The shadowy tentacles wielded enough power to destroy heaven and earth, and they showed no mercy. They were coated with abhorrent, hideous slime, dripping mucus so repellent it made the soul shudder.
Shocked, the Night Watchman who was hovering in mid-air rapidly retreated and raised his black umbrella like a shield.
The shadows he’d woven with so much effort before swarmed up from the surface of the sea, forming an enormous black curtain to protect him.
Did an A-rank daily disposable persona card have any chance against a Great Old One?
The answer, of course, was no.
His shadows, which at first glance appeared so heavy and powerful, were sliced apart by the evil god’s huge tentacles. They shredded like paper.
In just an instant, the evil god’s attack broke through all of Zong Yan’s defenses. As the Night Watchman looked on in astonishment, the evil god smashed through the black umbrella and knocked him from the air.
Like a meteor, the Night Watchman flew backwards. He smashed to the ground on Pohnpei Island. Along the way he tore through palm leaves and debris, finally landing in a pile of sludge on marshy ground. Every inch of the deep black umbrella had shattered. All that remained were a few tatters of black cloth. The other fragments were scattered far and wide.
“Ow—”
Zong Yan opened his mouth and coughed up a mouthful of sticky, scarlet blood. The shocking crimson dripped down his dark gray vest.
Those indescribably horrible shadow tentacles wielded such incredible force that the blow almost shattered Zong Yan’s internal organs, seriously injuring him.
It was the first time he’d been hit so hard while equipped with a persona. Perhaps that was why, the moment he hit the ground, the Night Watchman status terminated on its own. Zong Yan transformed back into a black-haired young man in trousers and a white shirt.
Blackness swam in front of his eyes, but with all of his will he forced himself to sit up, staring into the distance at the ocean.
After this attack, the Lord of R’lyeh didn’t pause a moment.
He stood at the highest point in R’lyeh and gazed at the sky. His tentacles spread out behind him like a living creature.
They were so enormous that each one was nearly as wide as Pohnpei Island.
Then the human form of the Lord of R’lyeh vanished. In its place appeared a monstrous octopus head, so large that it blocked out the sky and loomed over an enormous part of the ocean.
It was difficult to accurately express such a scene with words, because the god’s otherworldly appearance surpassed human cognition. Even his silhouette couldn’t be described in human language, because this was an existence that humans could neither fully perceive nor comprehend.
The Great Old One who’d been sealed deep beneath the sea had finally awoken. He stretched across the ocean like a mountain, wantonly unleashing his tentacles to destroy the world. The inhabitants of Pohnpei Island who had the misfortune to witness this sight fell down screaming, their bodies twitching, bleeding from their eyes. Their brains were in a state of confusion, suffering from the most pronounced and vile mental corruption.
A dark green poisonous mist filled the air from the surface of the ocean to the clouds and beyond, spreading outward with incredible speed like an expanding fog bank.
But that wasn’t the most terrifying thing.
As one of the humans who was suffering from the mental attack, Zong Yan’s current situation was dire.
In the chaos, he seemed to see the sky turned upside down. Where there should have been stars, there was no trace of them at all. The ocean was inverted, covering the sky, and far above him in the distance, he saw people and buildings floating by.
‘When the eternal king of R’lyeh awakens, he will drag the entire world into his dream.’
Zong Yan suddenly remembered the famous prophecy. His black eyes widened.
Similar spectacles unfolded around the world.
As the green fog rapidly unfurled, every person enveloped in it fell into a trance, revealing a dazed expression.
Ocean water rolled in the sky, deep-sea fish swam on dry land. Buildings rose up one by one, floating in mid-air. The Empire State Building, the Oriental Pearl Tower, the Potala Palace, the Eiffel Tower… The earth was raised high and sunken low, lava surged and flowed, and the world seemed to have become a fantastic, magical copy of itself, beyond all logic and reason.
It was like something out of Inception, except it was even more difficult to understand and far more absurd.
A riot of colors flowed between heaven and earth. In front of a bottomless abyss, people drifted in mid-air with a trance-like expression on their faces. Many seemed to be lost in a blissful dream.
The most magnificent structures built throughout human history changed their shapes.
The pyramids in the land of Egypt transformed, becoming inverted three-dimensional triangles. A host of mummies sat up in their tombs and fished through the burial pots beside them to retrieve their internal organs. Indeed, the viscera which had been stored for thousands of years and turned to dust were now miraculously restored. The mummies jumped up and pushed their entrails back into their bodies, unwrapped their bandages, and walked out of their tombs to greet the sun of the new world.
In gatherings and banquets, silver plates filled with delicious food had turned into plates of delicacies dripping blood.
The guests sipped dainty elixirs made from human brains and speared scarlet shrunken heads with elegant silver forks. Strange, disgusting tumors grew on their bodies as they sat on both sides of long dinner tables, laughing, flying through the air, drinking this wonderfully delicious liquid completely unaware, while the corners of their lips turned a hideous bright red.
The laws of physics were no longer in effect, and the normal rules of the universe were irrelevant.
This was the dream world of the Great Old One. In his realm, lowly creatures had no value at all. Their minds would be erased, and the great evil god would leave them nothing.
‘No, this can’t be.’
Zong Yan fought to maintain his faltering consciousness. Black spots swam in his vision. Warm liquid dripped from the corners of his eyes with a strong scent of rust, seeping into the collar of his white shirt.
“Why are humans always so hostile to evil gods?”
In his biology class at MU, a classmate once asked this question. “They haven’t destroyed our world, right? We’re still alive and well. Why can’t we be more tolerant of them?”
“Then you’re wrong.” Professor Darwin smiled. “Every year, students ask this question. In fact, the hostility that exists between investigators and evil gods isn’t caused by the investigators.
“Of course, you may not understand it now, but if you experience the true power of an evil god in the future, you’ll learn what despair really is. An evil god may not feel much malice towards mankind. We may just be unlucky and happen to enter their thoughts by accident. But just a little bad luck is enough to destroy humanity a million times over.
“The hostility we speak of is necessary to protect ourselves.”
Yes, just like right now. The Lord of R’lyeh might only be trying to restore his kingdom. After all, he’d been sealed for many years. From his point of view, the Earth was his personal property. Humans were just some bacteria that happened to be living on his possession.
Therefore, Cthulhu sent the world into the higher dimensions. Human beings were just a few ants who were accidentally sacrificed in the process.
Who cared about the death of a few ants?
—Now do you regret it?
The voice of a demon seemed to whisper to him from the darkness.
""
Did he regret it?
Half asleep, half awake, Zong Yan asked himself the same question.
He’d always been alone and without attachments. After his grandmother died, he didn’t have anyone but himself.
The SS-rank Cthulhu card not only gave him unparalleled power, it gave him something he’d always longed for but never dared to admit: family affection.
Zong Yan knew it was ridiculous, but he’d genuinely felt a sense of closeness from an evil god.
But Zong Yan still gave it up. He destroyed the card. He returned to modern times from 350 million years in the past.
Since he’d given it up, Yog-Sothoth’s tampering had made sure the Lord of R’lyeh didn’t remember that he once had a second self. For a Great Old One, the only theme was eternal coldness. Not to mention the fact this “second self” had never existed in the first place. It was just a forgery created by the card drawing space.
So Zong Yan couldn’t blame Cthulhu, even if he was beaten up. The current Zong Yan was no different from an ant in Cthulhu’s eyes. He wasn’t even worth looking at twice, he told himself bitterly.
The decision Zong Yan made might have baffled a lot of people.
Why did he give up that card? Why abandon something he’d dreamed of? Why go back?
What did Cthulhu’s half-self represent? It meant unparalleled power and supreme rank. He’d been a Great Old One, the king of R’lyeh…. With that kind of identity, everything was within reach.
If he chose to permanently become the half-self of Cthulhu, all Zong Yan had to do was give up the college entrance exam and his previous human identity, which he didn’t have many ties to anyway. Then he would possess the things countless people longed for all their lives.
""
What could be simpler?
But after becoming an evil god, would he still be Zong Yan?
He was a young man with dreams and passion in his blood. As He Yuan said, “He’s a good child”. He was a good child who didn’t use his power to hurt others even though he could. He was a good child who saved the world without anyone knowing it, and he had a sense of responsibility.
But what about the evil god Zong Yan?
The evil god Zong Yan ignored the sinking of Atlantis, ignored the blood-soaked red sea when R’lyeh and Carcosa went to war, was indifferent to the loss of life, and could watch the city sink with a heart of stone.
When Zong Yan was an evil god he was able to ignore life and death. Maybe it wouldn’t have taken long for him to become an executioner with a butcher’s knife.
The cold mind of an evil god would digest what was left of his human personality, until the human “Zong Yan” was finally erased and he became nothing but an evil god.
Was that kind of Zong Yan still Zong Yan?
Personality was an enduring topic of discussion in the scientific community.
What was a person made of?
Was it memory, or personality, or social relationships, or was it everything else?
If you lost your memory, forgot your character, abandoned your social relationships, would you still be you?
Of course not.
“Zong Yan” would pass away, and everyone would forget the chief of Miskatonic University. They’d forget the physics-hating student of Qingyang High School who liked to sit by the window and read 《The Outsider》, and they’d forget the black-haired teen who lay on the roof of the tube building, looking at the sky.
Humans were forgetful creatures. The moment Zong Yan became “Cthulhu”, he would cease to be Zong Yan, and the name Zong Yan would lose all meaning.
You’re the brave hero, the dragon slayer, but the dragon coiled in the cave tells you that as long as you submit, it will give you the vast riches of its cave.
You’re just a half-hearted hero, and there’s no way for you to beat the dragon. If you don’t accept its offer, all you can do is die in scorching dragon fire.
Will you become an evil dragon, or will you raise your sword and say with your unyielding, defiant soul, “This is the fate of the brave”?
Are you willing to be yourself, or will you give up everything for the sake of power and status and voluntarily become the type of being you hate most?
“Of course I am myself. No one can make me become anything else. Whether I remain a person or become a ghost… I will never regret it!”
I’ve been tangling with myself for a long time, and I’d still rather be me!
The black-haired young man fell to his knees. His face was stained with flowing blood, but his fingers probed into that multi-colored gap in space.
Zong Yan had never been so eager for power.
‘I need power, enough power to remain myself and still be me, but enough power to stop everything, too.’
Something cold brushed against his fingertips.
Was it a card?
It didn’t seem to be.
In a haze, Zong Yan thought he’d reached in with his entire hand, followed by his arm… the gap expanded more and more.
“I hope I’m not too late.”
The gray-haired, white-robed evil god stepped out from the void and slightly bent down, pressing a kiss to the center of the black-haired young man’s forehead.
At that moment time stopped. Everything suspended, the magic space inverted, everything halted.
In the last second, as Zong Yan plunged into the darkness, he saw—
The mysterious card-drawing space that existed only at his fingertips—the multi-colored edges of the streaming light kept on expanding—covering the sky, covering the earth, wrapping the entire world inside it.
The colorful edges dripped and flowed like translucent slime from some kind of fairy tale, transparent through and through, beautiful beyond compare.
Like a gorgeous illusion from a dream.
—
The author has something to say:
I have been tangling with myself for a long time, and I would rather be me.
— 《A New Account of the Tales of the World, “Grading Excellence”》
The shadowy tentacles wielded enough power to destroy heaven and earth, and they showed no mercy. They were coated with abhorrent, hideous slime, dripping mucus so repellent it made the soul shudder.
Shocked, the Night Watchman who was hovering in mid-air rapidly retreated and raised his black umbrella like a shield.
The shadows he’d woven with so much effort before swarmed up from the surface of the sea, forming an enormous black curtain to protect him.
Did an A-rank daily disposable persona card have any chance against a Great Old One?
The answer, of course, was no.
His shadows, which at first glance appeared so heavy and powerful, were sliced apart by the evil god’s huge tentacles. They shredded like paper.
In just an instant, the evil god’s attack broke through all of Zong Yan’s defenses. As the Night Watchman looked on in astonishment, the evil god smashed through the black umbrella and knocked him from the air.
Like a meteor, the Night Watchman flew backwards. He smashed to the ground on Pohnpei Island. Along the way he tore through palm leaves and debris, finally landing in a pile of sludge on marshy ground. Every inch of the deep black umbrella had shattered. All that remained were a few tatters of black cloth. The other fragments were scattered far and wide.
“Ow—”
Zong Yan opened his mouth and coughed up a mouthful of sticky, scarlet blood. The shocking crimson dripped down his dark gray vest.
Those indescribably horrible shadow tentacles wielded such incredible force that the blow almost shattered Zong Yan’s internal organs, seriously injuring him.
It was the first time he’d been hit so hard while equipped with a persona. Perhaps that was why, the moment he hit the ground, the Night Watchman status terminated on its own. Zong Yan transformed back into a black-haired young man in trousers and a white shirt.
Blackness swam in front of his eyes, but with all of his will he forced himself to sit up, staring into the distance at the ocean.
After this attack, the Lord of R’lyeh didn’t pause a moment.
He stood at the highest point in R’lyeh and gazed at the sky. His tentacles spread out behind him like a living creature.
They were so enormous that each one was nearly as wide as Pohnpei Island.
Then the human form of the Lord of R’lyeh vanished. In its place appeared a monstrous octopus head, so large that it blocked out the sky and loomed over an enormous part of the ocean.
It was difficult to accurately express such a scene with words, because the god’s otherworldly appearance surpassed human cognition. Even his silhouette couldn’t be described in human language, because this was an existence that humans could neither fully perceive nor comprehend.
The Great Old One who’d been sealed deep beneath the sea had finally awoken. He stretched across the ocean like a mountain, wantonly unleashing his tentacles to destroy the world. The inhabitants of Pohnpei Island who had the misfortune to witness this sight fell down screaming, their bodies twitching, bleeding from their eyes. Their brains were in a state of confusion, suffering from the most pronounced and vile mental corruption.
A dark green poisonous mist filled the air from the surface of the ocean to the clouds and beyond, spreading outward with incredible speed like an expanding fog bank.
But that wasn’t the most terrifying thing.
As one of the humans who was suffering from the mental attack, Zong Yan’s current situation was dire.
In the chaos, he seemed to see the sky turned upside down. Where there should have been stars, there was no trace of them at all. The ocean was inverted, covering the sky, and far above him in the distance, he saw people and buildings floating by.
‘When the eternal king of R’lyeh awakens, he will drag the entire world into his dream.’
Zong Yan suddenly remembered the famous prophecy. His black eyes widened.
Similar spectacles unfolded around the world.
As the green fog rapidly unfurled, every person enveloped in it fell into a trance, revealing a dazed expression.
Ocean water rolled in the sky, deep-sea fish swam on dry land. Buildings rose up one by one, floating in mid-air. The Empire State Building, the Oriental Pearl Tower, the Potala Palace, the Eiffel Tower… The earth was raised high and sunken low, lava surged and flowed, and the world seemed to have become a fantastic, magical copy of itself, beyond all logic and reason.
It was like something out of Inception, except it was even more difficult to understand and far more absurd.
A riot of colors flowed between heaven and earth. In front of a bottomless abyss, people drifted in mid-air with a trance-like expression on their faces. Many seemed to be lost in a blissful dream.
The most magnificent structures built throughout human history changed their shapes.
The pyramids in the land of Egypt transformed, becoming inverted three-dimensional triangles. A host of mummies sat up in their tombs and fished through the burial pots beside them to retrieve their internal organs. Indeed, the viscera which had been stored for thousands of years and turned to dust were now miraculously restored. The mummies jumped up and pushed their entrails back into their bodies, unwrapped their bandages, and walked out of their tombs to greet the sun of the new world.
In gatherings and banquets, silver plates filled with delicious food had turned into plates of delicacies dripping blood.
The guests sipped dainty elixirs made from human brains and speared scarlet shrunken heads with elegant silver forks. Strange, disgusting tumors grew on their bodies as they sat on both sides of long dinner tables, laughing, flying through the air, drinking this wonderfully delicious liquid completely unaware, while the corners of their lips turned a hideous bright red.
The laws of physics were no longer in effect, and the normal rules of the universe were irrelevant.
This was the dream world of the Great Old One. In his realm, lowly creatures had no value at all. Their minds would be erased, and the great evil god would leave them nothing.
‘No, this can’t be.’
Zong Yan fought to maintain his faltering consciousness. Black spots swam in his vision. Warm liquid dripped from the corners of his eyes with a strong scent of rust, seeping into the collar of his white shirt.
“Why are humans always so hostile to evil gods?”
In his biology class at MU, a classmate once asked this question. “They haven’t destroyed our world, right? We’re still alive and well. Why can’t we be more tolerant of them?”
“Then you’re wrong.” Professor Darwin smiled. “Every year, students ask this question. In fact, the hostility that exists between investigators and evil gods isn’t caused by the investigators.
“Of course, you may not understand it now, but if you experience the true power of an evil god in the future, you’ll learn what despair really is. An evil god may not feel much malice towards mankind. We may just be unlucky and happen to enter their thoughts by accident. But just a little bad luck is enough to destroy humanity a million times over.
“The hostility we speak of is necessary to protect ourselves.”
Yes, just like right now. The Lord of R’lyeh might only be trying to restore his kingdom. After all, he’d been sealed for many years. From his point of view, the Earth was his personal property. Humans were just some bacteria that happened to be living on his possession.
Therefore, Cthulhu sent the world into the higher dimensions. Human beings were just a few ants who were accidentally sacrificed in the process.
Who cared about the death of a few ants?
—Now do you regret it?
The voice of a demon seemed to whisper to him from the darkness.
""
Did he regret it?
Half asleep, half awake, Zong Yan asked himself the same question.
He’d always been alone and without attachments. After his grandmother died, he didn’t have anyone but himself.
The SS-rank Cthulhu card not only gave him unparalleled power, it gave him something he’d always longed for but never dared to admit: family affection.
Zong Yan knew it was ridiculous, but he’d genuinely felt a sense of closeness from an evil god.
But Zong Yan still gave it up. He destroyed the card. He returned to modern times from 350 million years in the past.
Since he’d given it up, Yog-Sothoth’s tampering had made sure the Lord of R’lyeh didn’t remember that he once had a second self. For a Great Old One, the only theme was eternal coldness. Not to mention the fact this “second self” had never existed in the first place. It was just a forgery created by the card drawing space.
So Zong Yan couldn’t blame Cthulhu, even if he was beaten up. The current Zong Yan was no different from an ant in Cthulhu’s eyes. He wasn’t even worth looking at twice, he told himself bitterly.
The decision Zong Yan made might have baffled a lot of people.
Why did he give up that card? Why abandon something he’d dreamed of? Why go back?
What did Cthulhu’s half-self represent? It meant unparalleled power and supreme rank. He’d been a Great Old One, the king of R’lyeh…. With that kind of identity, everything was within reach.
If he chose to permanently become the half-self of Cthulhu, all Zong Yan had to do was give up the college entrance exam and his previous human identity, which he didn’t have many ties to anyway. Then he would possess the things countless people longed for all their lives.
""
What could be simpler?
But after becoming an evil god, would he still be Zong Yan?
He was a young man with dreams and passion in his blood. As He Yuan said, “He’s a good child”. He was a good child who didn’t use his power to hurt others even though he could. He was a good child who saved the world without anyone knowing it, and he had a sense of responsibility.
But what about the evil god Zong Yan?
The evil god Zong Yan ignored the sinking of Atlantis, ignored the blood-soaked red sea when R’lyeh and Carcosa went to war, was indifferent to the loss of life, and could watch the city sink with a heart of stone.
When Zong Yan was an evil god he was able to ignore life and death. Maybe it wouldn’t have taken long for him to become an executioner with a butcher’s knife.
The cold mind of an evil god would digest what was left of his human personality, until the human “Zong Yan” was finally erased and he became nothing but an evil god.
Was that kind of Zong Yan still Zong Yan?
Personality was an enduring topic of discussion in the scientific community.
What was a person made of?
Was it memory, or personality, or social relationships, or was it everything else?
If you lost your memory, forgot your character, abandoned your social relationships, would you still be you?
Of course not.
“Zong Yan” would pass away, and everyone would forget the chief of Miskatonic University. They’d forget the physics-hating student of Qingyang High School who liked to sit by the window and read 《The Outsider》, and they’d forget the black-haired teen who lay on the roof of the tube building, looking at the sky.
Humans were forgetful creatures. The moment Zong Yan became “Cthulhu”, he would cease to be Zong Yan, and the name Zong Yan would lose all meaning.
You’re the brave hero, the dragon slayer, but the dragon coiled in the cave tells you that as long as you submit, it will give you the vast riches of its cave.
You’re just a half-hearted hero, and there’s no way for you to beat the dragon. If you don’t accept its offer, all you can do is die in scorching dragon fire.
Will you become an evil dragon, or will you raise your sword and say with your unyielding, defiant soul, “This is the fate of the brave”?
Are you willing to be yourself, or will you give up everything for the sake of power and status and voluntarily become the type of being you hate most?
“Of course I am myself. No one can make me become anything else. Whether I remain a person or become a ghost… I will never regret it!”
I’ve been tangling with myself for a long time, and I’d still rather be me!
The black-haired young man fell to his knees. His face was stained with flowing blood, but his fingers probed into that multi-colored gap in space.
Zong Yan had never been so eager for power.
‘I need power, enough power to remain myself and still be me, but enough power to stop everything, too.’
Something cold brushed against his fingertips.
Was it a card?
It didn’t seem to be.
In a haze, Zong Yan thought he’d reached in with his entire hand, followed by his arm… the gap expanded more and more.
“I hope I’m not too late.”
The gray-haired, white-robed evil god stepped out from the void and slightly bent down, pressing a kiss to the center of the black-haired young man’s forehead.
At that moment time stopped. Everything suspended, the magic space inverted, everything halted.
In the last second, as Zong Yan plunged into the darkness, he saw—
The mysterious card-drawing space that existed only at his fingertips—the multi-colored edges of the streaming light kept on expanding—covering the sky, covering the earth, wrapping the entire world inside it.
The colorful edges dripped and flowed like translucent slime from some kind of fairy tale, transparent through and through, beautiful beyond compare.
Like a gorgeous illusion from a dream.
—
The author has something to say:
I have been tangling with myself for a long time, and I would rather be me.
— 《A New Account of the Tales of the World, “Grading Excellence”》
