Chapter 293: “Hunting and Fleeing”
This novel is translated and hosted on bcatranslation.com
As Duncan uttered “ignorance is bliss,” the woman in the black dress was already on high alert.
This time, however, she didn’t resort to any futile combat actions. Instead, she tightened her grip on the chain under the death crow’s feet with one hand and, with the other, she waved behind her, summoning a hazy black fog into the air. Then she turned and dashed toward the cemetery entrance.
She abandoned her possessed companion and the two other accomplices who were engaged with the guardian. The bizarre occurrences of the night were beyond her comprehension. Even as a devotee of annihilation, bound by a contract with a shadow demon, she was reaching the limits of her sanity and courage.
She needed to escape, the faster and farther the better! She didn’t want to remain in sight of the invisible, indescribable intruder, nor share the space with the terrifying shadow any longer.
Duncan furrowed his brow. He was not fully accustomed to the body he had just taken over. Though he could feel this body was healthier than the one he had left in the coffin, he still struggled to keep up with the fleeing woman.
Nevertheless, he pursued her, cutting through the eerie black fog she conjured as she fled, adapting to his new body, and focusing his gaze on her retreating figure.
As he watched, the gas lamps she passed suddenly flickered, their once stable flames tainted with a touch of deep green.
The corrupted lamps seemed like invisible footsteps, rapidly trailing the cultist’s shadow towards the cemetery entrance, leaving a path of green sparks that grew closer and more numerous.
Just as the green flames scattered by the lamps were about to overtake the cultist, the grotesque crow, made of black bones, screeched and took flight. Its jagged wings dispersed large swaths of smoke into the night sky, and its piercing cry seemed to tear through a small area of space-time. Suddenly, Duncan saw large rifts in the darkness beside the cultist, merging into a massive black hole.
The skeletal crow shrieked frantically and fearfully, recklessly charging towards the dark portal that appeared out of nowhere. The chain extending from its feet instantly went taut, and with a grating noise, the woman in the black dress was suddenly dragged towards the unknown.
“Damn it! Stop! You bastard! You beast!” The cultist struggled desperately, shouting in a distorted voice filled with uncontrollable fear and despair, “No, no, no! Don’t! Don’t take me to the abyss… Help! Help! No! No—”
With a final scream, the cultist was dragged into the pitch-black hole by the chain, and the hole closed with a howl, eventually dissolving into a trembling shadow.
A faint green light from the lamps on both sides illuminated the now-empty cemetery path.
“That’s quite a unique escape route,” Duncan observed the sudden scene with some bewilderment. It took him a moment before the corner of his mouth twitched, and then he seemed to recall something, “That’s how Shirley and Dog escaped back then, isn’t it?… But I remember she wasn’t scared at all at the time, was she?”
He furrowed his brow, staring in the direction where the cultist vanished. After pondering for a moment, he gained nothing and could only look away.
The greenish lamplights on both sides returned to normal as he averted his gaze, and the intertwined dim shadows gradually retreated to his feet as if retracting tendrils in the darkness.
At that moment, a faint crackling sound reached Duncan’s ears. Turning towards the source with a puzzled expression, he realized it was coming from his own body. Fine crackling noises emanated from various parts of his body, and wisps of black smoke seeped and rose from the gaps in his clothing.
Duncan was momentarily stunned, uncertain about this unexpected development. Then he suddenly pulled open his clothes near his chest and saw the changes happening to his body: his flesh was turning into a black, charred substance bit by bit, and many gaps had appeared on the wrinkled skin’s surface, from which black smoke and ashes emerged, like a pile of burning firewood.
If not for having accepted the “open-hearted” initiation from the beginning, this bizarre and terrifying scene would have certainly shocked Duncan. But now, accustomed to such strange and sinister events, he remained exceptionally calm, even reaching out to touch his neck.
The change seemed to have started from the throat—the place where the shadow demon had once coexisted and connected to the chains.
Duncan immediately thought of the self-immolating, jellyfish-like shadow demon from before.
After he had taken over this body, the “jellyfish” seemed to have gone on strike, unable to withstand the pressure, and now the cultist’s body began to collapse from where the chains had coexisted… Could it be that the body collapses once the coexisting demon dies as well?
Was this a characteristic of the Annihilators?
In an instant, Duncan considered the most likely possibility and even thought of Shirley and Dog—were their relationships similar?
He could have a good conversation with Shirley when he got back.
But first, he needed to decide what to do now.
Duncan looked helplessly at his rapidly deteriorating body and couldn’t help but think of the body he had occupied when he first emerged from the coffin.
Although the reasons for the collapse were different, that body also seemed to have experienced a breakdown of flesh in the end.
“…How can finding a usable body be so difficult?” he couldn’t help but sigh, lamenting his bad luck. “It was much smoother back in Pland.”
He looked up at the iron fence at the edge of his field of vision—the cemetery entrance was up ahead, and a vast, desolate area lay beyond the entrance. Only after crossing that empty space would he reach the brightly lit bustling city.
Frost’s civilized world was just before him, but this constantly deteriorating body might not make it that far, and even if he reached the city now, his smoky and crumbling appearance would hardly help him gather any useful information. On the contrary, he would surely attract the attention of night patrol guards.
He glanced back at the cemetery one more time.
There were quite a few bodies in the morgue—but first, it was difficult to ensure he wouldn’t encounter another low-quality one. Second, opening the boxes took considerable effort.
This was a true blind box opening, and he had already spent enough time messing around tonight.
After briefly weighing his options, Duncan lifted his head and looked towards the light coming from another direction on the path.
That should be the direction of the caretaker’s cabin.
Duncan still remembered that there were two cultists disguised as Death Priests who went to the cabin with the caretaker. Although the caretaker seemed stubborn and unsociable, he was at least a dutiful person in comparison.
Cultists were not good people, and there’s no reason to let bad people roam about.
…
There seemed to be some noise coming from outside.
In the cozy caretaker’s cabin, the kettle on the stove was hissing, and a gas lamp beside it cast a bright light across the room. The old caretaker was leisurely tinkering with the bottles and jars on the wooden shelves, and his trusty double-barreled shotgun hung on an iron hook next to the shelves.
Two men in black clothes observed the old man’s actions in the cabin, one standing at the door and the other by the window.
However, their attention was not entirely on the caretaker.
They were alert to movements at the cemetery entrance, waiting for a signal.
Instead of receiving the “mission accomplished, withdraw” code, they only heard some faint, unclear, and strange noises from the direction of the path.
The last faint scream was particularly unsettling.
“Did you hear any noises?”
The old caretaker suddenly stopped, looking up at the window that appeared dirty and dim due to the passage of time, listening to the sounds outside—only the hollow sound of the wind seemed to linger in the darkness of the night.
“No noise,” the tall, sturdy man standing at the door immediately responded after hearing the caretaker’s words. Although he felt somewhat uneasy, keeping the caretaker in the cabin was a higher priority at the moment. “Probably just crows.”
“Oh, crows,” the old caretaker muttered, “Crows are very annoying creatures. They steal your food and then perch on tree branches, laughing loudly… I hate thieves and uninvited guests the most, and crows have taken both.”
The two men in black exchanged confused glances, finding the old man’s words somewhat inexplicable.
The old caretaker didn’t seem to care about their reactions and continued, “By the way, do you know why I followed that lady’s advice and brought you two to my cabin?”
The shorter man in black appeared on guard, staring into the old caretaker’s eyes, “Why?”
The old caretaker finally found what he was looking for among the bottles and jars. He unscrewed the lid, poured some crushed herbs into the stove, and casually said, “Because generally speaking, two people are easier to deal with than four.”
old fox
Go caretaker! I hope he becomes a side character
Aye! They didn’t see that coming, did they?
Hehe
I suspect the old man might get to be Duncan’s new body, but I do hope he survives without.
Holy shit, that was quite a line, that was!