The Adventurer's Mission Log

Chapter 38 'Hunting Ritual'

Then, Tenor's eyes turned cold, and he immediately used the materials he had bought at the market to prepare a hunting ritual potion.

The general rituals of the fourth rank need to be held in a low-temperature environment, which can be natural cold, or with the help of a sorcerer. The simplest way is to soak in cold water.

He packed his weapons and equipment, took his medicine, and left the tavern.

He drank the potion using a pool in a courtyard.

A burning sensation spread from his lower abdomen to his entire body. His emotions began to detach, his body temperature plummeted, and his heartbeat slowed down. He was clearly beginning to mutate uncontrollably.

This transformation was unusually slow, unlike the rapid and abrupt changes of the past. This caused Tenor to clearly hear the terrifying sounds of his bones and muscles being reshaped echoing within his body.

His spine was growing rapidly, all his bones were being reshaped, and he couldn't help but close his eyes as his head began to take shape.

The eye sockets are like stones that have been melted from the inside, gradually expanding and deforming, with the frontal and parietal bones protruding upwards and backwards to form a bony crown.

His legs involuntarily bent, and his toenails pierced through his newly bought boots, turning into sharp claws.

Perhaps he shouldn't have put on new shoes for the sake of appearances; he should have gotten used to walking barefoot.

Layers of scales rise to the surface of the skin, and the stratum corneum beneath the scales rapidly thickens, bulges, and changes color.

His mind grew increasingly muddled, and gradually, he was stripped of all the emotions of a mammal.

The original consciousness became the absolute ruler, examining its memories of belonging to the hot-blooded race while focusing on the present moment without a care.

The first inhalation of air by the newly formed nasal and throat structures was a low, long hissing sound from deep within the abdomen.

It was as if he had swallowed the entire world's taste and temperature with his tongue.

Tenor opened his eyes, his vertical pupils adjusting their focus, and in a daze, he entered a hallucination.

In a tavern room somewhere in the city, as the monster, which had transformed into the appearance of a prostitute, was being cleaned up, Tenor's gaze, through the body's shell, saw a writhing, living fire parasitizing the monster's chest cavity.

A line of data stream appears:

[Mission: Complete the Hunting Ritual]

[Difficulty: Dangerous]

[Reward: 'Magic Amulet' --> 'Emerald Amulet']

[Status: In Progress]

With the help of his difficult lucidity, he accepted the quest, which rewarded him with the 'Emerald Amulet'. This amulet not only preserved and enhanced his resistance to magic, but also restored his life when activated. The effect was weaker than that of a regeneration potion, but it could still regenerate severed limbs.

Tenor wanted to ponder the message conveyed by the hunting ritual. If it were him, he would have planned carefully before acting, but he was driven by a strange instinct.

Ah! He heard it; it was his bloodline calling out:

"Huang Qi extended its sharp claws! The prey has appeared."

The thought flashed through his mind, and Thoreau swam out of the pool, smashing through any sculptures and old walls that stood in his way.

A fourth-order demon was marked by the hunting ritual, and its real-time visions appeared before the lizardmen from time to time.

The lizardman dragged a rough new path, using his Shadow Cloak to conceal himself, as he approached the marked location in the city of the hot-blooded race.

...

"It's here!"

The shapeshifter, which had just killed its prey and performed a sacrificial ritual, paused for a moment, its fingers, which were peeling skin, suddenly stopping.

"It's coming!" it screamed uncontrollably, overwhelmed by the immense fear of the unknown, which nearly drove it to the brink of collapse.

Because it discovered, it could sense, that gaze did not come from somewhere in the room, but from all directions, piercing through the wooden walls, piercing through its flesh, and nailing directly to its very essence.

It cannot escape; it is locked onto by an unknown entity.

All the muscles under the skin spasmed and twisted at the same instant, as if countless snakes were fleeing in panic under the shapeshifter's skin.

"Quiet!" A cold, hissing voice echoed in the shapeshifter's mind.

Like a mouse exposed to light, the shapeshifter couldn't calm down. Its face began to melt, transforming from the face of the dead into that of the tavern owner, and then convulsing into the likeness of the previous victim.

Its features flowed and overlapped like heated wax, eventually settling on a face that did not actually exist.

That's how it subconsciously feels fear.

"I'm going to die," it said to the voice inside its head, almost hysterically. "It will find us, it will peel us apart like an eggshell! What do we do, what do we do, what do we do!"

Its topaz-like eyes trembled wildly, its pupils sometimes shrinking to pinpoints and sometimes expanding into dark holes.

"Ah," the grotesque being sighed, "so this is the fear of mortals."

Then, the voice, with undeniable force, intimidated the desperate shapeshifter: "Idiot! You're trembling like a last candle! But I'm not like you."

I am Tzeentch's Flame, and I have witnessed the ever-changing dance within the Crystal Labyrinth! My knowledge surpasses your imagination, you writhing, terrifying piece of meat!

The hunter who scared you so much you wet yourself was just marking a spot; only a fool would wet his pants over a mark.

So, you're useless! Quiet down and listen to me!

The shapeshifter stopped its convulsive, uncontrolled transformations. Unable to find a face that would make it safe, it placed all its hopes on the demon. "What should I do? Save me! I can offer you nine souls—no, ninety-nine!"

The devil's tone was languid, almost tender, with a hint of contempt. "I've had enough. Your fear smells like burnt hair, sour and base."

I know you're terrified.

But you happen to have me, a pathetic, castrated fire demon—

Yes, I am different from those of my kind who can burn through ten mortal formations, but at least I am still a fire demon.

So you have to listen to me, you spineless coward.

Lend me your body, just as you lent me your heart last time, and lend me your shapeshifting ability.

Or you can stay sprawled here and shake until that hunter walks in and kills you.

Choose. I am immortal. Leaving you only requires finding a new host. I can abandon you at any time. You'd better choose quickly before I lose patience for the deal." The cunning demon concealed the crucial information—the hunter had come for it.

The foolish shapeshifter surrendered its body in terror. As the ever-changing fire within its chest burned its brain along its nerves, and the living fire took hold of the shapeshifter's brain core, the demon completely took control of the body.

It chews on the soul of its 'partner,' transforming into any image recorded by the shapeshifter, gazing maliciously at a certain place, its gaze piercing through the wooden wall.

"...Cold-blooded...Let's see...who's the real hunter..."

...

Tenor raised his head and quickly sniffed.

It's very close.

A strange heat wave surrounded him, its scorching heat seeping into his skin and baking his thoughts.

He was exposed.

The obsidian amulet provided a slight resistance to magic, and since lizardmen already had some resistance to magic, the demon's attempt to probe failed.

If Tenor still retained a full dose of his hot-blooded consciousness, his ongoing thoughts would be vaporized, and the memories he passively recalled would be burned away, but the hunting ritual made him almost a monster.

The monster, using its stealth to swagger into the tavern, its heavy footsteps almost causing the stairs to crumble. Those who weren't drunk noticed the anomaly, and later even the drunks could see it.

There were two novice mages in the tavern, but before they could speak to the adventurers they were traveling with, strange fire surged into their minds along with the magical winds. They were engulfed by the flames that suddenly erupted from their bodies, and screams from within the fireballs echoed throughout the tavern.

A strong, pungent sulfurous odor quickly filled the air.

The faint, sharp, intermittent "clucking" sound, like a child's prank or an ominous tinnitus, came from the ceiling, completely out of place with the crackling sound of burning firewood.