Ritual

"Six bottles of Fording over here, my treat!" "A plate of lobster Lalafell over here, extra-large, I'll pay in contribution points!" "A round of ale for the whole house! This round's on me, 'Black Beast' Tuke!" By noon, the registration booth had been removed, and the recruitment of volunteers had concluded. The dining hall bustled with noise and excitement. The death row convicts selected for the mission rushed to burn through their contribution points with lavish feasting, and these thoroughly wicked villains even volunteered to treat others to share the joy. After all, volunteering meant either walking out of prison alive or disappearing without a trace in death. Either way, contribution points would be useless, so naturally they had to spend them fast. The most tragic thing in life was dying before spending all your money. If there was anything worse, it was having money left over while wanting nothing more than to die. Ronald Wade was precisely the latter. He stared at the sumptuous spread before him. His stomach was clearly famished, yet he couldn't muster the slightest appetite. A dining hall server brought over the chilled ale treated by 'Black Beast' Tuke. Ronald hadn't touched a drop of alcohol in days, whereas before going to prison, he drank liquor like water almost daily. He should have been ravenous for it, but after taking a sip, he felt it tasted like nothing more than slightly bitter water. Pointless. Everything was pointless. Serving time was pointless, staying alive was pointless, masturbating was pointless. Right now, the only thing that could make Ronald's pituitary gland send out intense signals, the only thing that could make him feel he was still alive, was— "Mmph!" Ronald suddenly plunged his face into the food, using his hands to frantically shovel food into his mouth, chewing vigorously as his teeth sawed back and forth to gnash through the sinew of the meat, as if only this could make him temporarily forget that nauseating yet irresistible primal craving! "Decent appetite, but you look rather thin. Do you work out regularly?" Ronald raised his head and saw two prison celebrities. 'Fair Beast' Igola went without saying, an expert at fleecing newcomers dry using Contract sorcery spirits, as well as an intelligence broker in the prison. On his very first day, Langna had warned him to be wary of anything Igola said; one never knew when one might sign an unequal treaty with Igola. However, he hadn't been imprisoned long and hadn't witnessed Igola's vicious side yet, so his guard against Igola wasn't especially high. The other celebrity, 'Fiend' Yaxiu, impressed him even more—first defeating Igola, then conquering Valkas, and surviving a nearly certain death trap in the Blood Moon Trial. In Ronald's view, Yaxiu had been virtually doomed to lose every time, yet somehow he always won. From knowing nothing about fighting to knocking down Igola with a single punch, from knowing nothing about swords to piercing Valkas's throat in one strike, and in the Blood Moon Trial, Valkas had clearly wanted to drag him along to see the Blood Moon Sovereign, yet miraculously failed to cut off his head... If this had been on the outside, Ronald would surely have felt he was witnessing the birth of a new legend. Pity. This was Shattered Lake Prison. No matter how many miracles occurred here, they were merely bubbles surfacing from Shattered Lake—bursting the moment they hit the water, unable to ever exist in the sunlight. "No." "Then why are you so thin?" Yaxiu picked up a sandwich and took a hearty bite. "Did your meat run away on its own?" Ronald raised an eyebrow, his face expressionless. "Frankly, if you're looking for trouble with Langna, go find him directly. I have no interest in getting mixed up in your feud." "No, we came specifically for you," Yaxiu said. "Are you still disheartened over failing to become a volunteer? Don't worry. Aside from being a volunteer, there are other ways to leave this prison." Ronald's spirit jolted. "What way!?" "Prison break!" Yaxiu said in a secretive whisper. "We have a grand plan right now with a very high success rate. We're just short of some hands. Are you interested?" Ronald paused, taken aback, then let out a sigh. "Seriously, can you guys not mess with me? I'm begging you, all right? How about this: I'll buy you a meal, worth one contribution point, and you do me a favor and let me off, okay?" Yaxiu exchanged a helpless glance with Igola. Igola sighed. "If cult leaders on the outside all have silver tongues like yours, no wonder the Four Pillar Gods stayed dormant for so long." Igola turned to Ronald. "You know you can't stay here any longer either, right? You must leave Shattered Lake. You must escape Langna, even if it meant volunteering for a near-fatal assignment. Because if you keep staying by Langna's side, your end will be worse than death, far more agonizing than death." Ronald's eyes flickered. "I don't know what you're talking about. All I know is that without Langna, I'd become a regular at the Blood Moon Trial until the Executioner pounded me into meat paste." "Quite tempting indeed," Igola said with a smile. "As long as you agree to maintain an intimate relationship with him, he's willing to throw death matches to you, granting you a wealth of contribution points so you can temporarily escape the Blood Moon Trial. Especially after you lost five matches in a row, Langna became your only life-saving straw." Like most death row inmates, Ronald's ways of making money were basically written in the criminal code. After arriving in prison, he could contribute virtually zero social value, so his eyes naturally turned to the Death Match Club. Plundering resources from others to keep himself alive had been Ronald's way of life for over twenty years. Unfortunately, there were too many predators in the prison and far too few producers. When Ronald first arrived at the Death Match Club, he picked an old man who looked frail to fight, only to have bones shattered throughout his entire body—'Diamond' Taige had successfully snatched another contribution point from a newcomer. The next four death matches ended similarly. Ronald had gathered as much intelligence as possible and exhausted every trick in his repertoire, but practically anyone willing to accept a match against him could crush him. After losing fifteen contribution points, Ronald sank to the very bottom of the prison's food chain. He no longer dared accept any death match; his confidence had been shattered in those first five fights, leaving him convinced that everyone here was stronger than him. If he couldn't find a way to earn contribution points, he would appear in every subsequent broadcast of the Blood Moon Trial, until one day the citizens had an attack of charity (got bored) and let the Blood Moon Sovereign take away this Woodpecker Golden Beak assassin seeking redemption. It was right around then that Langna appeared. He was willing to deliberately lose to Ronald in death matches, letting Ronald gain contribution points. Moreover, this was an ongoing arrangement. Langna had ways of earning points; as long as he was willing, both he and Ronald could maintain high contribution balances, making it no problem to live comfortably in prison for years. He had only two conditions. The first was that Ronald maintain an intimate relationship with him. Although Ronald wasn't entirely willing, he wasn't deeply repulsed either. After all, he had seen plenty in the outside world, so sacrificing a bit of his dignity and charms to survive was acceptable. And his second condition... "Langna 'tastes' you periodically, doesn't he?" Igola said. "He requests death matches against you, and to earn contribution points, you naturally must accept. In a death match, all restrictions are lifted, so he can naturally do whatever he wants to you... When you're on the verge of dying, Langna ends his own life to hand you the victory... That's roughly how your deal goes, right?" Ronald fell silent for a moment, then gave a slight nod. "As long as I don't die, my body recovers anyway. Even if it shortens my lifespan in the long run, without contribution points, I wouldn't even know if I could survive the next Blood Moon Trial." Igola chuckled. "Yes, if the 'terms of the deal' were merely that, it would indeed be a worthwhile transaction—even I would be tempted." "What do you mean?" "Actually, you should know better than me. After all, I only guessed his true purpose faintly by gathering intelligence on Langna's previous partners. But you are the sacrifice inside the ritual. You must have sensed the true nature of this arrangement, haven't you? Otherwise, you wouldn't have been in such a rush to volunteer just to get away from him." Ronald's pupils dilated. "Ritual? What ritual?" The corners of Igola's mouth curled slightly. Revealing the truth to victims like this was one of his favorite pastimes. When circumstances allowed, he would explain his fraud schemes to every fool he conned—the most delightful tragedy in this world was making fools realize their own foolishness. "You don't seriously think Langna made those demands just because he's a glutton, do you? Besides, you should be able to feel it: Langna doesn't treat you like an object, a tool, or a stranger. He truly loves you... whole-heartedly, unconditionally loves you." Ronald turned even paler, his hand gripping the meat chop trembling slightly. It sounded almost laughable. Langna had taken advantage of his dire straits, pressuring him to agree to his terms, and gnawed on him like a rack of ribs in every death match. By all accounts, Langna was merely treating him as a slave to take from at will. If that were truly the case, Ronald would have felt a sense of relief instead, because that was a relationship he could understand. Yet, he could feel it: Langna genuinely loved him! Normally, as long as he asked for something, Langna would do his best to satisfy him. Even in a death match, Langna would tenderly hold him, weeping bitterly while slapping himself in the face, castigating himself for the pain he inflicted on Ronald, sometimes even slapping himself unconscious just to throw the match. Ronald wasn't some recluse assassin; he had loved before, and he knew what love felt like. That was precisely why he was so terrified—every glance, every gesture from Langna radiated genuine love! Even when Langna was feeding, his eyes were brimming with that very love! Deep love and cannibalism—Langna had somehow achieved a seamless unity between the two, as if loving someone and devouring them could coexist in perfect harmony! Ronald had never dared think too deeply into it, but now that Igola had laid it bare, he was forced to confront this chilling truth! He swallowed hard and asked with difficulty, "Wh-what ritual is this?" "Truthfully, I don't know. I only know the fate of the ritual's sacrifices," Igola said. "Langna's previous partners all died in their quarters without exception." Ronald's face turned white. "How is that possible!? How could they die in their quarters?" Yaxiu realized it too—unless inside the death match arena ring, the chip prohibited death row convicts from self-harm or suicide! If an inmate went on a hunger strike, once their body starved to a certain point, the prison would alert the guards to force-feed them! Thus, it was impossible for a death row inmate to die in their quarters, unless of old age! And Langna was obviously not an enthusiast of sunset romances. "Supposedly, there was nothing physically abnormal about the bodies. They looked completely intact, but all their organs and tissues simply ceased functioning." Igola speared a strawberry from a strawberry cake with his fork. "It was like... their souls suddenly vanished, so their bodies collapsed right after." Ronald was as pale as a sheet of paper, his lips trembling incessantly. Igola delivered the final blow. "Right now, you probably find everything utterly uninteresting, yet you secretly look forward to Langna's ritual, don't you? Even though you have enough contribution points, you still accept his death match invitations... Do you know why?" "Why?" "Because only during the ritual can your soul regain temporary wholeness—that incomplete soul of yours can't wait to tear itself away from your flesh."