Chapter Seventy-Nine: Candle

Mystral Floating City, Library of Knowledge, a few days prior.

“You’re still haunted by that skeleton encounter? If you want to improve your religious knowledge skills, you can’t just keep reading books like ‘How to Deal with Wraiths’ all day.”

Hearing Antinoia’s comment, Zhao Xu only smiled, saying nothing more. He couldn’t very well tell Antinoia about the time he and his entire squad were annihilated by a wraith.

“You want to deal with wraiths?” Antinoia soon hit upon the heart of the matter. Zhao Xu was never one to visit the Hall of Three Treasures without reason—he didn’t do anything without a purpose.

“It’s not like you Earthlings are likely to encounter a wraith, but you could just ask me directly. I’ve destroyed more wraiths than the author of this book ever saw in his lifetime,” Antinoia said.

Zhao Xu finally set down the book and looked at Antinoia. “Mentor, with my current abilities, is it possible for me to turn a level 1 wraith?”

“Impossible,” Antinoia replied softly. “In theory, a cleric can turn undead up to four levels higher than themselves. But wraiths inherently have a +4 resistance, which is equivalent to a 5 Hit Dice undead. So you can’t turn them.”

Zhao Xu wanted to protest—didn’t she just say four levels higher? But he quickly realized that with his meager cleric level and charisma, even with incredible luck, he could only turn undead of up to 2 Hit Dice.

With this realization, Zhao Xu couldn’t help but sigh. And even if he could turn them—so what? In his previous life, after they survived the wraith crisis, they immediately called in a high-level cleric to destroy and purify it; yet, a few days later, the wraith returned as before. In the end, they had no choice but to seal the pit forever, never to open it again.

“Mentor, isn’t it hopeless, if wraiths can just come back to life?” Zhao Xu voiced the question that had been weighing on his heart, having already reached the chapter on resurrection.

“How is it hopeless?” Antinoia retorted.

Zhao Xu spread open the book and pointed to the illustration of the wraith. “When a wraith is destroyed, it gets a ‘level plus 1d20’ check, and if the result exceeds 16, it comes back. So if it’s a level 15 wraith, the roll will always beat 16—that means it’s guaranteed to resurrect.”

This was the very thing that had always bothered him.

“Heh. First, let me correct you. If the roll comes up as a 1, there can be very unusual outcomes. Sometimes, even if the number is sufficient, the resurrection can fail. But whether a 1 counts or not isn’t well understood; it’s generally attributed to the will of the world,” Antinoia said, her eyes shining with a strange light. “And besides, you know nothing of a wizard’s power.”

“Sealing, controlling, even forcing a failed check—there are plenty of ways.” Hearing this, Zhao Xu felt his confidence surge.

“Mentor, I think your explanation is much clearer than this book. The whole thing could have been summed up in a few sentences, but ‘How to Deal with Wraiths’ goes around in circles and gives me a headache. If you ask me, it doesn’t deserve to be on the recommended reading list for improving religious knowledge,” Zhao Xu said, taking the opportunity to flatter her and vent a little.

“Oh, as for why I say I’ve met more wraiths than this book’s author ever did—well,” Antinoia smiled, “that’s because I wrote this book when I was younger.”

—

Zhao Xu looked at the wraith before him, its mouth open in a ghastly snarl, as if it meant to swallow him whole, and smiled faintly.

At that moment, he already held Antinoia’s ace up his sleeve in his hand.

“You know nothing of a wizard’s power.”

In his hand was a narrow little lantern, just big enough to hold a single candle. The candle itself was nothing remarkable—except that it had been enchanted long ago. The moment it was exposed to the air after coming out of his pack, it ignited on its own.

A mysterious aura gathered around him at once.

[Adventurer ignites a Midsummer Prayer Candle of the Neutral Good alignment. Within 10 meters, all allies of matching alignment gain a +2 morale bonus on attack rolls, saving throws, and skill checks.]

“Gate of the Otherworld—” Zhao Xu began to chant the name of an otherwise ordinary spell.

Instantly, the air grew thick and heavy. Space-time itself seemed to warp, and the candle burst forth with boundless holy light.

A faintly glowing ring, six or seven meters in diameter, appeared in the air. Beyond the ring, a breath of celestial sanctity began to seep through, as if the very radiance of heaven was about to descend to earth, to obliterate all evil, to purge all filth.

At this sight, the wraith’s mind was flooded with memories of past terror. It let out a howl of utter dread, as though plunged into the deepest despair.

Fortunately, it didn’t possess the supernatural ability of a fearsome death wail—its hoarse cry only made Zhao Xu’s hair stand on end.

In the blink of an eye, the wraith fled with all its might. As a being already dead, it now seemed to confront a terror even greater than death itself.

It was as if an invisible, relentless force—the edge of a flying sword—was hunting it down.

The wraith didn’t so much as look back; it vanished instantly from the torch-lit circle of visibility, showing not an ounce of reluctance.

Zhao Xu, lacking darkvision, could only gaze into the darkness, unable to see any farther. With a slight sigh, he left the final syllable of his incantation unspoken.

The luminous disc lost its sustaining power and gradually faded away.

Night returned to the land.

The prayer candle could burn for four hours, but Zhao Xu’s brief prayer had already shortened it by a small measure.

He didn’t care. Standing in the cold night air, he stared straight ahead.

Only after a minute or two—after the duration of his protection from evil expired—did he finally lower his guard.

He promptly extinguished the candle in the lantern.

Looking at this “prayer candle” that had just, by being lit, frightened the wraith away, Zhao Xu smiled.

Indeed, the power of magic was formidable—even its residual effect alone could do this.

In truth, it wasn’t the candle itself that had driven off the wraith, but the ninth-level spell it represented: “Gate of the Otherworld.”

Had he uttered the final word of the incantation, the candle would have been consumed in an instant, opening a gate to another plane and summoning forth a powerful being.

Antinoia had described several such beings for him, ensuring he memorized their details thoroughly.

One of them was a Solar—also known as a Seraphic Servitor.

This creature, with a challenge rating of 23, was not only a mighty warrior but also the equivalent of a high priest capable of casting ninth-level spells.

In the non-legendary realms of Arthur, it was essentially an unstoppable force.

Even an ancient dragon would have to think twice about facing one—let alone a mere wraith.

Shaking his head, Zhao Xu turned and began to help the fallen companions to their feet.