Dorothy’s Forbidden Grimoire Novel - Chapter 467

Chapter 467**Prith Kingdom, Tivian.**

Deep in the night, inside a warehouse on Tivian’s southern edge, dust churned up by an explosion hung heavily, turning everything within into vague, indistinct shapes.

Adifu was engulfed in this dusty shroud. Peering through the haze at the blurred shadows, his eyes gleamed warily. He recalled “Zhenhadi’s” final caution. He was alert for another infiltrator hiding among his remaining followers. He understood this was the ideal time for a strike.

*’Show yourself… cunning mimic. Reveal which one you truly are…’*

His focus fixed on three murky outlines in the fog, Adifu readied himself. He kept all his surviving men within his field of vision. The faintest hint of treachery from any, and he would strike without delay. They wouldn’t take him unawares.

Amidst the swirling grit, Adifu waited, coiled and vigilant. Just as the murk started to lift slightly, one of the three shapes he monitored abruptly surged forward, rushing straight at him.

*’Now!’*

Adifu’s concentration sharpened. He hurled a ready bone shard, conjuring a mass of see-through phantoms that streamed towards the lunging shadow in the dust, latching onto its body.

Held fast by a dozen clinging spirits, the attacker halted mid-charge. Adifu seized the instant, leaping forward to grip the attacker’s wrist and unleashed the force of an elemental spirit fused within him.

Immediately, a shell of white frost burst from his grasp, spreading rapidly over the attacker’s frame. Within heartbeats, the figure was completely sheathed in ice, paralyzed.

Seemingly having dealt with the last infiltrator, Adifu felt a flicker of relief. He stepped closer to examine the frozen face. But before he could, the impossible occurred.

On both sides, the other two shapes erupted into action at once, attacking from his flanks. Stunned, Adifu scarcely comprehended the assault. Why would his *other* men turn on him after he’d eliminated the imposter? Had all four of his followers been replaced?!

Reeling with shock, Adifu twisted away desperately. His belated reaction wasn’t enough. One man slashed with a scimitar, cutting deep into his left shoulder. Another clawed fingers across his stomach. Only his frantic lunge avoided a fatal strike.

Though bound to a spirit of the Path of Silence, Adifu couldn’t manifest the mighty “Stone” defense of a full elementalist. His spirit bond was flawed; he could actively wield only *one* distinct power of a bound spirit at any moment. Binding an “Ice” Elementalist’s spirit gave him freezing control, but not the rock-like hide.

Blood flowing from both injuries, Adifu spat crimson. His Path was chiefly “Silence” with “Cup” as its secondary element—granting strong life force. These wounds pained him, but wouldn’t be fatal… immediately. With a grim resolve, he ripped the score of spirits off the frozen attacker and flung them onto his two new foes. The figures instantly faltered, and in that instant, Adifu saw their faces.

They were the faces of comrades he’d battled beside for years, endured countless perils. Yet their eyes burned with a distorted fury utterly foreign to their true selves, a deeply unnatural wrath.

Seeing this, the spark of rage within Adifu—long suppressed by icy logic—erupted into a furnace. The need to kill, the will to survive, roared through him. His shattered composure offered no barrier; primitive, savage instinct took command.

“Die, deceiver!”

Roaring, Adifu seized the claw still sunk in his belly. Frost surged from his hold, raced over the attacker’s arm, and flash-froze it solid. With a brutal wrench fueled by Second Black Earth “Cup” might, he tore the frozen limb completely off. The mutilated Grave Robber shrieked, grabbing the gushing stump as he fell.

Swinging the frozen arm like a cudgel, Adifu smashed it against the scimitar-wielder’s skull. The icy club shattered as the man reeled back, swearing, blood pouring down his face. Seizing the chance, Adifu lunged, clamping his hand on the swordsman’s neck and crushing it with savage power. As the body dropped, he snatched the scimitar. Whirling, he brought the blade down in a death stroke, beheading the one-armed enemy trying to rise.

Finally, standing amidst widening gore pools, Adifu looked down at the butchered remains of his three followers, breathing harshly, his own wounds dripping crimson onto the gritty floor. Bloodshot eyes stared above the bloodied scimitar in his fist, his face a picture of stunned horror at his own actions. A rapid burst of thunderous reports shattered his daze.

*Bang! Bang! Bang! Bang!*

Ear-splitting gunfire tore through the warehouse. Bullets ripped towards Adifu. His back erupted in pain from the first hit. Snarling, he flung himself sideways—too late. A second slug slammed into his side. Clenching his teeth against the fresh agony, he used his freezing power to instantly ice over the exit wounds, stemming the flow. He looked up, seeking the shooter.

Standing framed in the warehouse entrance, revolver in hand, smoke drifting from its barrel, was the man who ought to be dead: Zhenhadi. His icy gaze fixed on Adifu with complete detachment.

“It… was *you* all along?!” Adifu choked out, eyes wide with appalled realization. His heart pounded against his chest. He now grasped the depth of the snare. The “impostors” he’d slaughtered— they were surely…

“DIE!”

The dreadful truth submerged him in renewed fury. Driven by rage, he unleashed his last ploy. With a thought, he ripped the dozen phantoms still tethered to his dead men’s corpses and hurled them at Gregor like a dark wave, aiming to overwhelm and possess him.

But his concentration faltered. A sudden, irrational tide of passivity washed over him, smothering his killing urge. His mental commands became doubtful, erratic. Half the phantoms scattered aimlessly, escaping his grasp. The few remaining drifted towards Gregor, but were readily countered.

Confronting the lingering specters, Gregor ripped a talisman from inside his coat and slapped it onto the floor with two silver coins. The talisman burst into flame instantly, releasing a wave of unseen force that pulsed outwards from Gregor. As the energy washed over the advancing phantoms, they screeched in terror and fled, vanishing back into the gloom.

The Spirit Repelling Talisman. A common countermeasure against weaker spirit clusters. Its unseen repulsion field easily dispersed the fragile phantoms, especially with Adifu’s fractured control weakening their bonds.

With the ghostly threat cleared by Secret Bureau equipment, Gregor fixed his gaze back on Adifu. He dropped the spent revolver, swiftly pulling a fully-loaded replacement. But Adifu didn’t grant him time to shoot, having expected the spirits’ defeat.

Feeling the unnatural force eroding his resolve, Adifu had used the ghost attack as a reckless diversion. He rapidly expelled the bound spirit of the Ice Elementalist warrior. Pulling out another bone charm, he funneled a spark of his vital “Lamp” spiritual essence—calling upon the abilities of a bound nun spirit within, her presence merging with him. A faint glow flickered around his pupils.

He had invoked a “Lamp”-path spirit, consuming his last dregs of its energy to trigger *Focus* – a power honing all attention to a single point. The gnawing mental intrusion faded under its intense light. But the *Focus* offered another vital effect he required.

Adifu lifted his uninjured right arm towards Gregor. From his sleeve hissed a flurry of thin, venom-tipped darts, released with uncanny accuracy due to the *Focus*. Leftovers from an ancient tomb device, redesigned as hidden killers. A mere scratch meant agonizing death within seconds for a normal person.

“Careful… hidden missiles…”

As Adifu prepared to shoot, the detective’s voice cut through Gregory’s mind. Warned, Gregory abandoned his gun, twisting aside. His Second Black Earth “Shadow”-boosted swiftness saved him; darts rattled uselessly against the door behind him before he fully processed the assault.

“He’s bound a ‘Lamp’ spirit. Don’t engage at distance; he’ll hit you. Pull your knife and get close! If he fires, parry!”

“Can… can I? Those darts are swift, small, hard to spot… can I truly deflect them?”

“Trust me. You can. Block precisely where and when I instruct.”

The detective’s voice held an eerie assurance. Hesitating barely a moment, Gregory complied. He left the gun holstered, whipping a short blade from behind his back. Exhaling sharply, he charged Adifu like a streak of black lightning. Adifu, seeing the direct assault, felt no fear.

Seventy paces lay between them within the vast warehouse. Fast as “Shadow” allowed, covering it took crucial seconds. Time enough, with *Focus* guaranteeing perfect aim, to fire several more volleys. A rushing target evading was fundamentally unstable.

“Fool rushing to die!”

Unbreakable focus held Gregor in Adifu’s perception. The sleeve launcher spat venomous needles in quick bursts, aimed unerringly at the charging man’s vital spots. Gregory swung his knife, attempting to knock them aside.

But they were too tiny, too swift. His blade’s edge missed by millimeters. The dart sped past metal, targeting Gregory’s eye.

A tiny lightning arc flashed along Gregory’s blade. The projectile suddenly veered off course as if pulled by unseen force, snapping hard against the knife’s surface with a sharp *clang*. The blade vibrated with sudden, intense magnetism, wrenching every scrap of iron nearby towards it. Directed by Dolores, Gregory achieved the unthinkable: magnetic deflection.

Gregory never paused. His blade became a deadly, whirling shield as he powered forward. Dart after dart *clinked* harmlessly off its magnetized steel, easily turned aside. None penetrated. When Gregory finally bridged the gap, Adifu faced him not with anger, but stunned incredulity.

“How… can that… *be*…?”

*Shhkk!*

The blade flashed. Polished steel opened Adifu’s throat. Already grievously wounded and bleeding, he had no strength left to resist the blow. He staggered, swayed, then crashed face-first onto the cold floor, life draining away.

In that final heartbeat, amidst the shock and encroaching dark, his last, splintered thought marveled at the fighter who had defied death itself: *’In this world… could warriors like this truly be real…?’*