousness.

Now that he had come to, he found himself lying on the floor, restricted by ropes…

No, they weren't ropes!

He lowered his head and was terrified to discover that dozens of snakes had coiled around his limbs and torso, tightly restricting him to the ground.

"What! H-help! Somebody, help me—" he screamed in panic, but was soon interrupted by a…

SLAP!

"Tsk, so noisy," Adam muttered under his breath.

The elderly herbalist turned to his side and saw Adam sitting on the ground, carving strange symbols on the ground with…

"Blood!" Dawson yelped. "W-what are you doing?!"

"Nothing much," Adam answered nonchalantly, his attention fully on the runes he was carving. "Like I mentioned earlier, there will be consequences for trying to go against me."

"No, please, please, I beg you!" Dawson screamed in anguish, tears streaming down his face. "You promised me! You swore an oath—"

SLAP!

Adam coldly stared at him. "Lower your voice. Can't you be civil? I'm sitting right next to you. Why must you scream?"

Halbert Dawson's body trembled in horror. He tried to free himself, but realised, much to his terror, that the more he struggled, the tighter these mysterious serpents coiled around him.

"What… what are you trying to do?" the old man whimpered.

He was bound at the center of a blood-saoked runic formation—a pentagram inscribed within a circle.

His limbs were stretched taut, each bound to four of the five points of the pentagram, while his head was fastened to the fifth, forcing him to helplessly stare at the ceiling above.

Crimson lines pulsed faintly beneath him, whispering endless malice into his ears.

Adam continued to carve mysterious symols on the runic formation. This was one of the many diabolical ritual arts he had learned from the memories of Magus Syvarin Ven'mir.

"I'm making sure you don't run your mouth in front of anybody else," said the raven-haired youth.

"These are perilous times, you see… and I have no interest in living with eyes forever cast over my shoulder, fearing the knife of an ambitious old bastard driven by greed."

"Please… please, it was a mistake!" Dawson sobbed pitifully. "I admit I was greedy. I… I just wanted to learn about that concoction that suppresses mana. Please, I meant you no—"

"No harm?" Adam turned to look at the old man, his eyes cold as ice. "You must take me for a fool."

Dawson shivered under his gaze. He finally found the courage to speak, his words barely a whisper, "You said you won't kill me… you swore a mana-oath…"

"I'm not going to kill you, Guild Leader," Adam said with a friendly smile.

His eyes turned cold, and so did his following words:

"But I'm going to make you wish you were dead."

Adam rose to his feet, ignoring the old man's desperate cries for help.

He circled the runic formation, ensuring everything was perfect. This was the first time he was going to perform such a ritual, after all.

Then, he stood at the head of the runic formation. He took a deep breath and muttered in snake tongue.

"Adam. Constantine. Count. Dark King. Brigham. Flynn. Patriarch. Family. Duke."

Dawson couldn't understand those words, but hearing them caused him to shudder. Moreover, the snakes on his body started to react strangely to those words.

They became more… feral!

The elderly herbalist cried out loud, thinking he would be devoured by the mysterious serpents any moment now.

Meanwhile, Adam weaved a series of complex hand seals that took him several minutes to complete.

After he weaved the final hand seal, he crouched and pressed his palm on Halbert's temples.

The runic formation seemed to have come alive at that moment.

The blood markings and the ominous symbols were sucked inside Dawson's body. Following that, the dozens of snakes dissipated into black smoke and entered his body through his facial orifices.

Dawson violently trembled on the ground, but Adam held him in place. He watched the entire thing play out with cold eyes.

A full minute passed before the blood-soaked formation faded from the ground, its essence completely absorbed into the old man's body.

The serpents, too, had vanished, having slithered beneath his skin, buried deep within.

Adam finally released Dawson, allowing the old man to scramble away in terror. He crawled to the far side of the room, hands frantically running over his body in search of wounds or signs of change.

But he found nothing…

"What… what have you done to me?!" he screamed, voice laced with horror and disbelief.

Although he could see no visible injuries on his body, he could feel it…

A terrifying evil slumbering deep inside!

"What have you done?!"

Adam calmly pulled a chair and placed it in front of the terrified old man. He took a seat and poured himself some wine.

He suddenly thought of something and looked at the old man with a hint of mischief. "Would you like to have a drink?"

Halbert Dawson was filled with unprecedented rage. He gnashed his teeth in fury and roared, "Adam, what—"

But the words got caught in his throat when he felt a terrifying pain grip his heart. His eyes widened in horror, and for a moment, he felt like he was truly going to die.

He felt something coil around his heart, viciously squeezing it.

Dawson clutched at his chest, looking at the raven-haired youth in absolute terror.

Adam, on the other hand, was quite satisfied with the ritual magic he had just performed. He took a sip of wine from the flat cup and spoke softly, "If you take my name, you will die."

Dawson's body trembled. "W-what…"

Adam continued, "If you take Brigham Flynn's name, you will die."

He paused, taking another sip from the flat cup, then added, "If you take both our names together… Heh, you will die before you even know it."

Dawson froze.

In that moment, he suddenly realized something. He looked at the raven-haired youth with eyes filled with disbelief.

"Don't tell me… did you actually—"

"Shh." Adam brought a finger to his lips, his gaze cold and unblinking. "Even thinking of it… will be the death of you. So choose your thoughts carefully, dear Guild Leader."

That last part was a lie.

But the old fool did not need to know that.

Adam rose to his feet and meticulously erased every trace that might suggest he had ever been here tonight.

Then, he walked up to the elderly herbalist, who remained frozen on the ground, and patted his shoulder in encouragement.

He flashed a friendly smile and said, "Whether you live or die… that's entirely up to you."

With those parting words, he disappeared like a ghost, his sly words lingering in the air.

"I've kept my oath…"