Chapter 37
The Summoning of the Mysterious Entity (3)
In the final moments,
a pitch-black shadow shot forward with unbelievable speed,
emerging from nothingness,
piercing the old man's chest from behind,
impaling his heart directly.
The old man's expression changed in an instant.
His body stiffened,
and a sharp pain overtook him—
a pain he had never felt before.
He knew—with absolute certainty—
that this was his end.
But what astonished him in his final moments
were two things.
The first:
Who had killed him?
He was completely certain that the boy—Arthur—
had already died.
He had sent all the cult members after him,
and it was impossible—impossible—
for him to emerge alive from that hell.
But he was wrong…
for the last time.
The second—
was far more dangerous.
He had not completed the spell.
With his last breath,
the old man turned his head,
his face twisted with hatred, malice, and disbelief.
And there…
he saw him.
Arthur.
Covered in blood,
injuries covering his body,
clothes torn,
breathing ragged.
In the previous battle,
Arthur had lost part of his ear,
and his left arm had suffered a horrific wound—
so deep it was nearly severed,
after countless madmen had clung to it,
pulling,
tearing,
trying to rip it from his body.
When Arthur fought the cult members of Cthulhu,
their madness defied description.
And it was worsened by the old man's control over their minds.
They charged at him like rabid dogs.
One pulled at his body,
another grabbed his hair,
one bit him,
another stabbed him.
It was complete insanity.
If anyone else had stood in Arthur's place,
they would have fled…
or broken down…
or died.
But in that precise moment—
Arthur smiled.
A smile of pure madness.
He gripped his sword,
and began to dance…
the dance of death among them.
He killed.
And killed.
And killed…
as though he were a demon freed from his chains.
In a single moment,
the sword fell from his hand
under the weight of the bodies piling onto him.
Arthur immediately returned the sword to his bracelet,
but in that instant—
just a fraction of a second—
forty people wrapped themselves around his arm,
pressing it to the ground,
stacking over it
like a human plateau.
Others gathered around his other arm,
then his legs.
Arthur was completely engulfed
by layers of madmen.
And suddenly—
loud laughter erupted
from beneath the mountain of bodies.
Hysterical laughter…
bloody…
terrifying.
Then the mountain of lunatics trembled violently,
like ocean waves
crashing mercilessly against the shore.
It shook…
then began to rise.
It rose slowly…
then faster.
What no one noticed—
was that Arthur
had completely lost his mind.
His eyes turned a mad crimson,
a color that did not belong to humans.
Arthur pressed his foot into the ground,
stood at a strange angle,
and lifted the mountain of lunatics above him.
Then—
with a single swing—
he hurled them high into the sky.
He pressed against the ground again,
and launched himself after them.
In his maddened state,
with a mind no longer present,
Arthur waved his hand toward one of them.
In that moment,
he thought the bracelet had transformed…
but it had not.
And yet—
a sharp energy burst from his hand,
cutting through five men at once.
That energy became
a slicing strike
that tore through everything in its path.
And Arthur continued.
Pure madness.
"Finally…
finally I can release myself into the world…
finally I can kill as my heart desires…"
That was
the only thought
remaining in his mind.
Moments later…
A man covered in blood stood,
his body filled with wounds,
his clothes torn,
his hands dripping fresh blood.
He stood atop a mountain
of men and women.
The sky was heavy with clouds,
and the moon barely pierced the darkness.
Moonlight illuminated Arthur's body,
making it seem as though the one standing there
was not human…
but a manifested demon
standing over a massacre he had just committed.
A gentle night wind blew,
striking the young man's face.
His eyes were crimson with madness.
Yet—
atop the mountain of corpses—
he smiled.
Then he lifted his foot,
and fell…
as though throwing himself from a towering height.
His body dropped,
and he felt the air strike his face.
He smiled.
And just as he neared the ground—
he pressed his right foot against it.
A thunderous explosion.
He shot forward at terrifying speed,
as if the devil himself
were chasing a fleeing soul.
In a second—
or two—
the shadow reached the old man,
and stabbed him.
…Now…
Arthur smiled in relief
as he pierced the old man's heart.
The staff fell from the old man's hand,
and within seconds
the atmosphere returned to normal.
The old man collapsed, dead,
hatred still etched upon his face.
Arthur smiled faintly,
then fell to the ground.
"Yes… I've won!"
he shouted amid the countless corpses.
He shouted
like a small child
who had achieved the first goal of his life.
He smiled,
and his hands dropped to the earth.
He began to breathe heavily…
breathing in relief.
And in the moment he thought
everything was over—
something moved.
The missing piece…
of the equation.
The piece he had not accounted for.
It had been before his eyes all along,
but he had not seen it for one reason:
The System.
The System
had asked Arthur to help this piece.
Arthur had not fully trusted the System,
but he had relied on it—
because it had helped him all the way.
So he carried out the missions
without questioning.
And now—
the missing piece
moved since the very beginning of the story.
Someone bent down,
and picked up the fallen staff.
He smiled,
and looked at Arthur gently.
"Thank you, Arthur…
Do you know how saddened I was
when I discovered that those bastards
were trying to summon my Lord on their own?
I am the one who sacrificed for him.
I am the one who drew close to him.
I am the one who aided him.
And those apes
almost summoned him before me…
But thanks to you—
you stopped them.
And now…
I can do it.
I can summon my great Lord…
Cthulhu."
Since the beginning of the story,
this man had been planning.
When Arthur appeared out of nowhere
in the middle of the road,
he was the only one who noticed.
He approached.
He helped.
He observed.
And as time passed,
he realized Arthur's value…
and his importance.
He planned.
He painted the entire picture.
In his eyes—
Arthur
was the missing piece
that would complete the painting.
But in Arthur's eyes—
the missing piece
had only just appeared.
Howard smiled…
a cunning smile.
He looked at the blood-soaked Arthur,
and raised his hands.
And began
to chant the spell.
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