The moment the voice exploded in his mind, Lake’s knees almost buckled.
He gritted his teeth and remained standing.
The rock platform beneath his feet trembled slightly as the grey mist surged from all directions, pressing against his skin with a heavy weight. Above him, that massive greyish-white eyeball remained suspended, devoid of emotion, simply watching him in silence.
Lake steadied his breathing and relaxed his clenched fists.
He understood his situation perfectly.
His transcendent power had been completely stripped away, and his body had been compressed back into its human form. He couldn’t sense a single one of his Swarming Worms. The rock platform was barely three or four paces wide, surrounded by a void. Movement was pointless, shouting would bring no response, and struggling was a waste of strength.
The voice had already spoken three times.
“State your wish.”
The first time had come from afar, the second was closer, and the third had been poured directly into his mind.
The Man on the Wall was urging him to speak.
Lake looked up, staring at the massive face within the grey mist and the greyish-white eyeball that occupied the entire sky.
He had already recognized this place.
From the memories the Swarming Worms had extracted from the rank 3 Grey Covenant member, he knew this was where those believer transcendents received their orders. They would kneel on this rock platform, facing the head in the grey mist, and receive the commands delivered by The Man on the Wall.
Now, it was his turn.
The Man on the Wall did not intend to let him leave. At least, not until he spoke.
Lake made a judgment.
Rather than passively waiting for the entity’s next move, it was better to test its depth himself. If this thing truly could grant wishes, he would make it prove it. If not, he could at least determine where its boundaries lay.
Lake spoke.
His voice sounded tiny in the grey mist, like a pebble dropped into a deep well.
“Without using any deception or equivalent trickery, eliminate all enemies of the Empire.”
He paused for a moment.
“I am willing to offer everything I have.”
The head in the grey mist did not respond.
The greyish-white eyeball slowly turned half an inch, stopping directly above Lake. The silence lasted for a long time, so long that Lake almost thought the entity didn’t intend to answer.
Then, the voice rang out.
“You are unable to pay.”
The same overlapping voices, the same texture of heavy thunder, but only five words.
Lake’s fingers tightened slightly.
The Man on the Wall could do it. It was simply that he couldn't afford the price.
A rank 4 eerie transcendent, willing to sacrifice his entire being, was still not enough to trade for the wish to “eliminate all enemies of the Empire.” This meant the scope of The Man on the Wall’s power far exceeded his original estimation. The mechanism for granting wishes was also clear: equivalent exchange, with the cost borne by the wisher.
Lake did not panic; instead, he grew even calmer.
Since the entity was bound by rules, he would continue to test them.
“Without violating the Imperial Regulations, let me reach rank 7.”
This time, The Man on the Wall’s response was faster.
“The rules do not allow it; I am powerless.”
When Lake heard the words “the rules do not allow it,” the last sliver of hope in his heart vanished.
The Man on the Wall was restricted by some kind of rule. Rank 7 was beyond His power; this existence itself was at least at the legend level. Those members of the Grey Covenant had clearly wished for something and accepted the price set by The Man on the Wall.
And that price was themselves.
Lake confirmed one thing: The Man on the Wall was powerful, but He had boundaries.
The head in the grey mist remained suspended, and the pupil-less eyeball stayed fixed on Lake, seemingly still waiting for him to voice a wish He could fulfill.
Lake made his final decision.
“Without violating my faith, let me leave this place.”
This time, The Man on the Wall did not respond immediately.
The grey mist began to surge slowly, the amplitude of the movement growing larger and larger. The mist billowed upward from around the rock platform, carrying a faint sense of pressure.
Then, an invisible force spread from the depths of the grey mist, settling over Lake.
Lake could not resist. His body moved beyond his control, his limbs grew stiff, and his consciousness was pulled toward a certain direction.
There was no pain or any other sensation; instead, an image flooded his consciousness.
It was a small town near a cliffside.
Everywhere were low walls built of stone, with kerosene lamps hanging from them, their dim yellow flames flickering in the wind.
The sky was so grey that the sun was invisible, and in the distance, clusters of barren hills stretched all the way to the horizon.
A fierce wind howled, whipping up gravel and withered weeds from the ground, clattering against the stone walls.
The town looked small, with only a few dozen households. Stone walls surrounded several rows of low houses with roofs covered in crude stone slabs.
It was clearly a remote and desolate place, likely a corner on the outermost edge of the Imperial map.
The image spread before Lake’s eyes; he could neither close them nor look away.
But he recognized this place.
There was only one Nightwatcher in the town—a retired veteran wearing a faded dark grey uniform, the watermark seal on the cuff already worn beyond recognition.
He was the town’s only transcendent and the only person for a hundred miles who could stand at the front when eerie entities appeared.
The townspeople were laughing and talking, busy gathering something, when suddenly...
The sky in the image abruptly darkened.
The ground began to tremble, and the kerosene lamps on the stone walls swayed. Several fell from their iron hooks, their glass covers shattering on the mud, the flames struggling for a moment in the wind before dying out.
The townspeople were clearly dazed. Adults shouted, the Nightwatcher rushed to the front, children were herded into the center, and specially made torches were brought out.
Light soon reappeared, and the town seemed to return to normal, but then...
The ground shook violently as countless cracks spread. In the next moment, a swarm of insects surged out from beneath the earth.
They were endless dark brown meat-worms, pouring out from the gaps in the stone walls, the cracks in the mud, and from beneath the foundations of the houses.
They huddled together like a writhing carpet, covering every inch of the town’s ground almost instantly. The insects were thick, about the length of a finger joint, with series of annular rings marking their bodies.
Lake watched the image with a calm expression, not a single ripple of emotion showing in his eyes.
By now, Lake understood exactly what The Man on the Wall was doing.
The image continued. The surging insects began to feed.
The moment the people gathered on the ground were touched by the insects, their flesh was eroded at a visible rate. The insects burrowed under their skin, tunneling into muscle, and wormholes began to appear all over the bodies of the living.
Screams filled the entire town. Some fell to the ground, frantically swatting at the insects on them; others clutched children and ran into the alleys.
The man in the dark grey uniform held the line at the front.
With a torch in one hand, a dark halo of light appeared around the other. It was clearly the transcendent power of a Nightwatcher. As the light swept past, a large number of insects were driven away, shrinking back into the gaps of the stone walls.
But it was only a temporary repelling.
The Nightwatcher in the image was clearly stunned.
It seemed that everything before him had exceeded his expectations.
The worm tide was endless, surging continuously from the ground.
For every patch the man cleared, more insects crawled up from another direction behind him. His halo began to flicker, the dark light growing dimmer with each pulse.
Sweat from his forehead ran into his eyes. He raised a hand to wipe it away; three or four wormholes were already bleeding on the back of his hand.
He finally reached his limit. The crowd being swallowed by the worm tide behind him grew smaller, as few were left standing.
The man turned his head and rasped out his final command.
“Take the torches and break out—”
Before he could finish, insects burst from his flesh.
The dark grey uniform was forced open from the inside by the surging insect bodies. Within seconds, only a writhing mound of worms remained on the ground.
The crowd fought desperately to break out.
Adults held torches to lead the way, but the insects crawled onto the torches, consuming the burning cloth.
People then set their own clothes on fire and ran forward, the flames illuminating a short stretch of the path.
But human lives were limited.
As the last light was extinguished, the worm tide surged over them, and the people collapsed, wailing.
In the end, only two children were still alive.
Insects had already burrowed into their bodies; they could feel the sickening writhing beneath their skin. One of them shrieked and fell into the swarm.
But the other child suddenly went mad.
He lunged into the swarm.
“Ah! You disgusting things! Why do you get to eat us?! Why?!”
He roared, grabbing with his hands and biting with his teeth, stuffing the insects into his mouth, chewing them up, and swallowing them.
The insects were gnawing on his flesh, and he was eating the insects in return. Holes constantly appeared on his body, with grey worms half-exposed and wriggling from the openings.
He felt that grabbing them was too slow.
He simply dove headfirst into the pile of insects, opening his mouth as wide as he could, shoveling them in and crushing them. The insects' bodies burst between his teeth, their slimy juices mixing with blood and dripping down his chin.
His flesh was disappearing.
The muscles on his arms were gnawed through by the insects, exposing white bone through the tears in his skin. The clothes on his chest were shredded by the surging worms beneath; no intact flesh could be seen inside.
Only a layer of skin remained, with worms writhing beneath.
But he continued to bite, a massive hatred filling his chest, leaving only one thought: revenge, revenge!!
In this manner, an unknown amount of time passed. Perhaps the worm tide receded, or perhaps they were frightened by the child’s ferocity, or maybe they were simply full.
The child knelt on the gravel ground, his fingers digging into the mud, still fumbling to find more insects. His eyes had already been eaten hollow, and worms crawled out of the empty sockets, but he could no longer feel it.
When he could no longer find any insects outside, he began to dig into himself, tearing open his own skin and pulling the insects out of his body one by one to stuff into his mouth. The saltiness of the mud mixed with the metallic tang of blood, but he didn't care; he only wanted to kill them all.
Until every last insect in his body had been eaten by him.
He finally lost his strength and collapsed in despair, waiting for death to arrive.
This was a small town on the Imperial border, and also an Imperial outpost. The people living here didn't just exist; they were responsible for many things.
He didn't know what he could do, but at the very least, he had to let others know what had happened here.
He dragged himself up and fumbled his way in one direction. Through the endless Gobi, he staggered along. His torn chest hung open, the remaining skin flapping in the wind, completely empty inside.
Rate on N.U.
