The Sated Book

Snap.

The soft sound of the notebook closing rang unusually clearly through the deathly silent room. It was not the crisp sound of pages meeting as before. Instead, it had a dull, satiated quality, as though what had closed was not paper, but the mouth of some living creature after a satisfying meal.

The dizziness from having my mental energy drained quickly faded, replaced by a strange sense of... emptiness? No, not emptiness. It was more like suddenly slowing down after hurtling along at full speed, my senses not yet accustomed to the calm.

The notebook lay quietly on the table. Its black cover seemed deeper and darker than usual, and the damp stain that had seeped black tears earlier had completely vanished, as though it had never existed. Yet it had undeniably changed. It no longer radiated mere coldness and menace. There was something else... an indescribable, restrained, yet even more unnerving "presence." Like a predator feigning sleep, its breathing steady, every inch of its body brimming with explosive strength.

It had "eaten" its fill.

The vast, pure energy from the "Core of Harmony" seemed to have greatly "satisfied" it.

Ryuk remained in the corner, stiff and recoiling, his crimson eyes fixed unblinkingly on the closed notebook. The fear in them had not faded. Instead, it had mingled with a deeper, almost despairing terror. He no longer even whispered. Only an extremely faint hiss escaped his throat, like a broken bellows.

He was afraid. Truly afraid. Afraid of the current state of this notebook he had regarded as a "toy."

I did not reach for it immediately. I simply watched in silence, my mind racing as I analyzed every subtle change.

The notebook's "hunger" had been temporarily satisfied. What did that mean? That it might no longer need "unconventional" judgments to "feed" in the short term? Or that its "palate" had become so refined that it would only be interested in "energy" of the same or a higher caliber from now on?

The explosion of the "Core of Harmony" should have been unfolding over the Pacific at that very moment. What scale of investigation and panic would that release of energy provoke, powerful enough to draw the attention of the international community and even ordinary people? And how should that chaos be steered?

More importantly, there was the reaction of the "Deep Nest." An important energy supply line had been blown apart outright. They would never let that go. Next time, what came would probably be more than a black tear or a warning.

I needed my next plan. I had to act within this window, while the notebook was "sated" and the "Deep Nest" might have been thrown into temporary disarray or fury by the destruction of its energy node.

But what was the next target? What could be more "nourishing" than a "spiritual vein hub"? What could strike another blow against the "Deep Nest"?

My gaze darkened. Perhaps... I had been heading in the wrong direction. The notebook had already "eaten" its fill and temporarily needed no more "energy." After repeated devastating blows, the "Deep Nest" might have suffered a drastic reduction in its ability to intervene directly in reality, or might have been busy repairing itself internally.

What I needed now was not to keep attacking its "body," but to... strike straight at its "consciousness."

I needed a target capable of communicating directly with the ancient, obscure "consciousness" of the "Deep Nest"-or rather... confronting it. An existence that could force them to reveal more of their true nature, rather than merely clashing indirectly through proxies and energy nodes.

An... "interpreter"? Or a "sacrifice"?

My eyes swept once more over the fragmentary ancient knowledge drawn from the memories of the "Silent Council" and "Mentor." Summoning rituals? Mediums? Living anchors?

A name surfaced, accompanied by tremendous risk and uncertainty.

Cassandra Albion. An exceedingly rare woman born with "Absolute Mediumship." But she was no summoner of spirits. She was a terrifying "spiritual vacuum cleaner"-unconsciously and uncontrollably attracting and consolidating free-floating spiritual energy and fragments of ancient thought across an enormous surrounding area. This left her mind perpetually on the brink of collapse, while also making her a walking, unstable "information aggregate." The "Silent Council" had once tried to control her, using her as a "filter" for low-risk communication with the "Deep Nest." Ultimately, however, they had abandoned the attempt, unable to withstand the mental contamination and reality-warping effects she caused, and permanently isolated her in a highly classified facility.

Use her. Not kill her, but... briefly "activate" her, turning her into a living "lens" or "antenna" to forcibly establish a direct channel to the "Deep Nest." This might offer a glimpse of their true form and intentions. It might also... bring utter destruction.

Her "death" should be a... flood of consciousness.

I walked over to the table. My fingers slowly reached toward the closed notebook.

The instant my fingertips touched its cover, I felt a warm, smooth texture, like the skin of a living creature, rather than its former cold lifelessness! I could even feel something slow and powerful beneath it... a pulse?

Suppressing the unease within me, I opened the notebook.

The pages seemed more supple, even possessing the faintest hint of elasticity. The ink of the names and causes of death I had written before looked blacker and more lustrous.

The pen hovered.

What would writing feel like this time? Now that the notebook was "sated," would it be easier to wield, or... harder to control?

The pen touched down.

There was none of the suction or resistance I had expected.

Only a... hitherto unknown... smoothness.

It was as though the pen was not writing on paper, but gliding naturally over some intensely resonant medium. My will flowed beneath its tip almost without loss, perfectly transformed into precise characters. I could even feel every stroke stirring a faint ripple in the vast reserve of newly absorbed energy inside the notebook.

[Cassandra Albion]

Cause of death: bridge construction. Time: tomorrow at sunset, inside her isolation facility. Cause of death: her innate "spiritual vacuum" property will be briefly amplified to an extreme degree and precisely directed by the notebook's energy, forcibly constructing a pure, bidirectional channel of consciousness between her and the primary consciousness of the "Deep Nest," lasting ten seconds and impossible to close. During those ten seconds, her brain will endure an unimaginable flood of information and burn out completely. Before her death, all monitoring and recording equipment in her isolation facility will synchronously record every observable external manifestation during those ten seconds (light and shadow, sound, energy readings, etc.).

Not killing her. Using her as a disposable bridge.

The pen left the page.

There was not the slightest dizziness. Only a cold sense of absolute control.

The notebook had executed it perfectly. It had even... sent back an exceedingly faint emotional ripple, almost like "pleasure"?

It had worked.

I closed the notebook. Once again, it made that dull, soft sound of satiety.

Snap.

Now, to wait for sunset.

To wait for those ten seconds of...

Facing the abyss.

The next day, at sunset.

Inside a highly classified isolation facility buried deep underground.

Cassandra Albion huddled in the corner of a specially padded room, muttering to herself with vacant eyes, unsettling fluctuations of energy radiating from her body.

Suddenly!

She jerked her head up! Her eyes instantly turned pure black, without a trace of white! Her mouth opened impossibly wide!

An extremely shrill, distorted howl of thought, mingling countless inhuman languages and screams, erupted from her-a howl that did not travel through the air!

At the same instant, spiderweb cracks covered the isolation room's reinforced glass! Every monitoring screen dissolved into frenzied static! Every needle on the energy gauges slammed past its limit!

The lights flickered madly and changed color, casting twisted, writhing, indescribable shadows across the walls!

Vaguely, the outlines of countless enormous, inhuman eyes seemed to flash through the flickering light and shadow!

A scent spread through the air, mingling an icy, ancient chill like the vacuum between stars with an indescribable, rotten sweetness.

Ten seconds.

As long as a century.

The ten seconds ended.

Every strange phenomenon abruptly vanished.

Cassandra Albion collapsed to the floor, black, scorched fluid leaking from every opening in her face. She was already dead.

Every piece of monitoring equipment emitted wisps of smoke, utterly ruined.

All that remained was a devastated room, and terrifying fragments of data in the recording equipment that perhaps no one would dare readily decipher.

In my room.

Fragments of a top-secret alert about a "serious unknown incident" at an underground research institute filled the screen.

I sat at the table.

Waiting.

Waiting for what those ten seconds of connection might provoke,

The most direct response from the "Deep Nest."

Time ticked by, second after second.

Nothing happened.

No interference. No warning. No black tears.

Only deathly silence.

As though, in those ten seconds of facing one another,

The other side had also been...

Intimidated?

Or perhaps...

Just as I was almost ready to believe this gamble had been futile-

In the air before me,

Those lingering traces,

From the ten-second connection,

Of that cold, rotten sweetness,

Suddenly began to condense.

They gathered into several,

Constantly twisting, shifting,

Seemingly formed of icy smoke,

In an unrecognizable language,

Ancient symbols.

The symbols hovered for a moment,

Then,

As though alive,

Slowly,

They formed a...

Huge,

Cold,

Filled with endless majesty and indifference,

Question mark.

It lingered for only an instant.

Then vanished completely.

The unnatural scent in the air disappeared with it.

As though nothing had ever happened.

Leaving only me,

Facing empty air,

And what had been seared into my mind,

That enormous,

Cold question mark.

So,

Is this your answer?

"Deep Nest."

A...

Question mark?