541 Crimson River
"Stratford," a feeble voice called out.
"Hmm?" The man looked around in puzzlent, wondering where he was, wondering who called out to him.
He was in his human form—a middle-aged man with snow-white hair that contrasted sharply against his lightly tanned skin.
His piercing blue eyes were the most striking features, clear and bright like the sky on a winter morning.
They held a depth of wisdom and experience. Yet, a certain warmth lingered in his gaze.
"Stratford," the voice called out again.
The man turned around and saw a woman sleeping on the bed. She was covered in a blanket, her face was pale and her eyes contained sorrow.
Stratford's body trembled involuntarily. "Leah… is that you?"
"Co closer," said the woman.
She reached out with her trembling hand, beckoning to him. Large patches of her skin had hardened, rough and brown like a tree bark.
Stratford found his feet moving on his own as he walked toward his wife. He knelt down beside her, gently grabbing her hand.
"How do you feel, my love?"
A drop of tear trickled down Leah's face and she replied, "You must stop, Stratford. Please… for my sake, you must stop!"
"Never!" Stratford adamantly refused. "I will find the cure no matter what it takes! I don't care how many of them have to die for it!"
Leah's eyes turned red and she silently sobbed. "Please… I love you, but this isn't you…"
Many years ago, Stratford, who was conducting magical experints at the foot of the Greyscale Mountains, happened to co across Leah who hailed from a nearby village.
He was a mighty Mana Vortex Magus, and she was but a re mortal.
Over ti, their love blossod, but their happiness was short-lived. Stratford found that she was unfortunate to be born with Arborisyndro—a disease that turned the human skin into bark, slowly transforming them into a tree.
Magi were said to be rational existences, working only within the confines of logic. Yet, in front of an emotion such as love, all reasoning failed.
Leah grew weaker with each passing day, her once-lively eyes dulling with fear, anxiety, and exhaustion.
Desperate to save her, Stratford scoured the lands, seeking the wisdom of ancient Herbalists and forgotten spells and rituals.
But nothing worked.
Haunted by the thought of losing the love of his life, Stratford's desperation turned to obsession. He began to delve into dark magic, using the people of the nearby village as live experints.
To him, their lives were worth sacrificing in order to save Leah.
Nothing else mattered.
As he delved deeper into dark magic, his sanity slowly started to crumble. Like a madman, he began deeply researching poison and blood magic, hoping to find a cure for his lover.
The people in the village continued to be used as experints, but soon the quantity fell short. So Stratford kidnapped humans from nearby human settlents.
His experints consisted of injecting them with Leah's blood, giving them Arborisyndro, and then finding a cure based on trial and error.
But all his test subjects ended up turning into trees.
Even after experinting on thousands of humans, he was unable to find a cure. All he could do was prolong the inevitable.
"Ti… I just need a little more ti," said Stratford, his eyes flashing with desperation. "I'm sure I can cure you! I'm sure of it!"
Leah caressed his cheek and softly said, "It's okay… Let go…"
Suddenly, a booming voice resounded from outside the chamber, interrupting them.
"Stratford, you vile Magus! Enough is enough!
"How many thousands of more innocent lives must you take before you stop?
"Today, I, Morven, will put a stop to your wicked deeds!
"Co out and fight !"
Stratford shot to his feet, turned around, and bared his fangs. "Who dares?!"
He transford into a white werewolf and was about to dash out when suddenly, Leah called out to him one more ti.
"Stratford…"
The werewolf turned around and his eyes widened.
He was no longer in his bed chambers. Instead, he was standing amidst destroyed buildings and rubble. Before him was a small crater and in the middle was a deep tunnel that led underground.
"That's right… the blood moon… the ritual… this is the town…." He struggled to make sense of everything.
One mont, he was talking to his lover from centuries ago, the next mont, he found himself bruised and battered, standing in a destroyed town.
"Yes, I was fighting that boy… what happened?" He muttered in confusion.
Rank 2 Spell: Chirical!
A spell from the School of Illusion where the illusion takes place directly inside the target's mind. It brings back to life their deepest and darkest secrets, unraveling their source of fear and pain.
The mont Adam was about to be stabbed through the chest by the werewolf, he had cast this spell on him.
"So you did it for love?" A cold voice sounded.
Stratford looked in the direction of the voice, his gaze landing on Adam who was standing on top of a damaged building.
His robes were tattered, revealing his bare upper body that was riddled with holes. His eyes were closed and continued to drip blood nonstop.
With the blood moons in the backdrop, he appeared to be a devil who had just erged from the nine hells!
"It was you!" Stratford's crimson eyes flashed with fury and even horror. "You put inside an illusion! How dare you?!"
Adam sighed as he slowly opened his eyes, the white lotuses ingrained on the surface of his dark pupils shining with a blinding light.
His lips parted and he recited a beautiful poem.
"Under the light of Selene and Luna;
"A crimson river flows and a white lotus blooms;
"The wolf grows older day by day;
"And the winter season dwindles in the past;
"In the throes of love, a legend falls;
"Like a flaming teor, a new one rises!"
The mont he finished reciting those words, the ground underneath Stratford trembled.
Then, a withered hand erged from the ground and tightly grabbed onto the werewolf's ankle!
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