Chapter 87

"Look! How dangerous magic is!" The masked man was agitated, raising a... a disgusting, greenish-brown object. I'm sorry, I don't want to use that word, but the Transformation Spell Mel used that day really had a distinctly agricultural feel to it. The five-star slime's current green color... is almost the same shade as chicken droppings...

The masked man shouted, "This is the esteemed Dean of the Federal National Magic Research Institute! He was subjected to Transformation Spell by the archmage you all know so well— Mephistopheles Madsen. Months have passed, and look, he's still a slime! Even a dean of such high status is just a plaything in the hands of an archmage, let alone us ordinary people!"

Fart!

If it weren't for the screen, I would have rushed over and beat him up without any regard for his image! Are you stupid? Mel has never used his magic to oppress ordinary people! There's a reason he transformed the Five-Star Old Man! If you have a mouth and don't spout nonsense, people won't think the holes in your face are for venting!

I'm so angry!!!

... Suddenly, the devil said in a trembling voice, "My lord, could you please take the evil spirit back...?"

I turned around and found my evil spirits huddled unceremoniously around the devil, trembling when they met my gaze... This made me even angrier. I admit I'm a bit emotional right now, but you are my spirits! My fellow disciples! You wouldn't run away from my spiritual world and hide with the devil, would you?

Without uttering a word, I dragged the group of dead back.

The masked man on TV was still spouting nonsense. "The Archmage's Transformation Spell is so advanced that this slime master hasn't changed back for so long! Do you still dare let the Archmage walk openly in the street?"

... I frowned, watching the masked man toss the five-star slime around. Although it had shrunk a bit, it still seemed to have good elasticity... But how can you prove that what you have in your hand is a five-star slime, and not some other slime of similar color? Although this kind of... green slime is not very common, as a military enterprise with the power to kidnap Five-Star Old Man in the Federation capital, it shouldn't be unable to find a similar one.

The masked man today had a strong desire to perform; he kept rambling on and on.

I snorted, not wanting to watch this man's performance any longer, so I poked the devil and told it to continue leading the way for me.

The devil hurriedly led me forward.

--I'm going to finish this quickly. I don't want to linger in this Inner World any longer. I need to go back immediately, then reunite with Mel and the others to rescue the Dragon Emperor first, because we've dragged this rescue mission out far too long. And then... well, although the Five-Star Old Man is rather disgusting, we still need to confirm if he really is Five-Star Old Man. If he is, we'll bring him back too. Anyway, now that Reynold has been rescued, we can have Reynold hold the five-star slime.

Uh, no, we can turn him back into a human first! I patted my forehead. A five-star slime can't stay a slime forever. The Federal National Magic Research Institute needs a humanoid dean to fulfill his duties.

... and I need to invite him over to my house; I'm very curious about what it's like to be a slime for months on end.

"We've arrived." The devil suddenly fawned over him, "My lord, once you pass through this door, you'll see that magical artifact!"

Before me stood an ancient-style door, its intricately carved skulls incredibly imposing, each head lifelike, their dark eye sockets seeming to stare at me. I thought we could imitate this style and build a door outside the mage tower... wait, when did I start liking this distinctly dark mage-style decoration?

I ignored the devil's obviously scheming sneer and pushed open the door to go inside.

I must say, this door really did have a sinister aura; it was incredibly heavy, and the dull thud it made when pushed open sent shivers down my spine. So I stood at the doorway, pondered for a moment, and began preparing my spell.

--Of course, a mage's spells can be prepared in advance. The process is similar to making scrolls, but the difference is that I keep the prepared spells for my own use, while scrolls require a more complex process to encapsulate the spell on a piece of paper. When opened, the scroll will take effect. Moreover, scrolls can be given to people who know no magic at all, like... sigh, like those I sold that almost caused too much trouble.

Modern academic mages coined a term that Spell Slot... well, it does sound like an online game, and I know that. When I first explained this concept to Moli thought I was going to play a game with her. The term is indeed very vivid; a Nothingness concept was given a quantifiable standard by academic mages—the academic standard is that a mage can prepare as many spells as they have "Spell Slot." In mage academies, instructors arrange tests for this, and graduation requires six Spell Slot, with at least one being a high-level spell.

Oh, Moli told me that. After all, I studied at the Monastery of True Knowledge, where the teaching was purely theoretical and there was no assessment of actual spellcasting.

Therefore, I don't know how many Spell Slot I have by current standards. By my own, perhaps ancient, standards, I can prepare one forbidden spell, three high-level offensive spells, and simultaneously solidify an Absolute Protection on myself, effective for one day... Who would need to prepare low-level spells in advance?

So, I have four Spell Slot?

After spending some time getting ready, I walked down the tunnel, and that's when I immediately realized what the devil's scheme was—the devil might not have been lying, but he was clearly only telling half the story—judging from the mountains of corpses of treasure hunters from various eras piled up in the tunnel, the so-called ancient artifact couldn't simply be picked up by walking over.

I looked down and bumped right into a guy with a crooked mouth and slanted eyes, even uglier than my second teacher... Years ago, there were many treasure hunters like this, and frankly, it felt a bit like making ill-gotten gains, like deliberately digging up other people's graves. Morally speaking, I think this is even less ethical than those ancient necromancers who dug up abandoned graves and stole nameless corpses in the middle of the night! I've never been a moral perfectionist, and I don't think using a completely unknown corpse to perform Necromancy Spells in an emergency is something that needs to be heavily criticized, but I don't agree with...

Tomb raiding

This kind of behavior has nothing to do with the deceased, but it does concern the living. How heartbroken would the deceased's family be to see their loved one's grave completely disfigured the next day?

So I glanced at the decorative bracelet on the treasure hunter's wrist, which was clearly a burial item, snorted, and stepped over him without any ill will.

The corpses on the ground represented various eras, and I also saw many dressed in what appeared to be modern attire.

It seems that all the treasure hunters who managed to break through the demons and find this place were dealt with here—the country's archaeological team isn't stupid; they wouldn't risk their lives diving into a pile of treasure.

Soon I arrived at a spacious and empty underground palace. This underground palace was magnificent and majestic, much larger and more ornate than the one with sculptures I had seen before. I don't know if it was because of the space inside, but this hall was so tall that it seemed impossible for an underground place to contain it. My old studio apartment could easily fit a hundred of them.

Around the main hall are some stone pillars that provide no support whatsoever; they are probably just decorative pieces. On each pillar is a statue of a woman... and so on!

Suddenly I felt my blood rush to my head, my cheeks burn, and my hands and feet tremble! Those sculptures weren't women, they were sculptures of banshees!

It's that thing I often mentioned when I was criticizing Moli — the Death Banshee, that undead creature that loves to wail! I used to say that Moli's voice when she screamed loudly without caring about her image sounded like the Death Banshee!

However, in modern society, even the priests of the Shadow Moon Temple have rarely seen the Death Banshee. Undead creatures are scarce now because... well, it's a good thing, because everyone's lives are better now, and there's less resentment about not being able to rest in peace after death (unless, of course, you're obsessed with not getting a limited edition bag or commemorative sneakers!). So, conscious high-level undead creatures are pitifully few. My second teacher's unconscious puppet servant is already considered a high-level undead creature by modern standards.