Dungeon King: A Lady Knight Offered by My Goblins

Bogart paused for a moment, then looked again towards Sheimodo: “Do you really think someone like him is capable of inheriting the will of the supreme deity?”

Sheimodo remained silent but turned his massive head, his eyes glowing green as if seeing through space to the smiling Ethan, who was gently handling various items. 

“Perhaps he has already assimilated those hidden treasures into his being,” Sheimodo said emotionlessly.

Bogart was slightly taken aback, then with a wave of his hand, the dark space was illuminated by a beam of light. 

Within the glow, the figure of Ethan flickered into view.

Ethan was rapidly flipping through a parchment scroll. 

After a quick perusal, he rolled it up and put it back in its place, eagerly reaching for another. 

In just a few seconds, Ethan had gone through three scrolls.

Such a perfunctory attitude ignited a fire in Bogart’s heart. 

The teachings of the Wraith Cult, which had been preserved for hundreds of thousands of years under the rule of the supreme deity of Wraith, were the most precious secrets of the Cult. 

Yet now, Ethan was behaving like a monkey in a fruit garden, biting an apple here, eating a chunk of banana there…

This wasteful, unappreciative attitude infuriated Bogart. “Look for yourself,” Bogart said, suppressing his anger. “Are you sure this person isn’t just someone you randomly picked to deceive the supreme deity?”

Sheimodo turned his head, his eyes fixed intently on Bogart: “Even so, you cannot lay a hand on Ethan. He is the successor of the Wraith Cult I have chosen.”

Bogart waved his hand, absorbing the light into his white robe, and Ethan’s figure disappeared. 

“Hmph, I’ll give you this much respect. I will meet him and persuade him to relinquish the title of trialist of the god. If he does not recognize what’s best for him, I will have to punish this disdainful person who disrespects my Wraith Cult.”

As his words fell, Bogart tore through the dark space, casting a final glance at Sheimodo before stepping into the rift he had created.

In the Wraith Cult’s library, Ethan paused momentarily in his action of retrieving a parchment scroll from the shelf. He sensed a fluctuation in the space around him.

“Who’s there?” Ethan tensed, calling out loudly.

“Quite a sharp sense of smell!” Bogart emerged slowly from behind Ethan.

Ethan spun around abruptly, facing Bogart. A wave of intense oppressive force hit him. 

The man before him seemed like an endless void, in which his figure expanded limitlessly, leaving only his eyes visible. 

These eyes, cold and profound, resembled those of a deity, exuding an extreme sense of oppression.

Ethan felt an indescribable fear, a trembling that seemed to originate from the depths of his soul. 

He recognized it as the power of a deity, immensely strong and irresistible.

“Snap out of it,” Ethan shouted to the heavens, “this is all fake.” 

He invoked the Soul Language of Nature, and the oppressive feeling around him suddenly vanished.

Bogart narrowed his eyes slightly, not making any further moves, but spoke calmly, “Ethan, do you know where you are?”

Breathing heavily, Ethan felt a slight irritation towards Bogart: “I don’t know. Is this your house or something?”

Bogart paused briefly, then said thoughtfully, “Yes and no, depends on how you see it.”

Suddenly, Ethan erupted, the Blasphemous Spear appearing in his hand. 

The Languages of Nature, both flame and frost, spontaneously revolved, with flames and frost attaching to the spear. 

A merging beam of red and blue light furiously shot towards Bogart.

Bogart stood rooted, his eyes wide with shock. 

He could never have anticipated that Ethan would take the offensive. 

And to launch a deadly strike at that!

Bogart hastily moved his hand, conjuring a circle in front of him. 

Within the circle, a pillar of light collided with the spear.

Ethan’s eyebrows slightly raised. “Who exactly are you, using [Aurora Magic]?” he questioned.

Bogart’s heart skipped a beat, asking in disbelief, “How do you know I am using Aurora Magic?”

“You old fool, have you lost your mind?” Ethan’s face broke into a cold smirk. “I’ve read almost every book in this library, at least eight hundred if not a thousand. How could I not recognize the magic you’re using?”

As he spoke, Ethan retracted his spear, uttering some bizarre syllables: “Azazar, Azazar, Moha…”

Then, to Bogart’s shock, Ethan bellowed a forbidden Wraith curse: “Slumbering Wraiths, awaken! Heed my call, traverse time and space, come to this world, and serve me. Dark power, endless terror, rouse from your eternal slumber…”

The curse was only half uttered, yet the entire library’s space began to fluctuate. 

Space gates appeared everywhere, emitting a dangerous aura, and the scent of death started to permeate the air.

Bogart was completely astounded. 

He hadn’t expected that Ethan, after only a short time in the library, had already mastered the core Wraith Magic of Summoning, especially when combined with those strange syllables from Ethan’s mouth. 

This Summoning Magic had reached a truly terrifying level.

Energy swirled in Ethan’s hands as he slowly continued the forbidden chant: “Your souls, like burning flames, under my control, ignite! The melody of death, the wails of lament, convey to me your pain and anger…”

Ethan’s eyes turned a ghastly gray, his black pupils completely vanishing. 

His robe fluttered without any wind, and his hair was tossed about wildly. 

In the library, countless Magic Circles appeared, from which Wraiths wielding scythes emerged. 

The once sacred library was plunged into chaos, with death and wails carried on the breeze. Flames ignited, casting an eerie glow throughout.

Bogart watched as Wraiths crawled out from other dimensions, his eyes gleaming with excitement. 

It had been so long since he had witnessed the core secret techniques of the Wraith Cult. 

He hadn’t expected to see them manifested today by this unfamiliar young man. However, if Ethan continued like this, the library would surely be destroyed.

Bogart had initially intended to intimidate Ethan, even trying to create the illusion of a deity’s presence, hoping Ethan would kneel. 

But Ethan, having already harbored some animosity towards deities from his experience in Pochi’s illusion, was instantly enraged by Bogart’s manner of appearance. 

It was as if anyone could create a grand spectacle.

“… let me feel your endless power, become the sword in my hand, piercing the hearts of my enemies. The power of the curse, corrupting all, those traitors, defilers, sinners…”

Ethan was resolute, determined to give Bogart a lesson. He intended to recite the entire Wraith curse, regardless of the chaotic entities it might summon.

Suddenly, a force that seemed to shake the very fabric of space resonated throughout the library.

Bogart snapped out of his initial astonishment, his eyes wide with shock. 

The force emanating from the scene seemed akin to that of a Demi-god. 

Could this young man already be summoning Wraiths of Demi-god stature? 

His eyes were filled with disbelief, and he was well aware that if this continued, the library would inevitably be destroyed.

Ethan, oblivious to Bogart’s thoughts, continued to roar: “…to be engulfed in endless pain and torment, until their very lives are completely devoured. Wraiths, heed my summons…”

Bogart’s eyelids twitched wildly, his facial muscles involuntarily spasming. 

The power emanating from the Space Magic Circles in the library grew increasingly formidable. 

The Wraiths that appeared were becoming more malevolent, their presence emanating from the spatial arrays increasingly terrifying.

As Ethan’s recitation of the forbidden curse neared completion, the suffocating atmosphere in the library intensified. 

It felt as if countless eyes were watching, an inescapable shackle of fear binding the soul. 

In the library, one’s heartbeat would involuntarily quicken, sweat sliding down the forehead, yet unable to dispel the overpowering aura of terror.

A series of deep roars echoed from afar, as if the gates of hell had opened and demons surged out. 

Bogart felt a potent threat of death, as if he could be torn apart at any moment.

“Stop!” Bogart waved his staff, a bright, incandescent light flickering in the air. “Ethan, I am here to guide you through the final step of the Wraith Cult.”

Witnessing Ethan’s performance, Bogart immediately discarded any thoughts of Fernard. 

Only someone with such a talent could inherit the will of the supreme deity and become the new leader of the Wraith Cult! 

As for the God of Wraith staff in Fernard’s hands, it was nothing but a dead object until it received the divine imprint.

Ethan’s grayish-white eyes slowly regained their luster, with black reappearing in the pupils: “What did you say? You’re with the Wraith Cult?”

“What else?” Bogart responded, eyeing a Wraith that had begun to crawl out from the space. 

He quickly tapped his staff, and a ball of light obliterated the Wraith into black smoke. “You must know that I am using light-based magic, right?”

Ethan halted his recitation of the forbidden curse, but seeing Bogart’s frantic state, he shouted loudly, “Tell me, what is this final step of inheriting the Wraith Cult? Or else, I’ll complete the Wraith’s forbidden curse.”

Bogart’s lips twitched slightly, his staff still in motion.