Seph's heart raced with panic. Calling a taxi seemed too risky, as she feared someone might notice her suspicious cargo. Feeling as if she were holding a ticking bomb, she rented a bicycle and pedaled furiously home, each minute stretching painfully as if mocking her anxiety.
Once safely inside her home, she finally took a deep breath, placing the bag carefully into the storage room. Quickly, she retrieved the parchment and studied it intensely. To perform this forbidden ritual, the revolting black mass—the Lupus Putris Core—was crucial. According to the parchment, the Lupus Putris Core was what separated werewolves from ordinary humans, allowing them to transform. Combining it with a regular wolf through a special ritual would create a creature imbued with ancient werewolf power.
An experienced mage could effortlessly conjure a magical circle with mere magic, but Seph was still a novice. She resorted to the most basic methods, digging out an old white wool carpet from the storage, along with a crystal cup and a small knife.
Seph drew all curtains closed, blocking any possible gaps that could let light escape. She carefully laid out the wool carpet, perfect for absorbing blood and preventing its spread. The room took on a dark, eerie atmosphere, heavy with anticipation.
Taking the knife, she cut a shallow line into her wrist, carefully collecting the blood in the crystal cup. Using her own blood, she meticulously began drawing the ritual circle on the carpet. The intricate symbols twisted and turned, symbolizing darkness and death, gradually glowing with a haunting red light.
In the center of the circle, Seph placed the wolf's corpse alongside the Lupus Putris Core. The core emitted a repulsive black aura, sharply contrasting with the crimson glow of the circle.
She began chanting softly, her voice low and raspy, filled with ancient power. As the chant grew in intensity, the circle's red glow strengthened, beginning to pulse with energy.
Slowly, the Lupus Putris Core merged into the wolf's body, releasing a wave of unsettling energy. The corpse twisted grotesquely as if something monstrous struggled to emerge.
A suffocating dread filled the room, saturated with the scent of blood and death. The air became nearly unbreathable, oppressive with fear.
The ritual dragged on for a full day and night. Seph, deeply focused, chanted tirelessly, pouring her magic into the circle. The process drained her mentally and physically, every moment risking catastrophic failure or deadly backlash.
As the ritual neared completion, the circle's glow peaked, then rapidly faded. At that instant, the suppressed stench of the Lupus Putris Core exploded forth violently, filling the room with a choking black mist.
The foulness was indescribable—a potent mixture of decay and corruption assaulting every sense. This thick mist quickly forced its way outside, spreading rapidly through the neighborhood. Terrified residents fled their homes, desperately covering their noses, while businesses hastily shuttered their doors.
Soon, emergency services arrived, bewildered and helpless against the intangible threat. The authorities were forced to deploy water trucks filled with perfume, spraying streets day and night in hopes of dispelling the horrendous odor.
It took days before the chaos finally subsided, yet the memory of the foul mist lingered like a shadow, haunting every person who had experienced it.