《Parasitic Sword Monarch.》Chapter 195: The kindling. (2)
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The air within the forest beyond the city felt completely different, it was like stepping into a different world. It clung to his throat like mud and clogged his lungs like a cancerous growth. The scent that stung his nose made every breath feel heavy, it was as if the air itself was trying to mimic the mire in his mind.
The air hadn’t been like this when he first arrived in the Netherworld. Sure, there had been a little something in the air, but it hadn’t been anywhere near as bad as this. Was it just this forest that was different? Had the air itself changed? Or… was it just he that had changed?
"Look, Young Master. Even out here, in the open land of the free. They can’t escape it."
A voice cut through the mire and broke apart the cancerous growth, allowing Yin Long a brief moment of respite to draw a proper breath. His head turned slightly, the sludge that seemed to fill his throat sloshing in tune with his movements.
His gaze first landed on her face, the corners of her lips tugged up so miserably that it stung. Then there were her eyes, a delicate brown that seemed to fuse with the bark of the trees around them, it felt as if he’d lose sight of them if he lost focus for but a moment.
But then it flashed by, that verdant and vivid green that occasionally danced in her pupils. For but a brief instance, he saw her skull crack open as green light poured out of her, a searing sensation washing over him as his insides were roasted.
"Young Master?"
A confused voice cut through the green light, came from within it as it snuck into his ears. The voice burned hotter than the light. The light scorched his insides, but the voice allowed him to hear his own brain sizzle and melt. Ah… That voice… Why did it have to be so cruel?
"Young Master?"
The voice cut through the light again, arising from the bubbling puddle that used to be his brain. This time it was accompanied by a gentle touch, the soft skin reminding him of magma as it traced his own. Ah… this existence… Why did it have to hurt him so?
"Young Master, should we get some rest?"
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The voice rose again, but there was nothing left of Yin Long’s brain to melt, only vapours that stubbornly clung to the inside of his skull remained. And since there was nothing left there, the only thing he could do was return to reality.
The searing light vanished, as if it had all been just a dream. The molten brain returned to normal, the scorched insides became pink again, and the crackling skin became smooth again. There wasn’t a single scar, how could there possibly be? But even without any marks, the pain was still there. The burning in his head, the searing of his skin, oh how the pain remained.
"No… There’s no time for rest, is there? You know that as well as I do, don’t you?"
He closed his eyes as he responded, guiding the hand that had burnt him up to his face, resting his cheek against it. That pair of brown eyes lingered on his face, the miserable curve of her lips only growing worse. She looked as if she was about to cry, a tinge of red arising within her eyes. But she pushed it all down when she saw his eyes slowly open, adoring her expression with that crumbled smile that now belonged to her.
"I know… I know, but there are some things I have to say even if I can’t mean them."
The one who tugged at his memories, the one who said what he wanted to hear, the one who spurred him on should he falter. That was who she was, who she had to be. So she used the hand that held his cheek to turn his head, directing his gaze towards the scene at the end of her pointing finger.
"Even here, they suffer."
A grisly sight awaited them beyond her finger, a body that would normally be a corpse. But naturally, here in the Netherworld, that unfortunate soul was still as alive as they came, forced to quietly bear the pain, screaming without sound. Yin Long’s feet moved in accordance with Lan Yun’s finger, his knees bending when he reached the side of the body, a young man who was probably muscular before this fate befell him.
"Beasts… I guess even they have the misfortune of falling down here to suffer."
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The state of the body made it so that Yin Long couldn’t help but murmur softly. Was the man a woodcutter? Had he gone out to look for herbs or something similar? Whatever the case was, he ended up becoming food for some beast. The flesh had been torn from his body, his bones had been chewed on and splintered, internal organs scattered about to rot. What flesh remained on his body was scarred and ruined, uneven gashes tearing through it.
The man’s eyes were no longer attached to their sockets, but Yin Long could feel their gaze from within those bloody pits. In that darkness, the man was suffering. He practically didn’t have a body to feel pain, but he still suffered. He didn’t have eyes, but he still cried. Yin Long felt Lan Yun’s eyes on his back, so for the one who cried without eyes, who suffered without a body, he stretched out his hand and prayed.
"Visrama. Rest now, find peace now."
The prayer spilt forth like a curse, dripping from his lips like the wastewater that ran from his eyes when he brought rest to the blacksmith. The air felt heavy and sticky, but the prayer was even worse, dirty oil mixed with ash that bubbled like a swamp. It blocked his throat, sealed his lungs as it stole his breath. It was empty. It was painful. But even so, he prayed. He cursed.
Before long, the mangled body became pale yellow dust that scattered to the winds, and the swirling dark mass became a little bit darker, a little bit larger.
The trek continued after the body was taken care of, another one found a few hours later. And then another, and another, another, another, another, another, another, another, another, another, another, another.
There were always more bodies, always more screams. They looked up at Yin Long and begged without words, cried without tears. They were suffering, they wanted him to end it. So they prayed and cried without voices, formless hands clutching at his robes as they swarmed him. And then there was another, and another, and another, another, another, another.
Always another.
There were many people awaiting their end within the Resting Stations, but those were only the ones that were found and brought back. The world was painful, here moreso than most other places. The number of bodies that weren’t brought to the Resting Stations far outweighed the ones that were.
So the wastewater grew. Black drops fell like rain and pale dust rose like ash, hope and rest were given while suffering was passed on. The air only grew heavier as they walked, it was sickening how it clung to his throat. With each step it got closer to clogging his throat in the same manner as his prayer, disgust and revulsion dancing as they tried to become one within him.
How many bodies were there? How many steps? How many days? How many prayers? How much wastewater spilt and tainted the land? When exactly was it that he lost count? Even that was starting to become blurry to him, he just knew that at some point the numbers started to fizzle and slide into each other. There was a number, there would always be a number. But a number held no meaning when it was always, eternally, followed by the next one without pause.
But as Yin Long and Lan Yun moved through the forest, everything blending into a single unrecognisable mass, there was suddenly a change. He pushed through what felt like thorny bushes, a rather large clearing spreading out in front of them. Normally, a clearing like this would mean at least one or two bodies, silent screams clutching at his clothes. But there were actually people here, living and moving people for once.
There was a handful of them sitting together, shaving away at a pillar of ice that formed a stark contrast to the rest of the forest, scooping the shavings into bowls they held. They were clad in different clothes, but they all wore a white cape adorned by the image of a two-headed blue serpent coiling around a mountain. For the first time since they came down here, he met people who seemed to belong to the same organization. And as he saw them, they saw him, the woman who seemed to be the leader tilting her head for a moment, her tone changing slightly after she inspected him.
"Oh, someone’s…here? Ah, you must have been down here a while, wanderer. Come, have some ice to cool down."
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