The ancient courtyard stretched before Ah'Ming, weathered stone tiles cracked and overgrown with crimson moss that hadn't seen true sunlight in decades. At its center, beneath a dilapidated pavilion with sagging wooden beams, sat the statue.
It was a really grotesque thing of yellowed wood, its face twisted in eternal malice.
Ah'Ming hated his face, so while the statue was monologuing, he rushed in full of vigor to attack the statue!
The problem was, the moment Ah'Ming's foot crossed the threshold, the statue's eyes blazed crimson.
"YOU FOOL! AHAHA! YOU HAVE RELEASED US!"
?
What kind of a seal break was this? Stepping in was enough? Damn, those villagers from the past must have been very bad at their jobs. This system was a true laborer.
The voices rattled from the wooden throat like grinding millstones, echoing off the courtyard walls.
Darkness and evil vibes pulsed from the statue in waves, making the air crackle with lightning.
Ah'Ming pushed grey hair from his face, black claws catching the dim light. "I mean like, yeah bro, I knew already. It was kind of obvious."
Though he hadn't been 100% sure that the statue's seal was fully lifted, he still had the confidence to trash talk the ugly driftwood.
The statue's laughter died. A beat of silence.
"Oh?" The stone head tilted, considering. "Then how about... THIS?"
The statue's hand swept through the air in a theatrical gesture. From every shadowed doorway, every darkened corner of the courtyard, the villagers came. Or, at least, what was left of them.
They moved with jerking, unnatural strides, with men, women, even children, all with milk-white eyes that reflected nothing. Their skin had the waxy and ugly quality of corpses, and when the first one's arm bent at the wrong angle during its shambling approach, Ah'Ming saw black ichor drip from the wound instead of blood.
Their only bonus was that they didn't smell bad.
Very surprising.
If the statue was the evil part of the original Yellow robed figure's soul, these must be the evil spirits from the regular villagers. They should also be weaker, right?
But, why was the statue wooden while these villagers were corpses?
"Should've brought friends," Ah'Ming muttered, dropping into a fighting stance. Huipao and Bianheng might not have wanted to clear the main story, but surely they would have enjoyed a fight, right?
(Zhaoying probably would have tried to keep the boss alive just to dissect it for fun.)
The first villager, the closest one at least, lunged with inhuman speed.
Too bad for it, Ah'Ming sidestepped, his ebony[1] claws raking across its torso. The flesh parted like wet paper, black blood spattering the stones.
Gross.
Even with it nearly torn in half, shoulder to waist, the villager didn't even slow down. Another monster came from his blind spot, impossibly strong fingers grabbing his shoulder. He felt his bones creak under the pressure before he twisted free, leaving fabric behind.
|Villager Soul; Aberant DETECTED
"Thanks, man. Real Helpful." Ah'Ming snorted. "I really would have never noticed."
|Shut up, system is doing system's job
|You are also about to die
With that, Ah'Ming dodged another blow.
|E-Grade 'Resentful resort' Level remeasured: Main Story difficulty B-Grade (Upgraded)
Ah'Ming kept moving, kept killing.
Cute little claws slashed through a couple throats, some legs were swept from under far-too-bloated bodies, and the stupidly long necks of the stupidly tall villagers snapped with brutal efficiency. The white-eyed villagers fell one by one, but more kept emerging from the shadows... literally emerging, like they were being born from the darkness itself. Shadow-hands formed from the pavilion's shade, grasping at his ankles, his wrists.
He danced between them, grey hair whipping.
A claw-strike severed a shadow-hand at the wrist; it dissolved into smoke. The courtyard became a killing floor painted in black ichor.
Then the statue raised one finger.
"Let me show you despair."
Chuunibyou, much?
Ah'Ming felt it before he saw it, though, a wrongness crawling across his skin like insects. He looked down and watched in fascination as a pretty black calligraphy spread across his forearms, his hands.
They were characters he couldn't read but somehow understood. He could sort of tell that they were meant to mess up his mind and brainwash him, spreading evil vibes and screaming his 'misdeeds'
Liar. Traitor. Abandoned them. Left her to die. Coward.
The artificial rage came like a tidal wave, and his vision tinged red at the edges.
The nearest villager needed to die. Everything needed to die. The whole world deserved his claws, his fury, his—
Ah'Ming bit down on his tongue hard enough to taste copper. The pain cut through the haze just enough to wake him up slightly. He ripped off his forearm, since that was as far as the calligraphy had reached, and it regrew right away.
He'd lost precious seconds, though.
The villagers had closed the distance. Hands grabbed his arms, his legs. Their strength was monstrous this close to the statue, and he couldn't break free. White eyes stared at him with nothing behind them, mouths opening in silent screams.
Ah'Ming roared, black claws extending further, sharper. He carved through them, and laughed as their blood made spray paint graffiti on the pillars and floors.
The statue's laughter echoed. "Impressive. But can you withstand THIS?"
The fat thing should just shut up already! Ah'Ming glared at it, but it just continued to smile.
More villagers poured from the shadows. Ah'Ming forced himself to keep fighting, but he could feel the corruption. With every passing moment, his strikes grew weaker, his movements slower. The air itself was poison, sapping his strength. How novel.
This was a really interesting effect. The closer to the statue Ah'Ming was, the weaker he got, debuffs stacked upon debuffs. It was the opposite for the villagers, unfortunately. The closer they were to the statue, the stronger they got.
Too bad they weren't strong enough.
Ah'Ming feinted left, then exploded right, sprinting directly at the pavilion. The villagers gave chase, but he'd noticed something: the further they strayed from the statue, the clumsier they became. Out at the courtyard's edges, they were merely human.
Weaklings, imagine relying on something else for power.
He reached the pavilion steps, and punched the statue.
The statue's wooden form cracked, and a bright red light poured from the fissures. Then, the wood began to fold, compress, and it transformed into crimson paper that peeled away in sheets!
"IF I CANNOT KEEP THIS FORM, THEN EVERYTHING SHALL BECOME NOTHING!"
Red paper erupted from the pavilion like a swarm of butterflies, each sheet inscribed with more of that damning calligraphy.
They filled the air, blotting out the sky. Everywhere they touched, reality shifted.
The courtyard stones became paper. The pavilion's wooden beams became paper. The villagers became paper.
Everything became paper!
Ah'Ming's hand became paper as well.
He stared at his fingers, which were flat, two-dimensional, crimson and covered in flowing script. The transformation crept up his arm like frostbite. He could feel it becomming colder, and it shot towards his neck, trying to strangle him.
That was cool!
For the second time that day, Ah'Ming ripped off his right arm and let it regrow. Bones formed first, before tendons and skin layered upon each other.
From the whirlwind of red paper, hands emerged. Flat, crimson hands reaching from every direction, trying to grasp him, to pull him into the swarm, to make him part of the prison.
Ah'Ming's claws were still black, still real. He slashed at the paper hands, shredding them, but for every one destroyed, three more took its place.
The statue's voice boomed from everywhere and nowhere: "BECOME PART OF US! BECOME NOTHING!"
"Shut. UP!"
Ah'Ming dove through the swarm, claws leading. Paper hands grabbed at him, tried to flatten him further. His left leg was paper now, barely supporting his weight. But there, at the eye of the storm, was the ugly statue.
He reached it. Drove his claws deep into its center.
The sphere was ripped apart.
Little fragments of paper flew down from the sky, and everything went back to normal. Sort of, at least. There was a ton of scraps on the ground, with the villagers and all of the red paper settings having turned into black goop, puddles on the floor.
Ah'Ming walked back over, feeling disappointed that the fight had ended so soon. He pouted.
"Hey system? How long did the fight last?"
|The fight lasts approximately five minutes.
"Damn."
|Yes. Most other broadcasters managed twenty minutes before dying.
"Damn."
He walked over, and picked up the once golden book. It still had the footprint on it, and it also had some random stains. He felt a little guilty about ruining a quest item. He grabbed the system panel, and tried to use it to wipe the book.
|SYSTEM HOPES YOU DIE.
|SYSTEM IS GOING TO KILL YOU
|SYSTEM HOPES THAT YOU FAIL AND YOUR SOUL IS TORN TO SMITHEREENS
and more.
Even though the system was so talented at scrubbing feelings raw, it was rather useless at cleaning. Ah'Ming threw it away. The panel flew a couple of feet, before righting itself.
It flew behind Ah'Ming's head, muttering death threats the whole time.
Now that the seal on the statue had broken, the book was also accessible. It had some information on it, but a lot of the book was blank.
The pages... matched up with another blank thing that Ah'Ming had gotten. He pulled the newspaper clippings out of his inventory, and they merged with the book. Over half of the book was still blank.
"Hey system, how do I get out of here?"
|Technically, your body is still outside of the parallel world. Only your soul is here.
Ah'Ming blinked. Really?
"How do I get there?"
|Just imagine it.
"How?"
|If you have strong willpower, you can do it.
"..."
|Fine.
|QUERY: Re-den34t*; patch aid= OVERDRAW RewaRD
"WAIT ARE YOU TAKING MY REWARDS? NO-"
He opened his eyes near the incense holder.
Fuck.
His rewards
QAQ
[1] I don't actually know if ebony is black. I think ebony is either white or black. I'm not sure. I also ran out of data so I ain't googling it XD