[Morden: Such an overbearing law… Is this the so-called Borderland?]

Agu seemed to know a bit more about the Borderland—perhaps because he had been here when he was alive.

[Agu: No, even in the Borderland, places like this are rare. The village itself isn’t terrifying. What’s truly frightening is its ability to force even outsiders to obey its rules.]

While the group was still discussing, a new sound came from the village before Saul’s eyes.

From the haystack on the cart, the large pot in the kitchen, the wooden crate in the cellar, the tree hole in a giant tree… one by one, red-haired, big-nosed boys crawled out.

Some were covered in blood, some were missing body parts, some had their skin torn open, and some could only carry their heads in their hands.

They walked, crawled, or rolled their way to Saul.

Despite looking more horrifying and pitiful one after another, every boy had clear eyes—utterly free of malice.

They stopped ten meters away from Saul and spoke in unison:

“My name is Little Claude. I went missing. Each and every one of them killed me.”

As their voices fell, Saul saw the world around him freeze—like time had stopped. Heaven and earth turned golden. Then, this golden hue withdrew from the environment and condensed into a single golden page.

On the page was a drawing of a small village, clearly populated by many people. And every single one of them… was killing someone!

The golden page landed in Saul’s hand.

Holding it with one hand and staring at the content, Saul suddenly understood.

“The function of the golden page isn’t resurrection, nor time reversal. The reason it lets me redo things over and over… is because, like the white page, it can foresee the future!”

In other words, the golden page hadn’t deviated from the basic function of the Death Wizard’s Diary—it still foresaw death and destiny.

But it was far more powerful than the white page.

The white page could only offer Saul ambiguous words, requiring him to analyze and deduce a path to survival.

But the golden page could construct a micro-world within Saul’s consciousness—a world where every reaction mirrored the real one. Thus, Saul could try out responses in person to seek a way to survive.

This was why Saul had been able to “revive” three times without paying any price.

Because the cost had been paid by the golden page.

And the golden page’s ability to pay that cost came from the process of its creation.

The golden page had once been just a seed of origin, planted in a turbulent era where both personal and collective fates had drastically shifted. It had absorbed the twisted fates of countless people, drawn out countless visible yet untouchable lines of destiny, and finally—woven and fixed these lines into a golden page through the Diary’s power.

Weaving a page required vast numbers of fate threads. Only deeply twisted fates, lives of great suffering, and worlds of complex upheaval could provide enough fate threads. Otherwise, forming a complete page might take hundreds or even thousands of years.

That was why Kismet had been stirring chaos behind the scenes—inciting trouble everywhere, accelerating the Diary’s page-weaving process. Only exceptionally unique fate threads could give birth to a golden page.

Take the page in Saul’s hand for example. It came from Ralph Manor, but the seed had been planted during the Bloodrose Family’s era.

Spanning over a century, entwining the fates of thousands, the end result was the page in Saul’s hand.

Having finally experienced the golden page in full and grasped its fundamental principle, Saul let go—allowing the page to merge into his body.

The golden world around him melted like snow, returning to its full, colorful vibrance.

Saul once again looked at the white page of the Diary. All the words documenting his multiple deaths had disappeared.

“Even the Diary’s reactions can be simulated inside the golden page’s world?” Saul chuckled, turning just in time to see a flatbed cart hauling straw pass by him.

The farmer driving it quickly stopped and looked back apologetically.

“Oh, young man! So sorry, I zoned out for a second and didn’t notice you standing in the middle of the road.”

Saul smiled again and calmly walked forward, but this time, his approach had changed.

“I’m a wizard.” He raised his hand, a small fireball dancing in his palm.

The farmer, John, widened his eyes at the sight of the flame. He scrambled off the cart and dropped to his knees.

“Oh, great Wizard, my lord!”

Saul lifted him with Mage Hand. “I want to select apprentices from your village. Can you take me to your village chief?”

Even after revealing his identity as a wizard, Saul remained courteous. From the village chief’s earlier words, Saul could tell these villagers revered wizards just like those in the outside world. But considering how easily they turned to killing, they might still attack Saul out of fear or panic.

The farmer, flustered by the gesture, said, “I’ll take you to the chief.”

Saul nodded, but didn’t get on the cart—instead, he flew.

The flying figure stunned the two guards at the village entrance. But since Saul hadn’t shown hostility, they remained cautious yet non-violent.

Eventually, Saul arrived at the village chief’s home and once again saw Big Claude, the man who looked exactly like Little Claude.

By now, quite a few villagers had followed behind him.

The farmer explained the situation, and Big Claude nervously asked:

“The Wizard wishes to select apprentices? I’ll summon all the village’s children at once.”

But Saul said:

“Age doesn’t matter when I take on apprentices. Bring everyone in the village.”

“No age limit?” Big Claude was stunned. But upon seeing Saul’s firm gaze, he nodded and agreed.

In a large city, gathering everyone would’ve been difficult. But this was a tiny, abnormal village with only a dozen households.

As they waited, Big Claude nervously approached.

“Wizard, my younger brother Little Claude ran out earlier and hasn’t come back. He might not be in the crowd.”

Saul’s expression didn’t change. “That’s fine. I’ll find him.”

Big Claude was momentarily taken aback, his face filled with joy and puzzlement.

Before long, everyone had arrived.

The entire population of this small village added up to fewer than a hundred.

Saul looked at their confused, nervous, yet excited faces. Then he confirmed—not a single one was missing.

He stood up and flew to the roof of the village chief’s house.

That movement alone stirred the villagers into admiration and awe. They gasped in wonder.

But beneath their amazement, Saul detected hints of fanaticism and greed.

He could tell—even though his identity as a wizard had temporarily suppressed them, these twisted villagers would soon let their fear morph into another kind of extremity.

Saul could already hear their breathing grow heavier.

Yet he spoke slowly and calmly:

“Mr. Claude… will you come out now, or shall I kill everyone here to make you show yourself?”

Before anyone could respond, Saul’s eyes narrowed—his pupils instantly bloodshot.

In that instant, every villager had a blade the size of a fingernail silently stabbed into the back of their heads.

And if the blade moved forward even the slightest bit more—it would pierce straight into their brainstems!

The entire time, Saul had spoken in the Noah tongue, the language of wizards, with a gentle smile on his face.

Meanwhile, the villagers below—utterly oblivious—continued to gaze up at the rooftop in awe.

They didn’t know that this time, Saul had already—

Formed the intent to kill.

(End of Chapter)

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