Reborn In A Perverse Monster World! My System Adapts To Everything!

Chapter 141: The Child Of Judgement! [FIXED!][14/07!]

Thalion was frightened. Scared out of his mind.

He had no idea where he was. No idea if he could ever return to the world he knew. His men were all but slaughtered, their bodies dragged beneath the waves, their screams still echoing in his ears. He could not even mount a decent resistance if he were attacked now. His body was battered, his mana depleted, his will shaken.

The island loomed before him, unknown and terrible. It was obviously a shrine—a place of sacrifice, of offerings to something that should not be disturbed. The stones were stained with old blood. The air was thick with the weight of countless souls.

He could feel it, but there was something different about these souls.

Thalion knew why they were here.

They were to be sacrificed.

He stood alone at the base of the mountain, his chest heaving, his eyes fixed on the structure above. The stairs were worn smooth, carved from the same dark stone that covered the entire island. They led upward, disappearing into the mist that clung to the peak.

He had no choice but to climb.

Step by step, he ascended. The silence was suffocating. The weight of the place pressed down on him like a physical force. He could feel eyes watching him from the shadows, though he saw nothing.

Then, at the top, something descended.

A child. No more than eleven years old. Its skin was stone, cracked and weathered, as if it had been carved from the mountain itself. Its eyes were black and empty, yet they seemed to see everything.

Thalion froze. His hand drifted to his blade, but he did not draw it.

The child stopped a few feet away, staring at him with those hollow eyes. It did not speak. It did not move.

It simply waited.

Thalion’s throat tightened. He did not know what this creature was. But he knew, with absolute certainty, that it was the reason he had been brought here. It was the master of this shrine.

And it was judging him.

Before Thalion could speak, two of his men collapsed.

Their bodies hit the stone floor with a sickening thud, their eyes wide, their mouths frozen in silent screams. Their souls had been ripped from their bodies in an instant, leaving nothing but hollow shells behind. One moment they were standing. The next, they were empty vessels, their life force extinguished by something they could not see, could not fight, could not even comprehend. The echo of their deaths hung in the air like a curse.

Thalion’s blood ran cold. He had seen many deaths. He had caused many deaths. He had walked through battlefields littered with corpses and had never flinched. But this was different. This was not magic. This was not a blade. This was not any form of attack he recognized. This was something far more absolute, far more, far more terrifying. It was judgment.

The stone child had not moved. It had not spoken. It had not even blinked. Its hollow eyes remained fixed on the remaining survivors, empty and emotionless, like two pits of darkness that stared into the soul.

Yet two of his most seasoned warriors were dead. Their bodies lay crumpled on the stone floor, their faces frozen in expressions of shock and disbelief.

Thalion’s mind raced, desperately trying to piece together what had happened. He had known these men for years. He knew their instincts, their reactions, their patterns. In that moment—the moment they had seen the child—they had thought about attacking. Their bodies had tensed. Their hands had drifted toward their weapons. Their minds had formed the intent to strike. They had not even acted on it. They had simply thought about it.

And that was enough.

The judgment was absolute. The way they planned to kill the child was the way they died. No trial. No warning. No chance to repent. No appeal. The punishment was instant, final, and perfectly tailored to their intentions.

The first man had been a swordsman. His signature move was a rapid thrust, a blade aimed straight at the heart. He died with a hole in his chest, as if an invisible spear had pierced him clean through. There was no wound mark. No blood. Just the sudden, absolute cessation of life, as if his body had simply accepted the death it had planned for another. His eyes remained open, staring at nothing.

The second man had been a mage. His instinct was to incinerate the child, to burn them to ash with a single thought. He died with his body charred from within, smoke rising from his mouth and eyes, his skin cracking like dry earth. He had planned to burn the child. Instead, he had burned from the inside out. His fingers were curled, his mouth open in a silent scream.

Thalion stared at their bodies. His jaw tightened. His fists clenched at his sides. A cold fury settled in his chest, but he did not act on it. He had seen what happened to those who did.

He looked at the child.

"Why?" he asked, his voice low and steady, carrying no fear, only steel. "Why them? Why not me?"

The child did not answer. It simply watched, its hollow eyes reflecting nothing, giving nothing away. It stood motionless, like a statue carved from the mountain itself.

Thalion glanced at Garrick, his right-hand man. The giant stood frozen, his face pale, his eyes fixed on the bodies. He had not been judged. He had not been harmed. He had not even thought about attacking. His mind had been blank, empty, waiting for orders.

Thalion turned back to the child. His voice dropped, cold and hard, cutting through the silence like a blade.

"What do you want?"

The child tilted its head. Its hollow eyes stared into his. It did not speak. It did not move. It simply waited, as if it had all the time in the world because this was his realm.

"I wish Jason was here..." Thalion thought to himself.

-

Kaelen woke with a gasp.

His body screamed in protest. Broken ribs with some cracked scales. Blood crusted on his face, dried and flaking with his remaining arm was twisted beneath him, numb and useless. He was lying on a cold stone floor, the stench of stale ale and his own filth clinging to him. The tavern was empty. The patrons had fled. The only sound was the drip of water somewhere in the darkness.

And the ant king stood over him like an unemployed bodyguard.

The fact it couldn’t speak made this creepier.

Its black and gold eyes stared down without blinking. Six arms hung at its sides, motionless. Its mandibles clicked softly, the only sign of life. It had not moved. It had not spoken. It had simply watched him sleep, patient and unblinking, like a statue carved from nightmare.

Kaelen scrambled backward, his remaining arm scraping against the stone. His heart pounded against his ribs. "What—how did you find me?" He didn’t recall seeing him before passing out because he thought it was a dream.

The ant king did not answer because it simply couldn’t.

Its head tilted slightly, as if studying him. Its eyes never left his face. The silence was oppressive, suffocating.

And it made Kaelen very uncomfortable.

"Say something!" Kaelen barked.

Kaelen’s head throbbed. The migraine was overwhelming, splitting his skull. He pressed his palm against his temple, groaning. "Why are you here? Did Jason send you?"

Still no response as it just stared at him.

The ant king stood motionless, patient, waiting. Its mandibles clicked again, a sound that was almost questioning.

Then it hit him. "Where is Jason? Is he—"

The ant king did not react. Its expression remained blank. Unreadable. Its mandibles clicked again, but no words came.

Kaelen’s eyes narrowed. "Why won’t you answer me? You can understand me, can’t you? I know you can. I saw you follow orders before."

The ant king began to change.

Its body expanded, red chitin thickening, limbs elongating. It grew taller, broader, more monstrous. Its six arms stretched outward, claws extending, gleaming in the dim light. Its final form—the form that had torn the queen’s head from her body—loomed over Kaelen.

Kaelen’s eyes widened in absolute terror. He had seen this form before. He knew what it could do. He had watched it slaughter the spider queen, had seen it tear through enemies like they were made of paper. His breath caught in his throat.

"What are you—"

The ant king grabbed him by the collar. Its grip was iron, unbreakable. The claws dug into his scales, drawing blood.

Before Kaelen could finish, the ant king launched into the air. The tavern ceiling shattered above them, wood and stone exploding outward. Kaelen’s scream was lost in the wind as they flew, the ground falling away beneath them.

The world blurred below. Buildings shrank. Streets became lines. Kaelen’s vision swam, the pain in his head and body overwhelming.

He did not know where they were going.

He did not know why the ant king had come for him.

But he knew one thing: this was not a rescue. This was something else entirely.

"Y-You better not be kidnapping me you little shit!"