Chapter 31: The Nightmare of the Evil God’s Core

“Where am I?”

Yalin lifted his gaze, discovering he was situated in a space utterly alien to him.

The pitch-black sky appeared rent by a colossal fissure, through which dark crimson light pulsed like flowing blood.

Boundless miasma permeated the air, its purplish-red tendrils surging in successive waves, obscuring the vast majority of his sight.

Yalin could only discern, through the miasma-shrouded depths, the faint presence of a colossal shadow.

It felt chilling and sinister, yet inexplicably, it seemed to share an unspoken connection with him.

‘Am I dreaming?’ Yalin mused, a slight frown creasing his brow.

He recalled that only moments before, he had been sound asleep in his own bed.

He pinched his wrist forcefully, a sharp sting blooming on his skin, undeniably real.

If this truly were a dream, its realism was unsettlingly acute.

“Appear, my construct!”

Yalin snapped his fingers.

Faced with such an unsettling anomaly, he felt compelled to summon his Conceptual Deity for protection.

Snap!

The sharp sound dissolved into the oppressive air, yet Yalin remained a solitary figure.

For reasons unknown, the golden angel, typically so responsive to his summons, remained conspicuously absent.

‘Tsk, so it can’t be summoned even with a medium? How utterly vexing,’ Yalin thought, his comprehension of the situation here diminishing rapidly.

Beneath his feet, dust swirled, as dark, viscous liquid began to seep sluggishly from the parched, desolate earth.

Yalin paid it no mind, instead pondering for a moment before setting off towards the colossal shadow.

Ever since he first perceived the abnormal entity lurking within his consciousness, he had braced himself for the inevitable occurrence of such events.

Parting the dense, layered miasma, Yalin finally beheld a ‘colossal entity’.

Its shadowy form, so immense it seemed to pierce both heaven and earth, presented a blurred yet vast outline, towering directly into the fractured firmament.

Standing before It, Yalin felt as diminutive as a pebble at the foot of a mountain.

From the ceaselessly emanating black mist, points of eerie red light pulsed, while countless slender tentacles, concealed within, writhed in a frenzy.

Abruptly, an overwhelmingly potent wave of mental defilement washed over him, instantly blurring Yalin’s vision and causing the blood vessels in his eyes to throb perilously close to bursting.

Cold sweat cascaded down his forehead, and Yalin involuntarily retched several times.

Yet, he swiftly compelled his body to acclimate to the profound discomfort.

Having endured similar psychic assaults since his transmigration, he possessed a degree of innate resistance.

He once more fixed his gaze upon the bizarre, shadowy mass.

‘It seems this must be the entity lurking deep within my consciousness,’ he surmised.

‘Damn, it’s so utterly grotesque.’

‘With such a repulsive appearance, it’s no wonder the protagonist is destined to utterly annihilate it.’

‘Still, considering it has resided within my body for such an extended period, I can hardly claim to be disgusted by it anymore.’

“Uh… hello?”

He extended a tentative hand, attempting to initiate a greeting.

“…”

No response.

“Konichiwa (TL Note: A Japanese greeting, ‘hello’)?”

“…”

“Ciallo (TL Note: A playful, stylized greeting often used in internet culture, combining ‘Ciao’ and ‘Hello’ with an emoticon.)”

The black mist abruptly surged and churned with renewed ferocity, as points of crimson light converged, coalescing into a single, baleful orb that fixed itself upon Yalin, like a monstrous eye.

‘What, so you’re a Yuzu (TL Note: ‘Yuzu’ here refers to Yuzusoft, a Japanese visual novel developer known for creating games with cute female characters. Yalin is humorously implying the monstrous entity has a hidden ‘cute’ side.) too…’

Without the slightest warning, a crimson ray erupted from the shadowy mass.

In a mere instant, Yalin’s neck was cleanly severed, his head soaring upwards like a burst balloon.

His vision spun violently, then plunged irrevocably into absolute darkness.

“…Lin… wake up…”

“Yalin… Yalin! Wake up now!”

Voices, indistinct yet urgent, echoed in his ears. Yalin, still dazed, fluttered his eyes open to behold the familiar expanse of his ceiling.

“I… didn’t die?”

“What nonsense are you spouting this early in the morning! Stop dreaming!”

Carol punctuated her words by firmly poking Yalin’s cheek with her finger.

“It’s nearly noon already! Even on a day off, you can’t afford to be so slothful! Get up and eat!”

“Mmm… I’ll get up right away…”

Carol closed the bedroom door, and Yalin, bracing himself against the bedframe, slowly pushed himself into a sitting position.

He tentatively touched his neck; thankfully, his head remained firmly attached.

Yalin let out a deep breath.

Twenty-eight times!

In that nightmare, he had been slain a total of twenty-eight times!

Each brutal demise was a swift, single strike, only for him to return to the starting point, trapped in an agonizing loop for twenty-eight repetitions!!

‘A master of decapitation (TL Note: ‘Jiētóu bàwáng,’ literally ‘head-connecting overlord,’ is a Chinese internet slang term referring to someone who repeatedly gets their head severed and reattached, often used humorously in contexts of endless death or resurrection.), huh?’

‘This entity, despite residing within my very being, truly showed not an ounce of mercy…’

Yalin pressed a hand to his throbbing forehead, a wave of profound revulsion washing over him as he recalled the grotesque shadowy mass.

‘If his suspicions were correct, that abominable entity was likely the very Evil God mentioned in the novel…’

Although Yalin had harbored suspicions for a considerable time, a sliver of desperate hope had persistently clung to his heart.

‘After all, wasn’t the Conceptual Deity he summoned supposed to be an adorable little angel?’

However, reality had just delivered a brutal refutation: a concept remained merely a concept.

Concepts, by their very nature, could not manifest into reality.

Now, with the chilling truth laid bare before him, there was no denying it—that thing was, unequivocally, an Evil God!

‘Well, damn. Yalin had previously puzzled over why the original host had inexplicably transformed into an Evil God’s avatar, assuming it was merely the hack author’s clumsy attempt at a forced deus ex machina.’

‘Turns out the Evil God’s true form was residing within his body all along, wasn’t it?’

‘That damn foreshadowing was buried deep, wasn’t it?’

‘When writing a Feng Aotian (TL Note: ‘Feng Aotian’ is a Chinese internet slang term for an overpowered, arrogant protagonist, often found in  wish-fulfillment novels.) wish-fulfillment novel (TL Note: ‘Shuangwen,’ literally ‘refreshing text,’ refers to a genre of web novels designed to provide instant gratification and catharsis to the reader, often featuring an overpowered protagonist.), can’t you just stick to sweet, romantic plots? What’s the purpose of all these intricate foreshadowings?’

‘Do you have any idea how complicated this makes things for a transmigrator like me?’

“Is there any way to eliminate the Evil God…”

Yalin strained to recall any pertinent details from the novel, only to realize that, beyond sheer physical annihilation, there appeared to be no other viable means.

‘Never mind. I’ll search for clues later, when I have more time.’

After a quick meal, Yalin departed his home, making his way towards the black market nestled deep within the squalid slums.

He was a familiar presence there, a regular patron.

The black market, as it was known, operated without concern for identity or the provenance of its wares.

It was a simple exchange: coin for commodity, commodity for coin. Once a transaction concluded, all ties were severed irrevocably.

Yalin held a particular fondness for this place, as it invariably yielded a trove of invaluable materials.

‘As for legality? That’s a conversation for my coin purse.’

“Boss, one Dragon Demon Crystal Core, two Cloud Sea Lilies, how much?”

“Ah, honored patron, your discerning eye truly spots the finest wares! These have only just arrived, you see… To be frank, these materials were salvaged from a merchant caravan that met an unfortunate end; a rather ill-omened haul. I’ll offer them to you at cost, just eight hundred Lir…”

Yalin lowered his hood. “Enough with the theatrics. I’m pressed for time. A final price.”

Upon glimpsing that face, the proprietor, who moments ago had been rubbing his hands with a veneer of geniality, instantly adopted a scowl, spitting vehemently.

“Ill luck be damned. Four hundred Lir. Take them and begone.”

Yalin, a faint smile playing on his lips, settled the payment and tucked the bundled materials securely into his coat.

Faint curses from the proprietor drifted behind him, but Yalin paid them no heed.

A pungent, acrid chemical odor, intermingled with the stench of putrefaction, hung heavy in the air.

While the general stench of the slums was already deplorable, the air here was so suffocating it burned his nostrils and made breathing a painful ordeal.

Along the grimy alleyways, a few hurried figures occasionally darted past.

Most were heavily cloaked, revealing only glinting eyes that harbored a palpable menace.

Yalin’s pace remained unhurried, making him appear, in contrast to the rushing passersby, like an ignorant newcomer.

However, his eyes subtly flickered behind him.

He was being followed.

And by a seasoned veteran, no less.