Artificial Core of Existence (Thirty-Six)
I wonder if I might have helped those elderly folks a little with their fear of aging.
Under the Tyrant's might, the dream collapsed with no room for negotiation.
Back in the Reappearance Office, Fu Qian had already returned to his normal size, and he let out a sigh.
He wasn't sure why his target had such strict requirements for its habitat, but there had undoubtedly been emotions unique to the elderly filling that dream.
The lifelessness and the somber mood flowing from people near the end of their lives had merged together, forming a sanctuary of decay.
Perhaps that was why the mysterious creature had chosen that place. Or perhaps it had been born there.
Actually, now that he thought about it, he should call it a mysterious creature.
Fu Qian looked behind the desk.
The owner of the office was still there, of course.
But now that he was out, the old man wasn't shocked by his reappearance.
The old man's eyes, which needed lenses to function properly, had been decisively discarded.
In their place, a pair of pupil-less eyeballs had opened between the pores of his skin.
Of course, that didn't mean they were pure black or red.
They were spherical masses, twisted together from layer upon layer of growths resembling those found on human bodies.
At a glance, they easily brought to mind Lady Thirteen's description of the changes to Mr. Rick. They also seemed to be the most direct embodiment of the concept of pestilence.
Under their gaze, Fu Qian could feel his Primal Self, which had been slowly healing from the injury he'd sustained earlier, stop recovering altogether.
And they weren't the only things facing him.
Under the old man's ribs, a pair of enormous, familiar-looking claws made of