The Dark Magician Transmigrates After 66666 Years Novels & Stories

I refocused on the book in front of me with renewed effort. It didn't take long before books started coming in. I laid them out in front of me. The spells varied. There were pregnancy spells, summoning your dead relative spells, changing time spells, and bringing someone back for the dead. The biggest question was, which one was the darkness up to? My finger ran over one line in a book. "This one here. It takes six blood relatives and ten thousand souls." "What's that one do?" She asked. "It's an immortality spell."

asked Trans. Dark looked at Trans for a while but did not answer his question. Dark kept opening the new black card. When the card was read, he laid them on the table. "Why?" Trans asked Trans would have been back at his table when he heard the card drop onto the table. "I'm sorry, I know I shouldn't interfere with you, I just thought that maybe in our 350 years of friendship you already trusted me to say things..." said Trans. Dark rose and walked out of the office.

“A bird or rabbit will do.” There’s a fine line between light and dark magic, and we’re definitely walking the tightrope with this spell tonight. The only thing making me feel better about tonight is knowing that we have no intention of keeping this guy resurrected. We need to talk to him, try to get into his head, and then send him back to the ground. No life for a life. No altering the natural order. The problem with dark magic is sometimes when you cross into the darkness, it’s hard to come back. You take and take and take, and eventually the universe gets even with you.

His finger raised her chin to gaze at her dark ones. “This is how worthless you are when you kept ignoring my warnings. How does it feel to get trapped by your own magic?” “…” “Pitty.” Telisha looks away and hissed. “You did this to yourself, Telisha. Dark magic slowly consumes your soul. Now, look at you, not even a mosquito would drink your filthy blood. Your wrinkly face and sunken eyes give them the creeps.” He stood up and leaned on the wall with his arms crossed. Telisha was no longer the beauty who held her head proudly. She looked drawn and daunting.

“If no one would protect us, I would. And so, I turned to the only power that didn’t come with strings attached—dark magic.” I shivered at the weight of his words, but I couldn’t bring myself to interrupt him. “It took years,” he said, his tone softening as if recalling a distant memory. “Years of research, of failure, of sacrifice. But when the ostracylle was finally complete, everything changed.”

- “Let’s see, who am I? I am a demon level mage, Artimus Zentsuji Mosaic. Call me Zen.” “There are levels of dark magic practised for humans, but for inter-real hybrids like me, we are not limited by mortal standards. Let me clarify, I was half-human, half-demon, but by practising dark magic, I lost most of my mortal traits. I mean, I can imitate them, but they are mostly lost. Dark magic works on a give and take principle.” “I am not actually ‘here’ per se, you see, I am simply a tracking mechanism so that when the real ‘me’ spots you, he can read my code then understand the nature of the deal we made. After all...”

I didn’t miss the way her fingers curled slightly, as though reaching for something to hold onto. “Speak,” I said. His gaze shifted to Gina first. “You must never allow Darius to see Daniel again.” The words hit like a strike. Gina’s breath caught. “What do you mean…?” “There is black magic already working on Darius,” the magician continued, cutting through her question. “Dark, consuming… and unstable. If he comes in contact with the boy, the magic may transfer… or worse, latch onto him.” For a moment, everything inside me went cold.

Dmitri left the room shortly after that, never looking back and so Max quickly threw on the gloves as he chose his designated spot close to Sara on the floor while grabbing a box and lifting a dusty aged roll of papers. The crusty sepia pages seemed to crunch as he opened them to find some drawings of body parts and words written in a language he didn't understand, which was something considering he spoke many languages, some old some new. He carefully flipped through the papers to find more inscriptions, drawings of people with some sort of an aura inside them with arrows pointing in and out of each body. "Sara," Max called as he held out the piece of paper to her, "d'you know what the hel

"It requires bloodline power. All six of you, working together, channeling magic for days or possibly weeks." The silence that followed felt like falling. "What's the cost?" Dorian asked, his scholar's mind cutting to essentials. "Years off your lives. Your bodies will age from the strain. Not drastically, but noticeably. You'll survive, but you'll pay the price in time you'll never get back." "How many years?" Cassia pressed. "The Shadow Wolf didn't specify. Said it depends on how deep the corruption goes, how effective the cleansing is. Could be five years, could be twenty."

By then, I knew my time was short. I had to act. I fled. Sought out a Dark Mage willing to perform the most forbidden magic of all time: a complete severance of identity. It was nearly impossible to find, costing me every single gold coin I stole from my father when I ran away from home. But I had found one. The last of its kind. The process had been excruciating, taking a full year of agony and endless recovery. Even now, long centuries later, I still drank brews and followed instructions without fail to avoid mishap.