episode_0030

“Hmm, 17 of them.”

Swinging the parasol to shake off the blood, he glanced around.

Three of those who had fled as if it didn’t matter were left. He felt like chasing them, but just cleaning up the scene would keep him quite busy. So, he decided to let them go, pretending not to care.

After this rampage, they probably won’t dare to make a peep around here for a while.

Yoo Dahee had also managed to take down quite a few opponents, but there were still a considerable number left. It seemed that frequent clashes were happening elsewhere, but that was none of their concern now that this area was sorted out.

[46/100]

It was time to start confirming the spoils of victory one by one, but Yoo Dahee was still gazing beyond the hill of bodies.

One person was still alive.

This peculiar individual didn’t flee or fight back. With long hair covering their face, sunken eyes, skinny limbs, and an eerie wheezing sound, they were the kind of person you’d rather avoid even being near, let alone meeting.

Even though Yoo Dahee prided herself on not discriminating against people based on appearance or gender and believed in equal treatment, there were certain physical forms that could evoke nothing but revulsion.

Just being near this person exuded such malevolence that it felt as if they were standing in the middle of a communal graveyard, enveloped in an icy chill.

She felt an overwhelming urge to rush over and smash that head open right then and there, just as she had done before with the Blipping ritual. The blood around her responded to her intention, forming a circle, but the person just stared fixedly at Yoo Dahee’s face, paying no attention to the ritual itself.

“Stop this meaningless act.”

As he shook the talisman from his sleeve, the blood scattered as if in disappointment.

This person knew this ritual was fake, just a scare tactic.

Well, 17 should have been enough to handle, what more could I ask for… With a slightly regretful feeling, Yoo Da-hee swallowed his sigh.

It was really nice how they would come running and playfully nuzzle up against him even when he just stood still.

As Yoo Da-hee gripped Parashu tightly, ready to spring away, that’s when he spoke.

“My name is Janmang (殘亡). I have no intention of directly fighting with you.”

“Is that so? Given the current situation, it’s hard to understand that, isn’t it?”

If you weren’t going to fight, you should have escaped together when I released the three earlier.

“Anyway, I know very well that I can’t beat you up close… Isn’t it enough to dive into such an obvious fight with the previous 17?”

At the same time as the talisman fluttered from Janmang’s hand, it began to tightly envelop Yoo Da-hee.

When trying to ignore the talisman and move forward, small sparks flew up.

“Wolryeongbaekbu, unfold.”

One by one, the talismans, as if alive, began to emit a faint moonlight, and something vague began to be spewed out from them.

The opaque things grumbled around Yoo Da-hee, or brushed past his cheeks and face, scattering their energy.

“Haha… How does it feel, Yoo Da-hee, to wander in the illusion shown by Wolryeongbaekbu?”

“….?”

No, whatever he says.

From Yoo Da-hee’s perspective, they just seem like meaningless things swaying about.

According to Janmang’s words, it seemed to be a technique of delusion that overlays illusions on the subject.

But for that to work, Yoo Da-hee’s mental strength was too, abnormal.

If we were to judge by the commonly spoken “sanity+value,” it might not only have reached 0 but rather caused an overflow, permanently maintaining a state of 99.

He had spent years forgetting the days counting the time during which he had rolled and accumulated knowledge that shouldn’t be seen or touched, as tentacles ravaged his brain.

Wouldn’t it be strange to wish for normalcy instead?

“Ah, ah, ah! Ah, haha!”

Unaware of Yudahee’s state, Jamang vigorously shook the talisman in her hand. “It’s nice to see idols dancing, but this is like a terror-level cursed image.”

Concerned that a sudden approach might make Yudahee flee, Jamang pretended to be entranced and waved the talisman around, slightly relaxing her gaze. She didn’t forget to take slow steps forward, but when she advanced a certain distance, the talisman resisted, blocking her path.

Tsk.

As Yudahee contemplated how to deal with the annoying creature, Jamang thrust the bronze mirror she had been holding into Yudahee. “Danyesemungyeong… absorb!”

The moonlight emitted from the clashing talismans condensed into a single point and was swiftly absorbed into the bronze mirror, disappearing. Despite Jamang’s desperate display, from Yudahee’s perspective, it was merely a visually pleasing magic show—neither valuable nor worthless.

Completely oblivious to Yudahee’s condition, Jamang held up the brilliantly shining mirror and shouted, “Show me what Yudahee saw, Danyesemungyeong!”

Then, like watching a child’s prank, Yudahee’s horrified eyes gradually widened. “Th-this damn bastard!”

She was filled with astonishment. The prank had turned into a wildfire.

==============================================

Success.

Having safely entered Yudahee’s mental world, Jamang burst into laughter. It was a miraculous feat achieved through perfect control and timing of the spell. Now, other than wandering through the space of consciousness to gather information, Jamang had nothing else to do.

The first thing Jamang selected were Yudahee’s “worst” memories. Although she had entered the consciousness unscathed, swiftly crumbling Yudahee’s mental world to effortlessly access the memories she desired required this step.

Among the most recent memories, there was one of a girl with white hair offering a box.

[Do not press the button, do not press the button, do not press the button, do not press the button, do not press the button.]

Yoo Da-hee vehemently denied that memory.

If so, pressing the button was cognitive dissonance, but Jang-mang went ahead and pressed the button on Yoo Da-hee’s body in the memory—just as it was. Click.

And then, Jang-mang realized.

This… feels like something is wrong.

His whole body froze, and his brain seemed unable to think properly, as if it was being gnawed at by something.

The surroundings gradually turned pitch black, and sharp sensations coursed through his entire body, along with the face of a girl who seemed to be smiling.

“It seems to work on the guy behind. Lucky.”

Jang-mang locked eyes with the girl.

“….!”

He hadn’t seen wrong.

That girl was now fully aware of herself.

Jang-mang tried to retreat, denying that she could accurately perceive her own self in the mental world, but it was too late.

“Come on in, contracted one, Jang-mang.”

Only then did the back of the girl start to come into view.

A colossal body and a distorted aura of madness that distorted humanity, too much to take in at once.

Even though his mouth involuntarily gaped open, saliva dripping uncontrollably, and although it was his mental body, blood tears welled up in his eyes, staining them red.

His brain, his brain was melting.

“Ahh-ahhhh-ahhhhh-ahhhhh!”

Unbearable, unbearable, unbearable, unbearable.

He wanted to gouge out his eyes that beheld the indescribable and smash his head against the ground right then and there, but that presence would never allow it.

The girl, silently smiling, only moving her lips to convey her meaning, but… Jang-mang could understand.

[You pressed the damn button, didn’t you?]

In an instant, he felt himself being sucked somewhere, and Jang-mang’s consciousness was flung onto the ground.

“Sob, sob…!” Only now did he manage to breathe, and his eyes opened fully, but what unfolded before Jang-mang’s eyes was even greater despair than before.

Endlessly sprawling land with no horizon in sight, a world where nothing could be felt except the dark sky and one’s own body lying there. Not even the moon’s radiance or the warmth of the sun could be sensed. A day passed. Jangmang exhausted every means at his disposal, but no response came. A month passed. Jangmang fervently pleaded to the dark sky, blood streaming from his head, yet he continued, pleading over and over again. “I was wrong. I was wrong. I was wrong. Please, just…” A year passed. “Hah…haha…” Jangmang attempted self-harm by cutting his wrist, but the flowing blood vanished like a lie, and his body returned unscathed. A mental realm that did not even allow death. And… 10… 100… 1000… Innumerable hours, Jangmang regretted and regretted… and regretted. “[Eh? What’s this? Have you already fallen apart?]” Yog Sothoth, looking thoroughly disappointed as if bored, reached out towards Jangmang’s shattered soul. ============================================== Rolling aimlessly through the void, Shub Niggurath gazed blankly at Yog-Sothoth who had come to find him. “What the hell is this bitch doing here?” Shub Niggurath thought. To Shub Niggurath’s surprise, Yog-Sothoth extended a box to him. “Ta-da! A 5 trillion-year-old box… No, it’s…” “The latest virtual reality service,” Yog-Sothoth said with a smile, to which Shub Niggurath retched and spat out black mucus. “Yummy stuff… talking nonsense about virtual reality,” he muttered. Despite appearing unaffected, Yog-Sothoth casually handed over the box once more. Shub Niggurath, naturally inclined to dismiss whatever item Yog-Sothoth brought, hesitated at the following words.

“However, what if… Yudahee had visited the Earth… to directly experience humans?”

A proposal so intriguing… perhaps it wouldn’t hurt to briefly lend an ear to Yog-Sothoth’s suggestion~ With that thought in mind, the black goat’s horns turned slightly.

“…What is it.”

“In the future, you see, there’s a cheeky fellow peeking into Yudahee’s memories, and then meddling here and there—stirring up trouble, adding a bit of power and seasoning, and voila~”

As he held a bronze mirror in front of him, a dazed image of Yudahee reflected back at him.

“It means being able to move around in a future human body as much as you like~ How about that? Interested?”

“Yudahee?”

Beyond the screen, unmistakably, there was Yudahee, still lingering in this emptiness, gazing into the distance.

If Yog-Sothoth’s words were true, then the figure before him was undoubtedly the future Yudahee.

In the end, this guy, after singing “Earth Earth Earth Home Home Home” so much, did he really return?

“…What do you want?”

“Hey, don’t give me those stiff ‘what do you want between us’ kind of lines. I’m just offering you a chance to enjoy, to experience. Just that.”

“Hmm…”

Though Shub-Niggurath felt somewhat deceived, he couldn’t resist the irresistibly sweet bait laid out before him.

If he refused, Yog-Sothoth would surely offer the same thing to other outsiders.

Yudahee called him an early adopter, didn’t she?

Trying it out first might not be a bad idea—thought Shub-Niggurath as he accepted the offer.

Reaching into the box as instructed by Yog-Sothoth, he connected with the essence and gently opened his eyes through the dazed form.

Truly strange yet wondrous sensation.

This was an unadulterated human body, not created by anyone.

In front of Shub, there was Yudahee, spewing curses in shock.

“This, this bastard!”

Yudahee was in a panic, wondering what on earth had happened.

“Long time no see… No, should I say, nice to meet you?”

Shub Niguras grinned so wide it almost reached his ears, or rather, sneered.