Chapter 178

Chapter 178

It was successful.

As Amos cast his spell, pulling everyone present into the same dream, Lane, hiding in the shadows, timely entered the dreamland.

Unlike the previous black space or Albert's straightforward display of memories in his dreams, perhaps due to this being a collective dream, colorful fragments constantly flashed by, like a kaleidoscope. Fragmented recollections and broken words flooded in like tidal waves, each coming from different voices and faces, as if a multitude of lives were passing by in an instant.

Somehow, Lane suddenly understood why this place was so different. Unlike an individual's dream gap, a collective one, or rather, the subconscious, was like a connected deep sea. It was more perilous than the depths of a normal person's consciousness. Although they all shared the same dream, their perspectives differed, leading to distinct sights and sounds. These subtle differences connected to form a complete past.

Soon, a bright light illuminated before Lane's eyes.

Upon landing, Lane looked around. Moonlight softly poured through the dungeon window, vaguely revealing a woman and a child imprisoned in the cell in front of him. They seemed oblivious to Lane's arrival.

Just like last time, as an outsider without an identity, Lane wouldn't participate in these past events; he would simply observe like a ghost.

At that moment, another small creature appeared beside him. It had pointed ears and a slender, small mouth, reaching only up to Lane's knees. It panted with its tiny mouth open, a silver-white foxhound.

Lane silently met the little foxhound's gaze and picked it up. "Where did this dog come from?"

"Woof!" The little dog playfully and obediently licked Lane's cheek with its tongue.

"..." Lane gave a quizzical smile and moved the dog slightly away. "In this realm of the subconscious, you can't possibly deceive me, can you?"

The little dog stiffened for a moment, then drooped in dejection, and the voice of Amos came from its mouth: "I didn't mean to do it either, but I had to do this in order to maintain my sanity and memory."

Indeed, he wasn't lying. Unlike Albert, who could maintain his human form within the rift of his dreams because he was the absolute core of his own subconscious, Amos, though he held significant weight in this memory, couldn't remain as stable. In the face of the collective unconsciousness' onslaught, being able to preserve his own thoughts rather than immediately becoming an NPC in the dream was the best effort he could exert.

Lane narrowed his eyes, not detecting any trace of deception in Amos's tone. Reluctantly, he set him down; he had initially intended to simply toss him aside, knowing that Amos wouldn't be harmed. But upon seeing the delicate limbs of the small foxhound, he hesitated for a moment before gently placing him on the ground.

Amos landed on all fours, silently commending Creed in his heart – the information was true, and the money spent was well worth it.

Before Amos could further ponder how to use the connection with Lane to draw closer to her, a sudden commotion came from the cell.

It seemed that the woman had been startled awake from a nightmare, weeping as she clutched the little boy. Her fair shoulders trembled, as if shedding tears for their hopeless future.

"Mommy..." The little boy, awakened by his mother's actions, rubbed his eyes, confusedly calling out.

"I'm sorry, Amos, I'm so sorry..."

The familiar name drew Lane's attention back. He looked in surprise at the embracing mother and son, then down at the fox terrier now at his feet. "Is that you?"

Amos, unusually, didn't answer right away. The white puppy stepped forward, using the moonlight to see the scene in the cell more clearly.

The weeping woman was strikingly beautiful, with cascading black hair like a waterfall, gentle features, and fair skin. Amos had inherited his mother's good looks, but unfortunately, his character was not as gentle as his appearance suggested.

In her arms was the child who would grow up to be Amos himself, though at this moment he was only around five or six years old, with big, round eyes blinking innocently as he nestled in his mother's embrace.

So, this was the scene.

The white puppy thought, somewhat disinterested.

For some reason, the woman kept apologizing to the child. At first, the boy tried to soothe her gently, but eventually became puzzled:

"Mom, why are you always saying sorry? If it doesn't work this time, we can just try to escape again. Or when I grow up, I'll kill Father, and we'll run away together."

Well, wasn't he filial from a young age? Lane couldn't help but glance at the white puppy, then found it quite understandable after some thought.

"..."

The woman clutched the boy tightly in her arms, and the tears streaming down her face conveyed not only guilt but profound fear and a desperation bordering on madness. "It can't go on... I can't hold on any longer."

"I'm sorry, my child. Mommy really can't take it anymore. Mommy doesn't want to live in this hell. Can you help me, please? Only you can free me."

"Mommy, I don't understand what you mean."

The woman's wrists trembled as she suddenly took a step back, then lifted the fabric of her dress to reveal her abdomen. Lane was startled and instinctively tried to turn away, only to find the white puppy staring intently at the scene, its large black eyes reflecting a mix of emotions.

Lane suddenly realized something, turning his head with a frown. To his shock, there was an object protruding from the woman's abdomen, resembling the shape of a dagger—no, it was indeed a dagger!

In Lane's stunned gaze, the woman, with great determination, clawed open her skin with her sharp nails, pulling out the bloodied dagger from within her flesh.

What the hell? What kind of move is that?

Lane watched, dumbfounded, as the woman sweated profusely from the pain but didn't utter a sound. The horrifying scene that followed was even more astonishing: the wound in her abdomen visibly began to heal, returning to its original state in a matter of seconds.

This abnormal regenerative ability struck Lane as eerily familiar, and he couldn't help but glance at Amos again.

With a struggle in her expression, the woman placed the bloodied dagger into the boy's hands. A glimmer of hope shone in her eyes as she said, "You can do it, can't you? You're Mommy's good boy. Only you can save me!"

The boy seemed lost in thought, gazing at the dagger in his hand without speaking. The woman nervously scanned their surroundings, as if afraid of being discovered. Seeing the boy's inaction, she seized his shoulders with agitation, her nails digging into his flesh. "Say something, Amos! Do it now, before they come. I don't want to go back to that church, please!"

Tears choked her voice by the end. She forcefully pressed the dagger into Amos's grip, then, without hesitation, aligned its blade with her own chest, piercing her snowy-white flesh.

Yet, the instant the dagger pierced her, and blood surged, the wound began to heal. Amidst extreme pain, her voice turned shrill, her expression contorted as if her maternal instincts had been overridden by agony. All that remained was a torrent of resentment and curses directed at Amos, the church, but most often, at an unfamiliar man's name.

"You bastard! Because of you, I've been so cursed! Because of your birth, I was made some damn Madonna! Harlow! I won't let you off, I swear...!"

"Quiet, Mother," the boy whispered softly. His eyes were dark, devoid of light. Looking at his mother, his small hands could barely hold the dagger properly, so he used both hands to thrust it into her heart, his eyes reddening from the effort. "I'll release you."

The woman suddenly fell silent. The boy had reached into her chest, yet strangely, his hand encountered no flesh. From his wrist down, she seemed to waver, as if he had penetrated another dimension. He withdrew a white carnation from within.

She looked at Amos with sorrowful eyes, her expression a jumble of emotions. It seemed she mourned the same fate befalling her child. This time, her wound didn't heal, preserving the image of the dagger in her heart. She fell to the ground.

"Is this the beginning of the Day of Chaos?" Lane asked.

"No, not at all," replied the white puppy, gazing at the boy cradling his mother's corpse. "In fact, there are still about five years until the Day of Chaos. As for why we're here at this particular moment..."

He paused, blinking his black bean-sized eyes. "Who knows? The subconscious of the human mind is a mystery."

Lan looked down at him. "Are you putting on an act here?"

Amos paused, lifting his puppy-like face with a mock dejection. "Oh, I've been found out."

Lan gazed at him in silence, but couldn't discern any emotion from the boy's coal-black eyes. The child in the cell, after killing his mother, hadn't cried or made a fuss. He had calmly moved her body to one side.

The surroundings distorted once more. It seemed that what Lan was witnessing was either an accident or another of Amos's attempts to evoke sympathy. But this time, his intuition told him there might be more to it than that.

Many believed that the origins of the Day of Chaos lay in its commencement. But perhaps, for some, that day marked the true beginning.

For it was on that day that the so-called Son of the Demon was born.

Before the surroundings twisted completely, a few figures appeared to have rushed into the cell, shouting at the boy who held his mother's corpse calmly. Then, a man dressed as a pope entered the prison. To Lan's surprise, the man's straight nose was nearly identical to Amos's.

However, he didn't get to witness more, as the environment distorted again. When he opened his eyes, he found himself transported back fifty years to the start of the Three Chaotic Days recorded in history.

The first day.

Divine Being on Earth abruptly opened his eyes, rising from the bed.

Before him lay a shabby wooden cabin, resembling a humble countryside setting. Yet, none of this held his interest as much as the system notification that popped up before him.

"Rerun Dungeon: New Port - Three Days of Chaos has commenced."

"Players are requested to manually select their allegiance. Currently available options:

1. Savior's Congregation (default)

2. Commoners

3. ????"

"Upon choosing an allegiance, corresponding quests will be unlocked. Please make your selection wisely."

Confused, Divine Being on Earth gazed at the notification. All options apart from the Savior's Congregation were shrouded in darkness. Was this an invitation for him to choose?

Wait, hold on – Rerun Dungeon???

God immediately opened the player forum and found it in an uproar.

"Recreated Dungeon: New Port - Three Days of Chaos"

Vampire Follower: Did everyone make it in? What the hell is going on?

Tax Collector: No idea. I was clearly watching your battle from the edge of the battlefield, and then suddenly, the system told me I failed my Willpower check, and now I'm here in darkness.

Baldy: Same here, guys.

Milk Tea Dog: Sobs, I just came to watch the fun, and now I'm stuck in this lousy place.

Druid: ? Did you all get in? Why didn't we?

Vampire Follower: Well, you're all the way in Arkham, aren't you?

Tax Collector: I think it's because those who were closer to the battlefield got pulled in. @Janitor, where are you?

Janitor: Here, here.

Divine Presence: Count the players. Let's see how many have entered the instance dungeon.

Players' IDs instantly formed a long queue, and there seemed to be quite a number of them, mostly Cultist players who had been recruited as cannon fodder against Amos. Those who didn't enter the instance dungeon were likely the ones who had already perished in the battle. The survivors, without exception, had all entered the recreation.

Nightly: Hehe, we're here too!

Baba: We just came to see if there were any leftovers, and look, we struck gold!

Uncle Hao: The triumph of the commoners!

Insane: Damn, I'm so envious! Wait, is this recreation dungeon the same as the one at Mi Da?

Black Cat: Highly possible. Sigh, I really wish I could've gone.

Druid: If that's the case, did Lane send Amos over for this very recreation dungeon?

Matcha Milk Green: Hm, the last recreation was Mi Da, which means this time it's New Harbor? The past of New Harbor?

Divine Presence: You're probably right. The term 'Day of Chaos' was mentioned by the Cardinal before, but we couldn't find specific information. This recreation dungeon should let us experience what actually happened back then.

I Am Lane's Dog: ! God Among Us, hurry, hurry, check if our Master Lane is around! Last time, Lane organized that MU dungeon, and Black Cat's team encountered Lane as the first NPC when they entered. Considering Amos was sent by the Secret Church this time, there's a chance Lane is near you!

Odd Number Seeker: Well, you guys sure think quickly when something like this happens!

Matcha Milk Green: Sobs... I couldn't enter the dungeon this time... It hurts so much.

Black Cat: Sigh, what can we do? With so many maps now, it's inevitable that some will miss out... @God Among Us, can the big shot do a live stream? I'm also curious about the plot of this Day of Chaos. It seems to be related to Amos.

Druid: Do you really need to beat around the bush? Just say you want to see Lane (side-eye emoji).

Looks Matter: Yeah, big shot, we won't laugh at you, hahaha.

Black Cat: You're already laughing (accusatory.jpg).

As the forum continued its lively banter, God Among Us chuckled and started his live stream. Before he could greet the players flooding into the stream, the door to the wooden cabin suddenly swung open from the outside. A man in a black missionary robe rushed in, visibly relieved upon seeing God Among Us. "You're finally awake, Simon. Come on, hurry with me! We need more help over here!"

God Among Us was immediately pulled up by the man and half-guided towards the door. He whispered softly, barely audible to others, "Simon?"

"Big Shot! I get it! The characters in these repeated dungeons are pre-set cards! Their names and stats are different from ours!"

Players entering the Replica instance are usually assigned an initial identity for ease of movement. In the previous Michigan University instance, it seemed to be that of a volunteer.

A volunteer... So this time, would it be a heretic?

Divine Being pondered, but this didn't quite make sense. According to the system notification just now, if alignment truly affected players' subsequent missions, did that imply there would be opportunities later on to change one's alignment?

But soon, he had no more energy to dwell on this matter.

What lay before him exceeded Divine Being's and all the viewers' imagination.

They traversed an area on the outskirts, far from the city center, where large-scale structures were scarce. Most resembled the small cabin where God Among Us had just been. An aura of desolation and chaos permeated the surroundings, with corpses littering the streets.

Among them were those who were not yet dead but appeared on the brink of expiration.

As God Among Us passed by a woman sitting at a crossroads, his gaze swept over her face and arms, covered in numerous black spots. Her complexion was pale and emaciated, and she coughed up black blood intermittently, wiping it away numbly.

"Medicine: Failed"

Though medicine had failed in the game, viewers in the live stream quickly pointed out that real-life medical expertise could potentially succeed, voicing their confusion.

"Ah, could this possibly be the Black Death?"