Chapter: 77. The Song of the Faceless Ones (1)
[People have no faces]
A terrifying voice that directly denies it just a moment ago.
The thrum of Otherworld Invasion is severe,
yet, of all things, it involves this vast category of humanity.
I feel like curses are about to burst out but I hold my mouth shut and glance around.
If both are okay, let’s just turn our heads and,
I forgot what I was going to say. The thing is right there:
covered in pink skin,
with two transparent glass beads speckled with black embedded in its body,
its body riddled with holes.
The rough silhouette is somewhat similar to mine,
but the extremities that protrude from its body divide into five branches,
instinctively inducing a sense of horror.
Seeing that catastrophe,
I understood the nature of this Otherworld Invasion.
In this context,
the face doesn’t simply refer to a part resting upon a human’s shoulder.
“What is humanity?”
A question about itself:
I have no fitting answer, and it only makes me uneasy as I turn my head.
One thing is certain:
humans do not occur here.
From the beginning, have there not been beings that are not human?
If so, this mind’s wear could be resolved.
Believing in that, I turn my head.
A flickering appears.
The flickering of the vile white beings.
That sight has strangely made my heart race:
Have you ever seen a dog dying by the roadside after being hit by a car?
Or,
the scene where an abandoned sentient being becomes a mindless creature after death,
transforming into a grave for tens of thousands of new lives?
A tiny creature no bigger than a fingernail covers the consciousness,
enveloping it,
devouring the past of beings and turning into a black mist;
such a grand existence seems to crumble, exposing the chaotic rules of existence.
There’s a crack as deep holes are opened.
“From the start, it wasn’t that simple, was it?”
An echoing sound endlessly creeps out, creating such a voice.
The answer to whether or not the monster is a person was ‘yes’:
a king of decay, possessing a skin of corruption,
with a hole where the voice bursts forth, surrounded by thin black mist.
Endlessly creaking sounds and rustles pierce my ears.
The small, scritch-scratch feet of the mindless beings tickle my skin.
Countless sensations overwhelm me.
As if the existence of ‘me’ is being devoured.
Thanks to that interference,
even if I try to think, I can’t concentrate, and to escape that situation,
I shift my midline to the right.
Thud.
My proud midline smashes through the black mist.
The small beings scatter.
Thanks to that, the meaningless stimuli blocking my thoughts dissipate, and I can again continue my thoughts.
Let’s think.
What is happening right now?
Again avoiding the encroaching black mist,
I dash backward and look at the two human-shaped beings.
One covers its face and screams in a strange voice, while the other glows, its form resembling something unknown.
It seems these human-shaped life forms are not enemies.
In this chaotic situation, there’s no sign of them attacking, so logically thinking,
is it Han Ah and Irha?
Seeing their strange behaviors, they must have lost reason at the sight of forms that don’t resemble humans, just like me.
Watching from a bit of a distance, it’s quite an amusing situation.
This Otherworld Invasion, purely stimulating the mind like this, is unprecedented.
Those beings, unable to maintain the form of humans,
move their bodies freely as if there’s no black chaotic mist enveloping them:
“Then these creatures are illusions?”
Beautiful, sharp sounds flow out from the beautifully vertically hollowed mouth.
I can’t even control the pitch of my own mutterings. I seem to be excited too.
The beings that try to cling to me again are trying to approach me.
Even if I recognize this as an illusion that exists only in my mind,
if it’s this realistic, it’s hardly any different from existing in reality.
There’s so much to think about, but if they keep clinging, it’s distracting.
I twist my limbs, wrapping around the spread-out extremities to find some emotional stability.
A common posture where one ties themselves up with their own thick limbs.
Through that, I erased chaotic thoughts and only observed how the situation unfolded.
*
After a moment of time passed,
the creature presumed to be Han Ah, with its pink skin,
lay losing its mind under the now-clear glass beads,
and what’s presumed to be Irha, a huge mass of protein,
quietly shed its own form and ceased its movements.
Though both of their appearances are grotesque, at least the situation hasn’t worsened:
besides the continuous assault of the black beings, everything is quiet.
This situation is truly bizarre.
How strange.
Why is nothing happening?
I continued to wait, but no threats were evident from the enemy,
nor did the Otherworld Invasion seem to deepen.
There seem to be two possibilities.
First, the one who initiated the Otherworld Invasion has no combat capability, merely waiting for our minds to collapse.
Second, this Otherworld Invasion isn’t targeted at us, but rather just a coincidental happening.
Whatever the case, I might need some information regarding the threat.
For now, should I move?
Since earlier, I’ve tried to widen my senses to find something suspicious, but the state seems oddly difficult to pursue:
In my arms, there’s a peculiar sensation as if mist has stuck to me.
Among them, my sense of time and spatial awareness feels uniquely strange:
as if I’ve just learned how to use that awareness.
Could it be due to the contaminated area?
Thinking of moving, I slowly shift my body to detach from the sticky edges.
Feeling the sensation of the gunk tearing away, I gradually move my body.
Thud.
Thud.
What is this sticky muck?
Is it for realism’s sake?
A few times I’ve tried to peel it off, the number seems to have decreased,
but whatever they are still cling to me as I scanned around.
Widely spread filth,
from afar, I hear a sobbing sound.
“Can you call yourself a human? The magical body blooming on the corpse: having died once in the underground,
“An echoing sound that generates a cacophony.
If I endure all of that,
I should find the cause of this troublesome Otherworld Invasion.
*
As the sun grew stronger and time passed,
chaotic thoughts began to swell.
This contaminated area isn’t exactly a bothersome place, but what on earth is going on?
Meeting the Thunder God is one thing,
but these days, strange events seem to often occur around me,
perhaps it’s because nothing has fundamentally gone wrong with me?
That urgent feeling doesn’t rise.
Other beings seem to have entirely morphed,
yet I remain in the same human form, with no hindrance to my actions.
Though a sense of discomfort subtly pervades me in various parts,
it’s a common issue in Otherworld Invasion scenarios.
“Really, where am you?”
This unusual sensation of being so tight and heavy all over.
I really need to resolve this soon.
“It’s not because I’m human. I’m draped in the corpses of ancient heroes who fell into despair and claim to be a shell.”
Adding to that, why is this echo so loudly?
Usually, it’s just a background noise mixed with the sound of someone else’s breathing.
An echo might be correct, but if only the repertoire was varied, it wouldn’t be so maddening.
If it were something that could break me,
I would have never let it go this far.
“Reporting on the dilemma of mental realm Otherworld Invasion and its annoyances shouldn’t be a bad idea.”
The title could be about the issues of Otherworld Invasion in the mental realm and its inconveniences. The content might go like, “After properly enduring it once, it was a pain.”
I think it would be quite acceptable.
Asking for a change to my hero’s name might even yield results.
If it’s registered as a source material, I might receive some kind of reward too.
“Why would someone dirty the name of a hero care about their name?”
This echo is phenomenal.
Could this be an effect of Otherworld Invasion?
Digging into my weakest and most irritating parts? That fellow’s underground storytelling
I wish it would cease.
Hearing the echo thousands of times,
I haven’t changed, but still, it irks me to hear it.
While wandering aimlessly in this manner,
something strange occurs.
“It’s wispering not to come here!”
It feels as though instincts are whispering in that place.
Looking at the illogical aspects,
it’s definitely an effect of mental manipulation.
“Quite strong…”
If it were an ordinary person,
they wouldn’t even recognize that they were being affected by mental manipulation,
unconsciously turning back their steps.
But for me, it’s nothing peculiar.
Following the intensifying mental magic as a compass,
I shift my body,
and changes begin to unfold in the land that seemed to stretch endlessly.
Footprints, wheel tracks.
Grass cut in a straight line.
Clearly, evidence that someone has used this path:
I down my sensory organs and point them toward the direction it heads.
“Is that it?”
An empty spot.
However, as I firmly recognize that something is there,
an aura of suspicion exactly captures my senses.
It’s frighteningly void of everything:
No smells, no flow of air, no movement of whatever is here, no time,
no space.
A place detached from everything.
That’s why something must be residing there.
“Should I go?”
This may not be related to the Otherworld Invasion at all: However,
finding what I look for in such monotonous surroundings is unprecedented.
There’s no choice but to move forward.
Thus, after several minutes of following the path,
Thud:
As I stretch my limbs toward the empty air,
I feel as if I’ve hit a barrier.
“Here it is.”
A place shielded by protective magic or a barrier.
Given how it cuts off sensory awareness,
it’s definitely a solid defensive wall.
Despite this, it may hold no significance against my strike.
While thinking that, I twist my body, gathering strength in my midline.
The resulting strength begins to glow red, freely displaying its power,
and as I shift my internal muscles into place, I release that power.
Boom.
The extremities collide with the barrier, creating an enormous crash.
It’s only natural. Against something that splits worlds,
what use would this barrier have?
Thinking like that, as the dust settles, I attempt to charge in.
“What’s going on?”
The barrier remains intact, just as it was. No changes.
Every bit is untouched:
There’s no way my power could be absorbed here:
This is the first time since being engulfed by Otherworld Invasion that a fierce emotion has erupted.
My body twists.
I go around the limbs.
It’s just the same repetitive thing.
However, no matter how many times I try, the outcome remains the same.
I think I’ve failed in controlling my power.
Believing that the Otherworld Invasion has a hindering influence, I lift my power.
Yet the result is unchanged.
My power cannot reach the barrier: my power has been defeated.
What on earth is happening?”
“That’s your limit. A false hero. A monster disguised as a human. The definition of self-righteousness.”
“Shut up!”
I realize yelling back at the echo is meaningless.
However,
I can’t help but hold back:
This can’t be true.
I am Krims Hammer. The hero of justice.
I will never lose in power.
To the peak of magical forces.
“Krims Hammer?”
I glance at the crimson muscular being on my right.
Delicate muscles engraved in a myriad of lines, beautifully yet strongly defined.
Now too, it displays bright muscle under the apparent skin, violently pulsating:
this is indeed my pride. The weapon I’ve used to crush countless foes of humanity, to protect the people.
Yet, why is
my hero name Krims Hammer? Why is it a hammer?
Thoughts begin to wander.
There must have been something wrong from the very beginning.
Old memories do not help at all.
What’s significant are the dissonances and errors I’ve encountered since the Otherworld Invasion.
Why isn’t my power functioning properly?
Why does my movement feel so burdensome? Why is my name a hammer? There’s no way to swing it with these limbs?
One by one, the discrepancies creep little by little in some direction.
What I took for granted from the start has been incorrect.
“Am I not in a human form?”
I had always assumed that my appearance was human.
However, if that’s false?
Denying what I took for granted,
my thoughts rapidly expand.
Think:
How does one originally appear as a human?
How did my limbs holding a hammer come to be?
How do I swing it?
Quickly, a figure surfaces in my mind.
The first grotesque entity I saw.
A being dressed in a vibrant skin, whose base diverges into grotesque limbs:
for some reason, when I recall that image,
its hammer-like form makes sense in a flurry.
A madman who swings a golden hammer, proudly smiling.
I realized that it was me.
If not for the forced transformation due to the Otherworld Invasion,
the body regains its original form in accordance with the mind via the world’s principles.
Crank-crank-crank.
Due to a rush ignoring the principles of logic, my bones break, and blood flows from every hole in my body,
but I feel refreshing.
It’s as if the murky mist has finally cleared from my head.
In accordance, all black mists vanish,
and I wield the hammer.
“Oh, right, this is it.”
The familiar sensation of the hammer’s weight travels up my hand.
For some reason, the touch of the hammer feels anew.
Before my eyes shines the barrier.
“Alright. Shall we go again?”
I step forward.
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