Chapter 56 The Inhuman Choice and the Journey Home (End of Main Text) ^……
Dazai Osamu wiped away the blood that blurred his vision with trembling hands, his iris-colored eyes struggling to focus.
Kunikida Doppo struggled to stand up, and the notebook fell beside him, covered in dust and blood.
“Takeichi-kun…” Kunikida Doppo wanted to ask whether that inhuman being was still the Takeichi he knew, and what exactly he was doing.
But these questions seem so pale when one witnesses firsthand those morphological transformations that transcend comprehension.
“He’s not the Takeichi we knew anymore.” Edogawa Ranpo knew what Kunikida Doppo wanted to ask: “It doesn’t matter anymore, He no longer belongs to humanity.”
Natsume Soseki was helped up by Fukuzawa Yukichi, who, seeing the other's wistful expression, couldn't help but speak: "Teacher..."
Natsume Soseki shook his head to indicate that he was alright.
He received a promise that Takeichi would not harm the foundation of Yokohama, but he could not stop him from walking down that inhuman path that was destined to be lonely. Natsume Soseki sighed softly, his gaze distant: "Everyone has a destiny that must be borne and a journey that must be embarked upon."
"His path is destined to be arduous."
Sakaguchi Ango leaned against the wall, breathing heavily. He forcibly suppressed his physical discomfort and began to think about the subsequent impact and how to deal with it.
“…I will report the truth.” Ango Sakaguchi pushed up his glasses with trembling hands: “Reassess His risks.”
...
Meanwhile, Fyodor obtained the book using the coordinates sent by Takeichi.
The moment Fyodor's hand touched the book's cold cover, a feeling of death enveloped him.
He turned his head, and his vision was filled with a scarlet mist. The mist did not seem to be naturally formed, but rather like countless wriggling tiny tentacles intertwined, and there was an indescribable putrid smell in the air.
Fyodor discovered that something was coalescing within the fog, with vague outlines floating within it, neither the form of flesh and blood nor anything regular.
Unable to describe.
"Tick-tock".
Fyodor frowned, raised his hand to touch the area below his nose, where there was a warm, viscous liquid. When he withdrew his hand, what he saw was a glaring red.
His gaze returned to the red mist, where a corner of the mist had dissipated, revealing "Zhu Yi" standing there, yet it was not Zhu Yi.
His human form had long been fragmented, but Fyodor's perception revealed his true identity.
The other person's face was hidden deep in the mist, only their wine-red eyes stared indifferently at Fyodor.
There was no murderous intent, no hostility, and not even any emotional fluctuation.
But the sheer oppressive feeling emanating from that pure existence sent chills down Fyodor's spine.
Suddenly realizing something, Fyodor's deep purple pupils narrowed slightly.
My own perception is changing.
“You…” Fyodor’s voice began, but he realized that what he said next was a whisper that even he himself could not understand.
His mind raced, considering possible ways to deal with the current situation.
He hadn't expected Zhu Yi to arrive so quickly, and he certainly hadn't expected the other party to appear in such a completely incomprehensible form.
Ignoring his wariness, Zhu Yi looked past Fyodor and onto the book in the other's hand.
Zhu took a step and approached Fyodor.
Fyodor's vision was filled with bizarre and fantastical scenes. He felt as if his body was changing. Fyodor bit his tongue, and the pain brought him back to his senses. He opened the book, took out a pen, and prepared to write something on it.
...
All the words that were written turned into distorted characters, and even Fyodor could not recognize what he had written.
...
Fyodor's pen flew across the blank pages, even as he wrote down words that would turn the tide...
...
His vision was completely filled with the crimson fog, and the blurry outlines in the fog became clearer and clearer, yet they could never be truly captured by reason. Countless whispers pierced his ears, as if directly into his brain.
Blood gushed from his nose and dripped onto the pages of the book.
He raised his head and looked at Zhu Yi.
At this moment, He is a "phenomenon" that is beyond human comprehension and even impossible to look at for long.
Fyodor felt his mind being assimilated and distorted; the pride and rationality of the "demon" were collapsing, replaced by a primitive human fear and bewilderment at the unknown.
...
The rooftop of a shopping mall in Yokohama.
Everyone felt a slight yet profound dizziness.
A vague memory seems to have been taken away, or perhaps covered by a thin veil.
Kunikida Doppo shook his head. The headache and visual distortion he had just experienced had disappeared, but he still felt a void in his heart, as if he had forgotten something very important.
He bent down and picked up the notebook, looking at the dust on it with some confusion: "What were we doing just now? Why are we here?"
Dazai Osamu held his forehead, his iris-colored eyes somewhat lost.
He remembered that they had come here to deal with an extremely dangerous and unusual event.
but……
Dazai Osamu frowned, unable to recall.
Edogawa Ranpo's eyes widened slightly. He clutched his head and let out a short groan of pain.
His super-reasoning ability makes him more resistant to this information overload than ordinary people, but it also makes him more vulnerable to the impact of such attacks.
He captured some fragments.
Red mist, inhuman gaze, a familiar yet unfamiliar figure.
But those fragments quickly sank into the depths of his consciousness, never to be retrieved again. In the end, he just blinked blankly, looked at the sky that had returned to normal, and subconsciously said, "Is it over?"
Fukuzawa Yukichi and Natsume Soseki exchanged a glance, both seeing the same confusion in each other's eyes.
They knew something had been changed, something had been forgotten, but the specific details were impossible to trace. Natsume Soseki sighed softly, and the heaviness lingering in his heart seemed to lessen a little, but the inexplicable sense of loss remained.
Ango Sakaguchi rubbed his temples, and a subordinate's puzzled voice came through the communicator.
He tried to recall the source and process of this anomaly, but found his memory to be a mess, with only the conclusion that "the incident has been resolved" remaining clear in his mind.
Yokohama, a city that had just experienced a near-apocalyptic crisis, came to a swift end under the influence of an unknown force.
All memories and records related to the Night Parade of One Hundred Demons, the ghost stories, and the young man "Takeichi" were silently erased or blurred.
They have become urban legends, a sense of déjà vu that occasionally flashes through people's minds but cannot be captured.
Ghost stories seem to have never existed on such a large scale as real.
The young man who was once closely associated with ghost stories was like a pebble thrown into the ocean, leaving only a barely perceptible ripple in the hearts of a very few people.
...
When Fyodor came to his senses, he first looked around and frowned.
...
Having crossed the barriers of a chaotic world, Takeichi once again set foot on his homeland.
What came into view was a despair even more intense than when I left; the dark red sky hung low, as if it might collapse at any moment.
Filthy pus surged from the cracks in the earth, and the forms of the Outer God's minions became even more twisted and frenzied. They devoured each other and multiplied, feeding on the last remaining essence of the world.
The whole world is foreshadowing a countdown to its end.
There was no time to adjust, no room for sadness.
He no longer needed the system as an intermediary. The energy He obtained from the book merged with His own essence as a supernatural being, allowing Him to manipulate the rules of the world to an unprecedented level.
He was like a giant storm, the mist sweeping across the broken earth. Wherever he passed, those strange tales and projections of evil gods from outside didn't even have time to struggle before they were directly decomposed by the rules contained in the storm within the red mist, becoming energy particles for Him to absorb.
But that's not enough.
Simply destroying them cannot heal the world's wounds.
What this world needs is nourishment, the vitality that can reshape the very essence of the world.
Bamboo begins with a meticulous process, using its own existence as a furnace and the "book" as a blueprint. This process is extremely painful, as if it is constantly breaking down and reassembling its own constituent parts.
He could feel his "existence" slowly consuming, and the scarlet mist began to thin.
He walked on his homeland, leaving behind a gradually restored peace, though still desolate, no longer exuding the polluted earth.
The murky sky was torn open with streaks of gray-blue light, and faint but hopeful light shone down.
However, the world's wounds are too deep, and the corruption of evil gods has long since penetrated to the bone marrow.
Even with Zhu Yi giving his all, the speed of repair still couldn't keep up with the speed of collapse. Moreover, he could clearly sense that outside the world's barrier, the outer god's true form was becoming increasingly agitated due to the dwindling food supply.
"...returning to...nothingness..."
“...to become...us...”
Zhu Yi remained unresponsive; the fear of humanity had long been stripped away, and the noise could not shake His will.
But He also understood that the hidden dangers could not be eradicated. As long as the Outer God's true form remained, this world would always be under threat.
A choice must be made.
Is it to exhaust the last of their strength for a suicidal attack, or to expel the Outer Gods?
Or should we choose a more radical path, one that also means forever losing our "self"?
Just as Zhu Yi's consciousness was calculating, a familiar thought, like a ghost, pierced through the red mist and touched Him.
It is Oba Yozo.
“See, Takeichi.” The thought carried his unique tone, which seemed to always contain gentleness, yet also revealed a malicious interest: “Even after going this far, it is still so difficult. This world… no, all worlds are so ugly and fragile in nature. Disgusting.”
Takeichi's consciousness fluctuated slightly. Even stripped of human emotions, Oba Yozo's existence was still a special "variable".
He was neither an ally nor an enemy; he was "one of our own."
He is another being twisted in countless cycles of reincarnation and suffering, the only one who truly "understands" the essence of Takeichi, even though this "understanding" is full of exploitation and another kind of morbid obsession.
"Am I a tool?" Takeichi responded, without any emotion, simply stating a fact.
"Tools?" Oba Yozo smiled. "Why would you think that, Takeichi? We're friends, our only friends."
"I'm starting to regret it." Ōba Yōzō's voice turned cold. "Protecting these worthless things destined to perish is not as good as..."
Before Oba Yozo could finish speaking, Takeichi interrupted him: "That's not what you thought at first."
Oba Yozo choked up.
“Yes, I use you as a tool.” Oba Yozo suddenly changed his tune, saying coldly, “You really want to become part of the rules? Well, I can’t stop you from doing it anyway.”
"You hope so too."
Ooba Yozo paused, then remained silent.
"Goodbye, Yozo." Receiving no response from Yozo Oba, Takeichi transmitted his final thoughts and then completely severed the connection with Yozo Oba.
Then He mobilized His last and most essential existence, and in the next moment, He crashed into the rules of the world.
To unite oneself with the Dao.
Integrate yourself into the world and reshape a new world.
Zhu Yi's existence has completely disappeared.
Consciousness, form, power... everything, He has permeated every corner of the world, every piece of land, every breath of air, and the subconscious depths of every surviving living being.
The Outer God lost its anchor to the world, and its power could no longer penetrate even a little. In the end, it could only leave and disappear into the endless void.
...
When Takeichi became the world, the memory barrier used to protect his false mind shattered at that moment.
He saw the script of the main world, another fragile and easily broken parallel world, not a magnificent battle of superpowers, but a story permeated with despair and ethereal nothingness—"No Longer Human".
In that world, Dazai Osamu, or rather, Oba Yozo of that world, is the unshakeable protagonist, the core pillar of the world. His life is a tragedy of constantly falling and painfully struggling between hypocrisy and truth.
However, the fragility of this world has attracted unwanted "gaze"—from beyond the realm, from strange and evil gods and players.
The world's barriers are being eroded, and the world's rules are being corrupted.
As the core of the world, Ōba Yozo was the first to suffer the most severe and distorted spiritual pollution.
His despair was magnified, his pain was solidified, and all became objects of observation and interference by the "players," and even potential "clearance" instances.
With the timeline locked, the tragedy repeats itself over and over again, like a broken record.
In the original world, "Zhu Yi" might have been just an insignificant supporting character, but after the world was polluted, he was also drawn in and became a pawn in this constantly repeating tragic script.
Like Yozo, his spirit was slowly and thoroughly corrupted in countless reincarnations, turning him into a ghost story.
Oba Yozo, amidst countless repetitive moments of despair, developed a rebellious spirit. He no longer wanted to be a puppet on a string, no longer wanted to repeat the nauseating script.
Either destroy this cursed world completely, or escape it!
Through some privilege of being the protagonist of the world, or through the knowledge accumulated through countless reincarnations, he finally came into contact with the core of this fragile world—"the book".
Tragically, however, he himself is the core of the script, the "protagonist" most deeply bound to this world.
The mental pollution prevented him from using the "book" to destroy or escape on his own; the pollution was like a chain that bound him firmly to this stage destined for tragedy.
In despair, he thought of "Zhu Yi".
Bamboo is also contaminated, but perhaps because it is the absolute core, there is still the possibility of variables.
Thus, a crazy plan took shape in Yozo's twisted mind.
He used the power of the book to interfere with Takeichi. He deprived Takeichi of most of his real, painful memories of reincarnation and fabricated a false memory and mission of "an ordinary college student accidentally obtaining a system". He shaped part of the power of the "book" into a system, giving Takeichi the ability to summon, guide, and even control ghost stories to a certain extent.
All of this was for the purpose of making Takeichi his probe and battery.
By traveling to other stable and healthy worlds through Takeichi, and using the system's mobile phone ghost story points, the system's channels transmit them to the world where Yozo is located, attempting to stabilize the existence of that world, delay the process of it becoming a complete "copy", and even accumulate enough power to help Ōba Yozo break free from the constraints of the "protagonist".
The fact that Takeichi collected the power, which Oba Yozo used to drive away the "players," also illustrates the possibility of this plan.
From beginning to end, Takeichi is a tool created by Yozo to break free from his own fate, a vessel carrying both hope and sin.
Oba Yozo's feelings for Takeichi are extremely complex.
There is pity for fellow victims, a twisted dependence on the only "companion," and scheming to use tools. Perhaps... there is also a trace of "love" that even he himself cannot admit, clinging to the only piece of driftwood in endless darkness.
...
When these long-buried truths flooded into consciousness, He understood that His existence was in service of the struggle of another being.
They are all carefully crafted lies.
Takeichi discovers that even if the initial intention was a lie, even if it was a conspiracy, the act of "protection" itself, and the bonds from other worlds experienced in the process, have become an undeniable "reality" of His own existence.
This is also a new emotion he experiences amidst the constant cycle of numbness.
He was very grateful to Yozo.
...
The world of Takeichi.
Through His sacrifice, He was reborn and transformed into a new world protected by an invisible barrier.
Ootori Ye sat alone in the dark room, toying with a blank "book" in his hand. His face was devoid of its usual feigned gentleness or deliberate performance, leaving only a deathly stillness.
He lost his only "kindred spirit," his only "tool."
“Ha…” Oba Yozo forced a smile that looked more like a grimace: “What a foolish… yet brilliant choice.”
The world has been reset, and he is no longer trapped in this script. Oba Yozo looked out the window and muttered, "So where should we go now?"
Oba Yozo remembered what he had read in the book and blinked: "...Let's go to Yokohama and take a look."
It's better than staying in Aomori.
...
"Dad, what are you thinking about?" Ishishita Taro asked, looking at his father deep in thought on the sofa, before taking a lick of his ice cream.
Kenichi Ishishita shuddered and looked around warily.
"I have a feeling... that something's not right, I feel all hairy."
Taro Ishishita took a bite of his ice cream, watching his eccentric father with a sense of normalcy.
"Sigh, he's having another episode." Ishishita Taro shook his head.
(End of text)
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Author's Note: Sigh, the main text is finished. My first book was written so poorly, I'll definitely write an outline for the next one and leave it in my embarrassing history.
Ooba Yozo's love wasn't romantic love!! (Important)
It's probably, well, the kind of liking that's complicated.
The author considered abandoning the story countless times, but having promised the original readers, he decided to continue writing, as each writing session felt like constipation.
I don't think it will be a major overhaul, just a simple fix. Next... I should be updating the side stories gradually.
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