Mystery: The Silver Key

Chapter 35: Out of Control

With a silent sigh, Cyril took out "Jacob's Wallet," which he always carried with him, hoping to use this magical item to disarm the people who were lying in ambush in the room.

This was based on his experience from the last time he used it; when no one around had any money, it seemed to prioritize targeting weapons.

Perhaps it's because weapons are more valuable than clothing...

In battles between low-sequence extraordinary beings, weapons are of paramount importance.

With the attitude of taking money if there's money and weapons if there isn't, Cyril reached into "Jacob's wallet".

He quickly touched something—a talisman that looked somewhat familiar.

With a moment's recollection, he remembered that this was the paralyzing spell Owen had used on the Blood Axe gang thugs who had robbed them.

Amount(⊙o⊙)…

He glanced sideways at Irving, whose eyes hadn't fully adjusted to the light yet; it seemed like his unlucky wallet had stolen his teammate.

After a brief silence, he accepted the talisman, then reached into his wallet and began fumbling around again.

Then he took out a pistol with the safety off, the same pistol that Irving was holding.

(⊙_⊙；)

No, this thing is specifically designed to steal from friendly forces?

He paused, then looked up at the quiet room with the door closed... Could it be that the person inside had no money or weapons?

For some reason, he felt that this guess seemed quite reasonable. At this time, normal people should be asleep, and the other party had probably just discovered their infiltration and hadn't had time to grab their weapons yet.

Thinking of this, he took a step forward and reached out to open the door.

Behind the door was an old man dozing in the doorway. His face was deeply wrinkled, and his half-gray hair was somewhat disheveled. He was wearing a loose-fitting nightgown, looking as if he had just gotten out of bed.

Seemingly sensing danger, his face contorted in struggle, as if he might be jolted awake from his slumber at any moment.

Cyril picked up the talisman from Owen and whispered the activation incantation:

"paralysis!"

As the dark blue square talisman turned to ashes, a strange, eerie green wave appeared out of thin air and landed on the old man who was struggling to wake up from his slumber.

In an instant, every wrinkle on the old man's face froze, like a media player that had been paused.

Cyril took out the dagger that Hugh had been holding and swung it straight at the old man's neck.

click!

Like the sound of metal clashing, the dagger in Sirion's hand got stuck in the other's skin without even drawing blood.

He raised an eyebrow with a slight ache in his eyes, then saw tiny, silvery buds wriggling in the skin cut open below the dagger.

It wasn't a magical item, but some kind of flesh magic.

In a flash of thought, he forcefully pulled out the stuck dagger and then stabbed it directly into the other person's eye socket.

This was the most obvious weakness he could think of in the opponent's bizarre flesh and blood magic.

Pfft!

The dark iron dagger plunged into the man's eye socket with little resistance, and he even twisted it around once.

Stimulated by the excruciating pain, the old man broke free from the paralyzing effect of the talisman. His remaining eye glared fiercely at him, advancing instead of retreating, while muttering indistinct words.

Cyril pointed expressionlessly at his feet.

"The art of falling down!"

The old man suddenly slipped and lost his balance, falling straight forward.

While dodging the old man who slipped and fell, Sirion casually followed up with a "Freeze" attack, targeting the old man's lips as he tried to speak.

The frosty, bluish rays shattered between his teeth, bringing an instant chill and filling his entire mouth with ice.

boom!

The old man lay on the ground, his face flushed, one hand covering his eyes and the other grimacing at his mouth, trying to spit out the ice cubes and speak.

"Ugh... ugh..."

At the doorway of the room next door, Owen, who had just adjusted to the temporary blindness caused by the flashing light, was somewhat stunned by what he saw.

Wasn't I complaining to myself during the day that the "Master of Tricks" had all sorts of weird abilities that were too weak?

Is this what they mean by having no practical use whatsoever, more like a magic trick than an extraordinary ability to defeat enemies?

Could it be that Backlund University is secretly offering a special program to train bounty hunters and adventurers?

Cyril glanced at Owen, who was standing in a daze by the door, and said in a deep voice, "Stop spacing out, go find something, and be ready to leave at any time."

"Okay."

Irving nodded subconsciously, then walked past the old man struggling in pain on the floor and into the room.

Cyril crouched down and placed his hand on the old man's exposed skin.

The next second, a crackling sound of electricity rang out, followed by the smell of burnt flesh in the air.

"Ugh...ugh!"

The old man, whose mouth was blocked with ice, made painful whimpering sounds from his throat and struggled violently. It looked like he was about to bite the ice block in his mouth to pieces.

Somewhat embarrassed, Sirion withdrew his hand. The intensity of the spell was still too low. This amount of electricity was not enough to paralyze or knock out an extraordinary person; on the contrary, it was rather torturous.

While pondering, Cyril changed positions, reached out and pressed down on the other person's head, silvery electricity flashing beneath his hand.

"Ugh! Ugh..."

The old man's struggling movements slowed down, and the whimpering sounds from his throat seemed to have a hint of crying.

This... makes it seem like I'm torturing an old person.

After mentally grumbling, Cyril stood up and then cast several Freeze spells on the old man, completely sealing his head with frost to prevent him from calling for help and to suffocate him to death.

It wasn't that he was psychologically disturbed and enjoyed torturing people, but rather that the flesh magic on the other person's body had a somewhat impervious quality, and without making too much of a commotion, this slightly torturous method was the only one he could think of.

"you..."

Irving, who was rummaging through drawers and cabinets behind him, happened to see this scene. He opened his mouth, but then stopped himself from speaking.

He really wanted to say, "Isn't this a bit perverted?" but considering their accomplice relationship and the fact that the old man was an enemy, he held back and silently quickened his pace in searching for valuables.

Cyril raised his hand and cast several more freezing spells on the old man, causing his entire body to lose temperature and become rigid.

After confirming that the other party's struggles were ineffective, he got up and walked towards the safe that Owen had found.

Therefore, they did not notice the changes in the old man's body. His flesh and blood had come alive, like worms as thick as a thumb, writhing and tearing wildly.

On the other side, Sirion curiously examined the lock on the safe, then reached out and pressed his hand on it.

With a click, the safe was easily opened without a key, revealing neatly arranged gold pounds, gold bars, and a statue of a god hanging upside down on a cross.

The moment Cyril saw the statue, he recognized its identity:

"The true Creator!"

Irving looked at him in confusion: "What?"

"Leave the idol, take the rest, and leave quickly."

After saying that, he hesitated for a moment, but in the end he did not dare to touch the real idol with his hands. Instead, he used his ability to manipulate objects to make the idol jump out of the safe on its own.

pat!

The sound of the object hitting the floor was crisp and clear. Hearing this, a sense of panic inexplicably rose in Sirion's heart, as if something out of control was about to happen.

Click, click~

The sound of ice shattering came from behind them. Cyril and Owen turned around at the same time and saw that the old man who had been lying on the ground struggling in pain had somehow grown fleshy buds and protruding tumors all over his body.

He was no longer human; he was more like a monster filled with twisted flesh and blood, with shadows flowing inside.

The writhing flesh tore open one gash after another, and then grew out pale white teeth tinged with scarlet, resembling lips.

These "lips" open and close, emitting noisy sounds filled with negative emotions such as pain and madness.

The moment the sound reached his ears, Cyril saw again the shadowy curtain that covered everything around him, and the eyes behind the curtain looking down on everything.

"Depend on!"

Without time to think about anything else, Cyril snapped his fingers, creating an explosive sound and a blinding white flash in the room.

He wanted to create a commotion so that the Black Wolf Society would think there was an external enemy invading, thus helping him to restrain this extraordinary individual who had suddenly gone out of control.

After doing all that, he reached out and pulled over Irving, who was standing to the side with a pained expression, and pressed his hand directly onto the floor.

A flash of eerie blue light appeared, and the two of them fell directly from the third floor to the second floor.

There happened to be an empty lounge downstairs, and the sudden appearance of Sirien and his companion did not alert anyone.