Thanks to the boundless illusory power of Mirror Flower and Water Moon, Mirror October could achieve feats that, to ordinary eyes, only gods might accomplish. False or real held no meaning before him—he watched his game with rapt attention.
Though it sounded unbelievable, Mirror October had indeed heeded the instincts of that Dire Calamity, the Wendigo. He made the three culprits experience firsthand the suffering they had inflicted. In exchange, he struck a pact with the Wendigo: it would not strike the losers before the game ended. But if anyone was eliminated... it would hunt down those hell-bound masterminds without mercy!
In this world, anyone with half a brain would call this an absurd joke.
A Dire Calamity communicating with humans?!
Don’t be ridiculous!!
Since the first Dire Calamity outbreak, there had never been a single conversation! They were like the coldest reapers, the cruelest harvesters of life, slaughtering terrified humans with ruthless efficiency. No talks! No negotiations! No tolerance whatsoever! Absolute, endless war!!!
That was why they were called Dire Calamities—in Western nations, they were also known as Apocalypses. Mirror October’s ability to converse with one, even forge a pact, was nothing short of miraculous. If this power got out, every nation would treat him as a priceless treasure.
This was truly a power to save humanity from despair!
No exaggeration—Mirror October understood the anomaly of his post-resurrection gift. But wasn’t that only natural?
“They won’t last long. You have no chance of winning this contest,” a voice like withered wood rasped in Mirror October’s mind. In unseen darkness, the Wendigo’s drool stretched and dripped to the ground, its razor claws scraping restlessly against the floor.
“A contest? No—I prefer to call it a game.”
Silently conversing with the Wendigo, Mirror October’s iridescent eyes glowed with unnatural crimson. His slightly pursed lips made him seem tense, yet the bone-chilling indifference in his gaze made even the mindless, frenzied Wendigo instinctively sense the terrifying, monstrous power coiled within his slender frame.
It felt like a clueless ant, foraging for crumbs, suddenly looking up to behold the feathered serpent god Quetzalcoatl—wings spread wide, shrieking fiercely!
“A game?... I cannot grasp your philosophy. I was born for vengeance. I follow ‘Her’ command to reap rebellious humans. But you...” The Wendigo’s thought hesitated. It was merely a lowly Dire Calamity, spawned by new mechanisms, its inferior existence unchanged.
“You need not understand. Obey ‘Her’ orders. Since She allowed this game with me instead of forcing you to hunt the three culprits, She has Her reasons.” At the mention of “Her,” even Mirror October veered off topic, gripped by deep, unspoken wariness.
It wasn’t fear of “Her”—just an inexplicable caution... Mirror October’s fall four years ago was tangled with “Her” beyond denial.
Though Mirror October had briefly granted the Wendigo calm thought, it remained a savage beast. It severed their mental link, greedily fixating on the three scum struggling in the illusory world. It longed to charge in, tear them apart, and feast on their hot, slimy flesh!
But it couldn’t!
Drool flooded its maw. Its dark-red, grotesque pupils burned with ravenous hunger, nearly shattering its restraint. Emaciated, ashen skin clung to its bony frame. Boldly, it stole a venomous, greedy glance at Mirror October.
Then...
It met a pair of scarlet eyes—cold enough to extinguish all emotion. Iridescent, narrow, and exquisitely beautiful, they held no aggression or might. They were dazzling, even shaming any woman’s gaze. Yet beneath those serene, autumn-water eyes, the Wendigo’s vile impulses froze and melted away. Not a shred of defiance remained—it was crushed at its core by a higher being.
A faint, pitying smirk curled Mirror October’s lips. He merely warned the reckless little creature before withdrawing his godlike, silent power.
Dire Calamities... “Her”... heh...
You think you’ve always ruled everything? Humans aren’t as weak as you imagine. They simply lack the will to wield that power. True human strength lies not in flesh or heroics—but in the heart, so easily overlooked.
---
How long can a person go without food? Or put differently, how long until starvation kills?
The answer: 72 hours!
Without water for three days, humans die of dehydration. With water but no food to fuel metabolism, they last at most six to seven days. Starving madmen will gulp down even a pile of stinking feces!
That’s why historians studying famines claimed humans never truly starve to death. It’s not absurd—when hunger drives them mad, they become beasts, swallowing anything to fill their bellies.
“Why...”
In the gloomy mine tunnel, Wu Jianguo hunched over, his eyes bloodshot. He clutched himself tightly, as if that could dull the knife-like pain in his gut. He’d lost track of time in the darkness—without reference, human perception of time grows dull.
What feels like endless waiting might be mere seconds.
What seems a brief daze could stretch for hours.
Cold, hungry panic made Wu Jianguo crave sleep, but he dared not. He’d noticed his two fellow players’ eyes gleaming with a feral, hysterical cruelty... like wild animals...
He couldn’t sleep. He feared he’d never wake up.
