...This is the moment of return.
But does he really belong here?
His vision gradually cleared; the surroundings were pitch black, and in a conspicuous spot was that cluster of intertwined bonfires.
Reaching out his hand, there was no warmth, nor did it emit light. So, was this fire, or something else entirely?
But regardless, this place was closely linked to him, Linge.
"What, exactly, am I?"
Linge murmured softly. He reached into the flames but received no feedback.
"It doesn't matter. Perhaps obsessing over such things is meaningless."
Withdrawing his hand, Linge turned and left.
His time was precious; not a single second could be wasted.
Closing his eyes, Linge walked through the forest, calmly humming 'Don't Look at Me, I'm Just a Sheep'.
Even without looking, there was no panic in Linge's heart; he was very calm.
The path was dark anyway, and the range of visibility was small. If he opened his eyes, he would become reliant on them.
Then, there was no need to listen either, for in this dark forest, all existences had learned silence.
So, look... "I am here."
It's here!
In an instant, there was a rustling sound in the woods.
Snakes!
They were masters of stealth, but now they no longer lay in wait. Instead, they twisted their bodies and moved rapidly—something they only did when hunting, only when devouring.
But compared to them, Linge was even more greedy!
Swaying twice, Linge had already felt for his sword. The sound of wind breaking was heard, followed immediately by bits of meat falling down.
Under the perspective of 'Heart Sense', those souls all emerged.
"I shall take everything from you."
Cold blood splashed onto him. Linge opened his eyes and looked at his hands, realizing something.
If he wanted to protect what he cherished, he had to take away what others cherished... but was this really okay?
"..."
Perhaps from the moment he raised his sword, this was destined... Linge grabbed all the souls and then stuffed them all into his mouth.
Then let it be so... Then let it be so... Eat! Eat! Eat them all!
Add kindling to the soul, let it burn forever!
Thus... the moment to feast has arrived!
...Because the strong die at the hands of the stronger, everyone was extremely careful, fearing to make a sound, fearing to expose themselves.
However, if one wanted to survive, simply hiding oneself was not enough... Souls!
One must take the souls of others!
One must nourish oneself to become the sole existence... that one and only King!
So, all consciousnesses in the forest silently obeyed the latent rules here, until... that gray-clad black figure returned.
But wasn't that guy food?
Wrong. He was... the butcher.
Cut down—Tear apart—Devour—
No living people existed here, only monsters killing each other... Time is running out... Time is running out... You all... must die... It was night, and silence returned once more, with piles of corpses and blood accumulating in the soil.
No one is innocent, so everyone should die... So, why is it that only... I remain.
Standing atop the mound of corpses, body like an ink stain intertwined with crimson, this was the final winner, the one and only "King".
Suddenly, there was a clap of thunder, and Linge finally snapped awake. He subconsciously touched his face and murmured softly, "So there were no changes."
Then he slumped to the ground, looking up at the sky.
That profound canopy, since it gave no light to the earth, would not attract the longing of intelligent beings, leaving only constant reflection... Is this really reality?
Linge raised his hand, looking at the back of it, silhouetted against the night sky.
In fantasy works, settings like 'Brain in a Vat' or 'The Truman Show'—consuming vast resources to toy with a person's life—were not lacking.
Fake!
Linge lowered his hand and began to slap himself.
Fake!
He continued to slap, leaving bloody marks on his face.
Fake!
His hands clawed fiercely at his forehead, Linge's face contorted in agony. Blood slid from his fingertips, seeping into his eyelids and dripping down.
It hurts! It hurts! It hurts so much!
But why, even though his hands were stained with so much blood and he had taken so many souls, was there... not a single abnormality about him?
So... who... exactly... am I (you)?
Is it really... Linge?
"..."
"Hey, friend!"
Hearing the shout, Linge lowered his head, his eyes faintly revealing a dangerous, sharp edge from his left shoulder.
Between the battlements of the distant high wall, a scrawny fat man was waving his hand. He was calling out, his round face puckered into a fawning smile.
Here he comes... the 'Feeder'.
Throughout history and across the world, tall buildings have always become landmarks of their regions, and literary works are very fond of such things.
Right? To see its full extent, one must look up, and then one will discover their own insignificance.
And this is the embodiment of 'authority'; that which is gazed upon is the 'Tower'!
"Quite good indeed. I thought these fellows would become useless, but I didn't expect the fruit to ripen only now."
That guy kept clapping his hands, his eyes full of praise.
Beneath the tower in the distance, the gray-clad black man drew his sword, slung it behind his back, kicked away the blood clots, and walked forward slowly.
"Truly a warrior. Yes, this is exactly what I wanted. Let me think, he could be a great substitute... No, he can completely take over the vacancy. We, the 'four horsemen'..."
Then, a mocking smile appeared on the fat man's face.
"That's enough. The so-called four horsemen were entirely created by that lunatic Kebro. To think that 'judging the world' nonsense was actually adopted by that lord."
"But then again, 'Her Majesty the Queen' is quite obsessive..."
At this point, the fat man immediately covered his mouth and looked back into the depths of the castle.
"Whew..."
He exhaled a pent-up breath, his face brightening.
"What was I thinking? Just scaring myself... That lord is at a critical moment right now; she can't hear..."
Meanwhile, Linge had also entered the city and was making his way up the ramp.
Reaching the top, he found an entrance. He went inside, climbed a spiral staircase, and arrived in a spacious room.
A person stood inside—not tall, and somewhat fat.
"A warm welcome to our champion! Whoa?! Not showing any panic? Not showing any annoyance? What a remarkable character! Oh, I'm so sorry, I actually forgot that you're the guy who was hacking and slashing away with a giant sword, more bloodthirsty than a beast and more crazed than a monster. And here I was, doubting your patience?"
With a slap, the fat man struck his own face and bowed slightly.
"Your Excellency, how about I apologize to you right now?"
"Who are you?"
Linge looked up slightly, a faint trace of hostility in his eyes.
"Some call me 'Famine' because I always like to take others' food to fill my own belly. Actually, I don't like that name. After all, the existence of any order needs 'the strong' to maintain it. As long as the strong can eat their fill, it doesn't count as 'famine', right?"
The fat man's eyes narrowed slightly as he spouted his fallacies without the slightest hint of shame.
Linge, however, kept his eyes slightly closed, having no desire to comment on any of it.
"Heh... how arrogant and tactless. I only wanted to share some inner thoughts because I saw you were just like me—equally greedy, equally base... Oh~ I see!"
Seeing the look in Linge's eyes, the fat man clutched his stomach and laughed loudly. "So I'm the boring one? Haha, come to think of it, saying such obvious truths out loud really makes me the stupid one!"
"..."
Linge didn't know what expression to make, so he began to imitate Leike and put on a poker face.
"Name?"
The fat man chuckled. "Herluth."
Then, he looked calmly at Linge, waiting for a response.
What should he say?
'Linge'?
No.
In a magical world, curses often exist, so one shouldn't easily reveal their true name to others.
Besides, just as Linge had hoped, the other party was the person he had been waiting for.
He had a theory: this forest was originally a 'gu' jar. All the monsters here were definitely not such non-human existences originally; they were altered later.
The reason for the alteration was simple: the power behind the so-called 'four horsemen' was turning mortals into monsters to obtain more powerful souls, then turning them into food to strengthen themselves... and only 'the Queen' could enjoy this treatment.
Little Red Riding Hood had mentioned before that the monsters occupying this place were merely 'residue'.
Residue could also mean... tasteless scraps.
This meant that the Feast of the Night had already ended, and 'Famine', as one of the 'four horsemen', was responsible for the final 'cleanup'.
The other party was clearly dissatisfied with the cleanup work. What he needed was someone who could take over the responsibility and eliminate all the residue. This would be the so-called 'champion', which was... Linge.
Thus, Linge guessed that the other party would not show hostility.
But acting like this really makes me look like a dog... "I am Woodworth."
Linge looked up slightly, an air of arrogance appearing on his face, his eyes swirling with an innate confidence. He then looked back at the dark forest, as if reminiscing, as if composing the final movement of a musical piece.
"Ever since I gained consciousness, I have been wandering in this forest... dying... dying over and over again... until there was nothing left inside, only an empty shell..."
Herluth smiled and nodded slightly.
An Undead?
Rare. It seems the seeds sown have sprouted into a precious seedling. That is... the best!
Knowing this, the gaze with which he looked at Linge became increasingly fervent.
"Only later did I realize that our lives are bestowed by heaven, so if the heavens want this life back, they can take it. But anything else... No! No! Absolutely not!"
Linge's face suddenly contorted. He lowered his expression, growling like a ferocious beast.
"I... will take back everything I have lost, and... I will never let go!"