Four days have passed since that day.
A great many things happened in those four days, yet in a sense, nothing happened at all.
In fact, I spent most of those four days doing almost nothing.
I took care of various cleanups, rested, and the meals Hyo prepared were still delicious.
I even took a day to visit a psychiatry clinic for counseling (not Paju Central Hospital, but a completely ordinary hospital that’s never appeared in the game).
Even while doing all that, I observed, confirmed, pondered, reflected, researched, and analyzed many things.
And I spent a long time contemplating the incident that occurred that day. Yes, that day.
It took me the full four days just to mentally organize the sights I saw and experienced in Cheontaedong.
The reason I’m writing it down in text is to record what I sorted out in my mind in a “fully sane” state, so I can once again trace it objectively.
Before I begin the main account, there is something I must make clear. It may not matter to others, but it matters greatly to me.
Today’s date is June 14.
My name is Kim Sinhwa.
There is no need for special doubt about this.
And one more important thing.
To avoid any misunderstanding, I will state it plainly.
Right now I am writing this with the clearest, most intact mind I’ve had in recent memory.
This is not an uncertain self-diagnosis that a madman might make. There has been a diagnosis and confirmation of my mental soundness by authoritative figures. (I will explain who diagnosed and confirmed me later—but it’s unlikely anyone could hold greater authority.) Again, I state clearly: I am in the most “normal” state I have been in recently.
Moreover, whatever groans and rustlings those things—whether fragments of my shattered psyche or another persona—made have completely ceased for these past four days.
Therefore I am writing this entirely under my °• N 𝑜 v 𝑒 l i g h t •° own mental clarity and will, without any external (or internal) influence.
However, the incident in Cheontaedong that day was so bizarre that it defies full description in words.
Even I, the “sole witness” at the center of that event, was too broken at the time to understand or analyze it in a calm, objective way.
Thus, when this is read later, it requires great caution.
It’s not that I’m considering other readers.
After all, this is a kind of diary. I don’t expect anyone but myself to read this.
But from past experience, I cannot guarantee that the future version of me who reads this will be in a sound state, so I add these multiple warnings.
Do you understand what I’ve written so far?
If you can read and interpret these words, that’s encouraging. If you’re careful not to break further, you might find a way to get better.
All right. Now for the main topic.
Let’s see—what scene should I start describing?
Come to think of it, this morning Jang Hyundeok asked me this question:
“Wizard, is your head okay?”
He immediately corrected himself with “Oops, my mistake. I meant, are you feeling all right?” I asked him several times what he had thought, but he seemed unable to understand why he’d asked that.
I asked Hyeolhu a similar question, and he merely replied, “You mean my head is going to explode?”
Yes.
It’s best to start with the head.
The moon warped, and a massive message window appeared in the sky.
And before the shock of that even subsided, the sky tore open and “it” revealed itself.
Just before I could fully perceive the form that had appeared—
There was a bang from my left, like something exploding.
With a shoving force I was pushed aside, and a nauseating, slippery fluid covered my left side. Lukewarm liquid and slick slime ran down my arm and neck.
And something as tenacious as clay, but bright red.
Foolishly, I briefly lost my focus from “it” to check what had thrown me aside.
It was Hyeolhu.
But I didn’t immediately recognize him. I think I just stared at that form dumbly.
After a breath, I realized Hyeolhu’s head was gone, and the fragments splattered on me were pieces of his skull.
Had he burst his head in shock?
Or perhaps it was some ability of the Abyssal Entity [Predator of the Mountains].
Or maybe Hyeolhu, unable to accept the true form of [Predator of the Mountains], had killed himself by bursting his own head.
Whichever it was, it didn’t matter anymore. At the time, I thought he had killed himself, and I felt a vague fury mixed with the impulse to do the same, and I lifted my head again.
At that moment I was caught in the simplest thoughts: “It’s in the sky? It’s flying? Oh, that pisses me off?”
Now, recalling that scene, I remember what the [Quiet Watcher] once told me. It went exactly like this:
“Kim Sinhwa, do you know how deeply I must bend my body so you can understand in the form you recognize? How do you speak with an ant?”
Yes, that was said.
To crouch the body. But that day in Cheontaedong, [Predator of the Mountains] did not crouch; it simply entered this [Cthulhu World] by its true power.
[Predator of the Mountains] is a potent Abyssal Entity. But if you compare the [Predator of the Mountains] depicted in this game, [Cthulhu World], to other Abyssal Entities—
It’s a bit high for a lesser entity, and low for a major one—mid?
Mid-low is probably the right placement.
Countless Abyssal Entities can perform far more tremendous miracles and wonders than [Predator of the Mountains], and I have witnessed the miracles they wrought in this game, and seen their forms of destruction countless times.
But what [Predator of the Mountains] showed that day was nothing like the power expressed in the game.
It was not the crude, degraded, childish force crudely implemented through the game’s limited medium.
It was not the paltry form of [Blood Demon King] or [Quiet Watcher] or [Fear Drinker] or [Shang Dubu] as portrayed in the game—and it was not something you could even call [Predator of the Mountains].
Its true name...
True name... ... ... ... ... ← I write this so that if a less sane version of me reads this later, he won’t mistake it for a code—it’s just my pen smudge.
No matter how hard I try, I cannot remember.
I definitely shouted its true name back then.
But now I cannot recall its true name at all.
It’s not a mere loss of memory.
It seems its true name has vanished from this world.
That penalty the entity declared beyond the message window must be this.
Ah, stating the conclusion first might confuse later me.
Seeing how my thoughts keep wandering, I clearly still resist recalling what I saw.
The overwhelming presence that revealed itself—its form was truly wondrous, so overwhelming that it inflicted irreparable wounds on my spirit and mind.
It is impossible to describe concretely what I saw.
Because delirium activated.
[Abyssal Madness]?
Yes, that trait triggered.
The [Abyssal Madness] trait unleashed the strongest sparks I’d ever emitted, forcibly restoring my shattered mind.
But the true form of “it” revealed itself faster than my mind could recover, and relentlessly drove me into a horrific delirium.
The pain was so agonizing that dying might have been preferable.
Or at least going mad to the point of no return.
Yet [Abyssal Madness] clung to my mind like a devil determined to keep a soul trapped in the abyssal hell.
The gruesome spectacle before me splintered my mind and shattered my soul. Then the trait restored that broken mind and soul so I could face the horror again.
Unrelenting destruction and cruel restoration, repeated endlessly, generated unspeakable torment.
The thing that approached me then—should I call it the spectacle I saw, or “it”? Or [Abyssal Entity]?
The true form those things must not reveal?
I’m glad I’m writing this down. I feel I’m getting closer to the source.
But describing it abstractly risks confusing future me—still, I’ll keep calling it [Predator of the Mountains] despite the inaccuracy.
If I attempt to express even a hint of [Predator of the Mountains]’ true form in words, it would go like this:
Please forgive the absurd expressions and abstract descriptions. Honestly, I can barely recall its proper form, let alone describe it.
The first thing I perceived of [Predator of the Mountains] was its enormous eyes.
Eyes larger than the moon.
And next to that, another eye larger than the moon.
And next to that, yet another eye larger than the moon.
And next to that another eye, and another, and another—endless giant eyeballs forming a vast eye-path.
No, it’s closer to a “line,” isn’t it?
Since seeing the whole was nearly impossible, I called it a “line,” but it was probably an immense “ring.”
Each eyeball moved of its own accord, blinking or rolling in its own eyelid.
Those endless eyeballs formed a colossal circular ring that could cover the world; inside that ring was another ring of eyeballs, and inside that another ring.
How many rings [Predator of the Mountains] had, I cannot recall.
Perhaps between ten and a hundred.
Each ring rotated or shifted position in its own direction, and each eyeball held vast knowledge, wisdom, authority, power, and mana—and an absurd, tremendous mass.
At the same time, a message was displayed in the sky.
[System: If you continue to ignore the rules, penalties will be imposed.]
Thanks to that message window, I discovered one fact.
Ridiculously, I had only thought of [Predator of the Mountains] as “a huge thing floating in the sky” = “it’s flying? I’m angry?” nothing more.
Only two days later, based on that message window’s position and size, I could calculate how enormous [Predator of the Mountains] really was.
If I—the future me reading this—ever forget that size and mass, pay close attention to what I write next.
My earlier description of “eyes larger than the moon” is no metaphor.
Those rings of giant eyeballs—[Predator of the Mountains]—had not yet reached Earth by that point.
It still drifted in space at roughly the moon’s distance. Each eyeball was the size of or larger than the moon.
Eyeballs countless—tens of thousands or hundreds of millions—formed rings. And there were hundreds of such rings.
Could you calculate the total size from that? With a functioning Intelligence stat, it wouldn’t be hard.
Then, in the next moment—
With a shock that felt like the entire Earth might shatter—
It began slowly approaching Earth.
Simultaneously, another huge message window appeared.
Like a barrier to block its advance, it spanned across [Predator of the Mountains].
[System: Do not approach further. This is your final warning.]
But [Predator of the Mountains] did not alter its movement. In an instant it shattered the message-barrier and drew even closer to Earth.
And in the next moment, I realized that gravity existed on that colossal body of [Predator of the Mountains].
With a crashing sound, everything in Cheontaedong was drawn toward [Predator of the Mountains].
Boulders scattered across Cheontaedong soared upward, the waters of Ballang Reservoir shot skyward, the cultists’ temporary structures crumbled to dust and were pulled in, and the headless corpses strewn about flailed limbs as they flew upward.
I, too, was drawn by the gravity.
On the brink of delirium, I hurled every curse at the sky, resisting the gravity it generated.
It was “flying.”
At that time, I had a phobia of flight.
I could not accept flight.
