Three Goddamn Traps

Chapter 2: Three Goddamn Traps

He casually put the two bestiaries back into his inventory and continued downward. Now came the main event. Oh yeah—artifacts! Three artifacts! His three bonded Sorcerer artifacts!

Affliction—Usaless, Tailwind Reaper: an enormous scythe.

Destruction—Sargeras's Staff: a staff.

Demonic Knowledge—Skull of the Damned: a skull and a dagger fashioned from a spinal bone.

In the game, these three artifacts were everywhere. After all, every one of those million Grand Lords had one. But in the real world, they would absolutely be weapons of mass destruction. Compared to ordinary epic gear, it was like a handgun running into an RPG—or possibly a missile, depending on the user's skill.

Evenson had only one assessment: damn it.

Artifacts were good things, things countless people dreamed of obtaining, but Sorcerer artifacts were an exception. To be honest, Sorcerers were a class obsessed with power, which was why they had produced so many villains, such as the famous Gul'dan Yanzu. One thing was certain: no Sorcerer who discovered the three artifacts could remain calm. But no Sorcerer would dare grab them directly, either. Usually, reckless fools who did so either had their souls immediately drained by the artifact or were burned to ashes. In better cases, the artifact would control their minds and turn them into its servants. It would use them, not the other way around. Only mighty Sorcerer masters, those whose spiritual worlds stood as firm as the Eternal Wall of Sighs, dared claim they could fully control the three artifacts.

So, as he looked at the three artifacts lying in his inventory, Evenson felt a wave of sheer bullshit wash over him. Forget using them—he did not even dare take them out of his inventory. If he did, Usaless would instantly reap every living thing within at least a one-kilometer radius. Forget people; he doubted even microorganisms would remain. Sargeras's Scepter would bore a hole into the Twisted Nether, and shadows and fel flames would level the entire block. The Skull of the Damned would beguile the intelligent life here and make them submit to it, then open a portal to the demon realm. If he took all three out at once, this world could just GG.

Touching those things now would be no different from throwing himself onto a nuclear reactor and throwing a tantrum.

Shifting his attention away from those ridiculously awesome things that no human could possibly use, Evenson noticed the final item in his inventory: a black-covered book. Its cover bore evil, blasphemous runes, and it felt disturbingly soft and slick to the touch. "I hope it isn't human skin—and that it won't peel mine off when I read it."

Evenson muttered as he tried to identify the symbols on the cover. He realized he did not recognize a single character, yet he could clearly understand their meaning. This was communication on the level of the soul. The cover read: Compendium of Warlock Spells.

"Uh... the name is certainly... direct. But wouldn't something classy like Necronomicon, Book of Darkness, or Demonic Tome be better?" Grumbling about a name with the same vibe as some random dictionary, Evenson began studying how to use the book.

Calling its name produced no response. Double-clicking the cover produced no response. Did he need to recognize it as his master with blood? Gritting his teeth, he cut his finger and dripped blood onto it. Still no response. "Fuck, don't tell me this is useless too. What kind of benefit is this?"

"What is this idiot doing?"

"Books are meant to be read. Doesn't he know that?"

Just as Evenson was about to lose his mind, he heard the above conversation directly in his head. He looked into his inventory and found the Skull of the Damned staring at him. That fleshless skull seemed to be smiling, while Usaless's enormous blade reflected an eerie red light.

"Of course, if you find reading troublesome, we could teach you personally, as long as..." Before it could finish, Evenson slammed his inventory shut. The voices naturally stopped as well. It seemed they could not penetrate the barrier of this space.

"I knew it. Hah... I knew it. Hah... These things... Sorcerer artifacts were never that simple. I almost agreed to it." After closing the inventory, Evenson gasped for breath, cold sweat nearly streaming from the top of his head to his feet.

How could Sorcerer artifacts be simple? They were alive. They had souls. Of the three artifacts, only Sargeras's Staff had no soul. The other two—the Skull of the Damned had once been called Sathir. He was the first Eredar to study demonic power, and Archimonde's mentor.

Within Usaless, Tailwind Reaper, was imprisoned the soul of Usaless, a dreadlord who had dared challenge the fallen Titan Sargeras.

They had already screwed more than one master to death. Approaching those two ancient traps as an ordinary human now would guarantee that he would be devoured clean in seconds. Just like before, Evenson had nearly been bewitched into agreeing to let them teach him Magic. What a joke. If they taught him, having his soul drained would be the lightest consequence.

After this lesson, he absolutely would not have even the slightest contact with those two ancient traps again until he became a Sorcerer master. As for what level a Sorcerer master was... well, he would tell you once you reached level 98.

Still, those two old bastards had reminded him of something: books were meant to be read. Had he just had a split personality episode? It looked like transmigration novels had poisoned him deeply.

"Isn't this still screwing me over?" He opened the book, glanced at the table of contents on the first page, then viciously threw it to the ground and cursed.

Three years of spellcasting, five years of mock exams, one hundred volumes of sailing through a sea of questions. Holy shit, was this learning Magic or advanced mathematics? Still, complaints aside, he had to read it. Fortunately, these things could be learned. As long as he persisted in doing thirty practice questions every day, he would soon truly learn Magic. After some more time, he would be able to do a Sorcerer's proper work: deal with demons in the Twisted Nether, trade for knowledge and power, and perhaps abduct one or two as pets along the way.

That was what he thought, but the sight of Three Years of Spellcasting, Five Years of Mock Exams, Sailing Through a Sea of Questions in his hands still made him nauseous. If he had worked this hard in his previous life, maybe he would have gotten into a prestigious university, earned an advanced degree, become a CEO, become chairman of the board, married a rich and beautiful woman, and become a winner in life. It seemed that the saying "knowledge is power" was not empty words.

But it did not matter. If he had not worked hard in his previous life, then he would work hard in this one. And this was not as simple as getting into a prestigious university. This was Magic. Magic! As Evenson thought to himself, titles like Metropolitan Legend of xxxx, Ultimate xx, and x Flower involuntarily surfaced in his mind.

By the time Evenson finished fantasizing, it was already morning, and breakfast was just around the corner. Filled with lofty ambition, he pushed open the door and headed toward a new world.

Yet the new world smacked him square in the face and left him completely dumbfounded.

P.S. If you are interested in what the three artifacts look like, you can search for pictures online. They are very cool.