"Event Card: Ergency Supplies."
"Event Card: Reconstructing Defense."
"Disaster Card: Brewing Darkness."
"..."
Like an unfeeling broadcast machine, Bai Ou calmly narrated the developnts of the story, and, accompanied by his words, as if twisted reality were Word Spirit, the spoken words turned into reality.
Hurried footsteps sounded from the nearby compartnt, making Bologue tense up imdiately; logically, the nearby compartnt’s Demons should have been cleared, yet there was still an enemy.
But when the carriage door opened, what appeared was a group of fully ard soldiers. They wore heavy black military uniforms, had gas masks on their faces, and deep breathing sounds emanated from the breathing valves, sounding like specters advancing in a cetery.
They brought boxes of supplies, stacking them in the carriage, and then left without looking back. When Bologue tried to chase them, he found them already vanished, like phantoms that never existed.
The imported supplies included everything from ammunition to Blades and dical supplies. Palr went all out, even though according to ga chanics he’s supposed to be an assassin type, he now unleashed the firepower of a whole platoon.
During the previous battles, the carriage that had been heavily damaged due to multiple Demon attacks was now reinforced. The clanging sound ca from all directions, like craftsn bending over hamring tal, layer by layer of armor covering the carriage’s exterior, turning it into a moving fortress.
Most of these events were positive, alleviating much of the heavy pressure on the group, except Palr was still firing to clear the random Demons brought by the Event Card: Disturbance, while the others sat back and rested, enjoying this rare peace.
Blood soaked Hart’s fur, coagulating and matting large chunks together, while his thick body had accumulated many wounds. Even though Aimou quickly bandaged him, the speed of recovery still could not keep up with the frequency of injuries.
Hart was a neat freak; the sticky sensation on his body was far more torturous than the pain of the wounds.
In board gas, they could fight by simply rolling dice, but in this real-life ga, the combat phase turned into genuine slaughter, with many factors interfering with the battle’s progress, leaving them utterly exhausted.
As the ga progressed, the Dawn on the board gradually moved out of the wilderness, with a short distance left before reaching the supply station and moving onto the next area.
The event cards ca into effect one by one, and Bologue inquired, "What is Brewing Darkness?"
"It ans as the ga progresses, the difficulty will gradually increase."
Hart explained, for he was considered an old player well-versed in the effects of most cards in "Night’s Journey."
"In ’Night’s Journey,’ the deeper we go into darkness, the stronger the enemies beco, and the environnt’s impact on us will also grow increasingly severe, as we delve deeper into darkness, toward the monsters’ lair."
Hart pointed to the board; the Dawn was speeding along the tracks. Ahead, where the tracks extended, the coastline was seen with surging tides, black mountains stirring up blizzards, and in the further distance, ominous ancient castles stretched endlessly.
"Our current ga progress is barely a third."
This brutal reality left Hart feeling exhausted. Wielding Extraordinary Power, he had confidence to fight to the dark’s end, but now they were re mortals.
Like a lengthy torture, for a mont, Hart began to doubt whether he could hold on.
"This night seems far too long."
Canary kneaded her arm, repeatedly drawing the bowstring, her arm muscles numb and aching, seemingly about to break.
Looking out the window into the vast night, the ga had gone through more than ten rounds, and the slain Demons had piled up like a mountain. From the group’s perspective, it felt like several hours had passed, yet the night sky remained pitch black, with no sign of brightening.
"Joyful Garden distorts the ti scale; we may feel like we’ve spent several days here, but in the outside world, only a few minutes may have passed."
Gold’s voice erged, being affixed to the wall by Bologue, allowing him to survey the entire board compartnt conveniently and converse with others.
Gold was deeply affected by the ti scale distortion, having been driven nearly insane under the Joyous Desire Witch’s torture; he even suspected that if Bologue found him a few rounds later, he would et a completely broken spirit.
"The senses, perhaps it’s not the ti scale being distorted, but our senses."
Aimou suggested, "Did you all sense it? Rather than the esoteric concept of ti, the Joyous Desire Witch clearly prefers sensory stimulation."
Looking up toward Gold, Aimou inquired, "What do you think?"
The successive shocks rendered everyone’s spirits numb; the reaction to Gold’s appearance was dull, with not much conversation with him, mostly asking about his experiences, and then leaving him aside.
Now, Gold is indeed quite useless, and he knows this well. He tries hard to control his emotions and his will, which is full of cracks, repeatedly reciting the Order Bureau’s regulations to strengthen his inner will, avoiding influencing others.
"Sorry, my mind is filled with noise right now, and it’s hard for to think complex thoughts."
Gold withdrew into the darkness, and one could vaguely see a hunched figure. He racked his brain, trying hard to suppress those chaotic thoughts, to consider Aimou’s speculation.
"Pain, anxiety, awe, weariness, desire, envy, excitent, fear, hatred... love and hate."
As Ewen spoke, he wrote lines of words on the paper. Suddenly, he stopped, not looking at Gold, but instead directly at Bologue.
"All of this cos from sensory stimulation, just illusions."
"Do you think we’re in a massive illusion?"
Bologue found Ewen’s speculation reasonable, this twisted and distorted reality, the bizarre ga of illusions... it reminded him of the ti axis disorder event, but in that event, he had the Unshakable as backup, along with Sai Zong’s hints and Serey’s "love."
But this ti is different, Bologue and the others are fighting alone, without any external forces to break the Devil’s restraints.
"Just a guess," Ewen said, "I’m an author; I’m good at imagining this sort of thing, but the real decision is up to you. You’re the expert."
Ewen had absolute trust in Bologue, which was good news. Although the situation was extrely dire, everyone’s stance was consistent, and no internal conflict arose. That was the last thing Bologue wanted to see.
Under the ga’s reality, many tedious details were omitted, such as injury and attack judgnts. Bologue chanically rolled dice and drew cards. If they could successfully leave, Bologue hoped that once they returned, Palr would burn that box of table gas.
This round, Bologue was unexpectedly lucky and drew a benign Event Card. Nothing happened, and it gave everyone ti to rest. The train continued moving forward, with everyone enjoying this rare peaceful round.
"Is your ntal state healthy?"
While others were recuperating, Gold suddenly asked.
Everyone cast puzzled glances, not understanding what Gold was trying to do. Then he added.
"Like childhood shadows, regrets, haunting nightmares, mories that get brought up repeatedly, faintly aching wounds, wandering spirits..."
As Gold spoke, his voice trembled and warped. He tried hard to control his words, but he gradually lost control, repeatedly taking deep breaths. After a few seconds of silence, Gold tried to narrate in a calr tone.
"Things of that sort, do you have them?"
Without lifting his head, Bologue asked, "What does that have to do with the predicant we’re in now?"
"This is a ga hosted by the Joyous Desire Witch. What she wants most is our most intense emotions... I don’t want to say this, but for humans, pain is undoubtedly the simplest, most intense, and easiest emotion to gain, and it’s also the one she can extract from us the easiest."
All it takes is a sad past, wounds that bleed, despairing and tragic predicants, the vicious curses of childhood... with such simple and direct things, pain becos an inseparable shadow, like an unshakable nightmare.
"Human positive emotions ultimately have their limits and are difficult to summon, but negative emotions are different. If positive emotions are precious gold, then negative emotions are the cheap, easily reachable dust."
Gold was unwilling to revisit that dreadful, long nightmare.
"For her, it’s just a ga, a ga for amusent..."
Gold’s voice grew lower until he fell silent. The blood trough under Bai Ou filled with blood, and the peace brought by the Event Card ca to an end. Then it was Palr’s turn to draw a card, and he was once again lucky enough to draw an Equipnt Card. Outside the train door ca hurried footsteps; those ghost-like soldiers returned with supplies.
Then it was Canary’s turn, and once again nothing unusual happened, but when it was Hart’s turn, Bai Ou’s voice suddenly beca sharp and hoarse, as if he were laughing crazily while narrating a story.
"An evil force has corrupted you! Horrible darkness is growing in your heart, prying open your buried side!"
Hart stared blankly at the card in his hand. Bologue shouted at him, asking what had happened, but Hart remained silent, falling straight to the ground and then starting to convulse violently.
The card slipped from his hand, scattering on the ground, and before it burned into wisps of black smoke and drilled into Hart’s body, Bologue read the text on it.
Erosion Card: Dark Descent.
In the vast darkness, Hart was alone, shouting loudly, but no one responded.
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