An Invisible Impact

Bone-chilling cold filled the air, freezing their breath into frost instantly—it was far colder here than in the temple above.

The King of Gloomy Cold Bones truly lived up to his name; the piercing chill drained all color from their faces.

Dressed for May weather, the two had felt comfortable enough in the subterranean city's fifty-some-degree temperatures. Even when the temple dropped below freezing, it had been tolerable. But here, the frigid air was relentless. Less than a minute after landing and confirming their immediate surroundings were clear and temporarily safe, they felt their bodies growing rigid with cold, as if their very blood was turning to ice.

Lynch felt a surge of deep regret. The TV shows he used to watch had taught him plenty of clever little ways to get himself killed while exploring, but almost none had warned him about what provisions to pack for an investigation in another world. If there was a next time, he would make sure to stock up on proper supplies before setting out.

Even so, glancing back at Miss Valente, whose nose was bright red, Lynch let out a sigh. He slipped off his damaged suit jacket and handed it to the noblewoman, leaving himself in just a thin dress shirt.

I'm no bleeding heart, but this is a kingdom of gentlemen. I have to adapt to local customs. As for staying warm, I can just shiver it off... Wait, what???

Just as he was trying to comfort himself, he watched Miss Valente bite her lip, accept the jacket, and put it on. She offered him a tight smile, then pulled out a tiny box and opened it, revealing a container of red powder inside.

With a flick of her finger, she sent a spray of the powder clinging onto both of them. As ancient syllables poured from her lips once more, Lynch felt a wave of warmth surge through his entire body, effortlessly sealing out the freezing cold.

Tsk, you spellcasters really know how to live.

Recovering from their stiffness, the two shared a quick smile before turning to cautiously inspect their surroundings.

The bottom of the shaft opened into a vast, flat underground chamber. It was empty at a glance, with no sign of the deadly ghoul statues or Formless Ones. The area was filled with a stench of rot, bathed in the same faint green glow that flickered across the stone. On one wall, a pitch-black passage stretched horizontally into the unknown distance.

An oppressive aura emanated faintly from deep within the tunnel—like a slumbering beast that lay motionless, yet still commanded terror from every living creature.

Soft green light trickled out from the depths of the passage. Endless malignancy seemed to leak through the swirling green mist, accompanied by faint, hushed whispers lingering at their ears. The sound was raspy and low, like countless insects crawling over their skin in the dead of night.

It seemed they had found their target. Before they had even laid eyes on it, its mere existence was radiating an overwhelming dread. There was no other possibility: this was an avatar of an evil god.

It's right inside. We found it.

Clack, clack, clack.

But before Lynch could even process the grim satisfaction, he was startled by a rapid chattering of teeth beside him. He whipped his head around to find Miss Valente deathly pale and trembling violently, her teeth knocking together uncontrollably.

Under attack? Where's the enemy?

Alarm bells rang in Lynch's mind. He pulled her behind him and scanned their surroundings, but the chamber remained completely empty. There was no trace of an attacker, only the eerie green light shining with spine-chilling stillness.

What's happening?

Her condition deteriorated with frightening speed. Within seconds, Miss Valente collapsed limply to the ground. She wasn't just slurring her words; her entire body was twitching so wildly that she couldn't even manage to reach into her own pockets. Unintelligible gurgles escaped her throat, her eyes flashing with bouts of wild mania as her expression contorted into grotesque grimaces.

What do I do?

“Help... me... Quick... Pocket... Cigarette!”

Catching a momentary flash of clarity in her eyes, Miss Valente fought through the mental chaos and practically rasped out the words. Her terrifying expression left no room for hesitation. Lynch lunged forward and rifled through her pockets, quickly pulling out a handful of miscellaneous items, including two green cigarettes.

This must be it. Hurry!

Lynch shoved one into her mouth and struck a light. He watched anxiously as she greedily inhaled several deep drags, his eyes glued to her face in suspense.

Fortunately, after a few puffs, color gradually returned to Miss Valente's face. Her trembling hands stilled, and her eyes regained their rational calm.

“Phew... That was close.” The noblewoman let out a long breath and offered a weak smile, wiping cold sweat from her forehead. “Thank goodness you were here. Otherwise, I might have succumbed to madness on the spot and never woken up again.”

“What on earth just happened?” Lynch frowned. “Is this the corruption caused by the evil god's mysterious filth? You're not going through a twisting transformation, are you?”

Lynch recalled Officer Natalie explaining to him that when mysterious filth corrupts a soul, it often manifests as violent emotional swings—fear being the most classic symptom.

“It was close... very dangerous. The moment I realized that oppressive aura belonged to an evil god, my soul suffered a severe impact. If not for this soul-returning grass temporarily stabilizing my soul, I might not have made it back.”

Miss Valente took a few more hurried drags before snuffing out the cigarette butt and tucking it away.

“This is my first time encountering an entity like this. I underestimated it,” she said. “I never imagined that even a slumbering avatar could nearly shatter my soul's defenses through sheer presence alone. I shudder to think what would happen in the presence of its true body.”

Damn it. Just being aware of its existence almost turned her into a raving lunatic or a monster?

Lynch realized that having so easily tricked two evil gods previously had made him arrogant toward these high-level existences. Relying on his ability to trigger Divine Authority, he had rushed in without prepping anything, carrying fewer supplies than a young noblewoman. All those TV shows he watched had truly gone to waste.

If I keep this up, I'm going to get myself killed sooner or later. How could I forget what my neighbor said? Winning was only a possibility; it all depended on how I handled it.

'My sincere apologies, neighbor.'

【Mm. It is not too late.】

Taking a deep breath to reclaim the caution he had possessed when he first arrived in this world, Lynch smiled faintly and extended a hand to Miss Valente. “Are you well enough to keep going?”

“We have to,” she replied. “We are exposed to the evil god's corruption every second we stay here. The longer we linger, the worse the contamination gets. It won't take long before we undergo a twisting transformation.”

Miss Valente's face remained somewhat pale, but her mind had recovered, and a bright spark returned to her eyes. She gave Lynch a gentle smile, pulled out several cigarettes, and pressed them into his hand.

“Don't worry. With the soul-returning grass supporting me, and having already weathered the initial shock, I should be fine for a while. But you really are incredible... This is a racial memory etched deep into our very souls—a primal fear of the Great Old Ones—yet you were completely unaffected. Even if you aren't afraid, please keep a few just in case.”

“I was affected too, just to a lesser degree, and I recovered quickly,” Lynch said. “Going by what you said, it's probably because my soul isn't etched with all those complicated memories, making me more suited to resisting evil gods. A friend once told me I was rather special.”

Seeing Miss Valente's contrast made Lynch finally realize just how unique his mental resistance was. No wonder his neighbor had repeatedly emphasized that he was special. Still, having decided to play it safe and abandon his overconfidence, Lynch asked her for a stick of soul-returning grass, lit it, took a deep puff, and strode into the solitary passage with the smoke lingering in his lungs.

The passage ran deep. As the green glow intensified, their heartbeats quickened, and tension mounted with every step. After an indefinite walk through the subterranean gloom, the space ahead suddenly opened up into a brilliant burst of emerald light.

An entity of profound, unsettling monstrosity finally revealed its full form before Lynch and Miss Valente.

Mordiggian, the King of Ghouls.