Free Web NovelChapter 222: A Grim Situation (1)
The drawings she found were captivating, filled with rich colors and surreal imagery, depicting a pale pillars and numerous hands reaching skyward. There were illustrations of the towering Erdtree with golden branches and leaves, from which golden tears seemed to flow. Entire pages were dominated by red caverns harboring a throbbing crimson egg at the center. And in a grand temple, countless scratched out eyes filled the scenery.
In a world once brimming with towering structures, now stood ominous towers, many tainted with shades of black and red. No longer resembling the majestic white giants they once were, they now appeared twisted and warped, teetering precariously on the brink of crumbling down...
The final piece was finished before the boy was taken away. After dedicating an entire night to honing the details, the canvas seemed to spring to life, encapsulating a scene as vivid as the real world. It showed vibrant flowers under a sparkling starlit sky, and nestled amidst the sea of blossoms, a pavilion crafted from sparkling gems stood majestically. However, the canvas held a dark undertone; at the start of this vibrant sea of flowers, a line of fierce, sharp stakes pierced the ground. Upon them, some alphas met a gruesome fate, their face twisted in anguish, their crimson blood nourishing the vibrant blossoms below.
As Ligia examined the painting, her finger gently brushed aside a section, unveiling a glimpse of a white skirt’s hem, reminiscent of a beta’s uniform, at the canvas’ edge. It spurred her imagination, almost making her feel as if she, a beta, was venturing into this juxtaposed world of beauty and brutality depicted on the canvas.
...
Within this floral haven stood Rakan, his gaze fixed on the jarring sight of the blood-soaked wooden stakes lined before him. This grim sight, the twisted face of the anguished alpha, the earth soaked in a vibrant hue of red, and the looming threat of a giant mantis mirrored the image ingrained in his memory since his youth.
Deep down, Rakan knew this scene was just an illusion. These harrowing events depicted had happened a decade before, a time when his revered teacher passed away.
Despite this awareness, Rakan found himself swept in a vortex of immense psychic power, finding himself in the midst of a psychic invasion from an powerful enemy. Before him stood his teacher, a figure he had looked up to since his younger days, now covered in blood, writhing in pain and calling out desperately, "Rakan, help, help me."
Overwhelmed with emotion, Rakan instinctively moved forward, but his step seemed to shatter the world around him. A frantic attempt to regain balance revealed a horrific reality – his right hand was missing.
"In the world did my hand go? When was it cut off?" Rakan exclaimed, panic seizing him as he felt his surroundings, his sense of reality, spiraling out of control.
A symphony of chaotic voices erupted in his mind, each adding to the turmoil swirling within:
"Rakan, I have a mission to attend to. I might be away for a bit. Be a good boy and wait for me at home, okay?" His teacher’s gentle voice rang out, accompanied by a comforting smile as he touched Rakan’s head.
In stark contrast, his father’s stern voice echoed, "Your teacher sacrificed himself for a greater cause, for the glory of our Empire."
Casual, yet cold remarks followed, "Alphas dying in the Polluted Zone is nothing new. Keep your composure, hold back your tears. Your teacher was just a commoner, not worthy of your grief."
"Rakan, this is madness! Your place is not in the perilous front lines. Your noble blood forbids you from risking your life in such a way. Leading teams there is no longer an option for you."
Then came voices of comrades, their words a mix of admiration and concern, "Rakan, you’re a force to be reckoned with. Who knew a noble like you could exhibit such courage?"
"Rakan, please, no further. Retreat with us. The children trapped in the Erdtree’s Polluted Zone can’t be saved. It’s a dead-end, a place from which there is no return."
...
A whirlwind of noises swirled around his ears, an unsettling symphony of pain, moments of kindness, harsh insults, and sarcastic remarks - the voices from his past tangled and jumbled together, creating a throbbing headache that felt like his head might split open at any moment.
Suddenly, the sensation of falling halted, replaced by the cold and unyielding embrace of metal against his back. Rakan’s eyes flew open in alarm.
He found himself trapped within the merciless confines of an icy iron cage. Approaching him were enormous creatures resembling grotesque birds, their intent sinister. Despite Rakan’s frantic attempts to free himself, these monstrous beings effortlessly restrained him, leaving him unable to move, a prisoner in his own body. With growing horror, he could only watch, paralyzed, as a frigid saw blade inched closer, determined to slice through his skin, grind against his bones, and cruelly remove his right hand, all while he was fully conscious and screaming in agony.
This horrifying scene mirrored the darkest fears harbored in the recesses of his mind. The living nightmare he had hoped to escape from was now resurfacing, clawing at his courage and leaving a paralyzing terror in its wake.
His arm gruesomely removed, and confined to a cage, he caught sight of a grotesque figure preparing to mark him with a paintbrush, its chilly tip drawing a strange and ominous symbol onto his flesh. frёewebηovel.cѳm
An awful realization struck him — they were modifying him, planning to strip away his humanity and reduce him to mere livestock, destined for a life of captivity and misery on a gruesome farm.
Panic and confusion clouded Rakan’s mind as he pondered, "Was I never actually saved? Could it be that I never escaped this hellish place, that I have been living a torturous existence, driven to madness and lured into a false sense of security by a dream? A dream where I was free and surrounded by the companionship of good friends?"
With a spirit crushed by despair, Rakan could do nothing but gaze upwards at the oppressive darkness that enveloped the sky, seemingly void of hope and light.
But then, from the shadows, a delicate tendril appeared. It was frail, lacking any substantial power, yet it gently touched his forehead, leaving a slight cool sensation in its wake.
"Rakan, you must wake up now," urged a voice tinged with familiarity and urgency.
A foggy daze engulfed Rakan momentarily before the crushing weight that bound him disappeared, replaced by the comforting sensation of lying atop a pile of hay in a rustic warehouse. A figure with an indistinct face, a beta, spoke to him, urging patience with the promise, "Stay here, I will unlock the portal shortly."
This scene echoed memories from different times in his life - his childhood teacher advising him to wait while venturing into the Polluted Zone, and Kestrel in his adult years, reassuring him with similar words while planning to open an escape portal.
