The Foolish Ghoul

Only then did the ghoul slowly raise its head.

Ryan's pupils contracted slightly.

The look in the creature's eyes was far too rational.

There was no madness.

No beastly nature.

Only a hair-raising lucidity, as if some highly knowledgeable human had been stuffed inside a monster's body.

The ghoul slowly peeled back its lips, exposing a mouthful of sharp fangs.

“I hate the Lantern.”

Its voice was raspy and deep, yet remarkably fluent—sounding more like an ill-tempered professor.

“Every Lantern Scholar is the same. They think they hold the truth. They think they understand the world.”

The Professor looked at it, truly studying the creature for the first time.

“You retained your consciousness.”

The ghoul chuckled.

“Consciousness? Of course I retained my consciousness. I've read books. I've studied anatomy. I've researched colonial history. I've even published papers.”

It raised a massive, razor-sharp claw and tapped its own head lightly.

“But then I realized... knowledge is too slow. The flesh, however... can be much faster.”

A chill ran down Ryan's spine. This thing had actually been a scholar once.

The Professor fell silent for a moment, then suddenly said, “You turned yourself into a monster.”

The ghoul tilted its head.

“A monster? What an amusing word. When humans cannot comprehend a certain existence, they always like to call it that. Once, you called heretics monsters. Later, you called the colonial natives monsters. Now, it is my turn.”

It slowly stood up, its nearly three-meter-tall frame casting a massive shadow.

“Unfortunately, history will ultimately prove that I was right.”

The atmosphere in the warehouse instantly plummeted to freezing.

But the man in the suit suddenly glanced at his pocket watch, a look of regret appearing on his face.

“Time's up.”

The Professor narrowed his eyes. “You are leaving?”

“Of course,” the man in the suit replied, as if it were only natural. “I am not like those madmen of Edge, rushing in to fight to the death even when they know they cannot win. Knock has its own ways of solving things.”

With that, he elegantly adjusted his tie and took a step back.

Ripples suddenly distorted the air, like a stone tossed into a calm lake.

A rift slowly peeled open.

It was no ordinary door, but a tear ripped directly into space itself.

Dark, deep, and seemingly endless, it felt as if it led to another world entirely.

Ryan understood instantly.

A door. A true door.

The most classic power of the Knock Principle.

Opening, entering, leaving, and crossing boundaries.

Standing before the door, the man in the suit bowed slightly to the Professor, as if bidding farewell at the end of a dinner party.

“Professor, I wish you a pleasant evening. As for this gentleman—” He looked toward the ghoul, a smile playing on his lips. “I shall leave him to keep you company.”

The ghoul let out a low rumble of laughter. It slowly rolled its neck, bones popping and clicking repeatedly. Its crimson eyes locked firmly onto the Professor.

And the Professor finally closed the book in his hands.

Seeing this, the man in the suit actually wore a smirk of schadenfreude.

“To be honest, I have always been curious. Is the Great Arts stronger, or are hunger and death stronger? Tonight, I will finally have my answer.”

“Oh, by the way. If you lose, please send my regards to the Sun.”

Then, the man in the suit bowed slightly to the ghoul. “Mr. Victor, I leave the rest to you.”

The ghoul slowly parted its lips, revealing forest-white teeth.

“Rest assured. I have been wanting to kill another of the Lantern.”

Laughing, the man in the suit stepped through the door without looking back.

The rift snapped shut instantly.

Only two remained in the warehouse. Or rather, one human and one monster.

Flames licked at the wooden shelves as thick smoke rolled through the air. The temperature was rising steadily, yet frost began to coat the area around the ghoul.

Large patches of white ice crystals crept across the floor.

The power of Winter was spreading.

Victor slowly rolled his neck, his bones making a grating, teeth-gritting crunch.

“Many years ago, I met someone of the Lantern for the first time. He wanted to study me, too. Back then, he was just as arrogant as you. But later, I tore his head off.”

The Professor watched him calmly. “And then you ate his brain.”

“Yes,” Victor grinned. “It tasted quite good.”

In the next split second—

Boom!

The ground shattered.

Victor vanished instantly. The three-meter gap between them seemed nonexistent as his razor-sharp claws lunged directly for the Professor's throat, moving so fast he was nothing but a blur.

Yet, the Professor did not dodge. He simply raised his hand and tapped his index finger forward.

With a crisp sound, Victor's body violently shuddered. As if slamming into an invisible wall, he was sent flying sideways.

Boom!

He crashed through two rows of shelves in succession. Countless wooden crates exploded, scattering medicinal herbs and goods all over the ground.

The moment Victor hit the floor, he flipped back onto his feet. For the first time, the look in his eyes changed.

He hadn't understood that strike at all.

The Professor was already walking toward him, his pace slow, like a teacher pacing during a lecture.

“Your left leg is broken. There is a fracture in your spine. Your heart is missing. Your right lung is missing a portion of its tissue.”

Victor's expression shifted slightly.

With every sentence the Professor spoke, a sharp, stabbing pain flared up in the corresponding part of Victor's body, as if all the weaknesses he had hidden for years were being violently unearthed.

The Professor looked at him. “You have eaten many people, and you have acquired much knowledge. Unfortunately, you have never truly understood any of it.”

Boom!

Victor flew into a violent rage.

The temperature inside the entire warehouse plummeted. A vast sheet of frost spread rapidly across the floor. The burning wooden crates were instantly snuffed out, and the thick smoke was frozen into a greyish-white mist.

The aura of death swept over the area.

Hiding in the distance, Ryan found it difficult to breathe, as if countless corpses were whispering directly into his ears.

Victor's body began to swell. His skin split open, revealing the pale muscle beneath. Bony spikes sprouted from his back, and dense black veins spread across his entire body.

The Winter Principle was fully unleashed.

At this moment, he no longer looked like a ghoul. He looked more like a corpse crawling out of an ancient grave.

“Do you know why I have lived for so many extra years?” Victor roared. “Because death refuses to claim me!”

Boom!

Countless icicles rose from the ground, hurtling toward the Professor like spears. The entire warehouse was instantly covered in ice.

The Professor finally stopped his advance. He reached into his coat, pulled out a book, and flipped it open.

The firelight illuminated the pages.

There was no text. Only a single illustration.

A sun.

In the next instant, the warehouse lit up. It was not firelight, but a pure white radiance.

The icicles Victor had fired began to melt, and the frozen air began to flow once more.

The Professor turned to the second page.

Victor's body suddenly shuddered. He realized he could no longer control his right hand.

The third page.

His left leg began to fracture and split.

The fourth page.

A bloody line appeared across his chest, as if an invisible scalpel were dissecting him.

Victor retreated frantically, roaring and howling.

Yet, the wounds only multiplied.

The Lantern was analyzing him. Understanding him. Dissecting him.

He felt like a corpse laid out on an autopsy table, with every single one of his secrets exposed to the light.

Victor finally realized something was terribly wrong. He could not afford to drag this out.

With a ferocious charge that shattered the ground beneath him, his massive frame hurtled toward the Professor.

The distance between them shrank rapidly.

Ten meters.

Five meters.

Three meters.

One meter.

Victor opened his massive maw as his claws swept down.

But the Professor finally raised his head.

His spectacles reflected a dazzling white light.

“I know why you fear death.”

The moment the words fell, Victor's body froze violently.

Because the Professor had spoken a name.

A name that had already died seventy-three years ago.

The name he had held before he became a ghoul.

Victor's pupils contracted.

For the first time, fear appeared on his face.

True, unadulterated fear.

Boom—

A blinding white light erupted.

It was as if a second sun had risen within the warehouse.