Wednesday: The Strongest Psychic

Chapter 154: Crackstone I



The sarcophagus of Crackstone was illuminated by the reddish light streaming through the glass panel on the crypt's ceiling.

Wednesday gazed at the vertical face of the sarcophagus. There, a medium-sized circle

featured an ancient ship and, beneath it, the name: Joseph Crackstone.

Using a small knife, she made a shallow cut on the palm of her hand. Her expression remained impassive despite the wound. Without hesitation, she placed her bloodied palm on the circle.

The circle lit up with a blood-red glow, appearing to absorb the blood from Wednesday's hand. For the first time, her face twisted in pain, and she clenched her teeth. It was a new and deeply unpleasant sensation.

After a few seconds, she could bear it no longer and pulled her hand away from the glowing circle, unwilling to let it drain all her blood.

Luke was surprised to see Wednesday showing so many expressions in mere seconds, especially pain. Her tolerance for pain was remarkably high.

A clicking sound echoed through the crypt. The massive lock sealing the sarcophagus released

its first layer of security. The second step remained to fully open it.

Wednesday, her grimace of pain gone, stood upright again and fixed her gaze on the sarcophagus. She began to recite the resurrection spell written in Latin.

Her monotone, emotionless voice, combined with the gloomy atmosphere of the crypt and the reddish light filtering through the glass panel, created a chilling scene, like something out of a horror movie.

Luke wasn't idle; his right palm was already raised, concentrating a tremendous amount of telekinetic waves that caused distortions in the air around him.

When the spell was finished, silence enveloped the place. The only sound was the hum of vibrating air near Luke's palm.

Suddenly, the arcane symbols hidden beneath the jars containing mutilated body parts began to light up one by one. As the final symbol illuminated, a thunderous noise shattered the silence, and flashes of lightning momentarily lit the chamber.

The blood-stained circle from Wednesday's hand began generating electricity, which surged toward one of the jars.

The jars didn't have ordinary lids. Each lid consisted of a series of stacked discs, gradually increasing in size, forming a stepped spiral upward and ending in a small sphere at the top.

The electricity flowed into the first jar, traveling up the lid and making the metallic discs glow one by one before leaping to the next jar, like a sequence of energy-charged pulses.

In less than five seconds, all the jars formed a kind of electric circle with the sarcophagus at its center.

Afterward, a dense cloud of black smoke began seeping through the small cracks in the sarcophagus. The dark mist coiled around, wrapping itself around the coffin.

Suddenly, the sarcophagus's lock shattered with a deafening crack, and lightning streaked across its lid, blasting it off with violent force and causing it to crash to the ground with a loud thud. The unleashed energy made the air tremble, and the black smoke slowly dissipated, revealing a figure inside.

Amid the sparks and flashes of lightning, the person within the sarcophagus opened their eyes and sat upright.

Their look was one of initial confusion, but quickly their eyes adjusted to their surroundings. He rose from the sarcophagus, feeling a great thrill run through his body.

At last, he had resurrected! At last, he had been freed from that infernal torment! 'Goody Addams...' Crackstone remembered, his eyes filled with hatred. That outcast had been the cause of his torment, the reason his soul had twisted in agony for hundreds of years. Thanks to the demonic powers of the book and his overwhelming hatred, he had not lost his mind. Instead, his desire for revenge against Goody Addams and outcasts in general had only grown, fueling the flames of his hatred.

Luke and Wednesday watched as Crackstone emerged from the sarcophagus, his movements stiff and tense from the long slumber. Neither of them paused to study the normie's appearance nor attempted to engage him in conversation; they knew there was nothing to negotiate.

During the ritual, while Wednesday recited the resurrection spell, Luke had been silently building up energy, preparing a powerful telekinetic slash in his palm.

With his hand open and outstretched, he concentrated a tremendous amount of telekinetic waves, holding the energy under absolute control for over a minute, ready to release it at the precise moment.

Taking advantage of Crackstone's distraction, Luke unleashed his attack.

A burst of telekinetic energy erupted from his hand in a sharp slash, traveling as a visible wave toward his enemy. The vibrant blast reverberated through the crypt as it surged with unstoppable force toward Crackstone.

Wednesday also attacked. She condensed a spear of darkness and hurled it with all her strength at Crackstone, aiming for his heart-though who knew where it might be. He was no longer an ordinary human.

To their surprise, Crackstone managed to react to the impending lethal assault. With a guttural roar, the demonic normie raised his hands, and a surge of flames erupted from his palms, conjuring a blinding circle of fire that shielded him from both attacks.

Wednesday's spear of darkness failed to pierce Crackstone's circle of fire. However, the same could not be said for Luke's telekinetic slash.

His condensed telekinetic waves were capable of slicing through mythical bronze, and this time, he had concentrated them for over a minute.

The fire shield was not enough to stop his slash, which tore through the flames with relentless force, catching Crackstone off guard.

The telekinetic slash struck him, slicing cleanly through part of his torso and leaving an open wound that emitted dark smoke. Crackstone staggered and grimaced in pain, his expression quickly morphing into fury.

Luke also grimaced, frustrated that his attack hadn't bisected Crackstone. He noticed how the cursed normie had shifted a few centimeters to the right, causing the strike to only sever part

of his torso.

Crackstone's flesh began to heal at an unnatural speed, the wound closing and regenerating within seconds.

His eyes locked onto the two attackers. He immediately recognized them as those pagan outcasts. Raising his hand, a staff materialized out of thin air.

Wasting no time, Crackstone swung his staff, unleashing an explosion of fire that filled the crypt, consuming even himself.

The flames expanded in all directions, transforming the air into a blazing inferno. The ground began to quake, and the stone walls groaned under the pressure of the intense heat.

Luke and Wednesday managed to react just in time to avoid being consumed by the flames. Each activated their teleportation abilities, vanishing from the crypt just as the fire reachedn/ô/vel/b//jn dot c//om

its peak.

They both reappeared outside, a few meters from the crypt, which exploded from within, sending a column of fire and smoke into the night sky. What had once been a solid structure

was now a smoldering pile of ruins.

Crackstone emerged from the crypt, walking slowly, making his way through the fire and debris. In his right hand, he held a staff, and in his left, a book that seemed to be made of skin.

Luke and Wednesday's eyes locked onto the book. That was their objective-and to claim it, they would have to put this normie to rest forever. Meanwhile, Crackstone's gaze fixed on

Wednesday.

"Goody Addams... No... You must be her descendant," he said, his voice sounding as if it came from the depths of hell. His eyes burned with even greater hatred as he stared at the descendant of the person who had imprisoned him in that sarcophagus for centuries. Wednesday said nothing. Her expression was colder than usual. On this blood moon night, she would settle her family's grudge, ending Crackstone's existence once and for all. She conjured her dark scythe into her hand, and the shadows beneath her grew, ready to act.

"I wonder where your black heart is," Luke mused. Surrounding him floated over a dozen small knives as hard as steel, a birthday gift from Natasha.

The knives had been in the backpack where they had carried the human torso. Before Crackstone had imploded the crypt, Luke had managed to retrieve the bag with his Shambles

ability.

Crackstone turned his gaze to Luke for the first time. He didn't recognize him, unlike Wednesday. However, he was knowledgeable about outcasts, especially psychics and their auras- after all, he had been a hunter of outcasts. Knowing your prey was crucial.

'Telekinesis... and perhaps something more...' Crackstone thought, recalling how Luke had vanished. As for the girl, he noted how shadows had enveloped her, marking her aura as one of

darkness.

Under normal circumstances, Crackstone would have prioritized Luke, as his telekinetic slash had proven dangerously lethal-only a sidestep had spared him from being cut in half. But this was no ordinary situation.

Before him stood the descendant of Goody Addams, his arch-nemesis. His overwhelming hatred drove him to focus on killing Wednesday in the most agonizing way possible, relegating Luke to secondary importance.

Without another word, Crackstone charged at Wednesday.

The battle had begun.

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