Twisting

【Lynch, stop.】

For the first time, a note of anxiety entered the gentle, calm female voice, sounding exceptionally vivid in his mind.

【You are throwing your life away. You cannot help her—you will only allow the filth to devour you as well. The power of twisting is not something your willpower can oppose. Even if you invoke divine authority, you cannot withstand it. Once your soul is eroded, you will suffer the exact same fate as her.】

Yet Lynch held Officer Natalie’s bizarre, writhing body tightly, utterly unmoved.

'No, there’s still a ray of hope.'

'What you just said reminded me: maybe she can’t fight off the twisting alone, and external forces can’t interfere with a soul. If I change myself from an external force into an internal one, I can help her fight off the corruption together.'

'Just tell me: is there a chance of success or not?'

Perhaps sensing the warmth of Lynch’s embrace, the officer’s eyes, on the verge of fading into complete darkness, regained a flicker of life. Her lips, already overgrown with fleshy sprouts, quivered as she forced out a single word with all her strength.

“No.”

“Shut up. Even if I’m walking straight into my grave, I’m not letting you face death alone. As long as there’s a sliver of hope, I’m taking it. So hold on, stay right there, and wait for me—I’m coming with you.”

Lynch spoke loudly, ignoring the sticky pus and writhing sprouts on her face as he pressed his face firmly against hers.

Forehead to forehead, nose to nose, eye to eye.

Then, he activated his most useless ability.

【Authority, Death, Ability, End Resonance.】

It allowed him to resonate with a dying person, projecting his will into their soul world. Normally, it was used to hear a person’s last words. But if someone was willing to risk their life, it could be used for other things as well.

For instance, fighting back corruption.

Red mist representing mystery surged from within Lynch’s body, enveloping them both in an instant. Yet the moment it made contact with Officer Natalie’s twisting form, it was violently repelled.

It failed.

The muscles on Lynch’s face twitched, his eyes straining so hard the corners almost tore. Without a second of hesitation, he tried again.

It has to work. I’m just unfamiliar with using it for the first time. Next time will definitely work.

The red mist rose again, only to be rejected once more by the officer’s body.

Damn it! What’s wrong? Don’t mess up now!

Lynch’s eyes turned bloodshot, anxiety mounting in his chest. But then a sudden realization struck him like a flash of lightning.

Wait... It requires the target to be a dying person. Does a twisting soul even go through a "dying" process? Could this attempt be completely impossible from the start?

Whether it works or not, I won’t give up until the very last second.

Gritting his teeth, Lynch held the officer’s strangely writhing body tightly and closed his eyes, no longer overthinking the ability’s mechanics. He simply activated it again and again.

Lynch lost count of how many times he tried. He only knew that the aura emanating from the body in his arms grew stranger and more dangerous by the second.

If it exploded like Mr. Klin had, he would die without a doubt.

Yet Lynch had thrown all hesitation to the wind. If he didn't succeed today, he would die right here. There was no third option.

Again.

Once, twice, three times...

The body in his arms suddenly erupted with an intense blast of mystery filth. Simultaneously, the newly surging red mist suddenly sank deep into the officer’s body.

In a daze, Officer Natalie Angel experienced a dream. Everything in it felt impossibly real.

Tall buildings, narrow alleys, dim gas streetlamps.

A tall, middle-aged gentleman gripped a sword, using his body to shield a young woman behind him.

Opposite them, in the open space beyond the dark alley, a massive pentagram formed an altar. Thick blood flowed through the carved lines of the altar as a priest chanted loudly beside it. Over a dozen cultists, accompanied by dozens of hideous monsters, prowled around the perimeter.

Under the moonlight, even when facing these strange entities, the young woman in plain clothes declared her determination and courage with a firm expression.

“I know I’ve been linked to the mystery. I know I could die at any moment. But I’m not afraid of them.”

“I want to follow behind you. I want to use my power to fight against them. I want to do my part to protect innocent citizens too.”

“This is my own choice. I don’t want to wait at home anymore. I’ve learned formal swordplay—let me fight alongside you. I can be of help.”

Yet as the cultist priest’s chanting grew higher and higher, blood-filth began to pool at the center of the altar. Piercing wails echoed one after another from unknown corners as a strange and terrifying shadow slowly crawled out from the center of the altar.

The terror etched deep into her soul shattered the young woman’s sanity completely. Panic-stricken, she bolted from her hiding spot, screaming as she tried to flee.

In an instant, every gaze locked onto her. The cultist priest raised a hand toward her, and an immense power plummeted from the sky.

Just as the young woman was about to be devoured by the force, a tall, broad back appeared before her. The middle-aged gentleman shielded her with his body, taking the brunt of the crushing power in her stead.

Battered and bleeding from the impact, the middle-aged gentleman drew his sword and charged into the crowd of cultists. The blade flashed like snow, slaying every enemy before finally cleaving the crimson altar in two with a single strike.

The resulting energy shockwave nearly destroyed everything surrounding the open space. Yet when the smoke cleared, the middle-aged gentleman had once again blocked the blast with his own body, leaving the young woman behind him completely unscathed. Like a madwoman, she carried the middle-aged gentleman on her back, running with all her might. But just as the club came into sight, the man on her back drew his very last breath.

A heart-wrenching anguish instantly engulfed Natalie Angel’s mind—because at that very moment, she caught sight of the young woman’s face.

It was her own face.

Yes, this was the truth.

The ordinary person in Natalie’s story who didn't want to die, the ordinary person whose panic and blind flight had ultimately caused her father's death—was actually herself.

Perhaps she genuinely wished that, like the ending of a story, the foolish ordinary person who caused the tragedy had also been swallowed by the mystery. But reality was often far more cruel. Her father had died, while Natalie Angel had survived.

This fact—which she dared not recall, refused to accept, yet which gnawed at her heart whenever night fell—was once again torn open, bloody and raw, exposed before her eyes.

Grief, self-blame, loneliness, regret...

An intolerable torrent of negative emotions rushed into her consciousness all at once. Heart-wrenching pain gnawed at her heart, driving her to the brink of madness the instant her awareness returned.

Despair—extreme, suffocating despair. Under the assault of these emotions, even breathing became an impossible luxury. She felt only agonizing pain, wanting nothing more than to run away forever and forget everything completely.

And this was merely the beginning. The brief dream repeated itself over and over, each loop clearer than the last.

Yet Natalie could do nothing. She could only watch helplessly as she lost her mind to the horror of the filth time and time again, screaming as she ran from her hiding spot. She watched over and over as her father’s silhouette stood before her, becoming bruised and battered under the blows.

Reliving her most painful memory countless times, progressing from despair to numbness, the endless agony finally reduced her mind to a complete blank.

Without her realizing it, the world holding these nightmarish memories had become covered in cracks, and countless horrifying fleshy sprouts were seeping through the fissures.

More and more, denser and denser, the entire world seemed on the verge of total collapse. Yet it held on, lingering perpetually on the brink, as if waiting for something.

Perhaps it is holding out hope... but what on earth am I hoping for?

Her numb, rigid willpower was beyond thinking. Holding on and waiting had become nothing more than final instincts. But human willpower ultimately had its limits. In the final moment, the entire world shattered completely.

Twisted shadows, hideous tentacles, writhing fleshy sprouts—countless grotesque entities seeped in from beyond the shattered world, ravenously devouring the fragments.

Facing the approaching abominations, the young Natalie merely tilted her head up in confusion, staring blankly at the dark sky.

I feel like something is missing up there... like I’m waiting for something.

Right... a moon. There should be a red moon up there.

In the next instant, across the broken sky, a red moon burst through the endless twisting shadows and eerie horrors, hanging high in the center of the vault. Crimson moonlight poured down in all directions, causing the advancing corruption to falter and hesitate.

Under the moonlight, Natalie saw a blurry yet familiar figure appear before her. She could no longer recognize who he was, but seeing him brought a comforting warmth to her heart, giving rise to an emotion she hadn't felt in a very long time.

She thought it was called... joy.

“Sorry to keep you waiting, Officer Natalie.”

“What a wild scene. Looks like I made it just in time.”

“I’m sorry for leaving you to face them alone. From now on, let’s fight side by side—no matter the outcome, we live or die together.”

A solid, broad back stood before her, just like the figure seen in her countless memories. The familiar silhouette pulled his cane back to his hip, aiming it at the horde of encroaching fleshy sprouts.

In the next second, the twisted horrors momentarily stunned by the moonlight surged forward from all directions. The broad-backed figure swung his cane and charged straight into the fray.

“No!”

Past and present intertwined; the two silhouettes gradually overlapped until they were indistinguishable from one another. The overwhelming shock of seeing history repeat itself revived a sliver of Natalie Angel’s shattered willpower. Sanity and memory flooded back into her mind, and she let out an instinctive, agonized cry:

“Lynch!”

Amid her cry, endless pus, blood, and fleshy sprouts erupted into a cloud of red mist. Their two intertwined bodies crashed heavily onto the floor.