OJTTEG-Chapter 35: Someday, I'll Slap That Shameless Deity Right in the Face

Damn it, what a perfect MVP moment, and I don't even have a cigarette to hold? All I've got is my drenched self and this black shadow beside me.

Oh well, I don't smoke anyway, so it doesn't matter.

Wait, a black shadow? What's that?

Haunter lifts his head in surprise, then turns around to find himself almost nose-to-nose with a dark figure. There's barely two centimeters between them.

"So that's how you recognized me... Just how many people's testes have you kicked to notice the difference?" Cain's raspy voice grates like rusty metal scraping together.

"It's surprising you're still alive..."

Haunter is taken aback for a moment, finally getting a clear look at the charred figure before him. Cain is nearly burned to a skeleton, with only small patches of flesh clinging on and slowly regenerating. But the growth can't keep up with the decay and shedding of muscle.

He emits a putrid stench, reminiscent of the smell surrounding those at death's door, mixed with a burnt aroma. His bones are pierced with shards of charred glass, likely from forcibly breaking free from the solidified molten glass.

"Are you trying to kill me?"

"Shut up, I only have a few..."

"Honestly, if you could take me down in this state," Haunter forces a thumbs-up, one eye half-closed, "then be my guest, you're truly invincible!"

Is this guy always so out of touch?

"Can you just listen for once!" Cain's weak roar barely registers.

"My phone is nearby. Could you help me deactivate my account?"

"Why?"

"Fiona—I don't want her to know about this."

"Alright."

Cain wants his account deleted to leave Fiona with a good impression. It's not a sudden change of heart; he knows he's done for. This guy has always been drawn to beauty, so his actions are never surprising. Such a twisted form of affection.

"One last question. Why don't you lose sanity? Why?"

"Is that so strange?"

"Every human carries the gene for fear, an innate trait. Feeling fear leads to losing sanity, yet I've become... this..."

Cain's jaw suddenly drops to the ground, preventing him from continuing. But from his mouth's movements, it's clear he wanted to ask, "Why don't you have any fear?"

Seriously, how does someone's jaw drop mid-sentence?

Haunter suppresses a laugh—this isn't the time to chuckle. Apologies for my low humor threshold.

"It's simple," Haunter leans close to Cain's ear, speaking slowly. "I have no negative emotions. I once thought I felt fear, but realized it was just the thrill of facing challenges. Losing sanity? I understand it, but it simply doesn't happen to me."

"You... really are..."

"You're already gone; don't force it."

Cain struggles to produce two sounds from his throat, which Haunter effortlessly removes like picking the top leaves off an orange. It's merely a piece of withered muscle.

Then, Cain's bones collapse—not metaphorically, but literally. As they hit the ground, they shatter, the once-binding muscles having lost their vitality, unable to hold them together. They fall like brittle bamboo, breaking into smaller fragments upon impact.

The remnants of flesh drop to the floor, twitching wildly like snails without shells. Lacking an energy source, they quickly wither away.

"I'm the monster? I've already become one."

"I'm not stupid. I have no interest in understanding your past, nor will I try to persuade you with some redemption arc. Our relationship is straightforward: you want to take me down, and I want to take you down."

"I've fought hard for this second chance at life. If I don't strive to live fully, it would be a waste... After all, I'm here now. If I don't leave some mark, how could I just walk away?"

Haunter examines his wrist, noticing a faint number appearing.

5.

This number likely represents the progress gained from riling Cain up during their conversation. Haunter finds a dry spot to sit and checks the history.

"Nyarlathotep!"

What a delightfully twisted name.

Returning to the room with a toilet, he spots a laptop nearby. It's unfortunate; why isn't it a desktop? In this mental realm, shouldn't anything be possible?

On the screen:

[Anger from the troll-like Cain: +1+1+1+1+1.]

Is this squeezing out the last bit of potential? Even in his final moments, Cain was half-dead from anger.

Is this like charging up a special move? Probably. But if I'm solely relying on this...

I might as well believe I'm Trump, give me 50 bucks, and you'll become the Defense Minister. I'll lead you to conquer the world.

Oh, right, he proposed that it will be called the Department of War.

"Time to head out. The commotion here was quite something, but thanks to the ball lightning, cleanup was a breeze."

Haunter shrugs indifferently, exiting the mental realm. He tidies up the scene briefly before disappearing into the rainy night. With such a mess, he has no choice but to seek Ormond's help.

As for Fiona, there's no need to worry. She hasn't seen him or An, nor does she know what transpired. Even if questioned later, she won't have any answers. He moves her to a spot sheltered from the rain, where she can wake up on her own.

If his former self had witnessed such a scene, he'd probably have scrambled away in terror. But now, fear is a thing of the past, as if he's unlocked the final barrier of humanity.

What happens when someone is absolutely fearless? It's unknown, because no one is truly without fear, leaving them only to speculate.

But what do I fear?

At some point, whenever faced with adversity, I've grown accustomed to asking myself two questions.

First, will this situation kill me? If not, it's irrelevant.

Second, if it will... well, once you're dead, what's left to say?

This mindset might be a sign of psychological issues, but I believe it's the only way to survive in this bizarre world.

Let me reintroduce myself.

I'm Haunter Reed, and I'll show you how to navigate the perilous Cthulhu Mythos world.

By the way, someday, I'll slap that shameless deity right in the face. That's my wish.