Spirit World, a place of infinite mysteries, but also unimaginable horrors.
In the deepest parts of this ever-expansive mystical realm, lay a domain of darkness and gluttony called Malthor.
The creatures that resided here were said to devour light itself, their hunger forever unsatiated.
Hunger of Malthor was a spell from the School of Summoning that established a direct portal to the domain of Malthor.
Then, the caster would summon the horrifying creatures that resided in that domain and unleash them upon their enemies.
However, this came with a price.
The creatures of Malthor did not differentiate between enemies and allies. For them, everything and everyone was nothing but food.
All they cared about was to satiate their insatiable hunger.
Furthermore, the caster also had to be careful of the location where they opened the summoning portal. For in the domain of Malthor, the deeper one went the stronger the creatures became.
So, despite now being a Mana Vortex Magus, Adam didn't dare to open a portal anywhere dangerous. He still stuck to the periphery of the domain, only summoning up to Rank 2 creatures.
The reason why he didn't summon a Rank 3 creature of Malthor? This was tied to the biggest disadvantage of summoning the grotesque creatures from this domain.
Compared to most other summons, when a caster summoned a creature from Malthor, they would have to almost expend twice the amount of mana.
Moreover, Adam had also depleted more than half of his mana reserves until now. Casting one spell after another caused his mana to rapidly exhaust.
Still, he had more than enough mana to take care of all his enemies and still have some left in his reserves.
This was perhaps the greatest boon he had received from forming a familiar contract with a mighty dragon.
His mana reserves were so great that they significantly surpassed the mana reserves of a Magus with A-grade talent.
Of course, whether it was anywhere near the mana reserves of the legendary S-grade talent remained to be seen.
The moment all three necromancers and thier undead creatures entered the House of Cards, Adam cast a simple hand seal and sealed all exits.
No one was leaving this place alive.
Then, an otherworldly darkness spread through all three floors of this grand defensive structure, covering the white glossy playing cards in a layer of shadows.
"What… What is this?!" One of the necromancers couldn't help but blurt out when he saw this terrifying change take place moments after he entered the pyramid.
A chill crawled down his spine and he found himself speaking in a hushed voice, "How does that man know so many spells? Didn't he just advance to a Rank 3 Magus? Could it be… he had been long since preparing for this moment…"
His voice gradually trailed off into a faint whisper. Because he realized…
He was the only one in the corridor!
The man's heart started to pound, slow at first, but gradually beating wildly. He had entered the House of Cards with Malcolm and another cultist, he was sure of it.
But now he was alone!
A drop of cold sweat trickled down the side of his forehead. "M-Malcolm! Zora!" He called out to his comrades but found no response.
Suddenly, a gust of wind blew behind him. He hurriedly turned around, just in time to see shadows flickering at the end of the corridor.
There, he saw something…or someone moving!
"Who goes there?!" He roared, his teeth clattering subconsciously.
It would take a lot for a Rank 3 - Mana Liquefaction Magus to become afraid—deeply afraid.
But here he was, inside a structure made of playing cards that he had never seen before, enveloped in a darkness that he had never felt before.
He was a necromancer, yes. As such, he was familiar with all that was dark. Death and decay were supposed to be his allies, and darkness his mantle.
Yet, in this House of Cards, he found his allies slowly abandoning him.
He suddenly heard the sound of an unseen creature. The sound it produced from its guttural maw caused the necromancer to involuntarily shudder.
The man hurriedly turned around and without a moment's hesitation, cast a spell. A bright magic circle materialized before his palm and a ray of dark energy shot out from it.
Rank 3 Spell: Great Frailty Beam!
The spell flashed through the corridor in the blink of an eye and landed all the way on the other end. Its effects immediately decomposed the wall that was made of playing cards.
But much to the cultist's shock, he found that the wall was soon covered in a layer of primal darkness, returning everything to seemingly normal.
"Just… what is this place?" He muttered in absolute horror.
Every moment that passed caused his heart to be filled by fear. This was an otherwordly fear, something he had never felt before.
The fear was so pronounced that he couldn't even form a coherent thought.
While he was reeling in from his horror, looking around the dark corridor in apprehension, shadowy tendrils silently emerged from the ground and wrapped around his limbs.
The man's attention was so heavily diverted that he didn't realize he had been restrained on the spot until the shadowy tendrils had reached his torso.
Rank 3 Spell: Shadow Bind!
The man screamed in fear when he found himself unable to free himself from the shadowy tendrils.
Amidst his struggles, a tall figure wearing dark robes and a pointy hat emerged from the darkness behind him.
He stretched his hand to tightly cover the necromancer's mouth. Then, with his other hand, he repeatedly stabbed the man in the chest with a dagger that was shaped like a raven's feather.
The necromancer's eyes turned bloodshot and his body trembled as he was repeatedly stabbed in his lungs. But there was nothing he could do about it.
While he was being stabbed, from the corner of his eyes he could faintly see dozens of pairs of eyes and gaping maws with jagged teeth emerge from the darkness all around him.
These pairs of bloodthirsty eyes looked at him with yearning, and the gaping maws of unseen horrors salivated as they sensed his blood.
The man wearing the pointy hat finally stopped his assault on the necromancer before canceling Shadow Bind and retreating into the darkness once again.
But before the necromancer could even fall to his knees, the abyssal maws of horrifying creatures around him had already dug into his flesh and bones.
In mere moments, the Rank 3 Magus from the Cult of Bones was utterly devoured.
No trace, no echo, no nothing.
Yet, the Hunger of Malthor stirred still…
Ravenous and unfulfilled.