Miracle Card Shop: All My Cards Can Be Actualize

Startled, he quickly moved toward a secret room beside his bedroom, pushing a hidden button near the lantern by his bed.

Inside the room, numerous screens displayed footage from the CCTV system. This was his private monitoring room, set up to surveil his research facility 24/7, accessible only to him. Every screen showed the same thing: devastation. The facility was overrun with hordes of zombies in lab coats and suits, staggering aimlessly.

Every corner, even the safety room—designed specifically to handle outbreaks like this—was compromised.

The man's face paled as he grasped the gravity of the situation. He swiftly checked the tracker monitor to see if there were any survivors, but the response was a chilling zero.

"No, no, no, no, no! This... this can't be happening! What the hell happened!?" Panic gripped him. He immediately began reviewing the CCTV footage to find the cause, losing track of time, oblivious to hunger or anything else around him.

After hours of sifting through recordings, he found the source. In the footage from the artifact manufacturing room, at around 2 AM the previous night, a mysterious object had suddenly appeared in the corner of the room, remaining still.

"Is that...? Why does it look familiar?" he muttered in confusion, staring at the object. Slowly, the memory came back to him.

The object was indeed familiar. He remembered it vividly. The object looked like a military shipment, encased in a secure metal container—something he had personally handled.

"No... no, no, no! It can't be!" His heart sank as dread washed over him. He desperately prayed that his suspicion was wrong, that he was overreacting.

He fast-forwarded the footage, watching as the clock advanced to 3 AM, then 4 AM. Since it was nighttime, no one had entered the room. His heart pounded as he silently begged that someone had noticed the package, checked it, and removed it. But deep down, he feared the worst.

By 5 AM, still no one had entered the room. Finally, at 6 AM, a lone researcher walked in, but he didn't notice the package. He simply retrieved something he had forgotten and left.

"No, no, no..." The man's panic intensified.

Then, at 7 AM, the morning shift began. By 8 AM, people started noticing the package, and a team was called in to investigate. But before they could even begin their examination, a sudden flare of light erupted from the object, followed by the release of a thick, green, noxious gas.

"No... no! Why is it here!? WHY!?" the man shouted, consumed by disbelief and anger. He knew exactly what the mysterious object was—what he had feared all along. It was the Necro Plague device, containing the deadliest magical plague ever created by mages.

This plague had been forbidden due to its immense danger and its potential to become a world-ending catastrophe. However, they knew that if it wasn't this plague, Daniel Emberweave might find a way to counter it easily. So, they resorted to using this forbidden weapon.

Who could have predicted that the device would be sent back through a powerful teleportation spell? But the real question is… how did Daniel Emberweave know the exact location of his secret research facility? And why was it sent directly to the same manufacturing room that created the cursed artifact?

Had someone betrayed him? It didn't seem possible. Every member of the facility's staff was his trusted man, and all were bound by a magical contract that would instantly end their life if they revealed anything about the facility, whether through writing or recording.

But the possibility couldn't be ignored. In fact, it seemed like the most plausible explanation since he didn't believe scrying magic could have been used. His secret facility had an anti-scrying formation embedded in its very foundation before it was even built.

"Daniel Emberweave!" the man snarled through gritted teeth. He wanted nothing more than to kill this hated enemy, but he knew it was impossible. Daniel's power was far too great for a direct confrontation. His only option was to rely on schemes like this.

He didn't dwell on his anger for long, though, as an important realization struck him. One reason the Ottoman Levant remained untouched by its enemies was that it housed a mausoleum—not just any mausoleum.

This was the resting place of the Archlich Thalassar. According to legend, Archlich Thalassar had been destroyed at the end of the Solomon era, only to return during the Middle Ages, specifically during the rise of the Ottoman Empire. No one dared to challenge the Ottomans, partly because of Thalassar's influence.

Thalassar had been slain in the war against Wallachia, where his undead army was decimated, along with part of the Ottoman forces. The Vatican had intervened in the late stages of the war, aiding Wallachia. Vlad, the Vampire Progenitor, fought the Archlich in a brutal battle that resulted in Thalassar's body being destroyed. Stay connected with мѵʟ

Vlad himself was gravely wounded, and the Vatican seized the opportunity to finish off the vampire and his closest allies.

But... Thalassar was a lich. As long as his phylactery remained intact, he would eventually return. Using the souls of the dead, the Archlich could reform his body—a body not just strong, but nearly immortal. This was why, at the end of World War I, the victors dared not interfere with the region, knowing the Archlich's mausoleum was hidden somewhere within the vast desert.

The natural rate of death wouldn't hasten the power of the phylactery, and calculations suggested it would take about 100 years for Thalassar to revive.

But with this Necro Plague and the deaths of millions in such a short time frame, it was likely that Thalassar's revival would happen much sooner.

"Shit..." the man muttered as he hurriedly left the room.

He grabbed his wooden owl mask and called for his servant, urgently ordering them to prepare his private jet. He needed to escape!

Outside, he heard the sounds of sirens, explosions, and relentless gunfire, all against the backdrop of a city engulfed in flames. It looked no different from a full-blown civil war. Smoke billowed on the horizon, as many buildings and houses were ablaze. Even on his own estate, he could hear gunfire as the security forces he hired struggled to push back the horde of zombies.

"Evacuate all personnel to Greece. We will start anew there," he said to one of his servants before boarding his private jet.

"Yes, Lord Osman," the butler replied, immediately beginning to carry out his master's orders.

All the servants, personnel, and many others, including mages employed by the man in the owl mask, began evacuating. They boarded either the jet or the large helicopter that had been prepared. The evacuation process took about 30 minutes, during which the guards—ordinary men hired for security—were either devoured by zombies or had already become one of them.

"No! No! Wait for me!" one of the lowly guards, an ordinary man, screamed as he ran toward the planes, a large horde of zombies hot on his heels.

Standing on the plane's ramp, the butler took aim and fired a single shot, killing the guard instantly. They couldn't risk waiting for him and allowing the zombie horde to catch up.

As the zombies continued to advance, the butler activated his insignia, channeling magic through his body. With a wave of his hand, a towering wall of fire erupted from the ground, incinerating the zombies as they touched the flames.

The plane took off, and all of the valuable servants and personnel of the man in the owl mask had successfully evacuated.

In the master plane, the man in the owl mask received a call from his butler.

"My lord, the evacuation is complete. We have 50 casualties, all of them ordinary guards who were stationed at the estate's gates," the butler reported.

"Thank you... You may continue with your duties," the man in the owl mask replied before removing his mask and letting out a sigh of relief.

He needed to inform his allies, the Hightower and the Qing Empire, that their inner circle might have been infiltrated by Daniel's spies.

The man in the owl mask was named Murad Osman. He was the last descendant of the great Ottoman royal family. Though he was an illegitimate child, he was still a demi-god. He had the blood of Zeus running through his veins because his mother, a cultist of the Olympus Cult, had the honor of lying with Zeus, leading to his birth.

He was also the one controlling the puppet known as Cyrus Ashborn, a clone body he used to infiltrate the Hightower. If counting this time, this marked the second time Daniel had ruined his plans.

Murad glanced at the news and saw that the remnants of the once-great Ottoman Empire had turned into a war zone, with its cities engulfed in flames, destruction, and gunfire. He gritted his teeth, swearing that one day... one day, he would get his revenge on Daniel.