CHAPTER 68: THE NIGHT OF TERROR

Not one sound came from any of the men gathered, but in a split second they had been transported from the mortal plane to the deepest depths of hell.

Noctis finally opened his eyes to look at the man right in front of him.

Every vein on his body could be seen on his skin, blackened and tight, his face contorted into a ghastly pale as a root held the neck tight, forbidding any blood from going up despite his heart beating like a war drum.

Gritting his teeth till they were bleeding, the man somehow uttered through immense pain,

"Y-you... Who... are you?"

Noctis just stared into the man’s eyes before forcing them shut through a root.

After doing the same to the others, he moved towards the other side and started getting dressed.

While rummaging through the clothes, he had a few squeaking sounds coming from the ordinary men that were tied with barbed vines.

The areas of their crotches featured fresh blood as the men tried to force themselves out of the confinement, not to run, but to take a peek towards his position.

’The depravity, my word...’

Shaking his head, Noctis continued with a slow pace, not at all in any hurry.

After getting finished, the first thing he noticed was the constant bubbles coming from underwater despite minutes having passed.

Frowning a little, he pulled the man out of the water.

Dripping wet, the man came out with violent gasps as he hungrily devoured the air around him. He at least looked somewhat bearable after getting some filth off.

Noctis saw as though the man had a giant hole where his lungs and heart should be; the man was still somehow alive.

Voraciously intaking air, gulp after gulp, to no avail, and sickly pale all over as if all blood had been drained from his body, he looked like a man just a finger away from the doors of hell but refusing to go over no matter what may come.

Looking over at the man named Dunk, he sensed him being alive as well, despite his heart having failed and his brain being cut off entirely from blood or oxygen.

His body was limp, held only by the roots, unable to pass out but holding onto his life like a cockroach.

Thinking back to the various wounds and the infections all over the beggars, it seemed as if he had actually encountered undead.

"Who are you? Why are you all here?"

Noctis asked Kirk, who was still taking air in with both his mouth and nose desperately.

The man stared at him with a horrified expression but kept chugging air into himself, as a moment’s rest would spell his death.

"Talk before I tear your mouth apart too."

Tears fell down the man’s face as he knelt on the floor.

"Please forgive us, my lord. We’ve made a grave mistake. Please no more."

"Why? You seemed to have a blessing of immortality."

"Immortality...? Blessing...? It is a curse haunting even our chance to leave this painful mortal plane!"

The man said hysterically.

His body, meanwhile, started getting ice cold as blue and purple patches started appearing on his skin.

His vision started blacking out as immense pain assaulted his brain.

Unable to pass out or scream, he started digging his nails into the ground desperately as non-stop pain drove at his sanity.

"How did you end up like this? With this curse of yours..."

Looking as if the man had started eating dirt and ground from the dug forest floor, Noctis brought out the other awakened bastard towards him, unfastening the root at his neck.

With the roots still all over his organs and nerves, the pain still assaulted his senses, but he could at least talk with his body mostly intact.

"Talk. Try something funny, and I’ll bury you here and now."

"Perhaps that would be better than whatever life we are leading..."

The man replied somberly, devoid of the depravity he had shown earlier.

As Noctis willed a barbed vine to pierce his crotch, a painful screech spread out.

"Who are you? Why are you here?"

Noctis asked again in a deadpan voice.

"P-please stop. I’ll talk. I’ll talk....

We are... just some ordinary village folks... or were. Now we are these... abominations... who can neither die nor live properly.

As for why we are here, we have been caged here for years at this point.

It is... you who stumbled here. We haven’t left this place in ages."

"And still do filthy and dirty?"

An awkward silence.

Noctis asked again.

"What do you mean by caged? Are you caged to this stream?"

"Not this steam. We are caged in a short area surrounding a temple not far from this stream. We are unable to leave its parameters beyond a few kilometers."

Noctis looked towards the direction that these men had come from.

"How long has it been since you became like this?"

"Lost count. At least more than half a decade but less likely to be a full decade."

Noctis nodded and inquired about the most important question.

"How did you turn into this?"

A face of deep regret and remorse fell as the man took a deep breath before answering.

"It all happened on the night of the first beast tide in the living memories of anyone living in the nearby village.

It was a windy night, a huge storm brewing just beyond the horizon, approaching with thunderous war drums and inky void.

The beasts had laid waste to a part of the village, killing a few but destroying a major part of the farms and cattle.

Forced to leave the safety of their homes in the storm that looked as if it could tear through giant ancient trees, the villagers huddled close to the outskirts of the woods, away from the direct line but still under some protection of the forest.

But the twin disaster of Mother Nature bombarded our every chance of living as the circumstances fell further and further into disarray.

And then, a miracle happened. A deity in the form of the most beautiful angel carved purely out of solid ambrosia descended upon our village to protect us from the fury of the dark night.

The woman singlehandedly decimates the whole beast tide. But that wasn’t even the most unbelievable feat she accomplished that day. Nay, the most impressive thing was that she did it with a toddler in her hand.

As if moonlight itself were coagulating around her grand presence, a child bathed in the silver lay on her arms.