111 - Bug Route

I had a long dream. I was lost, wandering through the mountains. The stars that once adorned the sky had all vanished. The sky, the ground, the trees—everything was drained of color, amplifying the surreal landscape. And piercing through that monochrome void, a blood-red full moon cast an ominous glow over the world.

No, the light was shining only around me. My entire body was bathed in a harsh red spotlight.

I ran down the mountain blindly. Strangely, I felt no sense of danger. I tripped over rocks, fell off cliffs, but each time, I found myself back at the summit.

Finally, ready to give up and collapse, a door suddenly appeared at the peak. Unable to contain my curiosity, my hand reached out like it was drawn by a magnet and grasped the knob. Despite my pounding heart, the door opened with a soft click, effortlessly.

Beyond it lay a familiar sight—the room I longed to return to. My private sanctuary, where no one ever came looking. No walls, no windows; pitch-black, not a sliver of light could enter. It connected to wherever I was through some inexplicable door. No electricity, no mana—how could I even see inside? I pondered briefly.

But then, in the corner, a child huddled. I hadn't seen or heard her, yet my instincts clearly told me she was there.

The moment I acknowledged her, the room lit up brightly. But in the dream, I heartlessly ignored the crying child and leisurely took in the room.

Vivid photos, alive as if moving, wallpapered the space instead of ordinary paper. I peeled off one tangled mess and stared at it.

A red-haired girl in a conical hat beamed brightly, while the plain-looking brown-haired boy beside her looked utterly embarrassed.

Then another photo album flew into my hands, as if demanding I look at it too. I called it an album because it held multiple pictures. I flipped open the thick volume at random in the middle.

The man's jawline, chiseled like a craftsman's finest work, and the deep shadows under his long lashes were breathtaking. Flipping left with my thumb, the boy grew younger; right, older, his eyes gaining depth with age.

What caught my eye was his childhood photo. A curly-haired girl much like him always played by his side. Like a perfect painting, they felt incomplete without each other.

Snap—The child from the corner suddenly grabbed my hand and slammed the album shut, stopping my admiration. She shook her head vigorously, her golden locks slapping my arm stingingly.

Her innocent antics made me chuckle. I called out to her.

"Long time no see, my jealousy."

She nodded once in greeting. How heartless.

"So that's what this filthy tentacle filth really was—a goddamn tar blob?"

I couldn't fully grasp ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠the monster's emotions, but I could clearly read the bewilderment in its eyes.

"What, pissed because I stole your toy? Mad as hell? I want you to be."

Black tentacles identical to the monster's erupted from my back. I systematically erased its writhing octopus limbs one by one.

Boom!Boom! Each time its weapons slammed into the ground, it let out a screech like nails on a chalkboard.

"Or how about this?"

A ticking clock echoed in my ears like an auditory hallucination. Tick-tock. Tick-tock.

As the demonic pressure crushing my body condensed into a single point, tick—tock—tick-tock-tick-tock—whirr— the magic he'd cast in life rebounded on him exactly as before.

A blue beam of light pierced his gut in a flash, forming a massive pillar.

I strolled toward the ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠monster flung far by the shockwave. A huge hole gaped in its abdomen—I could almost swoon in ecstasy. My shoulders heaved uncontrollably.

"%$@%^$^%$^"

"Haa—yes, more! I believe you can despair even deeper. Show me a shred of emotion right now. Gaze at me, the one who stole everything from you, and wear that look of utter helplessness!"

Not enough. The bottom of its emotional cauldron was shattered; I needed a waterfall of despair.

A red flower bloomed in the dark sky. Petals rained down like fire, scattering embers that ignited the earth as catalysts.

Only when the flames caught the black liquid did it finally emit a satisfying sound.

"Wait...! Mortal... let's talk!"

"Yes! That's more like it!"

Pretending it couldn't speak all this time, now groveling in crisis. The thinned monster spread viscous black sludge across the ground with immense force, its main body melting into the earth from the feet up, losing form like quicksand.

Time froze. The air grew viscous, slowing movements, thoughts, neural signals—everything became sluggish as snails.

My senses sharpened, physical prowess maximized. A fist swung thousands—no, tens of thousands of times—smashed straight into the monster's forehead.

With a crunch, its body separated from the ground amid bubbling foam, sludge erupting.

"Kuhk!"

"No! Not enough! More!"

Disappointing. Insufficient. Still thirsty. Like a runaway train, Schadenfreude spawned endless new magic circles.

This next one was dangerously potent, but whatever.

The 88 magic barriers guarding the Kaizen Empire deployed in parallel. Normally impossible for one person due to time constraints, Schadenfreude made it feasible.

The laurel restrictions desperately hindered deployment, clashing with the persistence and inseparability of Le Kaizen Familia's from Schadenfreude.

In that instant, a ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠wolf beast's maw summoned from one barrier gaped wide. Countless fangs gnashed Jin Chronicle's flesh.

Not just flesh—a whale gulping 70,000 liters of water to devour krill and plankton, it engulfed the surrounding earth whole.

The ground cracked with a creeeak, trees and structures at the boundary snapping.

"Demon's...! The demon's descent is inevitable!"

"Haaah... yes, this is it! Overflowing... everything...!"

The monster's roars faded as it chewed furiously.

Occasionally, it seized recovery windows to unleash mana storms, aiming to neutralize the barriers. Its last tentacle mounted a final resistance, splitting into thousands of branches blotting the sky.

They shot forth, devouring streetlights and moonlight.

Chronicle's tentacles bounced off like pigeons hitting glass. No matter how it hammered or stabbed, the intangible dome held firm.

If it wanted me dead, it should've brought some novel spell like that girl's.

Regeneration and destruction cycled endlessly; its form was no longer remotely human. Each time it oozed from the ground, I pressed it down firmly. The sticky tar clung to my shoe unrelentingly.

Chills from its desperate grudge for flesh; I flung my shoe into a puddle. It bubbled violently, corroding.

I sat nearby, not far off, savoring its end. It feared death utterly, clutching life's laurels desperately.

Slowly tasting its final emotions brought profound satiety, a smile forming naturally.

Desperate struggles are always welcome. The more hope glimmers, the greater the misfortune feels.

Right, NoName?

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