A Tale of Forgotten Gods

Chapter 39: Marionettist of Flesh

Jian Yue felt the stillness of the palace in his bones. It had stopped living but hadn’t yet died... The eyes of portraits on the walls followed them. Their painted lips held screams that would never escape.

Zhuo walked beside him, his footsteps making no sound. The corridor swallowed noise like a throat consuming food. He took another step, but the step didn’t reach the floor.

He fell. Jian Yue moved quickly, his hand reaching out only to find empty air.

”ZHUO!”

Jian Yue stood at the edge of the hole, breathing hard. Zhuo had fallen into another layer of the palace. The air rushed past Zhuo’s body. His hands clawed at nothing, fingers tracing the wind.

Pain flared in his shoulder before he could register the transition from the hallway to this...lair.

Thud!

He crashed onto the ground. Zhuo’s eyes swept over the lair. Around him, flesh clung to the walls. Candles on the floor lit the place. A few meters away, he saw a rabbit’s skin stitched to a mouse’s.

Zhuo gulped. Then he forced his fear down. There was silence, and in the dark, silence without a companion was the worst enemy of anyone.

”Hahah.” A laugh echoed. Zhuo’s hand found his blade. With metal rubbing together, the blade came free. And he said,. ”I’m not afraid of you,”

The dark laughed again, then the sound lowered.

Above him, Jian Yue prepared to jump, but something caught his shoulder. He spun around. Behind him was a human... No, it couldn’t be called a ’human.’

The flesh of the dead, mixed with animal meat in different shades of gray, white, and rot. The scent was so bad that a perfume would fail against it.

Jian Yue covered his nose with his hand and jumped back, forcing himself to look at the grotesque figure. The face... Two, actually. One half a human, then the other a dog’s head. Hands... They were worse. Three hands: one stitched to its neck, the left hand of a human, and then another of a bird’s talon.

A failed project? At that moment a voice echoed from the depth of the lair.

”I’m fine here. I’ll find a way... I’ve to fight for the page; count on me.” Zhuo shouted before his voice dissolved.

Jian Yue looked at the absurd thing that should have been dead, but yet it walked as if there were a marionettist.

A marionettist?

Jian Yue thought, only if Mo Fei were here could he have seen the threads. He pulled his blade out of its sheath. The blade, made of Yan Gu’s bone, radiated with the hunger of blood.

The dead flesh’s face tilted. The neck cracked, falling sideways. Jian Yue held his nose. Breathing was already a hard time.

”Zhuo, be safe. I’ll find you soon.” He muttered, his gaze lying on the floor that turned normal again... ”Normal” was a generous word in this place.

Beneath Jian Yue’s feet, Zhuo had come to the end of the corridor. There were multiple rooms that had no proof of being real. Items like skulls and potions rested on tables made of bones, adorned with hanging nails.

Then a welcoming voice came from the third room on the right side.

A figure emerged from the empty path. A man in a gray robe with a large black rose crafted on the left side. It had a dark red tip. Every acolyte was clad in layers of charcoal silk, the long, wide sleeves embroidered with subtle, golden eyes that seemed to watch from the folds. Those sleeves had a long gray line coiled around them. ”Welcome to my lab, ascender,” the man said.

”How do you know that?” Zhuo asked, did this man know why he was here?

”Know what?” The man questioned back.

”That I’m an ascender.”

”You’ve proven it just now.” The man folded his arms.

Zhuo, surprised by this, held his blade tight. The man’s eyes dropped to the blade, and he shrugged.

”You can call me Jang Wu, though names are just another ornament, right?” Jang Wu’s piercing gaze locked on Zhuo.

Zhuo’s lips pressed together. His gaze swept over Jang Wu’s robe. His thoughts flooded, trying to find a way. ”I can’t use my eyes now. If I do, I have to win in the next 43 seconds...” His eyes narrowed at Jang Wu. ”He doesn’t seem the type to lose fast.”

Jang Wu looked at Zhuo; his eyes held mild curiosity. ”Tell me, what is the thing you came to steal?” He raised his hand. A few threads reflected the light, attached to the tips of his fingers.

Zhuo stepped back. ”I need to be efficient while using the eyes.” He thought for a second and then said, ”Not steal... to take what’s mine. The page of Arbiter, why do you have it?”

Silence, Jang Wu grinned, but it was subtly wrong. An intent of malice that Zhuo had yet to understand.

He took a long breath. ”What will he do?” That was his last coherent thought before a shadow fell behind him. He looked at Jang Wu, whose smirk widened as the man pulled the threads.

Zhuo’s eyes widened, and he snapped his head backward, seeing a dead tiger with wings attached to its back. The animal launched itself at Zhuo. He couldn’t process it before the tiger clawed at him.

His blade came free, and he pushed himself away from the tiger. The claws bruised his right hand, and blood dropped on the floor... Only to be drunk by the stitched creature, part rabbit, part rat. One crawled across his hand and reached out to his bruised hand. Zhuo caught it with his other hand and threw it away.

Jang Wu appeared behind him and attacked with a scythe. Zhuo, overwhelmed by relentless distraction, jumped forward only to be attacked by the dead tiger. He swung his blade, blocking the hit.

”Gah! I’m not even getting a chance to attack.” He pushed the tiger away. His fingers were bruised by the blade’s hilt. His wounded hand trembled, almost letting go of the blade.

Forty-three seconds. Should I? No, this time it was precious.

Zhuo’s eyes flickered; the blue glow threatened to come out, but he forced it down. Not yet.

Jang Wu’s strings were everywhere now, attached to everything. ”Now you’re thinking,” he scoffed. ”That’s your mistake.” He pulled a string. The tiger lunged.

Zhuo backed off. He hit the ground rolling sideways. He couldn’t stop the momentum and slammed right into the wooden table. The table’s legs broke apart, and fell on Zhuo, knocking the breath out of his lungs.

Above him, the head of the deer launched toward Zhuo to rip his stomach. He quickly raised his hand and the table’s legs floated and smacked the deer’s head. He quickly stood up; his eyes scanned the room but only found the tiger.

Where? Where did he go?

He looked above. Jang Wu hung from the ceiling by his strings, then he launched himself at Zhuo. The scythe moved quickly.

With another pull, Zhuo mover the table in front of him. He kicked it toward Jang Wu, who effortlessly chopped the table. But there was no one to attack. His eyes widened in surprise.

”Throwing my tricks on me.” Jang Wu murmured, landing on the ground. His strings twitched. He realized it too late. He snapped his head toward the tiger.

Zhuo’s blade rushed through the tiger, slashing it into a hundred pieces, and then he launched himself toward Jang Wu.

”Damn it, I was distracted.”

Zhuo closed up the distance, his body moving like a swift wind.

Jang Wu clawed at the air. The parted animals became a wall. Zhuo quickly changed his stance in midair. He stabbed his blade through the animals.

Jang Wu’s eyes wide in fear and awe. The blade stopped just a few centimeters from reaching the chest. Sweat dropped from his forehead. ”Impressive. Who is your master?” Jang Wu said while he took steps back.

Zhuo paused, taking a safe distance. ”Lin Shouxing.”

Jang Wu was surprised by this. ”Lin... Shouxing. The queen of Ciradyl... Hahah... of course you are her student.”

Zhuo’s expression turned confused, and he asked, ”What do you mean?”

”She can’t hide much longer.”

The animals fell on the ground. Jang Wu stood there. Then Zhuo noticed a small tremble in his fingers.

He didn’t waste time, and rushed forward with his blade piercing through Jang Wu’s chest, who stumbled back and hit the wall. A small murmur came out of his mouth. ”Flesh Transposition.”

In the same moment the word came, his body decayed, leaving only his bones that fell on the ground with a loud clatter.

He had escaped.

***

Somewhere in the forest.

Xue Lan stood in front of the church. His gaze lay on the clock time... 6:06.

”6:06,” Xue Lan repeated the time. ”Outside, the sun had already risen... so time is trapped here.”

Just in that moment he heard a neck-cracking noise. He looked toward it; his eyes found another spirit... a spirit of an old man. He ignored its presence and walked inside the church.

The world shifted for a brief second before he was outside the church again. He stopped in his tracks and looked at the spirit. ”Hm. So this spirit manages the loop.”

He walked toward it. The spirit tilted its neck, and from behind him an intestine launched toward him to catch him off guard. Xue Lan kept walking and raised his hand. The intestine coiled around his wrist.

It should have stretched, but it didn’t. The intestine tried to pull him, but it got pulled instead.

Snap

The snap echoed as Xue Lan pulled it, and gross juices dripped on the ground. He pulled out his dagger from his belt. The spirit couldn’t react fast enough before he stood in front of it.

”Dreamer... I should not have underestimated you.” The spirit said. Xue Lan slashed it down with his dagger, chopping off the spirit’s head, then the moth swirling around him entered its body and ate what remained.

He looked at the clock again. The watch struck 6:08. ”So it’s not the one to manage the time.”

He entered the church. That time he didn’t reach back to the entrance. Inside there was emptiness, nothing between them, not the statue.

He saw the back door and went to the backyard of the church. He looked at the sky, his moths flying toward the palace, and he followed them.

In a short time. The palace loomed before him. He stopped in his tracks, examining the palace. The lantern lights were the only light lighting the palace.

He waited outside, looking at the moth that flew inside the palace. They carried the flesh of the ’Crawler.’ As they entered the palace, the air seemed to hold its breath.

The wind flowed slower than before. The moths ran through the corridors before reaching a gate. It was a large gate with two cat’s skulls holding the doorknocker. The moths stopped and swirled around the gate, then they threw the spirit one by one at the door as if knocking on it. When the last flesh knocked on the door, the moths slowly disappeared.

The door opened. The mistress stood behind it. Her face had no veil now. Her breathtaking pale face watched the spirit twitching on the ground as if someone had let it live just to deliver a message.

The crawler’s voice spoke. ”Dreamer... Xue Lan came.”

She remained silent. Dreamer, huh? Long time to see one of their kind. She started walking through the hallway. Her heels tapped the floor, disturbing the silence.

Outside, Xue Lan opened the gate and stepped inside the palace. The moment he stepped inside, the cry of the well stopped. The bats reached for the nearest tree and hung there. Their eyes followed his movement.