Mage Manual-Chapter 569 - 462 Doran

Dark red trench coat.

Pitch-black mask.

Blurred face.

Undoubtedly, this was Ash Heath’s appearance. However, more than sixty years of life experience constantly warned Banjee, even his Technique Spirit shivered in his soul with fear; "Ice Heart," "Bone Chill," "Chill," and other key Technique Spirits even crazily beat the other Technique Spirits.

At this critical moment, Banjee suddenly understood why Helaphis and Roger died so easily—they had no power to resist at all!

The Technique Spirits rebelled!

Now, the only Technique Spirits Banjee could still command were the native ones he had summoned himself, while the others acquired from the Void Realm or bought from reality lost their control. Those Technique Spirits that just trembled and refused to work were not the problem, but some that had not been under command long enough actually betrayed him and violently attacked Banjee’s native Technique Spirits—it should be noted that Banjee was a man over sixty, with a Technique Spirit system that hardly ever updated, and at the shortest, he had controlled those betraying Technique Spirits for three years!

For people like Helaphis and Roger, who were still climbing the ranks, their Technique Spirits were updated slightly every year and significantly every three years; the ratio of native Technique Spirits to foreign ones could probably reach 1:10, or even more. Once the Technique Spirits rebelled, their native Technique Spirits might even be killed by the foreign ones!

With native Technique Spirits killed and all foreign Technique Spirits rebelling, they had no Technique Spirits to use, they might as well be ordinary people unless they were Weak Mages.

Unless a Mage used only native Technique Spirits to avoid rebellion, but that was impossible—the ratio of native Technique Spirits might be higher during the foundational period of a Silver Mage, but by the Gold Mage stage, in order to construct a combat or production system, the Mage necessarily relied on one or two native Technique Spirits for system construction. It’s like a family workshop versus a factory, the latter certainly has more management risks, but the productivity gains are sufficient to overshadow the risks.

And becoming a Mage for fifty years, Banjee had never encountered a Technique Spirit rebellion before, and he hadn’t even heard of it. But it makes sense, any Mage who faced a Technique Spirit rebellion didn’t stand a chance of surviving.

Was it Technique Spirits, a Miracle, or...?

Am I going to die?

Banjee found himself unexpectedly calm, but as he raised his head, he saw neither "Ash" nor a mirror.

He saw a rainy night.

A bulky, outdated truck stopped outside a nostalgic café, the air filled with the pungent smell of tires and asphalt violently scraping against each other due to braking. A woman in a purple trench coat lay on the ground, her lower body caught inside the tire.

Banjee’s mind went blank in an instant, the screams of the headlights, the wild yells of the bystanders, the pitiful cries of raindrops smashing against the road surface, all were blocked outside by his eardrums, the world was silent without an echo. He squatted next to the woman, opening a blue umbrella, but raindrops still fell on the woman’s face.

"The rain is too heavy, the umbrella is useless." The woman could still manage a laugh at this time, "Stop crying, little Banjee, although you do look quite handsome when you cry, worthy of... cough cough... being the first."

"The Medical Practitioner will be here soon," Banjee’s voice choked up, his vision was a blur, sorrow spreading from his limbs to his heart, the mature and composed housekeeper suddenly disappeared, leaving behind only a weak young man: "And aren’t you a Mage!? Use a Miracle, fast! You said, after the Weaving Festival ends we will be a family, you lied, you lied! You even wagered Doran’s name!"

"What I said about wagering Doran’s name was to deceive you by keeping my promise," the woman giggled, "Banjee, you’re already my family, so there’s something I want to ask of you..."

"No! I won’t do it! I don’t want to!"

"Lex is only three years old, I don’t have other relatives, I can only ask you to take care of him. The kid likes sticking to you, probably thinks you’re his future wife..."

"Why should I help you raise a child? Raise him yourself! As soon as you die, I’ll feed him to the dogs!"

"It doesn’t matter, the Doran probably should have been extinct long ago, I don’t know how it still continued to this day." The woman’s voice grew weaker, "Sorry, Banjee, I actually... really wanted to give you a home..."

"At least... I don’t want you... to be alone in the rain..."

The air died, the night rain died, and the young Banjee died too.

...

When the rain stopped, Banjee looked up and found himself in the suburbs of Azura. At this time, Azura had not yet built the second layer of the city, the suburb was desolate awaiting development, and the young man wearing a purple helmet mounted the motorcycle and said, "this is far enough."

"What on earth are you going to do?" Banjee asked, "Why can’t you tell me?"

"Rebellious phase, old man, you wouldn’t understand."

"You’re in your twenties and still in a rebellious phase; isn’t that a bit late?" Banjee sighed, "Now that your wings are hardened, you’re calling me an old man, you were so cute as a kid, following me around every day, every time I turned around I could see you, back then you called me—"

"That was over a decade ago!" the young man said anxiously, "Can’t you look forward to the future like young people, stop clinging to the past!"

Boom boom, thunder rolled in the distance, clouds gathered densely in the sky, Banjee said, "It’s going to rain, maybe—"

"Then I need to hit the road fast." The young man said, "By the way, there’s something I need to ask of you."

"Hmm?"

"Don’t bother taking care of Hanna, she’ll be fine in Vatican Mura. I’ve transferred some money to your account, also managed to transfer some Gospel Points to you, old man you’re not young anymore, find a place to settle down and start a life, or publish those novels of yours, they might not have much literary value, but should surprisingly sell well..."

"Hold on." Banjee grabbed his shoulder and pointed a gun at his waist, "What are you really going to do? Go back, or I will freeze you and take you back."

"I bet there are no gun bullets in your gun."

Banjee was shocked, and immediately felt the weight of the gun was wrong. At that moment, the pouring rain came down, and through the sound of raindrops, the young man’s voice said, "You shouldn’t have let me play with your gun since I was little; removing your gun bullets was too easy."

"Lex, even if you don’t care about yourself, think about Hanna—"

"I did it for Hanna. If I didn’t do this, Hanna would sooner or later walk the same path. I swear on Doran’s name, I will end the destiny of our clan."

"And what about me? Lex, what about me!?" Banjee clutched his shoulders tightly, his voice full of pleading, "How many more times do you Dorans want to hurt me!? I’ve already lost Wenna..."

"That’s why I could write letters to everyone else, but you, I had to tell you in person." said the young man, "I’m sorry, mom."

"Then never look back; I won’t be here anymore."

Many bright afternoons later, he finally learned of Lex’s death. The place was Nabistin, the cause of death was a traffic accident.

The sunlight died, the tears died, the middle-aged Banjee died.

...

When Banjee was almost drowning in the Six Emblems family dreams, a little girl anxiously found him: "Uncle Banjee, I’ve found a way to escape from Vatican Mura!"

"Miss, Senheiser is a safe place; you don’t need to leave."

"No, I am a descendant of the Doran clan; I must restore the glory of our ancestor Denzel!"

"Miss, your surname is Senheiser now."

"That’s exactly why I must leave. Vatican Mura breeds only failures; I need to leave here and see the outside world!" The girl said earnestly, "And Qinna keeps bullying me, I swear on Doran’s name, I will get my revenge!"

Banjee couldn’t help but laugh, but looking at Hanna, he seemed to see himself as a youth, as a middle-aged man.

How could he possibly refuse a Doran invitation?

...

"Although I don’t know why, our clan is cursed by the Gospel." Hanna said, "Perhaps it’s because of this connection that I can log into our ancestors’ accounts and read the future of the Gospel with the Empress’s privileges. I’ve logged into these accounts so much that I saw I would meet my end at 28... I don’t know what kind of future the Gospel has prepared for me."

"I see..." Banjee muttered.

"So, I must obtain the Divine Lord’s wish to completely break the chains of our bloodline. Just like grandma helped you achieve first place in the Weaving Festival, I also need to find other people from Exotic Realms to trick the Weaving Festival, preferably finding them several days before the festival so their records are clean enough..."

"Hmm? The backer of this task is actually the Four Pillars God Sect; they are also looking for people from Exotic Realms? Cleris just asked me a few days ago if I had any information on the Four Pillars God Sect... Four Pillars God Sect, Red Hat, people from Exotic Realms... I suddenly have a brilliant idea."

"Banjee, are you ready to make a big scene with me?"

"Of course." Banjee looked out the window at the drizzling rain, "Until I dissolve in this rain."

...

Banjee opened his eyes and found himself in a strange palace. In front of him, Hanna lay in a pool of blood, the Purple Moth stained a vivid crimson.

He raised his head and saw the Empress behind the Veil, memories of the air, the night rain, the sunlight, the tears—it all came flooding back.

He understood everything.

"I am a piece of ice, frozen with love for Doran."

"How could I let her walk the last journey alone?"

"I am indeed number two on the Assassination List." Banjee pulled out his ice-enchanted twin guns, "This is my future."

Just as he charged forward, a man in a dark red coat rushed out from behind the Veil. He wielded a long sword that reflected all the gun bullets, then the sword conjured an ice cone and thrust forward; Banjee immediately recalled his own death—

He who assassinates the Empress, will be pierced by the coldest ice cone!

"Daddy!"

When Liss’s crisp voice rang from outside, ’Ash’ gave Banjee a deep look, then all the future vanished into thin air.

Ash walked into the room carrying a takeaway bag with Liss, "Time to eat, time to eat!"

The tap was still running water, and there was no man in a dark red coat in the mirror, only Ash and Liss walking past the door, with Liss following behind Ash like a little shadow, as if what just happened had been merely Banjee’s illusion.

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