I have no intention of paying attention to them, nor do I intend to correct their perceptions.
Admittedly, witnessing a dozen or so young men who were perfectly fine just moments before suddenly die in one place, while the guy standing right in the middle remains standing there, expressionless, as if carefully examining the state of the corpses, would frighten any ordinary person living in a normal society.
Not to mention that they had never been exposed to magic or spells before.
In their eyes, this might be a miracle that brings hope of salvation, but it is more likely a shadow of death hanging over their necks.
Compared to before, most people have retreated further away, and some even prefer to get closer to the gate on the other side, where there might be giant rats hiding, rather than be adjacent to this side.
Apart from the hoarse sobs and cries as it rolled away into the distance, the surroundings had become quiet.
Then, in the unfolding perception, the phenomenon I had been waiting for finally appeared.
First, cracks appeared on the surface of one of the corpses, and then, fragments like shattered light appeared on it, slowly rising into the sky.
Those were dazzling fragments, some tinged with gray, that were beyond touch and could not be captured by the senses.
More and more fragments appeared, like raindrops rising against the current from the ground. The presence of the living body began to weaken, and the fine magic contained within them seemed to be gathered from a ball of yarn to a gradually growing stream of magic scattered in the atmosphere.
Countless showers of light bathed the surrounding area in a bright, dazzling, yet strangely cold hue.
I gestured for Sheng, whose trembling had gradually stopped, to open his eyes.
Now, apart from a few shards of light that haven't completely dissipated and the remaining bloodstains on the ground, there are no longer any traces that can prove those guys ever existed.
There's a slight sense of satisfaction in sweeping away the trash, but a deep-seated conscience is also aching.
"I can give you a choice."
I took a deep breath and exhaled slowly, trying to keep my voice calm, without looking at the boy's expression beside me: "You can choose to leave, or come with me. But I can't guarantee how many more times you'll have to face similar situations."
It's hard to articulate my current feelings. Making this choice knowing that the world before me isn't my true self—is it to protect what little conscience I have left, or is it because seeing others like myself makes me uneasy?
Is it worthwhile to let go of the help that could provide clues, for the good of the fabricated existence beside you, or to make things more difficult for yourself?
I was overthinking it. I reminded myself again that this is just a game for gaining experience, and there's no need to bring real-life emotions into it.
"...But you protected me, didn't you?"
The boy's voice trembled slightly, but he spoke without hesitation: "Moreover, in order to achieve certain goals, I have made similar choices countless times while controlling my character. From this point of view, perhaps I am the more wicked one."
"I will choose to follow you, because you need me too, don't you?"
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