I had been walking for a while. Too long, maybe. If Wanora and the others noticed I was missing, they'd come looking. But that was an "if." There was no knowing what could happen in a place like this.
Then I heard something.
It wasn't the usual creaking of flesh or whispers of wind. It was... softer. I turned around instinctively.
There it was.
A lump of flesh.
It had eyes. No mouth. Just eyes—looking up at me like it knew me. Like it had always known me.
It inched closer, pressing itself to my legs. I just stood there. Frozen. It didn't attack. Didn't scream. Didn't wail. It just stood by me.
What... wh—
I almost said something dumb. I almost... I don't know, ended it. For myself. Because how else do you process this?
But then it clicked.
This thing… this wasn't behaving like an Outer God.
This was a child.
No. It couldn't be.
Right?
The lump of flesh closed its eyes and nuzzled against me like it was trying to feel my warmth.
I didn't feel disgusted at it. I felt disgusted at him.
Vasalir. A sick man.
I crouched and picked the thing up. It was strangely light. Warm, too. And despite how grotesque it looked, it just… stayed in my arms.
It wanted to be held.
I carried it.
I walked, carrying something that couldn't even be called human anymore. But I couldn't let go. Not because of pity.
Because this was a child. A child turned into something else.
I kept walking and eventually reached what looked like a tree—if trees were made of flesh. I looked up.
Endless. It stretched forever.
Then a realization hit me.
Wait. How can I see?
It was pitch black. No torches. No stars. Just void. And yet, I could see.
This has happened before… Carrisius. He was shocked too. He asked how I could see without a Clarion of Vision. He was screaming. Panicking.
Could it be…?
No. No way. There are no exceptions in Ethereal Love. That's the rule. No one sees the unseen without a Clarion.
Unless…
Could I be developing a second Clarion?
It's possible. Some characters in the visual novel had two Clarions. They never explained why, just that it happened. If I was still developing the Clarion of Vision, then this—this was proof.
Good. I'd take all the help I could get.
I walked around the flesh tree, careful not to touch it. No Clarion of Touch. Not here. Not now.
If this was part of an Outer God's body, contact could shred my mind like paper in a blender. I wasn't about to risk that.
"So what do I do now?" I muttered.
I glanced down at the flesh lump.
It opened its eyes and looked to the side.
There?
I followed its gaze.
More lumps of flesh.
They looked... worse. Deader. Brittle.
"Who are you?" a voice asked.
I turned.
A man dressed like a priest stood there. He pointed at the lump in my arms.
"Leave that child alone."
Child. I knew it.
I looked at him and asked, "Why are normal humans like this?"
"Like what?" he replied.
"Like THIS, dammit! WHAT THE HELL DID YOU DO TO THEM?!"
I couldn't hold it in.
The priest looked unfazed. "This is salvation. By our god, Thalos."
Salvation?
Thalos?
The god who rejected death—who thought death was a punishment?
Thoughts circled like vultures. All these lumps of flesh—they weren't dead. They were alive. Kept alive.
This was the result of living too long.
The priest stepped closer. "If you are sent here, then that means you are granted immortality by Thalos."
He dashed toward me. Too fast.
His hand touched my chest.
I slipped. My foot caught something.
Couldn't react in time.
"May you live a long life," he whispered.
---
I woke up gasping. My lungs clawed for air.
In front of me—his body.
The priest.
Dead.
His head... missing.
I stared.
I tried to remember. But my thoughts were like mud. Pain surged in.
The lump of flesh—still here.
I picked it up. Walked back to the tree. Sat.
Then I heard it.
"Oh no... this just won't do."
Vasalir.
He stood in front of me, smiling.
"You are linked with the Singer of Calamity? Interesting," he said as he stepped closer.
I raised my guard. Instinct. Habit.
"I'm not here to harm you," he added.
Sure. That's what they all say.
Behind him—the headless priest. Walking. Again.
Alive. But no head.
"Wh—what—" I stammered.
Vasalir smiled. "Oh, it's nothing. He can't die."
I glared. "What are you doing, Priest Vasalir?"
Breathless. Angry.
"Why are these people alive longer than usual? They're becoming deformed... No... Vasalir? No....Vasalir is a fake name… Thalos? The god of life?"
His smile froze.
"You found out who I am. Impressive," he said.
"I thought you weren't an Outer God," I said. "Then what is this deformed mess?"
He gestured.
"You are right. I'm not an Outer God. But this… this isn't me. These are the people who worshipped me."
"...What?"
"That's the only way, Mr. Heide. A person cannot remain alive forever. You think immortality means no aging? You do age. And slowly, you become this. But it's beautiful. Because it's alive."
"It's not. What is wrong with you... YOU ARE TORTURING THEM!"
"Don't be so rash. As much as I'd like to make you immortal too, something inside you doesn't want that."
Inside me?
Diagung...?
Did he save me?
Vasalir smiled like he already knew the answer.
"This world is broken, Mr. Heide Decimus," he said, reaching out a hand. "Will you help me fix it?"