Wizard Lord:I can Extract Anything

Mr. Nicolo was a renowned businessman in Gale City, primarily dealing in grain. A tenth of the city's grain passed through his hands, making him incredibly wealthy. Despite his riches, Nicolo's main passion, besides the usual leisure activities, was studying witchcraft.

This witchcraft was not the legitimate kind taught at the Wizard Academy. On the contrary, it was filled with all sorts of bizarre and unrealistic practices. Nine out of ten were fake, and the remaining one was a fragment of some lost and incomplete spell.

To understand how bewildering this hobby was, imagine a patient ignoring modern medicine to seek out dubious folk remedies. Yet, Mr. Nicolo was utterly engrossed, almost as if he were under a spell.

In an unknown chamber...

"Patriarch, the police have begun investigating us," said Nicolo, who was short and stout, kneeling before a mysterious figure in a black robe praying at an altar.

"What have they discovered?" The mysterious figure's voice was strange, like a chorus of many voices speaking in unison.

The language was unfamiliar to Nicolo, yet he understood every word.

"Patriarch, our sacrifices might have been exposed."

"What?"

The mysterious figure exuded a sudden pressure, making Nicolo feel like he was facing a sealed demon rather than a person.

"What should we do, my lord?" Nicolo asked, trembling.

"What to do?" The mysterious figure paused. "Summon the followers tonight. The sacrifice cannot be delayed any longer. Our master must descend as soon as possible."

"Yes, my lord. I'll organize it immediately."

After Nicolo left, the mysterious figure returned to his original position, and a psychic wave emanated from him.

"Master, tonight is the night you shall break free and descend into this world."

On the altar, a small spatial rift flickered intermittently.

...

Thanks to arrangements by the police and the city lord's mansion, Richard successfully assumed a new identity—a wandering knight seeking power. Using this identity, he frequented various taverns to cement his cover and eventually made contact with followers of the Crimson Lord, becoming one of them.

At the tavern, Richard, as usual, drank heavily to perfect his image. Soon, a man in red approached him.

"Richard, there's a sacrifice tonight," the man whispered in Richard's ear.

"A sacrifice?" Richard feigned excitement. "Does that mean I'll receive the Crimson Lord's blessing?"

The man in red frowned slightly, gesturing for Richard to lower his voice.

"Of course. The Crimson Lord bestows blessings at every sacrifice."

"How lucky I am!"

Inwardly, the man in red thought Richard was a fool for believing such nonsense. The Crimson Lord's blessings weren't so easily bestowed, and if they were, they wouldn't go to someone like him. However, he feigned envy and said, "You're indeed lucky to witness a sacrifice so soon after joining."

After delivering the message, the man in red left the tavern, and Richard's excited expression turned into a sneer.

"After all this time, I've finally found the mastermind."

Wasting no time, Richard contacted Spencer, instructing him to prepare to evacuate the populace.

Mad wizards might disregard civilian lives, but Richard couldn't. One of the academy's mission requirements was to minimize harm to civilians.

"Number 73 on Ninth Street? Got it, sir. I'll get ready," Spencer's voice came through the crystal ball.

The crystal ball was a tool Richard had specially prepared for this mission. It could transmit sound within 500 meters, functioning like a rudimentary telephone. Its minimal magical fluctuations meant Richard didn't fear detection by the mad wizard.

"Don't prepare too early. Be cautious of leaks," Richard warned.

"Don't worry, Wizard. I can handle this."

As night fell, Richard, cloaked and wearing worn leather armor, arrived at the gathering place with his greatsword.

The doorman verified Richard's identity and let him in.

From the outside, the gathering place resembled an ordinary residence, but beneath it lay a vast underground hall.

The hall could accommodate hundreds of people, its walls lined with torches and oil lamps.

In the center stood a black stone altar adorned with strange symbols. During gatherings, attendees would pray to the altar.

The underground hall connected to several tunnels, but Richard hadn't had the chance to explore where they led.

As more followers gathered, the hall quickly filled with hundreds of masked, cloaked individuals, resembling a masquerade ball.

Once everyone was present, the guards sealed the entrance, and a figure in black emerged from the shadows, floating to the hall's center.

"Good evening, faithful followers of the Crimson Lord."

"Patriarch," the crowd bowed in unison.

"I'm sure you're curious why I'm conducting a sacrifice so soon, less than half a year since the last one."

The figure's voice shifted, growing fervent.

"Today, I received a divine message from our lord, the great Crimson Lord. He said the time has come for him to descend and bring us a grand baptism."

The followers erupted in excitement at the news.

Fanatics were akin to idol worshippers, and like fans about to see their idol, they were exhilarated.

But in a corner, Richard couldn't help but smirk.

If not for the risk of being ambushed by necromancy spells due to the crowd, he'd have cut down this pretentious charlatan with his sword already.

A senior apprentice playing prophet in a mortal city was a disgrace to wizard apprentices.

If this charlatan had even a hint of a scientific zealot's spirit, Richard might not have dismissed him so easily.

Yet, there was none to be found.

"Sacrifice! Sacrifice! Sacrifice!..."

The chant spread through the hall, the fervor irritating Richard.

Damn it, in a world with wizards, believing in gods—what are these people thinking?

The figure in black opened his arms to the followers, his words growing impassioned:

"Brothers and sisters, our paradise is imminent. Our lord will establish a divine kingdom on this land, free of poverty and suffering, illness and death. We will enjoy eternal happiness until time's end!"

Simultaneously, a subtle psychic intrusion brushed against Richard's mind.

The figure in black trembled and immediately looked towards Richard's corner.

"Who are you?"

Richard exhaled, stepping forward with his sword.

"Your executioner."

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