Chapter 62: The Hanged

Chapter 62: The Hanged.

The words hung in the air. All of them were still, thinking whether to trust or not. Riyoshi’s hand held his thin blade tightly, Jian Yue heaved a long sigh, Lin squinted her eyes; Zhuo exhaled, clenching his hand in the hilt of his blade. Jim’s eyes scanned the Curator’s first, then looked at the mad God.

Alisa and Mo Fei remained hidden behind the pillar, barely breathing.

Finally, Zhuo lunged forward; the very next second, Jim joined him. After seeing that, Jian Yue couldn’t wait any longer; he surged forward behind them.

The God’s son glanced at them, then turned its full attention toward them. With a wet crunch, the slashed hands regenerated again.

Its Mantis claws slammed down in a triple-strike. ​Zhuo twisted mid-air, his blade scraping against the side of a descending claw.

Thud!!

The hand hit the stone tiles and then shattered them into a storm of rocks.

The blade scratched through the claws. The friction threw off sparks, the hit vibrating through his bones, but he successfully redirected the arc of the blade.

Jim pulled up next; he didn’t waste the breath; he lunged low, his weapon cutting a deep, dark gash across the God’s lower spider-like appendages. The flesh tore with the sound of cloth’s chopped cry, spraying a dull, gray-tinted ichor across the floor.

​"Forty-four." The Curator’s voice drifted through the chaos, perfectly clear, and utterly unaffected by the deafening roars of the child-faced God.

​Jian Yue stepped forward next and arrived like a gale. His eyes were locked onto the central mass emerging from the torn seal. With sharp precision and concentration, his strike drove straight toward the exposed core of the crimson torso.

​The God’s son shrieked from the pain. Its eyes turned bloody.

​Before Jian Yue’s strike could pierce completely through the son, the sinister tentacle whipped around from his blind spot with blinding speed, wrapping around his blade and halting the momentum instantly. The sheer physical strength of the God’s flesh threatened to shatter the Yan Gu’s bone. The mantis’ sharp hand launched toward him, aimed to pierce Jian Yue’s throat.

​Lin jumped in, her hand slamming the air. The portal opened right in front of Jian Yue’s throat. The claw entered through it, but the blinding speed couldn’t maintain the motion. It came out of the portal behind the son and pierced its shoulder instead.

The tentacles let go of Jian Yue, frantically waving in the empty air.

Jian Yue moved without wasting a single second. He quickly swung his blade vertically and slashed down the sinister tentacle first. Its three spider hands launched toward him, but Jim appeared. His blade stopped the force of the hands, his face straining as three spider-hands pinned his weapon to the ground.

Finally, Jian Yue’s blade caught up and went through the son’s chest. It reached inside deeper, almost got closer to pierce the heart itself. But a cage of bones forged on the skin, pushing the blade out.

The sharp bones came out and launched toward all of them. Zhuo’s eyes flared up, opening his Arbiter eyes. His hand quickly pulled the motion streaks and slowed down the bones, just enough to move away.

They jumped back and took a safe distance.

"Thirty-three." The Curator’s voice echoed.

​Lin blurred past them, her movements silent despite the cracking floorboards. She reached the apex of her jump, aiming a decisive blow directly at the neck of the thrashing horror. But the flesh regenerated too quickly; the gray light in the son’s eyes flared, emitting a shockwave before a large bone came out of it.

Splash!

The bone came out with a sickening wet crunch. She twisted herself in midair, avoiding the sharp bone.

​"Twenty-nine," the Curator murmured, taking a slow step to the side to avoid a stray spray of blood. His neutral smile twitched in a dark expression, but they didn’t know what he was planning.

​Behind the pillar, Mo Fei gripped his Glaive so tightly his knuckles turned white. Through the mask, the world was a chaotic web of thick, unbreakable threads scattered around the entire place. The Divine Serpent hissed in his mind, "The vessel is unstable, Lord Lightless. Every hit is making God’s body stronger to withstand its true power."

Its true power... Mo Fei thought for a moment. ’He is using them.’

"Alisa, we need to move. He is planning something." Mo Fei whispered.

Alisa peeked through the pillar. "I can see that. Why would he let them fight that thing?"

Riyoshi stood there without moving. He darted his eyes from the God’s son to the Curator. His eyes flickered in suspension; why? "There is something wrong, but yet we need to try."

Their blade moved, trying to get its heart. They slashed down the flesh, and pierced it, but every time they got closer, the bones stopped them.

"Twenty."

The voice echoed in the hall again. The Curator’s empty eyes just stared at them; he must have been close to getting his plan.

Alisa said, "We can’t get out from here."

"Tch,"

The time passed slowly, the blades slashing it multiple times, yet it always regenerated. They tried to push their blade deep into its heart, but the bones pushed them out. It was a futile attempt; everything they tried was nothing.

The son screamed a loud roar, trembling their bones.

"Fifteen."

The time ran fast; they couldn’t catch up. Zhuo’s blade drove through its arms and slashed them down; Jim averted any attack, and Jian Yue tried to push past the defense, but all of their actions turned meaningless as the God healed itself.

Lin’s blade stabbed it from everywhere, spraying its blood out. It only let out a sharp shriek that tore through the hall.

The Curator watched them, his expression unreadable. "Twelve."

They had less time.

Riyoshi couldn’t move; he was still suspicious. Why would he let them do this? His mind raced with thoughts; only then did he realize it. "It’s adapting for something."

Lin’s blade cut through its torso once again. The bones came out and launched toward Lin; she quickly deflected the bone with an arc of her blade.

"Ten."

Jian Yue stepped forward, aiming for its heart again. They had really less time now; his blade went through its chest. Its mantis hand shot out toward him; Jian Yue changed his direction in midair, landing on the hand, then jumped again and drove an arc over its chest. Before it could heal, he glanced at Zhuo and gestured to attack.

Zhuo surged forward; his blade came free and pushed the sharp sword deeper into its chest. The heart was there; they could see it pounding. His blade reached the edge of the heart, but as it was close to touching it, the tentacle wrapped around his ankle and threw him toward a wall.

Riyoshi finally moved; his body turned into a blur. He appeared behind Zhuo, catching him before he could hit the wall.

"Five." The Curator’s voice rang.

Riyoshi looked at the Curator before turning back to the God’s son. "It’s pointless; the God is adapting. There is something he is planning, and we fall right into that."

Zhuo’s expression shifted into the realization. "That means..."

Jim rushed forward, his blade moving to cut off its neck. The spider-like hands came in defense, his blade slashing down the hands and touching its neck.

His hand stopped; the blade didn’t move; its neck was too strong to even cut. The mantis hand smacked him on the ground.

"Three." The curator kept the count, reminding them about the efforts.

Jim stood up, his body trembling from the hit.

"Two."

Lin jumped; Jian Yue came from the side. She slammed the invisible key in the air, and a portal opened. She swiftly surged her blade in the portal, and dozens of them opened around the God. The blade came out from each, their tips stretched before stabbing the God from every place. But then, the God screamed in agony, almost in pain, but also as if it felt nothing, just wanted to.

The blade pushed inside the flesh, one of them finally reached the heart, but her eyes widened as instead of piercing the heart, the blade stopped.

The heart itself wasn’t a soft meat, but how? It was hard, yet turning soft between beats. The timing was wrong.

And then the world settled in air.

...

"One."

All of their expressions tensed, almost as if they knew what was coming. Of course they’d... ’He’ was a past demigod after all, someone who could wipe them out instantly.

They looked at the place where the Curator had stood; no one was there now.

An empty place.

Then, they looked at Jim. The Curator was in front of him. It didn’t take him more than half a second or even less to outclass Jim. Jim’s legs stumbled, but he couldn’t move more than that. The Curator’s fist charged at him. It didn’t even feel like a charge, just merely a small punch, and Jim was thrown away on the wall.

He grunted as his body was slammed on the wall and couldn’t move longer.

Then the Curator turned toward Lin. His expressions remained neutral and emotionless when he did that. He appeared right next to her in midair, slamming another kick into her stomach, knocking her out on the ground.

Jian Yue rushed toward her, but before he could hit the next step, the Curator was already behind him. The world slowed down as the voice of ’His’ clothes fluttering came, then ’He’ pulled Jian Yue’s robe from behind and threw his body on another wall.

Jian Yue didn’t even hit the wall before the Curator appeared right next to Zhuo and Riyoshi. His winged bone lengthened and threw both of them toward the ceiling.

Mo Fei and Alisa both of them stopped breathing, fearing that even a small breath could get ’His’ attention.

After doing that, the Curator stood in the center near the son.

The God’s son screamed. Its gray eyes flared, and the flesh began to shift, to reshape itself. The mantis claws retracted, the spider hands folded, and the tentacles coiled. The crimson mass began to rise.

"No," Jian Yue coughed.

The son’s body straightened. Its skinless face contorted, and for the first time, something resembling consciousness flickered in its hollow eyes. The countless mouths on its hands opened in unison, and the whispered reshaped a voice, an ancient voice that had yet to be born or had been lost.

The Hanged God had arrived.

The pressure in the hall became unbearable. The group groaned in pain, their weapons dropping from trembling hands.

The Curator bowed his head, his composure cracking with reverence.

"My God," he whispered in a soft voice. "How long since you’ve been gone, lord."

The God’s head turned slowly toward the Curator. Its mouths opened again to speak.

"You... kept me waiting." The whisper drove the air crazy; the wind shifted relentlessly into an unnatural flow, sometimes flowing faster, then almost stopping entirely.

Then the God whispered again, "It is imperfect." The God’s form rippled, flesh peeling and reforming. "But it will suffice."

The God’s eyes darkened; something flickered in ’His’ eyes. ’He’ had begun to lose control again.