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Chapter 114: Non-Correspondence

~9 min read 1,612 words

Facts prove that no matter how bizarre something is, it still follows some basic laws, at least in the normal world.

Come to think of it, what counts as a normal world? Kraft had no commendable understanding of this. Since he was not in a dream, could a world where a "person" could vanish into thin air and reappear behind one truly be considered normal?

However, this ability obviously did not come with effects like immense vitality or resurrection from death; the hunched attacker still adhered to the principle that "the brain cannot function when iron shards are embedded in it."

Kraft bypassed Yin Feng, his left hand dangling, and approached the fallen enemy. He kicked the dagger from the man's hand and delivered another hammer blow to the collapsed, moldy-pumpkin-like head, ensuring there was no possibility of him waking up again.

The wound on his left shoulder had worsened after excessive movement, and a slash across his waist limited his power generation. Worrying about insufficient force, his irrational anxiety made him strike the corpse a few more times until he heard Yin Feng's uncomfortable dry cough, only then realizing that the fellow's upper body bore a startling resemblance to the raw ingredients of a meat pie.

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For both of them to enjoy this delicacy safely for the rest of their lives, he had better stop now to avoid triggering further unpleasant associations.

"You really were a huge help." The image was a bit off when saying this while holding a weapon still stained with unknown substances. He casually wiped the hammerhead on the attacker's clothes; after all, they wouldn't complain now.

With all targets down, the emotion-driven power receded from his body, replaced rapidly by exhaustion and post-traumatic fear. It had been so close; if not for Yin Feng's bold move, he would probably be on his way to personally verify the existence of Heaven right now.

He then realized that what he should do was not praise her for doing well, but consider whether this scene might cause adverse effects on a child.

"You need to know, they got what they deserved." Kraft flipped each corpse over one by one, observing Yin Feng's condition.

The latter merely frowned, covering her mouth and coughing as if acid reflux was scratching her throat. She seemed only a bit nauseous, which was far from the behavior Kraft had imagined for a little girl.

In a way, she was even better off than Kraft; he didn't know if staring a few more times at those sunken, disassembled facial features would make him vomit.

Yin Feng did not need counseling. She picked up the wooden handle of that dagger with two fingers, drained the blood from the wet rust, and said, "Thank you, I know."

When this overly young colleague arrived, Kraft had harbored some inner criticism regarding Kraft's intentions, but her insensitivity to humans losing their normal form and consciousness suggested something complex behind the scenes.

He did not want to learn the specific details of this desensitization process; if anyone asked him why he disliked dreaming, he would not get an answer.

"Go check on Peter, okay? I saw him get stabbed just now." Kraft found a spot by the bed to lean against and tentatively touched his lower back; the blood hadn't completely stopped yet.

His body felt no heat from activity; instead, his fingertips grew cold. The flow of warm bodily fluids had taken away far more than just body temperature.

The hostage woman had long since fled. Only three living people remained at the scene; if measures were not taken in time, by tomorrow morning, barring any accidents, only two would remain.

Yin Feng placed her fingers under Peter's nose, waited a few seconds, nodded to Kraft, and proceeded to examine the wound on his back.

The linen threads and fibers had twisted into the knife wound, sticking and tangling. After pulling gently twice, she decisively abandoned this attempt destined to yield no results and picked up the dagger to cut open the clothes.

This weapon seemed to have been regarded by her as a trophy, similar to how certain bird species would carry away small objects of interest.

"I don't know. If he can pull through, he'll probably be fine?"

Kraft did not want to stand up. He glanced from afar at the exposed back with the torn clothes and thought the girl was quite efficient. Peter's wound hadn't stopped bleeding, but it wasn't gushing like a spring; fortunately, he hadn't passed out yet.

"Wrap some cloth around his waist and tie it tight." This position near the spine on the lower back, he recalled from training, contained vital internal organs that would cause major problems if injured. Kraft pondered for a moment; it was probably called the kidney?

This offered no help; the training only taught him how to protect himself, not how to treat injuries. Even the bandaging had to be done by Yin Feng.

Regarding this, his assessment was: if Peter didn't die tonight, he would live until tomorrow morning. At that time, let Kraft see if there was still a chance.

No, that wasn't how it worked. Kraft suddenly realized the paradox: if he had suffered such an attack, then Kraft and William's side would face far more than just this.

"Run!"

Kraft pulled William, who was as if waking from a dream; the latter had just fallen back into that dazed, chaotic state, staring blankly at faces popping out of the darkness like bubbles, unconsciously reaching out to touch them.

If not for being awakened, it looked like he would have gone up and kissed one.

No further words were needed. William kicked his legs and followed Kraft, the two sprinting through the gray-white cave.

"Can you send us back?" William was terrified. If the previous place was Hell, then where they were now was beyond his knowledge. "That hole-digging thing should be gone, right?"

"No, I need time!" The person holding the torch pushed off the wall to turn a sharp corner and answered between hurried breaths, "Watch your step!"

William reflexively jumped, striding over a horizontal stone ridge resembling intestinal folds. Hidden in the intricate shadows, it waited to give intruders the last lesson of their lives: always remember to watch your step.

The moment he landed, a pebble struck his toe. Through the boot, it felt as if his toe had broken. "Agh!"

"Can't we try now?"

"Can you run while looking at a sea chart?" Kraft retorted. Wasting precious breathing intervals during an escape was playing with life.

"If you get me out, we can negotiate!" The captain grabbed his waistband with one hand; the hurried leap had loosened his belt, and his pants kept sliding down from his belly, the cold wind making the area around his navel chilly.

Kraft ignored him again. Needle-like headaches were still piercing behind his skull plate, trending toward the forehead and behind the nose. The cave space intensified the claustrophobic feeling of narrow confinement; running at full speed felt like crawling through an endless, stitched-together roller tunnel.

The numb escape became even more headache-inducing when a fork appeared ahead—an intersecting Y-shaped junction where another path slanted across, as if tilted at an angle and returning to the original mine tunnel.

But Kraft clearly remembered it wasn't like that. Their direction of travel was away from the mine tunnel; this was a different junction.

And straight ahead, he saw white impurities emerging from the darkness: flat noses exposed, a flexible white extension paler than the gray-white rocks, and several unseen local faces subtly smiling at them.

"Left!" Kraft decisively led the way to turn left.

Although he didn't know what was on the left, it looked like an upward slope, which was better than continuing downward.

"Wait... wait for me..."

The uphill path was much more difficult. William ran gasping for breath, but the terror of having met a pale, wide face still triggered potential in this body that it hadn't possessed even in his youth, supporting him to keep up with the torch ahead.

As long as there was a sliver of hope, no one would want their face to appear among them.

Thus, this hellish race received an overtime round. The two leading contenders squeezed every alveolus until they could taste rust in the airflow from their mouths, feeling they couldn't put enough distance between themselves, so they might as well use their last strength to think about how to die with dignity.

When they stopped on this seemingly endless uphill section, only uneven panting and coughing echoed in the cave; the disturbance of chitinous arthropods moving had faded away.

Kraft lit a second torch and handed it to William. As the circle of light expanded, those faces showed no sign of appearing for the moment.

"We... are temporarily safe?" William wiped his wet cheeks with his sleeve. "Should we try your 'magic'? I've thought it through; maybe being crushed to death would be better."

"I can't agree." The young "wizard" shook his head, pressed William's shoulder, closed his eyes, and gripped an object within his sleeve. William guessed this was the precursor to activation, like wizards chanting spells before casting in legends.

However, Kraft didn't need to. Did this mean his level was relatively high?

"Damn it!" A curse interrupted the baseless speculation. The hand on the shoulder loosened, and an expression of shock and uncertainty dominated Kraft's face for the first time.

"This shouldn't be happening. There are no holes above us."

◈

End of Chapter

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