Chapter 124 The Cycle (Part Six)

It might be an illusion, but the obelisk's color seemed to deepen, its height increased, and even the path leading to the tower appeared to grow longer.

The trees on both sides, like those being pulled into the bottomless abyss of hell, were tormented by loneliness, shame, and despair. Only after climbing the last step did they realize that they were all followers of Mora.

Mia told White how Mora controlled the Bear Spirits, explaining that the number of his followers could be represented by an upward curve, starting as a small number, gradually increasing, and eventually becoming an astronomical number.

In order to share information, White also told Mia that Mora's hatred for reincarnated people was also increasing, and this hatred could be felt through every step of the obelisk.

"His brother Leviathan disappeared and hid in fear, afraid of being found by satellites."

Why be afraid?

"God knows why. For example, he might fail, or he might end up like Leviathan, but the most likely reason is that he has just awakened."

"I think there's another possibility: the strength of the Demon Pillars is ranked in order, and Mora might be ranked lower."

“You make a good point, so he can only carry out destructive activities by controlling minds.”

The three of them went up to the second floor. Although it was not yet night, White had already seen some extremely swollen shadows, like assassins lurking in the trees, corridors, and walls. Could these be the followers that Mia had mentioned?

White believed that only he could see it because the cycle was directed at him.

But why target him? White hadn't done anything to wrong Mora or Ryan; he'd only made a small mistake, sending four agents into the Mirror.

Just as he was thinking this, a face appeared in the stained glass window.

At first, the face only had expressions, and the outline had not yet taken shape. But little by little, the face became fixed. The cheeks and cheekbones looked like they were coated with varnish, and a few tentacles stretched out from behind a bunch of rotten teeth. Later, the mouth was full of these tentacles, twisting and turning.

White was quite calm at this moment. Having seen so many eerie, terrifying, and unbearable things, he merely twitched his strong eyebrows and pretended not to see them.

For some reason, just when he thought this ghostly face was as scary as the others, the addition of a metallic texture to the window made it seem more approachable.

Where did your usual composure go?

'Who is speaking? '

White stared at that face and wouldn't move.

The unusually grotesque face began to turn serious, almost giving the impression that this was a former god.

'You can't imagine you're involved in a conspiracy.'

'I want to break free from the curse.'

'You think this is a curse? I expended so much effort to break through that damn barrier! Wake up, you've been used!'

'Yes, I've been used by Mora all along, which is why I have to ask someone else for help.'

'I am Mora.'

Even the narrow-minded, vulgar, and uneducated could see that it was a face full of divinity. Although he was indeed ugly, sickly, and gloomy, he was completely different from his flamboyant followers. The divinity on his face was not diminished in the slightest by his ugliness.

Is it possible that this thing is just a devil dressed in divine robes?

White believed he was Mora, but he didn't believe what Mora had just said; this dark ideology had evolved to the point of no return.

'I believe you are Mora, then you must have heard us talking about you just now.'

'Yes, I heard everything, and I'm angry because what you said is true. However, you clearly don't know how to distinguish between what's in your favor and what's against you.'

'Eliminating you would be to my advantage! You're the one who cast this curse upon me!'

"Look! I told you you've been used! You can't see your own mind clearly; it's like water dripping from a goose, bleeding profusely."

'I was used by you! I see it clearly!'

'You think I've cursed you? You don't know that your nightmares right now are also my illness, and my confusion. I've greatly underestimated them.'

'If it wasn't you, then who cursed me?'

'The people who want to help you now are the ones who will truly harm you.'

Suddenly all the old windows were opened, as if to give White a better view.

On the dark stained glass, Mia had walked quite far ahead, casting a long shadow, but from any angle, the shadow did not resemble her at all.

The images in my mind kept swirling: a fence, a rusty tin can, broken glass, excrement, buzzing flies—all the frustration rushed out and stuffed into the empty shell of thoughtlessness.

The way of thinking has begun to change, and false wisdom is becoming increasingly unstable.

As White's emotions became increasingly unstable, the sense of detachment from his surroundings worsened, and what was once a sunny afternoon suddenly turned into evening.

Mia's posture, gait, and complexion also underwent an excessive transformation.

She seemed very excited, the kind of excitement that comes from being just one step away from achieving her goal; clearly, she had been feigning elegance all along.

Seeing that White was standing there and wouldn't move, Mia became anxious and asked, "What's wrong? Didn't you want to get rid of the curse as soon as possible?"

She is influencing thinking in a misleading way. In White's memory, Mia was not the kind of eloquent and intelligent woman. So, where did the other woman go?

White examined the shadows again and discovered that there was an extra pair.

It's the shadow of that couple!

'That's right, keep your mind focused, you're just a hair's breadth away from escaping the nightmare.'

'Nightmare?'

"Didn't you notice? This is a trap they set for you, making you believe you're cursed. Of course, their target is me, but aren't you angry at being insulted, used, and manipulated like this?"

'I am angry! '

"Then let it out! Try to influence your environment with your own thoughts, do as I say, and I'll be the one to help you."

White had almost lost control of his thinking. Whenever he thought of something bad, the shape of the obelisk would change. When he thought of blood, sacrifices would appear; when he thought of drowning, rivers would appear.

Everything that defied common sense swirled around the obelisk.

Ultimately, White discovers that he is the master of the dream, the greatest creator in this cycle, and has the power to influence everyone.

Don't listen to him!

The whispers appeared, alluring and beautiful.

'No! I am the master of thought! Get out of my domain!'

"Mora is the enemy of the Alliance, the enemy of all reincarnated beings, and you, you could very well become an agent like Irencel. It all depends on your actions. Now, all that's left is this one step: take me to him, capture him. Don't forget, you are an agent."

White felt as if he had fallen into a vast ocean, and the scene in his mind was of shimmering blue water, with a long white cloud passing through another loose black cloud above a small, tree-covered island. After the thunderstorm, all traces of gloom had disappeared, a star flashed across the sky, and then many more appeared, each one enough to prove that even a person without talent could overcome the demons in their heart.

'Mora is the real devil.'

'No! Don't listen to her!'

The whispers drowned out the ghostly faces on the glass, and the two voices in his head disappeared at the same time. White looked at the dark storage room in front of him, as if he remembered something unpleasant.

He completely forgot everything that had just happened, completely and utterly.

The beastly roar still echoed in his mind, but White could no longer hear it.

He led Mia into the storage room and found the painting of the faceless man.

The faceless figure in the painting is gone, and the mirror remains in the darkest corner, eerily avoiding all light, as if saying to someone, "Don't come any closer."

This is the crossroads leading to the Old City, Mora's lair.

White took a breath and woke up. Finally, he was no longer woken by the alarm clock, and he no longer saw the blood on his hands. But his head was throbbing terribly, as if he had slept for a very, very long time.