This novel is translated and hosted on bcatranslation.com
Agatha found herself standing alone in a realm beyond reality, a dimension both daunting and mesmerizing. The ethereal landscape before her seemed untouched by time or human intervention.
As she shifted her gaze from the lantern hanging by her side, its once radiant glow now just a flicker, a deep melancholy overtook her. Unable to face Governor Winston any longer, she turned away, leaving him amidst the tranquil yet icy backdrop. She ventured further into the landscape, dominated by an expansive nexus of intertwined branches that formed an intricate cosmic dome.
Her lantern, once bright, now emitted only a dim light. Clutching her trusty cane in her right hand, she tightly gripped a brass key in her left, a cherished keepsake from Winston. The key, once cold metal, now felt warm, suggesting a bond forming between her and it.
Yet, Agatha’s transformations were not her primary concern. She needed to traverse the engulfing shadows and navigate the treacherous realm. She felt compelled to keep moving as long as she wasn’t entirely consumed by the chaotic environment around her.
With each step, a path would materialize from the darkness. Determined, she forged ahead through the dense maze of thorny branches. Occasionally, openings appeared, suggesting potential escape routes.
The thorns were menacing, piercing her clothing and causing it to deteriorate like smoke vanishing into thin air. The remnants of her attire transformed into dark droplets that blended seamlessly with the path beneath her. Occasionally, she’d touch the ethereal sparks scattered among the thorns, perceiving the distinct presence of an external consciousness.
These fleeting sparks were the thoughts of the ancient deity governing this realm, enigmatic whispers from an entity beyond understanding. Though not malicious, these thoughts were blinding to a human, like a candle in total darkness.
Suddenly, a dim light emanated from afar, swiftly passing through the twisted tendrils of darkness. As it brushed against Agatha’s hair, her mind was flooded with unfamiliar knowledge:
111010011001101110000110…111001111011111010100100…
Despite the influx, Agatha couldn’t decipher the message. She recalled Winston’s warning: delving into the deity’s thoughts was perilous and could lead to madness.
Lifting her eyes, she saw a monumental structure of dead wood and sharp thorns. Scattered lights flickered like fireflies amidst the maze. Beyond the barrier, a misty veil obscured her vision, where a colossal limb of the shadowy deity made a subtle movement.
The air grew chillingly cold, far more piercing than anything Agatha had ever known. It felt as if the cold was seeping into her very marrow, accompanied by a dampness intent on crystallizing her insides.
Instinctively, Agatha clutched her clothes, trying to trap any residual warmth. To her horror, she realized her once-sturdy fabric was now tattered and torn. The treacherous path, laden with sharp thorns, had ripped through her garments, leaving her skin scratched and gashed.
From some of the deeper cuts, a dark, thick substance, reminiscent of old coagulated blood, slowly seeped out, darkening the snow beneath her feet.
Just when despair threatened to take hold, an unexpected warmth emanated from her core, wrapping her in its comforting embrace.
Inside her, a tiny flame, a brilliant shade of emerald, burned quietly, casting a mysterious green luminescence on her pallid face and lighting up the frost-riddled maze.
Suddenly, her heightened senses seemed to dull, as if a thick fog was clouding her mind. The once-overpowering warmth, her fatigue, and the pain from her injuries seemed distant, as though they belonged to another person.
Agatha slowly tried to pivot her head, willing her foggy mind to clear. Amidst the swirling backdrop, a peculiar sight caught her vision.
Where a dark, solid tunnel wall once stood, a swirling mist now danced in the void. Emerging from this vapor was an eerie construct resembling intertwining tree limbs or a dense thicket of thorns, reaching languidly toward her.
As swiftly as it appeared, the spectral vision vanished, revealing the familiar tunnel and an ominous gateway looming at its end.
Thump… thump…
Focusing on the gateway, Agatha sensed an uncanny pulsating rhythm, as if behind it lay a gargantuan heart, thudding rhythmically and sending ripples through the obsidian surroundings.
From a state of near-paralysis, a newfound resolve surged within Agatha. Her eyes locked onto the gateway, determination evident in her gaze.
“It’s you… I’ve finally found you…”
Protectively cradling the emerald flame in her palm, she leaned on her staff and ventured forward. With each step, her pace quickened, conjuring a gust that trailed behind her while the haunting heartbeat played like a dirge in her ears.
Soon, a cacophony of hushed voices melded with the heartbeat, sounding like countless souls chanting in devotion to some ancient, shadowy god.
But Agatha could no longer afford curiosity. Her objective was clear, and it lay just ahead. Hidden in the tunnel’s recesses was the sanctuary of the heretics she sought.
The rhythmic sound of Agatha’s staff connecting with the floor and the methodical clicking of her heels reverberated through the expansive surroundings, creating a haunting echo.
Listening closely, a new sound emerged. It was distinct from her own footsteps, the echoing heartbeat, or the muted chants of the unseen gathering.
It was the unmistakable rhythm of other footsteps, a group, perhaps, given the cacophony they produced. Their path seemed parallel to hers but separated by an intricate maze of walls. Interspersed among the footfalls were deafening cracks of gunfire, reminiscent of high-powered rifles discharging.
Realization dawned on Agatha: she might not be the sole survivor. Were others trapped within this mirrored maze, their paths eerily parallel to hers?
Questions spiraled in her mind but did not impede her pace. Agatha soon reached the portal, pulsing in sync with the heartbeat she had been hearing, an eerie beacon amidst the darkness. The portal’s crack revealed an abyss of shadows, stretching and twirling as they began to permeate the surroundings.
This ominous sight did not deter Agatha. With a deep breath and renewed determination, she pushed against the grand door with all her might. The portal yielded with an ear-piercing screech, revealing an engulfing void of pure, impenetrable blackness.
Within the consuming dark, faint outlines formed, hinting at a vast chamber where the largest junction of the sewer system had been grotesquely repurposed. It resembled a perverse cathedral dedicated to sacrilegious rituals and summoning archaic deities. The darkness seemed alive, teeming with shapeless entities exuding oppressive and malevolent energy, assaulting Agatha’s senses.
Before she could strategize her next move, a rapid whir signaled an imminent attack. From the dark cathedral’s heart came a voice dripping with condescension and dark mirth:
“Ah, the finale arrives. How delightful that another ‘shadow-self’ has discovered our hallowed ground.”
With a resounding “Crack!”, Agatha instinctively swung her staff, producing a fleeting spark that tore through the void. An immense appendage, poised to strike, was severed, crashing heavily before her. She deftly recovered, pivoting to face the voice’s source.
Emerging from the darkness was a silhouette of a tall, lithe man, his features only vaguely discernible. With unsettling grace, he extended his arms toward Agatha.
With eerie calmness, the figure spoke, “Come forth, offering. Your existence is pivotal to this grand cosmic puzzle. It is time to span the void.”
Breathing heavily and relying on her staff to keep upright, Agatha managed to lift her eyes to meet his, “You tread on a dangerous trajectory, one that will lead to your undoing…”
He smirked, “Perhaps we’re all destined to wither away in this forsaken place, but such eventualities matter little now. With your presence in this realm, our ritual nears its conclusion. I must admit, it’s been an elaborate ruse.”
…
The loud report of a gunshot shattered the corridor’s eerie stillness. The brief illumination from the gun’s muzzle and subsequent detonation momentarily lit the oppressive darkness. The bullet pierced the skull of a creature adorned with three unsettling eyes, its malformed body crumpling lifelessly and deteriorating into inky sludge.
But the nightmarish tableau didn’t end. From every corner, spine-chilling howls signaled more malevolent entities’ approach. They sprung from walls, drains, and ceiling fissures, slithering down to join the fray.
Viscous, gelatinous goo seeped from every crevice, coalescing into countless monstrosities bearing a ghastly human semblance.
A distressed shout echoed above the din, “We’re bleeding bullets here!” A sailor, face marred by grime and sweat, quickly reloaded his firearm, took a defensive stance, and fired another shot. The air filled with the distinctive sizzle of otherworldly fire.
Lawrence’s senses were on high alert. As the chilling breeze of impending danger brushed past, he acted on instinct, narrowly dodging a lethal assault. Grasping the attacker, he realized it was a humanoid figure in a military uniform from a bygone era, brandishing an antiquated blade. With a powerful shove, Lawrence forced it to the ground.
He stepped on the creature’s torso, pinning it. The ghostly flames encasing Lawrence surged, voraciously consuming the entity beneath his boot.
Emerging from the skirmish, Lawrence, now enshrouded in ethereal fire, scanned the labyrinthine corridor.
Every angle his gaze landed upon revealed a fresh horde of blasphemous abominations.
As the light brushed against a strand of Agatha’s hair, her mind was flooded with an influx of unfamiliar “knowledge” –
111010011001101110000110…111001111011111010100100…
Despite the influx, Agatha couldn’t decipher the message these ethereal sparks were trying to impart.
Now thats a nice way to represented “higher” and “greater” knowledge!
Maybe this world is a computer simulation?
Trying to decode the binary I was left with these possible options:
? – flea; ? – ounce(?)
I got ?? which translates to Cluster
Well… considering Zhou Ming’s reverse world in his room has a “save” function… this binary code could mean something.
Is this the original Agatha the heroine of this chapter? So why does she display the physical qualities of the counterfeit one here? Are they merging or something?