Against The True Gods-Chapter 175: Visions of Horror(II)—Field of Madness

They didn't just rumble.

The fabric of space above sundered and tore apart, revealing the void—but even that wasn't enough. The void itself fractured, giving way to a white expanse of endless majesty—The Heavens.

BANG!

The man's aura suddenly erupted with such force that the surrounding space was blasted into cosmic debris. A mantle of majestic dark emerald energy coated his figure.

The flame in his gaze ignited and roared to life as the laws of existence crumbled and faded into oblivion.

Silence reigned for a moment. And then…

BOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOM!

The man's Dao Heart thumped once, and an explosion of divine proportions shook the fabric of the world. The reverberations of that explosion shattered existence itself.

Caine, not even truly present, felt his knees buckle under the sheer pressure the man exuded. His Will commanded deference, spanning across space and time, regardless of who laid eyes upon its master.

Caine felt his very Dao Heart be challenged and disrespected—merely by looking at him.

But the man himself paid him no mind.

A crown of gold appeared above his head.

Seven halos followed, overlapping atop his crown. Finally, atop his halos, a strange insignia materialized—a single emerald star.

The man's power soared further.

The Heavens above roared, and from the gap in the skies, countless angels began to descend, each one radiating power beyond comprehension, even to Gods.

The man grinned. His gaze panned to Caine once more, full of madness.

"Fun, no?"

Caine barely had time to register these words before a set of runes seared into his mind.

<The First.>

And then—the world crumbled.

***

Caine returned to the endless black abyss he'd previously been in, his breaths labored and his body covered in sweat.

A smile tugged at his lips as he replayed the scene in his mind over and over again, as if attempting to sear it into his psyche.

Caine was rarely, truly impressed by anything or anyone.

In fact, he'd never truly had someone he looked up to—someone he sought to surpass.

Nova, The Sinner, Augustine, The Four Lords, Zao, Francis, Laplace, Uriel—none had ever truly awed him in a way that lit his heart ablaze, making him seek the mountain top.

But this man…He was different.

He was powerful in a way Caine had never seen before.

Caine could feel his heart tremble—in excitement and confusion, as he replayed the scene again and again.

But before he could calm down, the abyss around him trembled and changed once more.

BANG! BANG! BANG! BANG! BANG! BANG! BANG! BANG!

All around him, crosses began to emerge, the void beneath him morphing into an endless ocean of thick, scarlet blood.

The countless crosses were deeply entrenched in the waters below, and upon them, strange creatures writhed and screamed in horror and pain, desperately fighting to free themselves.

These creatures had wrinkled, grey skin, covered in black and putrid yellow runes, which glowed with a malevolent scarlet light.

Their heads were long and pill-shaped, bearing curved horns of glass, which contained worlds— worlds of all kinds and sizes.

Their arms were humanoid, stained black, but their feet were white talons.

From the blood that trickled down their backs, it was evident they had once possessed wings—wings that had been ripped out.

Their arms and talons were bound to the crosses behind them by silver nails, which drew golden blood, the liquid slowly dripping into the endless ocean of blood below.

The skies above were a strange and dark shade of orange, with a pink star looming unnaturally close to the lands.

A distorted, nauseating killing intent wafted through the air, intermingling with corrupted qi, making this realm a pure extract of Hell itself.

Caine looked around in shock, unable to comprehend where he was.

And then—he realized something horrifying.

He too was bound to a cross.

He too was within the body of one of these creatures. He felt no pain, and yet, his senses screamed—a deafening alarm blaring in his very soul.

Suddenly—All these strange creatures began to roar out in pain. Their screams were like chalk scraping on a board—grating, unbearable.

But then—Their screams morphed into youthful giggles, the innocent laughter of children, as if a group of young girls ran through a field of flowers, chasing butterflies, playing without a care.

And then—Their giggles twisted into mournful cries.

Then—a harmonious hymn.

And then—Silence.

'…what the hell is happening…'

The atmosphere was ominous beyond words, so much so that Caine's heart refused to stop warning him.

His affinity to Fate roared, imploring him to be wary, warning him of an incoming danger.

And yet—no matter where he looked, he could find nothing.

'…Am I supposed to—'

"Hello, you."

Caine realized something horrifying. Mere inches away from his face, an entity stood.

No, it hadn't just appeared—it had been there since the beginning. Yet, somehow—he had not noticed.

Caine couldn't see anything of its body.

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All he could see was a Jester's mask. The eye sockets were hollow, a portal of endless darkness and malice.

The darkness within the mask's eyes was terrifying.

It was a void—a gateway to all that was wrong, sinful, malevolent, and evil.

A portal to Hell itself.

A gateway to madness.

And yet—Caine remained calm. In fact, he smiled.

The mask tilted its head, as if confused.

"You're strange, hm?"

The voice behind the mask was—wrong.

It was the voice of a crying child, blended with the voice of a screaming, drunken man. An unsettling harmony of despair and delirium.

"How ironic."

Caine spoke in the language of the strange creature he inhabited.

"Ah!"

The mask chuckled and wept at the same time.

"You've been here before, yes?"

Caine did not answer.

He turned his attention away from—

"No, focus."

The mask's voice deepened.

"Answer me."

Caine ignored it again.

'What am I supposed to understand here…? A talking mask…A strange, hellish world... A field of endless suffering…' He shook his head.

'Perhaps I'm not supposed to do anything but observe.'

He turned back to the mask. It had fallen entirely silent.

And then, in a soft, empty voice, it spoke again.

"You are bad. You are not nice."