Beasts were gods fallen from the Altar, and gods were beasts draped in gold and finery.
—Volume Six: Gods and Beasts
"Lin Jue, save us! Didn't you promise to get us out alive? Don't go back on your word!"
"You're the top-ranked player, the chief player! How could you possibly fail? Do you just not want to help us at all?"
"You're all we have. You're the only one with any hope of clearing this. You have to—you have to lead us to victory..."
Fu Jue stood in the darkness, listening as pleas and accusations swirled around him. At times, they seemed to come from some alien space-time farther than the farthest distance; at others, they were so close they seemed to be right beside him.
The torn, frantic voices gradually distorted with the passage of time, becoming twisted and eerie. For a moment, they resembled the monstrous babble from the depths of a nightmare, thick with malice as they sought to drag the living into hell.
When those trapped in the mire of despair glimpsed a flicker of light on the shore, they instinctively reached out and clutched their last straw of hope. Even if the stalk snapped and they sank into the swamp together, it was still better than dying alone.
When the instinct to survive reached its limit, even desire became sharp enough to wound. Those too weak to help could only rush forward in vain, one after another drowning alongside the person who had fallen into the water.
This was the essence of every struggle and conflict in the Eerie Game.
The Minimum Death Quota mechanism, the final Instance... too many people's fates were beyond their own control. They could only hope to gain salvation through others, kill the weak, worship the strong, and then die