Chapter 51

Chapter 51

Soren's expression twisted in agony. Despite trying everything, kicking and flailing, he couldn't make Albert let go. As for casting spells, the pain of his burning soul made even concentrating a torment.

Gradually, he stopped struggling.

Albert thought he had given up, but the next second he sensed something was wrong.

The body in his arms began to wither away, bones either extracted or melting. Soren's eyes lost their luster, his face aged rapidly. Opening his mouth wide like a python, another body crawled out of it.

Everyone was stunned, including Albert, who blankly held the withered husk resembling shed snake skin, while the being emerging from Soren's mouth was indescribable, hardly human.

It was a semi-solid liquid form, with shiny black skin emitting a putrid stench. Stooped over, its face barely recognizable and aged, lacking eyes, nose, lips, and ears, it resembled a mummy.

At the sight of It, everyone felt a buzzing in their heads. The players collectively failed a sanity check, and even Albert clutched his head in pain.

It opened its mouth, tongueless and voiceless, yet uttered silent words. Everyone ‘heard’ the voice, for it resonated directly in their minds.

But no one could comprehend the abstruse language.

Except for Lann.

[Foolish humans, you think I do this to return home? Pitiful, so pitiful, a flock that has forgotten its own origin.]

[Everyone is the same, all will return. Only in that world lies our utopia. This world will soon become a barren hell. When the stars realign correctly, the day of destruction will dawn. No one will live in this world then, returning to the homeland is the only hope.]

What is this?

Lann, hearing the strange yet familiar language in his mind, frowned, pondering its meaning. The phrase 'the stars realigning correctly' was very Lovecraftian, typically symbolizing the release of beings like Cthulhu from their seals, heralding their arrival and the world's destruction, which matched this context.

So...

"The Old Gods are coming, and the world will end?" Lann couldn't help but ask.

Soren looked at him, [It is inevitable, fate has already given the answer.]

Having said that, without waiting for Lann's response, Soren suddenly looked up towards the sky.

Lann also looked up, only to see the fog on the sky clearing, revealing a complete lunar eclipse.

The time had come.

Soren spread his arms wide, chanting an obscure spell. Albert regained his senses and lunged at Soren, but this time Soren was prepared. A thin protective film appeared around him, impervious to the golden flames. Soren's incantation was flawless, not a single syllable missed.

Thud, thud, thud.

A sound akin to knocking echoed in everyone's hearts. The surviving players, including Alchi, Edmund, and Albert, suddenly wailed in agony, bleeding from all orifices and collapsing to the ground.

Lann was unaffected, but his heartbeat seemed to synchronize with the strange knocking, an odd sensation overtaking his entire being.

Amidst this knocking, an aurora appeared, vibrant and dazzling, a spectacle usually only visible in polar nights, now inexplicably gracing the skies above Arkham.

Most peculiarly, within this aurora, a phantom door slowly materialized.

This door was like a mirage, seemingly distant yet tantalizingly within reach. Its surface bore an engraving similar to the Kabbalistic Tree of Life, but unlike the religious iconography typically comprising ten spheres and twenty-two paths, this one had only nine spheres, with the last sphere appearing as if it had been destroyed.

Every dreaming person in Arkham, every unconscious citizen, saw this door in their dreams.

They were bewildered, unsure of what to do, some instinctively drawn towards it.

Soren, laughing, broke free from Albert's grasp. As the door appeared and people bled from every orifice, Albert's original ability was forcibly interrupted. Everyone at the scene, except for Lann and Soren, fell into unconsciousness, or rather, into a dream.

[Open the door, open the door, children of the homeland, it's time to return.]

Tears of longing in his eyes, Soren beheld the place he had longed for, his long-missed homeland.

Too long.

He had been in this world far too long, so long that he forgot how he had come here, remembering only waking up to a strange world, among unfamiliar people.

His only companions were eternal loneliness and endless suffering.

As long as he set foot on this land, pain and sickness were his constant companions, and the most torturous part was that Soren could not die.

He had been tormented by disease and pain for so long, yet unable to die, enduring what seemed like never-ending agony and solitude.

Even though oblivion brought me peace, I've always known that I was but a stranger here, a stranger in this century, a stranger among those who still remained human.

Throughout these long years, the only thing sustaining Soren was the memory of his homeland.

There, the land flowed with milk and honey, and stepping onto its soil infused one's body with endless strength.

There was no sickness or aging; every thought and desire echoed back, and everyone wore a smile of happiness.

Soren reached out towards the door, running towards it recklessly.

As the monster ran headlong towards the door, he exposed a vulnerability in his defense.

A silver dagger, glowing with an odd light, pierced Soren's back. Amos appeared there, the silent hunter finally striking a lethal blow on his long-awaited prey.

This silver-white dagger was a peculiar artifact, and its glow was Amos' original power, capable of directly harming the soul.

Soren let out a pained howl, weakened to the extreme.

Finally, all the conditions had aligned.

Amos possessed the Origin Ability of [The Gardener], which enabled him to see the soul-flower in the depths of each person’s heart with his ability called the Eye of the Soul. He could 'pluck' these soul-flowers, gaining the owner's Origin Ability in the process. However, since the host would be deceased, this ability could only be used once.

There were many restrictions to this ability. First, The Gardener was obligated to nurture the flower until it bloomed, hence Amos had to assist the host of the flower. Second, The Gardener could only pluck a flower in full bloom, which only occurred when the host reached the pinnacle moment of their life.

Third, the blooming of the flower signified the peak; thereafter, every moment was a step towards demise. The host had to be in a state of extreme weakness for Amos to pluck the flower.

For this moment, Amos had been lurking among the foreigners for years, wholeheartedly aiding the leader of these strangers, diligently waiting for the time to harvest.

Amos laughed as he reached into Soren’s semi-solid body. His hand met no resistance, as if not penetrating a body, but touching a soul.

In his eyes, the pale pink Lilac was already in his grasp.

“Back off!” Soren roared, his extremely weakened body suddenly bursting with immense strength. Nothing could stop him from returning to his homeland now.

Amos didn’t expect Soren to still possess the strength to resist at such a moment. Temporarily repelled, he only managed to pull off a small petal. Soren, too, was not unscathed; his body shrank to nearly half its size. But he cared for nothing else, his eyes fixated only on the slowly opening door.

The door opened, and Soren approached it. With joy, he rushed in, embracing his long-lost homeland.

But soon, Soren's expression changed.

What was that?

The world behind the door was not as he remembered, filled with golden hues, lush greens, and blue skies over black muddy soil. Instead, it was a desolate silence, every corner flooded with disorienting neon lights. A huge blood moon eclipsed the sky, with gears creaking eerily in the mist.

What is this?

From the mist, an arm with exposed muscle fibers, belonging to a giant, reached out and grabbed Soren. Amidst his terrified screams, the hand slowly tightened its grip.

Squelch.

The semi-liquid, semi-solid body was crushed into an unrecognizable mass, oil-like blood oozing from the palm, black organ fragments plopping down.

All the citizens of Arkham watched this scene in a daze.

"Am I dreaming?" someone murmured.

"What the heck!" exclaimed a player.

The moment the 'door' appeared, all players became immobile, and now everyone understood why. It was a main storyline event!

In the player channel, messages were frantically refreshing.

[Wow, what is this?! What is this?]

[What’s going on, what is this? A boss?]

[Hiss—Don’t tell me, we have to fight this thing next??]

[With what? Your head? It’s obviously a storyline! Just watch and it's over!]

The giant hand seemed to sense something, moving closer to the door. A solitary eye opened on the back of the hand, its blood-red pupil rotating.

It was peering into the human world.

Realizing this, every dreaming human either collapsed, screamed hysterically, or knelt, praying ceaselessly to the gods.

Just when everyone was on the brink of despair, that voice appeared.

'Close the door.'

A voice emerged in everyone's dreams.

They saw a blurred figure, radiating a dreamlike glow, shrouded from head to toe, revealing only a nearly human silhouette from behind.

It appeared in front of the door, declaring flatly:

"Close the door."

The giant hand, unwilling to concede, tried to reach out from behind the door, but the door closed faster. In everyone's dreams, the door, engraved with the Kabbalistic Tree of Life, shut tightly, with sounds of something banging against it in frustration from the other side.

The two worlds were once again separated, dreams sunk to the depths, the human world ascended.

The lunar eclipse passed, the fog dissipated.

All that remained was a city ravaged and ablaze.

Humanity slowly awakened from their dreams.

Cries of mourning, laughter of survival, screams of terror, and calls of astonishment once again filled the city.

The silver moonlight gently fell, the Moon Goddess silently witnessing everything that occurred and concluded.

That phantom image deeply embedded itself in everyone's minds.

……

As the door appeared, entities around the world looked up towards the city in the southwest direction.

'It has begun.'

'It has begun.'

'It has begun.'

They waited quietly, silently observing the city chosen by fate.

The opening of the door, the scene behind it, and the emergence of the giant hand left them either indifferent or visibly affected.

[Indeed, that world too...]

[Such irony.]

[Hahahaha, I knew it! I knew it!]

[This world is beyond salvation!]

And finally, the figure shrouded in radiance caused everyone's face to change dramatically.

At His command.

'The door' closed.

The two worlds, which were gradually drawing near, were once again separated. The process of destruction was forcefully halted, and the torrent of fate rushed towards an unknown direction.

"Fate... has changed."

In the deepest part of the Inspection Bureau's headquarters in a certain city, a person covered in silver-white emerged from a cultivation tank, opening their eyes.

His eyes were peculiar, his face as handsome as a deity, but his eyes, like those of a blind person, lacked focus, with silver-white pupils. If not for their lively movement, one might mistake them for glass eyes. Dressed in a long white robe, his pale skin so thin that the colored veins beneath were visible.

The person murmured strangely:

"Who... is He?"

Not just him, but other entities observing Arkham city, at this moment, issued the same command to their respective organizations.

To find 'Him'.

To go to that city where fate was overturned, to find the one who closed the door.

……

Lann was oblivious to the events transpiring outside.

From the moment the door appeared, he seemed to have fallen into a peculiar state.

He felt as if his entire being was floating, drifting ethereally, in a state between sleep and wakefulness.

In his dream, he recalled many things. Memories, once incomplete, were gradually becoming whole. Scenes not revealed by the memory potion were slowly emerging in his mind.

He remembered that he hadn't directly transposed into 'Lann'.

After dying in a fire in his previous life, Lann opened his eyes again to a fantastical land. He was held in someone's arms, and upon looking up, he saw a perfectly curved chin, instinctively wanting to reach out and touch it.

"Hmm? Awake now?"

The person lowered their head, and Lann's view filled with strands of long black hair. A soft, melodious female voice tingled his ears.

Pale fingers appeared in his vision, playfully teasing him, and Lann instinctively tried to grasp them.

"We can't let that miser find out. You're not supposed to wake up yet."

What was she talking about?

Lann lifted his head, trying to see the person's face, but in his memory, her face was the only detail missing, as if that particular fragment had completely vanished.

"Everyone's in a meeting. I need to give you a 'True Name Binding'. You can't be discovered by those folks just yet."

Long black hair fell, gently touching his forehead, causing an itch. 'Lann' caught a strand and tugged lightly, eliciting a dissatisfied meow from the hair.

The woman chuckled lightly: "Let me think, how about 'Little Lamb'? Our dear Little Lamb."

She uttered a sound that, translated to human language, was Lann.

Yes, Lann realized she was speaking in a language not human, but he understood it instinctively.

Ah, wait a moment, he had heard this language before.

Lann remembered; the language was somewhat like the one Soren had spoken, only more obscure and with a celestial, ethereal tone.

The scene then faded to black, and when it brightened again, Lann found himself in a desolate forest.

He seemed to have lived in this forest for a long time, not alone, but with a massive figure always by his side. This figure was lonely but not alone, indulging Him in everything except leaving the forest.

But this segment was blurry, like an old malfunctioning television set, the picture intermittently turning to static. In the blink of an eye, a child grew into a teenager, always running through the forest, until one day he heard the forest calling to Him.

‘Come here, this way…’

‘Please, save us.’

‘Begging you to become our master.’

‘Please become... Pan.’

The teenager followed the voice and found a dilapidated temple in the center of the forest. It seemed long abandoned, overgrown with weeds, dead trees, and the skulls of strange animals.

At the very heart of the temple was a ruined statue, with a human face and a sheep's body, grotesque and bizarre, yet exuding a peculiar divinity.

The statue was scarred and battered, its head fallen to the ground, its body still standing, covered in marks of whipping. It appeared as a prisoner, yet it was placed on a high altar, worshiped by people.

‘We pray to you, become the new master of the forest and agriculture.’

As Lann watched this scene, he felt it conveyed just two words.

[Conspiracy]

The teenager in the scene felt the same way. He slowly backed away, but the forest blocked his path. A two-headed squirrel and an eight-legged rabbit collapsed at Lann's feet in a bizarre fashion, as if saying you have to become it, willing or not, exuding a sense of brazenness.

Teenager: ...

Then the scene disappeared again, and Lann didn't know what happened afterwards. When the picture changed again, Lann saw the door opening, but this time, it seemed like he was inside the door.

Inside the door, he watched as the Gothic campus outside was engulfed in flames, with countless bodies on the ground. Zealots were laughing maniacally, and a man with white hair excitedly approached, seemingly eager to get close to the door.

He saw a freckled, red-haired boy kneeling on the ground, praying with a look of determination in his eyes, as if initiating some forbidden ritual.

"I am willing to exchange everything I have, whether it’s for a deity or a demon, please save us."

"My memory, existence, body, soul, and all that I am, I offer as a trade."

After a long time, with no response, the boy lowered his head in despair.

[Granted.]

The prayer... was answered.

Under the astonished gaze of the boy, a door opened in front of him. Lann, inside the door, watched the boy outside, instinctively placing his hand on the door.

The boy smiled, a broad, heartfelt smile, then without hesitation, raised his hand. The boy’s supple palm, separated by an invisible barrier, met Lann’s.

"I entrust all I have to you."

The red-haired boy's figure disappeared from outside the door, replaced by Lann with platinum hair and a beauty beyond human. Taking the boy's place, all traces of the boy's existence in reality vanished - his name, history, and education - everything that could prove his existence was replaced by Lann.

Lann now had an identity, transformed from an indescribable entity into a 'human' with a real past.

Thud, thud.

At this moment, the scene abruptly halted, and Lann, sensing something, looked up. Before him was the ‘door’ of the dream world wide open, with the giant hand probing out.

Though unsure what this giant hand was or what was happening in the dream world, instinct told him he must not let this 'big fellow' enter the human world.

It would be a catastrophic blow to the surface.

The door was open, and there was a monster outside, so naturally, the instinct was to ‘close the door’.

To Lann's astonishment, as he spoke out, the door of the dream world began to close for real.

He faintly sensed that he might have the power to control that ‘door’.

As the giant hand quickened, Lann steeled himself, exerting full control to close the door, and once again commanded firmly: "Close the door."

He so decreed.

The door of the dream world shut just before the giant hand could reach, mercilessly separating the two worlds again.

The door was closed.

Lann finally exhaled in relief, his nerves just beginning to relax when a wave of overwhelming drowsiness and weakness swept over him, his eyelids involuntarily drooping.

Wait a minute, he had just seen Arkham still ablaze; he needed to get the players to rescue people, to leave the scene quickly, and there were Albert, Alchi, and the others...

"Sleep now."

A voice said to him, deep and familiar, as if heard every day.

In a drowsy haze, Lann thought he saw a familiar figure lifting him off the ground, carrying him step by step towards home.

It was Ogrer...

The scene overlapped once more, similar to something that had happened before.

Ogrer carrying him, newly arrived in this world, step by step out of the inferno. Amidst the searing heat around them, only his back remained warmly temperate.

Who was he, really?

The view before him gradually darkened, Lann too weary to think, finally falling into a deep, blissful sleep.

In his dream, he seemed to return to that dark, desolate forest, a place far from the vitality typical of forests. Instead, almost devoid of life, the land and trees appeared lifeless. Here, only death-representing soul-eating butterflies fluttered through the trees.

Since becoming conscious, He had always lived here.

Alongside a gentle giant.

He often climbed and played on the giant’s broad back, and the giant let Him, fulfilling all his requests as long as they stayed within the forest.

They had lived together for a very long time.

So long that he thought these days would go on forever.

Click.

The image before him vanished, everything returning to a misty haze.