Moonlight that should not have existed shone down upon the dark, sunken plain. At the center of a world that had already ended, the Supre Narrator lay prone and motionless upon the spiral-shaped hill, its divine limbs still clinging tightly to those rocks condensed from fragnts of history. The clear moonlight, like a gauzy veil, draped over this divine creature, and the bright moon hung directly above the hill.
Gawain raised his head, looking at that gigantic spider.
It seed to have died on the road of chasing the moonlight.
Of course, what it had pursued could not have been the moonlight—this Sandbox World, just like the reality outside, had no "moon"—yet its posture, clinging to the hillside in death... did indeed resemble that of sothing in pursuit.
Magnan raised his head. The Supre Narrator’s limbs blocked out the moonlight, casting a massive shadow beside him. The irascible red-haired bishop narrowed his eyes slightly. "Cough... truly spectacular..."
"We’ve arrived at the true side of this world... but what should we do next?" Yuri could not help asking. "The Supre Narrator is already dead—are we supposed to revive It and then kill It again?"
"Its corpse is indeed here, but think about that ’curtain’ that deceived us all, think about those spiders that attacked us," Gawain said unhurriedly. "The life and death of gods is a concept far more complex than that of a mortal. It may be dead, but on so dinsion, so level, Its influence is still alive..."
Gawain spoke in very vague terms, because there were so matters he himself dared not be certain of, yet regarding the "life and death of gods," he did have a few conjectures— the gods of the real world had also "died" before. The battle records of the Deicide Fleet and the divine corpses in the deep-sea and in the defied Fortress could not possibly be falsified. And yet God returned again and again, responding ti after ti to the prayers of believers. This alone was enough to prove one thing:
Even if a god has died, even if the corpse lies right before your eyes, on so level It is still alive.
Selena likewise raised her head, cautiously observing that gigantic spider carcass. Her brows furrowed slightly. "It seems It was protecting sothing in Its final monts."
Gawain followed Selena’s line of sight and looked up. He saw unusually thick strands of spider silk entwined between the limbs of the Supre Narrator, and within the gaps of that silk there did seem to be sothing vaguely hidden.
They appeared to be several "cocoons" woven out of spider silk.
The Supre Narrator seed to be protecting those "cocoons," so of its limbs tightly drawn in beneath its body.
"It is indeed protecting sothing..." Gawain frowned, stepping forward. "Perhaps the things It has shielded are the key."
Yet just as he moved toward that spiral hill, a formless wind suddenly swept across the barren plain. Amid the dust and debris lifted by the gust, Gawain and the others instinctively halted their steps. When the wind subsided, a figure had sohow appeared, standing not far ahead.
It was an elderly man draped in a worn, long robe. He was tall and broad-shouldered, his hair and beard entirely white, and in his hand he carried a battered lantern that seed to have been used for a very long ti.
Duvalt, who claid to be the priest of the Supre Narrator.
Yuri and Magnan’s expressions instantly grew solemn, and at the sa ti they noticed that the white-haired girl nad "Nariteer" did not seem to be at the old man’s side on the ground at this mont.
Duvalt walked out of the wind, his gaze imdiately falling upon Gawain.
"I am quite surprised," he said, looking at Gawain. His voice was no longer the kindly, gentle tone from the beginning, but carried a certain sharp and hoarse tremor, as though his throat had long since rotted away and the sound was resonating out from torn and mangled flesh. "I have never seen an individual like you... The information you brought nearly contaminated the entire story."
Gawain did not respond. He rely took a step forward, and a longsword black with a dark red sheen abruptly appeared in his hand. Another step, and he was clad in the heavy armor this body had worn when it rode to war on the battlefield seven hundred years ago.
"All the better. This kind of ’conversation’ is more straightforward."
The shabbily dressed Duvalt watched Gawain, who had drawn his blade without a word and advanced. His expression remained calm, and he spoke in an indifferent tone, then unhurriedly tossed aside the lantern in his hand.
The fla within the lantern went out in an instant, yet at the very mont the fire was extinguished, countless rising shadows suddenly seeped from Duvalt’s aged body. Those shadows howled madly, intertwining and swelling in the air, and in the blink of an eye they took shape as a gigantic spider composed of ash, smoke, shadow, and dark red patterns—exactly the sa as the dead Supre Narrator upon the spiral hill!
An eerie screech rang out from within the smoke and dust as the black spider, its body covered in divine patterns, raised one limb to block Gawain’s blazing longsword. Sparks exploded in all directions where blade and limb t, and Duvalt’s voice—no longer sounding human—ca from within the spider’s body: "A pity that this blade of yours, born of reality, can never match the endless nightmare..."
Gawain gripped the sword tightly, calmly eting those dark red eyes flickering within the smoke. Faint, unreal radiance spread bit by bit along his blade. "What a coincidence. I happen to have so modest expertise in dreams as well..."
Illusory flas surged across the surface of the Sword of Pioneers. In the next instant, the spider limb that had seed indestructible was severed cleanly in two. The massive body of "Duvalt" shifted sideways with unbelievable agility, dodging Gawain’s follow-up strike, and let out a string of chaotic, indescribable screeches.
Gawain twisted his wrist, the longsword tracing a semicircle at his side, and in the very next second he charged in once more, sword raised, while asking, "Are you the Supre Narrator? Or Its avatar? Projection?
"Then what is that girl nad Nariteer?
"The god is dead... so whence cos the aura lingering here?"
The spider-shaped "Duvalt," facing Gawain’s storm-like assault, kept dodging and counterattacking while letting out low whispers laced with turbid static. "Outsider... you truly do have many questions...
"Unfortunately, there are no answers in a nightmare!"
A thick fog abruptly descended upon the plain. The heavy mist instantly shut down everyone’s senses. In the darkness, all that could be seen was the phantom of a gigantic spider darting swiftly through the fog. Yuri spread his hands, constantly tracing golden magic symbols to reinforce everyone’s minds. Magnan stirred up a powerful ntal Storm, continually dispersing the spiritual pollution closing in on them. Selena held her portable lamp, watching the shifts within the fog with wary attention while also glancing toward Gawain’s direction.
Gawain gripped his longsword in one hand, his gaze slowly sweeping across the dense mist before him. The giant spider’s shadow flashed past his eyes, yet he only calmly stepped half a pace back and, without looking behind him, said, "Yuri, Magnan, you two return to the real world."
...
Deep within the underground ruins of the Eternal Sleepers’ headquarters, the lowest containnt sector lay utterly silent, as though the entire palace had been shrouded in the stillness of deep sleep.
In a separate containnt room close to the lower-level assembly hall, the "Spirit Singer" Wendy—her features gentle, her deanor serene—sat quietly on her bed, watching a nearly transparent white spider of unknown origin. She watched it diligently spin webs in the corner of the wall, watched it scamper back and forth on the floor.
Wendy’s expression was calm, her eyes as still as water, as if she had been staring like this for a century already, and intended to go on staring just the sa.
All of a sudden, she blinked, and lifted her head as though startled awake from a dream.
On the opposite side of the bed, the sea demons Runes carved with magic-conducting material were quietly emitting a faint glow, radiating a strange power that cleared the mind and sharpened thought.
Wendy suddenly furrowed her brow.
Spiders... Why would there be spiders in a containnt facility that enforces such strict control and cleaning protocols?
The Archbishop got to her feet and, almost unconsciously, walked over to the spiderweb in the corner. The spider, startled by her, rapidly flailed its long legs and scuttled up the wall—and halfway up, it vanished into thin air right before Wendy’s eyes.
Wendy’s expression turned serious in an instant.
She strode quickly to the iron door and slapped it twice with force. "Mr. Guardian, how are things outside?"
After a delay of a second or two, the muffled voice of a Spirit Knight ca from outside the door. "Everything outside is normal, Archbishop Wendy."
Wendy frowned, quietly opened her visual field of the mind, and in the hazy vision brought by this ntal sight, she peered through the heavy tal door and saw the Spirit Knight guardian standing in the corridor outside, clad in a thick helt and armor.
Although not a combat specialist, Wendy was at least a priest of Archbishop level. The reinforced doors and walls of the containnt area, imbued with protective effects, could not completely block her probing.
"Mr. Guardian," a faint light flowed in Wendy’s eyes as she stared at the silhouette in the corridor, and she spoke softly in a voice laced with a touch of power, "is everything really normal out there?"
"Everything outside is normal, Archbishop Wendy."
The guardian in heavy armor replied in that muffled tone, but in Wendy’s visual field of the mind, she clearly saw him slowly raise his right hand, laying it horizontally across his chest, palm facing down!
Pollution from the Supre Narrator?! When did it happen?!
Wendy, who had thought herself the first "Spirit Singer" to be contaminated by the Supre Narrator and taken into containnt, abruptly widened her eyes and vaguely realized that everyone had already been deceived by so sort of false image. She pressed her hand against the cold tal door, her gaze swiftly hardening.
Her thinking took only two seconds.
The next instant, she turned around, flattening herself against the wall beside the door, her eyes locked on the magic symbol on the opposite wall that carried a mysterious power and could purify ntal contamination. In a clear voice, she said:
"To the Supre Narrator, to our all-knowing, all-powerful Lord—"
From the corridor outside ca the faint clink and scrape of armor, as if the guardian were tilting his head to listen.
"Fellow believer, open the door," Wendy controlled her heartbeat and breathing, speaking in an even tone. "The ti of the Lord’s descent has co."
There was a brief stillness outside. Wendy waited in that almost unbearable silence until at last she heard the voice of the Spirit Knight guardian reach her ears. "I understand. Please wait a mont. Fellow believer, that is truly good news."
Accompanied by the screech and clatter of tal, Wendy saw the iron door beside her slowly open, and then a figure in silver-white armor stepped inside.
"Fellow belie—" the figure began.
Wendy suddenly shot out her hand and grabbed the man’s arm. With a sharp yank and twist, she hauled the tall guardian off his feet, swinging him half a circle in midair. Man and armor slamd heavily into the wall to the side, and the full-plate armor, like a tal can, erupted in a teeth-rattling crash—KLANG!!
Before he could hit the ground, Wendy lunged forward again. She drove the Spirit Knight, who still had a shred of consciousness and the ability to resist, down onto the floor, seized his helted head in both hands, and forcibly turned the visor-covered eyes to et her own as she shouted in a low voice, "Look at !
"Mind Shock!"
The brawny Spirit Knight with decent ntal resistance had no power to fight back against a sudden, point-blank strike from an Archbishop. He fell into deep unconsciousness almost instantly.
Only after confirming the guardian had no strength left to retaliate did Wendy release her grip, letting the heavy helt crash onto the floor with a bang.
Then she got up and turned toward the corridor.
But she had only taken a few steps, just about to cross the threshold, when she suddenly stopped.
The warning rising from the depths of her mind made her forcibly halt and quickly search her mory for anything crucial she might have overlooked.
A second later, she turned back and saw the mysterious magic symbol on the wall—the very one that had helped her break free from the Supre Narrator’s ntal contamination step by step.
She did not dare to be sure whether she still carried any contamination, and she did not even dare to be sure whether her leaving the room at this mont ca from her own will, or from sothing else.
After standing there, thinking and hesitating for a mont, Wendy drew a soft breath and made a swift decision.
She had to go and alert the fellow believers in the upper levels—the containnt facility was already polluted!!
(Maa ye!!!!!!!!)
(I’m out of energy, peacefully lying flat in my vegetable state...
The two-Chapter daily run is over; from here on out we’re back to single Chapters. To be honest, I didn’t actually stockpile enough drafts this ti. These past two days, the second Chapter has been written and posted on the spot, and today my energy finally couldn’t keep up... Looking back on it, after all, I’ve been writing for ten years now. My body really has gone downhill a lot compared to when I first started: not enough stamina, and it feels like my tenosynovitis is about to flare up again, so I can only stop here.
I’ll rest for a while and then try to build up a buffer of Chapters.
Lastly, since I’m idle anyway, I might as well beg for so monthly votes! This month’s and next month’s both—throw them my way, who knows, maybe there are so lying around?)
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