Diary of a Dead Wizard
Chapter 449: The Shattered Goblet

After the rain stopped, the heavy clouds that had lingered above the Bluewater Bay for who knows how many years gradually began to disperse.

A ray of sunlight broke through, casting its glow upon the sea’s surface. The once deep and somber waters now carried a hint of warmth under the sun’s light.

If one ignored the swathes of fish bones floating on the surface, it would almost resemble a beautiful and serene painting.

Just like this seemingly splendid world of wizards—beneath its surface lay untold numbers of buried, pitiful lives.

Saul took one last look over the sea, then turned and flew back toward the shore.

As soon as he landed, he spotted Agu standing atop the cliff.

Before entering the sea, Saul had left a mark there to help Agu find him more easily on his return.

“Master, are you alright?” Agu leapt down from the carriage, looking at Saul with concern.

Though he knew that in terms of sheer power, Gudo was no match for Saul.

Still, Gudo possessed soul toxins that could counter Saul’s skin, and the man was sly and full of schemes—who knew what kind of tricks he might have used?

Behind Agu, Marsh, the coachman, looked over as well, the mushroom on his head bouncing up and down, as if trying to crane its neck to get a better view.

“I’m fine.” Saul tapped his temple lightly.

Agu immediately understood.

It seemed the sixth page of the diary had found its new master.

Though, how long the fifth and sixth pages would hold out…

That remained uncertain.

Voices drifted up from the foot of the hill. Saul walked back to the cliff’s edge and glanced sideways.

Though it wasn’t yet dusk, some shell-pickers had already arrived in preparation.

But now, each of them stood there on the shore, tools in hand, staring dumbfounded at the horizon.

The thick, oppressive clouds that had shrouded that part of the sky for years had mostly dispersed. Beams of sunlight pierced through the gaps in the clouds, shining down.

Dazzling. Beautiful.

Breathtaking.

Then suddenly, a middle-aged woman collapsed to the ground, slapping her thighs and wailing.

“The shells—there’ll be no more!”

Startled from their stupor, the other fishers began to understand. Now that the sea had returned to normal, those strange conch shells—reliant on eerie powers to survive—would soon dwindle and eventually vanish.

Crying broke out all at once.

A few, however, did not weep—including a small, thin boy.

He stared blankly at the sea, biting down hard on his lip.

After a moment, he tossed aside the hemp rope in his hand and turned to run back the way he came.

Seeing this, Saul’s lips curled into a smile.

That boy was Banbu, the shell-picker he had once saved in Bluewater Bay.

It seemed Banbu had figured things out—though the vanishing of the strange conches would take away their current livelihood, the restored sea meant that Bluewater Bay might soon thrive once again.

The small town that had been forced to relocate to the desert could very well return.

And with that return would come more jobs—safer ones. It would all depend on whether he could seize the opportunity.

Those who sat on the ground wailing, slapping their thighs, probably understood this too—yet they still chose to cry first.

Having seen enough, Saul handed the water sphere in his hand to Agu, then turned and climbed back into the carriage.

“To Bluewater City,” he ordered.

As Agu carefully held the water sphere and got into the carriage as well, Marsh flicked the reins, skillfully turning the carriage around and speeding off toward the distance.

Though Marsh’s driving skills were excellent, the roads—untouched for years—were still somewhat bumpy.

Traveling alone far from home, it wasn’t ideal to keep the shock-absorbing magic formation active at all times.

A bit too extravagant.

Inside the carriage, Saul took out the black goblet he had just obtained.

“Agu, have you seen this before?” Saul was just about to explain the origin of the goblet when he saw Agu suddenly leap from his seat.

“Master, how did you come by the Shattered Goblet?”

“The Shattered Goblet?” Saul repeated. The name itself sounded anything but ordinary.

He looked toward the diary, and only then noticed new text had already appeared. He had been too absorbed in the sea’s spectacle to realize it earlier.

[Lunar Calendar, Year 317, June 6th, clear skies]

You followed a greedy little devil,

And discovered a goblet that holds Evil Thoughts.

Infuse it with the strongest soul, And it brews the bitterest nectar.

Infuse it with the most souls, And it brews the sourest draft.

If you poured yourself in, What kind of drink would you become?

Based on the diary’s words, this Shattered Goblet could transform the collected soul entities into something else.

“What would it become?” Saul peered into the goblet—only for Agu to hastily cover the rim with his hand.

“Master, you must not look into the goblet’s interior casually.” Agu’s expression was solemn.

Saul, never one to ignore sound advice, immediately placed the goblet into a perfectly sized wooden box and shut the lid tightly.

Seeing this, Agu let out a sigh of relief.

“Master, the Shattered Goblet is rare on the continent of Stat, but in Nephret, every major wizarding power has one.”

“Oh? Something that makes you so nervous is common in another continent?” Saul was genuinely curious.

Especially that last line in the diary—it was hard not to make associations.

“It’s because Nephret’s cultural customs are different from ours.” As he mentioned the other continent, Agu’s expression grew complex. “They… they place great importance on death.”

“Oh?” Half of Saul’s attention remained on the diary.

But it offered no further response.

“What do you mean? Funerals? Offerings?”

“Not quite. The dominant belief there is that all things must ultimately die. Unless something surpasses absolute limits, everything should perish at its destined time. For lingering soul entities that should not exist, they typically use the Shattered Goblet to recycle and destroy them.”

Saul couldn’t help but scoff. “You’re sure this is a mainstream belief? And not just some powerful death-obsessed faction controlling public thought?”

Agu gave a bitter smile. “I’ve never been there myself—just heard tales from wizards who fled from that continent.”

“At the time, Nephret was governed by five major wizarding factions or families. They jointly created a law—the Law of Life’s Limit. Though, to be fair, the upper limit was quite high.” Agu explained, “Apparently, it was mainly to prevent wizards or extraordinary beings from using extreme or corrupt methods to avoid death. They believed such forbidden lives would destroy the world, and had to be returned to death.”

“If that’s the case, I can understand it to an extent—cleansing twisted wizards or pollutants to preserve the safety of their world.”

“I think so too,” Agu nodded. Then suddenly, his face changed, as if remembering something. “I heard… one of their treaties strictly forbids the resurrection of wizards below Third Rank!”

Saul immediately sat upright.

“So, could it be that Gudo is from Nephret? That he stopped Master Gorsa not because of anything else, but simply because he didn’t want Lady Yura, who was only Second Rank in life, to be resurrected?”

Then Saul laughed. “And here I am, saying ‘only Second Rank’ as if that’s nothing.”

Agu considered it. “Your guess is very plausible.”

Saul looked down at the wooden box in his hand that held the Shattered Goblet, his mind returning to the diary’s words.

“Greedy little devil… Even if Gudo betrayed Master Gorsa to stop the resurrection, he’s not the mastermind. Otherwise, the diary wouldn’t call him greedy—or a little devil.”

“There’s someone behind Gudo—they are the true owner of the Shattered Goblet!”

At that thought, Saul immediately said to Agu and Marsh, “What happened today in Bluewater Bay—tell no one!”

“Yes, Master!” Agu immediately obeyed.

“Sir, we went straight to Bluewater City after disembarking from the airship—everyone knows that!” Marsh called out from outside.

Saul nodded, then tucked the Shattered Goblet into his compressed satchel, leaned back, and closed his eyes to rest.

Did Master Gorsa know about Nephret’s customs?

Did he simply not care—or had he never expected that they would extend their influence to other continents?

But within Saul’s mental realm, the diary had already turned to Gudo’s black page.

(End of Chapter)

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