Chapter 1212: A View from the Other Side
The entire world felt eerily silent. The only sound in Modir’s ears was the steady rhythm of his own breathing. In this small room, now faded into a monochrome palette of black, white, and gray, the old mage gripped his staff and his short protective dagger tightly, alert like a wary wolf prowling under the cover of night, sensing every movement within his range.
Gradually, more “information” began to seep into his awareness. Outside the room, he could hear the faint rustling of dust stirred by the wind, subtle scents emanating from rocks and soil—barely perceptible to ordinary people—and the shifting of light through the cracks in the window frame. All these details slowly emerged from nothingness, transforming from stiff monotony into vivid life.
It was as if the void beyond this cabin was being sketched into a “temporarily created world” by Modir’s awakening.
The old wizard remained utterly vigilant, tightening his grip on his weapons. He crouched low and crept toward the window, his eyes sweeping once more over every item in the room—down to the small pile of dust in the corner and the exact angle of two nails on the opposite wall.
This was a habit honed over many years: before falling asleep, he would imprint every detail of his surroundings into his mind. Thanks to magic, these mental images were so precise they captured every scratch and mark on doors and windows. Each time he opened his eyes, he would quickly compare the current environment to this “mental snapshot.” Any discrepancy could indicate an intrusion.
Beneath his usually carefree and casual exterior lay centuries of survival skills accumulated as an adventurer. Though his memory was fragmented and he no longer recalled all that had transpired over the long years, these instinctive techniques remained etched in his mind, never once neglected.
Modir’s fingers brushed lightly over the dust on the windowsill—this was the last detail. Everything in the room matched his memory perfectly, except… the entire space seemed drained of color, as if it belonged to the shadow realm.
He had experienced something similar once before, aboard a ship. The old mage furrowed his brow and carefully pushed open a narrow gap beneath the window. Peering through the crack between the windowboard and frame, he looked outside.
As expected, the familiar adventurer’s camp was gone.
Instead, an endless wasteland stretched before him. The sandy, undulating terrain was dotted with jagged, grotesque rocks and crawling black fragments. Far off in the distance, vague silhouettes resembling ruined cities loomed. The pale, monotonous sky hung heavy with murky shadows, casting a lifeless pall over the barren land.
But this time, Modir did not see the massive, oppressive figure seated on the collapsed throne—the one that had seemed as immovable and imposing as a mountain. In theory, such a colossal presence could not simply hide; if she appeared in this realm, she would inevitably draw attention.
The old mage frowned instinctively, then suddenly realized something. He dashed to the other side of the cabin and cautiously cracked open the door, peering out.
There, before him, stood that mountain-like figure, radiating a suffocating aura of power. She sat upon a towering throne, its base and surrounding pillars mostly collapsed. A flowing black gown enveloped her form, trailing from beneath the throne and stretching outward. Countless grayish-white cracks marred her body—Modir couldn’t tell if they were on her clothing or piercing through her very being. The cracks seemed alive, subtly shifting and moving, like interwoven shadows flickering against the dark fabric.
Behind Modir, parchment and quill silently floated into view. As he watched the scene beyond the door, he quickly began to write:
“Year X, Month X, Day X. Awakened from slumber to find a strange phenomenon similar to what I experienced recently aboard the ship… It seems I have entered the Shadow Realm—or some abnormal space akin to it—in my dreams. The scene before me is roughly the same as last time…
“I see again that overwhelming figure. This time, however, she—or it—appears behind and to my side. Does my position shift randomly each time I enter this space? Too few samples to conclude…
“The figure has not noticed me yet, at least not for now. I remain uncertain of her origin. No known human records of the supernatural mention anything like her… I am hiding behind a thin door, but it offers no real protection. If this ‘lady’ wished, she could probably blow me and this entire cabin away in one breath.
“I must avoid making any noise. Whatever this presence is, I clearly cannot defeat her…”
The quill raced across the parchment. Even in such a bizarre situation, Modir’s ingrained habit compelled him to document everything he experienced. He had faced stranger circumstances before. Though his memories were fragmented, he knew exactly what to do.
Suddenly, a voice echoed across the open land outside, interrupting his writing: “Ah… searching for a way out in a dark cavern filled with crystal clusters—that sounds like quite the adventure story. I wish I could see that crystal river you described… Does it really end in a hole leading to the earth’s core?”
Modir recognized the voice—it came from the enormous figure. The old mage held his breath. Moments later, a reply came, sounding exactly like his own voice: “How would I know? I just made that story up recently—the second half isn’t even finished yet!”
The vast plain fell silent for a moment. Then the booming voice laughed heartily, a sound full of delight: “Ha ha ha… My great adventurer, you admit so readily that your new story is nonsense? You used to talk my ear off before admitting you exaggerated your tales…”
Modir heard the identical voice respond: “That’s because I now realize your standards for stories aren’t very high. Besides, lady, I’ve finished my tale. Is it your turn now?”
The slightly lazy yet infinitely authoritative female voice was silent for a moment, then spoke from all directions: “Want to hear about the dream I had recently? I remember it fairly clearly…”
“Alright, lady, what did you dream about this time?”
“Starlight, starlight covering rolling mountains and plains, and a city crawling across the earth. I crossed the gap between reality and illusion to deliver a crucial message. Passing a giant tower, I saw a monstrous beast crouching in darkness—bloodless, fleshless, only hollow bones. It devoured offerings from mortals, and flesh began to grow upon its skeleton…
“I also saw something breeding deep beneath that crawling city. It stretched through the entire city, across distant plains and mountains. Deep underground, massive limbs grew and extended into the hazy, chaotic darkness. Along the way, smaller limbs branched off, reaching out of the earth to soak up sunlight during the day…”
“Oh, lady, your dreams are as terrifying as ever—an absolute mess. Can’t you describe them any differently?”
“No, I’m used to it.”
Modir hid behind the door, carefully controlling his breath as he listened to the conversation outside. The dreamscape the “lady” described formed fragmented, chaotic images in his mind, but his limited mortal imagination could not piece together any clear picture from such abstract, disjointed descriptions. He dutifully recorded every bizarre detail onto his parchment, all the while cautiously scanning the horizon for any other figures.
He searched for the source of the voice that had answered him—the voice identical to his own.
Before he could find it, the situation outside suddenly shifted.
The wind sweeping across the plain grew restless. Gray-white sand began swirling around the crumbling throne. From the direction of the ruined city silhouette came a low, indistinct murmur—like many voices layered together in a dreamlike babble. The sound grew louder, but no matter how hard he listened, Modir could not make out a single word.
As soon as the murmuring began, Modir immediately cast over a dozen layers of mental protection spells on himself. His extensive adventuring experience told him that such vague whispers often signaled spiritual contamination. Though mental defenses were not always effective against such pollution, multiple layers usually helped.
Though his memories were fragmented, he recalled digging up forbidden things from tombs and dungeons more than once. Timely mental protection and solid resilience had always been key to survival.
While Modir prepared himself, the two voices outside fell silent, seemingly listening intently to the murmurs from the ruined city. After a long pause, the lazy yet commanding female voice muttered in a low tone: “Here they come again… Still can’t tell what they want.”
“Maybe they just want to chat? Or say good morning or something…”
“You’re serious? Great adventurer?”
“Just throwing out a possibility…”
“Then keep your possibilities to yourself, great adventurer,” the authoritative voice said slowly. “I should get up and move around—the uninvited guest seems to want to cross the boundary again. I’ll remind ‘her’ who’s in charge here. You stay here. If you feel your mind is being tainted, just take a look at the star chart.”
As the words fell, Modir’s eyes suddenly widened.
He saw the massive figure seated on the throne—or altar—finally stir. The goddess-like lady rose! She stood like a towering mountain, her magnificent gown billowing behind her like an endless rolling darkness. She stepped down from the ruined dais, and the very world seemed to tremble beneath her footsteps.
The “living cracks” crawling across her body truly came alive, moving swiftly and rearranging themselves. They gathered in her hands, forming a half-black, half-white scepter. In this world of stark black and white, the scepter shone like a measuring rod for the entire universe, irresistibly drawing Modir’s gaze.
Almost simultaneously, from the direction of the pitch-black city ruins in the distance, another massive and terrifying entity began to rise—one far more horrifying and indescribable than the towering, majestic “goddess” who at least bore a vaguely feminine form.
This thing was a writhing, pulsating mass of grayish-white flesh, its surface crawling with shapeless limbs and maddeningly chaotic geometric patterns. The entire form seemed to flow and shift, like an unformed embryo or a melting chunk of raw meat. It rolled forward relentlessly, occasionally sweeping aside obstacles with enormous tendrils or countless hands and feet sprouting from its body. As it moved, it emitted frenzied, deranged roars. Parts of its surface turned semi-transparent, revealing layers upon layers of enormous eyes, or strange runes and symbols that seemed to contain forbidden knowledge.
Modir caught only a glimpse of the abomination before dizziness overwhelmed him. A powerful sensation of corrosion and invasive alien thought flooded his mind. His protective spells, layered one upon another, felt utterly useless—as if they didn’t exist at all. The old mage bit down hard on his own tongue, the metallic taste of blood filling his mouth. With great effort, he wrested control of his body back and forced his gaze away from the monster.
As he pulled his eyes away, they happened to pass over the “throne” where the woman had been seated moments before.
His attention was instantly captured by what was revealed on the throne’s backrest—previously hidden by her body, now fully exposed. In the center of the ancient, grayish-white backrest was a vast starry sky, unlike the monochrome world around them. This starfield shimmered with vivid, distinct colors.
Modir instinctively leaned in for a closer look and immediately noticed more intricate details within the starry pattern. Tiny inscriptions accompanied the twinkling stars, faint lines connected the celestial bodies, and directional glimmers pointed the way. The entire constellation map was not static; near the edges, Modir saw slowly shifting geometric shapes. Though their movement was subtle, to a mage of his keen perception, it was unmistakably real.
He had to record this—right away!
The quill and parchment floating behind him began to move in response to his urgent thought. But before he could act, a bone-chilling, thunderous roar erupted from afar.
It seemed the colossal female deity had finally clashed with the “horrific alien god” emerging from the city ruins.
A violent explosion echoed in Modir’s mind, and the world spun wildly. Darkness swallowed him whole as he lost consciousness.
(End of chapter)