Volume Three: The Academy's Full-Scale Rampage - The ▇▇▇ Called ▇▇

"Xiao Wu --Where are you--"

In the hollow of the sixth district,

In the underground, in the intricate network of corridors, Ling Ye ran through the deserted corridors.

"A spatial ability user? The space here is completely chaotic... but after circling around a couple more times, I should be able to figure out the general terrain."

Ling Ye dashed around a corner, dropping a small knife and planting it in the ground—his mark. He marked most of the confusing forks in the road; if it were just a matter of figuring out the way he came from and was going to be fine, but Xiao Wu, who had gone in first, hadn't appeared yet. Was she lost?

"Xiao Wu doesn't seem to be good at navigation, so it looks like I'll have to bring her out myself..."

That's right, Xiao Wu isn't good at finding her way around; she just wanders around aimlessly like a headless fly.

At least an hour has passed.

It must be almost morning by now, since we started our infiltration.

This is troublesome.

"We've already dealt with that perverted butterfly man, so why hasn't the spatial disorder been restored?! Aaaaaaah!"

Xiao Wu shouted angrily. She was furious that she couldn't immediately deliver the item to her companion who was in imminent danger, even though Xiao Wu had finally obtained it.

In her hand was a piece of cloth torn from a stolen uniform, wrapped around a small, transparent box.

Thump.

A deep, resonant heartbeat emanated from the box, accompanied by a flash of shimmering green light with each beat.

"This thing is really bizarre..."

Despite being a broken lump of flesh, it could still glow and beat like a heart, and the rich vitality that occasionally overflowed even surprised Xiao Wu.

The feathered serpent is the earliest creature to appear on the Spirit Star in ancient mythology, and it wouldn't be an exaggeration to say that it is the origin of all life. The very existence of such a creature is a remarkable miracle in itself.

Of course, nowadays the idea that "life evolved from single-celled to multicellular organisms" is already common knowledge, and more and more people believe that the legendary "earliest life on the Spirit Star" is just nonsense and only exists in legends.

"But these things, the legends about them, might actually be true..."

At the very least, the bizarre lump of flesh in my arms has defied common sense.

But after absorbing this substance, will Ye truly be able to suppress the erosion of the Rakshasa True Word?

Nobody knows until they try.

"Anyway, we have to hurry! Get this thing to her quickly!"

Now it's a real race against time; every millisecond is incredibly precious for that time bomb.

All along, Si Nan Xiao had been keeping it a secret from the children, and she and Givinia had been working day and night, and everything they had built could be destroyed in the next instant.

Moreover, and more importantly--

"--That idiot Qipao Woman!"

Xiao Wu unconsciously clenched her teeth.

More importantly,

If they fail now, everything Haoyue Tartaglia has endured and sacrificed will be for nothing.

Every time Xiao Wu recalls the scars on her once beautiful body, scars that even she finds astonishing, she feels a heart-wrenching pain.

Escape, escape, escape.

Bathed in the morning light, I dragged my weak limbs, shoving through countless pedestrians who stared at me in astonishment, desperately trying to escape.

There is no destination, nor is a destination necessary.

The noise of the crowd, car horns, and the wind was all so loud.

Run away, run away, go somewhere far away from everyone.

Otherwise, if there are too many people around, I--

What will happen to me?

"I... oooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo..."

My head hurts, my head hurts so much it feels like it's going to explode! Scenes from just now flash before my eyes: blood, blood, blood everywhere! Blood has stained the laundry room floor, the laundry baskets, the sheets and blankets—blood has stained the laundry room floor, the laundry baskets, the sheets and blankets!

Why? Why are there so many bloodstains on the things that were originally laid out on the bed?

Why are they monitoring me and keeping me under house arrest?

Why does this estrangement occur?

What exactly happened?

--No, I should say, what did I do?

"Ugh... ahhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh..."

Running, running, even a body several times stronger than before after the transmigration felt uncomfortable; the throat was dry, the lungs felt constricted, and there was a sharp pain in the side of the abdomen.

"Run, run, run..."

Even though I was in excruciating pain, I didn't slow down at all.

It felt like something was chasing me.

"But there's no need to rush. Look, there's no one around."

I looked around, and sure enough, it was true.

In the park behind the Mikael Girls' Academy, drifting clouds obscured the sunlight, casting leaden shadows that dimmed the lush foliage and roadside flowers.

Can a mere change in lighting really transform a refreshing and pleasant scene into something so lifeless?

"Light enters through the eyes, and since the eyes are the windows to the soul, it's normal for them to affect a person's senses."

Yeah...

My mood has calmed down a bit.

Should I thank myself for being so adaptable?

I sat down on a bench by the park path, staring blankly at the scenery before me, trying to clear my mind, but my mood only got worse, so I simply lowered my head and stopped looking.

The gray floor tiles beneath my feet seemed to mock my escape, unfurling wisps of rust-red before vanishing in the next instant.

I don't know when, but the feeling of the wind blowing on my body disappeared.

The drifting cloud shadows on the ground also disappeared.

The faint sound of an air raid siren could be heard in the distance.

The orange-red light, like an exaggerated version of the setting sun, shone through the window and fell on my profile.

The smooth, gray floor tiles have been replaced by an old cement floor.

A scene of decay and desolation.

The phrase "The hour of twilight is the time when demons appear" inexplicably popped into my mind again, even though it wasn't twilight yet.

Wait, isn't it... dusk?

So what is this orange-red light...?

I looked up and saw the interior of a small room, no more than fifteen square meters in size.

The mottled, old cement floor, the scratched wooden cabinets, the books piled in the corner, the creaking ceiling fan, the dark fluorescent light tubes at both ends, and the peeling white paint on the walls mostly covered with yellowed old newspapers—although there were quite a few things, the small room didn't feel crowded; instead, it exuded an indescribable sense of emptiness.

To the left is a half-open old glass window, through which the exaggerated orange-red afterglow of the setting sun shines in. To the right is an old-fashioned screen door covered with rust, through which you can see the dimly lit hallway outside. Small advertisements are stuffed into the gaps in the screen.

It's like a corner of an old residential building from thirty years ago, or a temporary stop for migrant workers in the city.

I was sitting on a high round stool with metal legs full of dents and the seat cushion worn down.

Opposite to me, against the wall covered with old newspapers, was a bed.

It was a single bed that only reached knee height, covered with a thin, faded quilt, beneath which was a rusty metal bed frame.

And "he" sat on the simple bed opposite me, half of his body, including his face, was covered in shadow, while the other half was dyed orange-red by the setting sun. The stark contrast in colors made it hard to know where to look.

"Hi, would you like some beer?"

He pointed to the bedside table, which was covered with bottles and jars—Snowflake, Yanjing, Tsingtao—all familiar brands.

"No, I won't..."

"Oh, then never mind. But he's almost twenty, so a little drink is fine."

"... Who are you?"

"▇▇▇" "..."

It feels like I've remembered it, but also like I haven't.

"There's no need to ask such irrelevant questions. A name is just a label; as long as the essence remains the same, it doesn't matter what name you have."

"It seems so..."

"You probably have something else you want to ask, right?"

"... Will you answer me no matter what I ask?"

"If it's a 'question,' I might not answer truthfully, but if it's a 'wish,' I'll definitely satisfy you."

"You mean... you can grant my 'wish'?"

"Rather than fulfilling a wish, it's more accurate to say that you're making a transaction. It's like the clichés in some cheesy literary works: if you want to achieve something, you have to pay a corresponding 'price'."

"The way you put it... it's just like ▇▇!"

"I am indeed a [blank], but compared to other honest and trustworthy business people, I am slightly free from the constraints of equivalent exchange, and can exercise my power according to my own will. In that case, I am probably the most [blank]-like human being, and also the most human [blank]-like human being."

I am confused.

What evidence do you have to prove your strength?

"It's very simple, for example..."

Although I couldn't see "his" face clearly, I could sense that "he" was smiling.

Why do people in this other world speak Chinese?

"...!!!"

Why is the script in this other world all in simplified Chinese characters?

"You..."

"Why have you, who have long been famous in the Northern Realm Rally, been ignored by the organization?"

"You... what...!"

"You want me to prove my strength? Then I'll tell you, evidence is everywhere."

"--That's enough!!!"

"Now you can probably believe in my power, right? Can you now express your wish?"

"..."

I fell into a brief silence.

"I..."

Without a doubt, "his" power is real.

Actually, even without evidence, I don't know why I believe "his" words from the bottom of my heart.

If you ask this "person" for help, they can probably grant any request, no matter what it is.

In that case, in that case--

"I want to know the truth."

"Very good."

The other party only uttered those two words.

"So, you just said there would be a price to pay, right...?"

He shifted his body, revealing his emaciated, malnourished neck and chin from the shadows.

Her pale lips revealed a reassuring smile.

"The price? No... the price you have to pay is what you'll have to bear after you learn the truth."

Then, in the shadows of the dilapidated room, something stirred.

It is an inorganic substance, yet it wriggles like an insect or a snake.

Those are barbed wire.

Often seen in war movies as a defensive and trap lining trenches, barbed wire consists of one or two wires twisted together as the main wire, with many smaller pieces of wire twisted onto the main wire to form sharp spikes.

These are the things that emerge from the shadows: countless barbed wires, each covered in rust and blood, some with wisps of flesh still clinging to their tips.

Something that sends chills down my spine is right in front of me, yet I can't muster the slightest thought of dodging or resisting it.

Let countless barbed wires pierce his brain--

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

I bet there will be a group of people who don't look closely and think "he" is the author, me, or the protagonist's alter ego or something.