Flames

There was no earth-shattering roar, nor was there any all-engulfing tempest. Not even weeping could be heard. In this dull, mediocre, and placid twilight—one that seemed to have been lived through countless times before and would be lived through countless times again—the first wisp of the fire of Great Sin emerged from withered, numb realization. It was as though a chain reaction had been set off... A single, insignificant spark rose, carrying tens of thousands of fragmented phantom lights with it. In a deathly silent world, when that first wisp of the fire of Stagnant Rot ignited within the soul, it was as if it had fallen into a powder magazine and a heap of brushwood, triggering an inevitable spread and contagion. Faint and unbroken at first, then scattered like starlight, and immediately followed by an erupting invisible tide that engulfed everything. Soul after soul was submerged within it, coming to a sudden realization amid soft sighs, silence, and distant groans. There was not even any resistance or disturbance—only heads bowed as a matter of course, receiving what should have belonged to them all along. And so, the lighthouse wailed and shook! Within the gradually rising dusk, that waning, pale remnant of light violently roiled, slowly flushing crimson, until at last it turned into the viscous purplish-black of rotted blood... It could not even be stopped. Linking the order of the Seven Cities, connecting the residents of the Seven Cities, and forming the Tianyuan of the Seven Cities—this had originally been its function and duty. Yet now, this very linkage and order had become the fire's greatest accomplice, a fuse entangling all souls into one. The moment the negligible weight of souls poured onto the scales, piling high as mountains and completely crushing the original measure, a furious blaze surged into the sky from out of the night. Boundless jade-green fire fell from the heavens like torrential rain, swallowing everything in its path, descending upon souls that were bewildered, numb, or utterly indifferent. From the sewers to footbridges and overpass underpasses, to narrow alleys and city streets, from slum shacks to apartment blocks dense as forests, all the way to magnificent, imposing palaces—whether vagrants or high-and-mighty nobles—all welcomed the same boon in the same realization. Flames burned, kindled within every soul and every beating heart. And so, bathed in the cruel radiance of the lighthouse, the unstoppable aberration and mutation truly began. In the foul water of the sewer, a cracking sound rang out. The vagrant curled up in the pipe caught the distant noise, looked around blankly, and, moving his six wooden legs, nimbly scrambled up and scurried away. In the roaring, clamorous shipyard, an exhausted worker scrubbing a hull yawned. The brush in his hand fell to the ground. As he bent down to pick it up, he gave a self-mocking laugh. Wasn't the brush right in his hand? He raised his arm, which had turned into a brush, and threw himself once more into hard labor. His smiling expression gradually stiffened, wood grain and iron sheen surfacing on his skin, freezing forever into an enthusiastic grin. Over the radio, the static grew clear and smooth once more. The announcer, whose mouth had turned into a horn, read from the script in hand without the slightest awareness, over and over, unendingly. "Mama, look! My eyes are all better!" A child with a swollen head scrambled out of bed, shouting excitedly as he showed himself to his mother. Two glass-marble-like eyes glittered upon his cracked face. And so the mother smiled, raising a hand that had sprouted needles, thread, and sewing gear, gently caressing his face. "That's wonderful." Drivers fused with their cars sped along merrily, fully laden with heavy corpses, heading toward the incinerators. On the streets, street cleaners skillfully scooped up minced flesh with hands that had turned into shovels, tossing it into truck beds. Not far away, police officers whose arms had sprouted firearms slowly stooped as limb after limb and arm after arm grew from their torsos, becoming ever more dexterous. Sailors fused with the deck scraped rust from the railings, tossed it into their mouths, and munched on it with relish. Laughter and cheerful voices rang out. It was as though a crushing burden had been cast off; footsteps were light, bodies agile. For some reason, they suddenly felt no more pain. What was there to be pained or sorrowful about? Yesterday was like this, tomorrow would be like this, and the future would remain like this. As long as it stayed like this, everything was fine... Nothing wrong with it, no big deal at all. No, this was simply marvelous! Cheers rang out along with loud singing. The bitter seawater churned, slowly turning into an ocean of joy. Only in the magnificent, luxurious palaces did screams erupt continuously. "What is happening?! Why..." The governor struggled in terror, watching guest after guest turn into clay and wooden mannequins, and guard after guard swell as if becoming statue-like giants. Meanwhile, his own flesh squirmed, sprouting roots that wrapped tightly around the ornate chair beneath his rear, and he shrieked with all his might. Yet the guests remained indifferent. Looking at him, they cheered with joy, applauding and praising him. Until the last trace of fear faded from the city lord's eyes, replaced by the same delight and serenity, this strange form seemed to become natural and comfortable, as if things had always been meant to be this way. He opened the gaping mouth on his belly once more, roared with laughter, and directed the songstresses-turned-puppets to dance once again. Chaos—unpreventable chaos and mutation spread. Unstoppable. The boon of Stagnant Rot, the soul-born reification, manifested across follower after follower who had long been immersed in it... "Help! Help me!!!" In Dancheng, Callisto trembled, clutching the pendant around his neck in a death grip. Staring at his nephew, who had transformed into an uncanny vessel, he stumbled and fled in a wild panic, frantically redialing the phone in his hand again and again. Yet from start to finish, there was no answer. In the end, the call was coldly disconnected. At the port of Dancheng, beyond the chaos, the Holy Tree Fleet gazed coldly upon everything before them. "The family has received word. Two hours ago, a sin-spawn pest rated Extinction-class went on a rampage. The Seven Stars Building has already received the alarm; there is a risk of damage to the Empire's roots." From the family's phone line, a grave voice sounded: "Leave Dancheng alone for now, Peñarosa. Yours is the closest fleet and must react the fastest. I know you have grievances with the Seven Stars Building, but where the foundation of Earthly Warden is concerned, no slip-up can be tolerated. Do you understand?!" "Understood!" Peñarosa instinctively snapped to attention, standing straight, and declared firmly, "May the Empire's glory shine eternally and boundlessly!" "Very good. I leave it to you." The voice on the other end bade farewell with relief, and the call was cut off. Peñarosa glanced at the other phone still ringing continuously on the desk, withdrew his gaze coldly, and issued his orders: "Signal all ship personnel to battle stations immediately. The Empire's order has come down—the Holy Tree family is heading to the battlefield!" Ten minutes later, the fleet shrouded in blood and fire sailed straight out of the harbor, ignoring the storms on the horizon and the turmoil behind them, heading out into the boundless night. On the deck, Peñarosa cast one final glance toward Luo Island, sighed silently, and looked away. Just like that, they abandoned the burning Seven Cities, never looking back. *BOOM!* Amid the earth-shattering roar of collapse, an eerie, gigantic hand slowly rose from the dead center of Dancheng... Songs of praise sounded, ringing to the high heavens. "Help! Holy fuck, help me!" Minkler's screams tore past all limits. Barefoot and clad only in a bathrobe, he fled in a mad, wretched dash! Tears and snot were nearly flung from his face, scattering into the wind. Right behind him, buildings collapsed with deafening crashes. From the swirling clouds of dust emerged a massive, twisted face, followed by another, and yet another... Faces and heads were linked together like a centipede, hundreds of arms and legs flailing, mouths constantly opening in shouts or hisses. Every single face among them was one Minkler had seen in the family museum—every single fucking face belonged to his own ancestors! It even included his own father, Bustamante... Sadly, filial affection was no more. Those hideous, hollow faces were glaring fixedly at him, dripping with hunger. A flurry of drones hovered and swooped; squads in exoskeleton armor and fully armed Riot Cats fired ceaselessly, yet they could not halt the colossal monstrosity's expansion and rampage... Amid the chaotic din, the entirety of Xiangzhou was plunged into turmoil. Crowds scrambling for emergency shelter clogged the streets, and terrified shrieks erupted from within the throng every now and then. Without warning, someone nearby would suddenly mutate into an ungodly abomination. The entire city had descended into unprecedented upheaval. "Goddammit, I knew it! I fucking knew it... You bastards can never change your ways!" His face drenched in tears and snot, Minkler still didn't forget to curse at the wailing, aberrated figures, even raising his weapon to fiercely unload a burst into the wretched freaks. "How much money did I give you? How many bonuses did I hand out? And you're still so fucking greedy! You all truly deserve to die!" Unfortunately, no matter how much he roared and questioned them, it was useless. When the jade-green fire fell from the sky like rain, he had snapped awake from his sleep and heard the shrieks of his own father, Bustamante... Right before his eyes, Bustamante's soul convulsed violently, turning into a massive sphere. Then sphere after sphere burrowed up from beneath the ground, devouring and merging with one another, before pursuing him relentlessly, hell-bent on taking his life! Luckily, Minkler had reacted quickly. Without even putting on clothes, he grabbed the loaded weapon kept under his bed, vaulted out the window, and ran. Riding a motorcycle, he tore down the streets in a frantic, desperate dash, the eerie behemoth chasing hot on his heels. His despair and urge to die reached an all-time peak. In bitter indignation, he yelled: "Why are you chasing me?!" "Because you're a Chopra, Minkler." An unexpected voice rang in his ear, startling him. Blankly, he turned back around and saw a figure standing on the deathly quiet street ahead. In an instant, swinging from despair to ecstatic joy, he almost threw himself forward to hug that warm thigh, wailing at the top of his lungs: "Mr. Ji! Mr. Ji, aaaaahhh!!!" "I didn't expect loose ends like this to be left behind," Ji Jue sighed softly, looking toward the behemoth hurtling toward them through the rolling dust, conducting a heartfelt self-critique. "I wasn't thorough enough after all." One of the few times he hadn't finished the job completely, and it had left behind such trouble...