Chapter 9: Gag—
813 Words
**Chapter 9: Gag—**
What do you think about when time stops?
If you could extract the thoughts of every esteemed reader, you could probably compile them into a book.
In fact, such a book already exists in the real world. It’s called the *Criminal Code*.
In truth, when time stops, you can’t think of anything at all.
Consciousness is anchored to existence, and the essence of [Existence] is [Time].
When time solidifies, existence ceases, consciousness fails to recognize itself, and a person loses all thought, becoming a statue of flesh and blood.
This experience is terrifying, because those trapped in the stasis of time might feel they have already died.
Yet it might also be less terrifying, because that person likely wouldn’t even be aware they were trapped in stopped time.
It was impossible to tell how long it lasted—perhaps an instant for Chen and the others, but an entire lifetime for the dreadspawn...
The effect of the regional fast-forward slowly faded. Song, who had been hiding behind Chen, felt his consciousness gradually sharpen.
The moment his ability to think returned, he was met with the ultimate blossoming of death.
The corpses of dreadspawn from above rained down, bloodless rotten flesh and countless tentacles flooding into the small, previously clean space.
The aura of the dead washed over him, thick as a colloid, making Song’s spirit tremble from the depths of his soul.
*What tier of Death Domain is this?*
*Can a Death Domain of this magnitude even exist??*
*If this thing unleashes its full power, wouldn’t it summon the true Entity of [Death] itself???*
After this rapid-fire mental triage, Song wasted no time. He remembered Chen’s words clearly: his one move would be the key to their salvation.
Watching the tentacled horrors, now with no more flesh to devour, writhing madly toward their group of six, Song took a deep breath. His eyes instantly turned pitch black.
Reaping State, activate!
He raised his own hands and clamped them fiercely around his own neck.
A sickening *CRACK* echoed as he mercilessly snapped his own neck.
Then, this standing “corpse” of Song began to slowly dissipate. The thick miasma of death around them instantly boiled. A spectral wind howled, and eerie green light surged. In the blink of an eye, an enormous black scythe, radiating an aura of world-ending annihilation, materialized above the group.
Chen and the others had just regained their senses. Seeing the Death Scythe suspended above them, their breath hitched.
It was massive.
They had never witnessed such a terrifying Death Scythe. Even the small skull ornament at the very end of its handle looked like a colossal statue carved from a mountain.
Not to mention the blade, shimmering with a ghostly green light—it looked like a keen edge capable of shearing planets apart.
Even in the high-stakes matches of 2100, Chen had never seen a Death Scythe this large!
Only one thought occupied his mind now: a fervent prayer that Song wouldn’t get carried away and send them all to the afterlife along with the monsters.
“Souls to slumber, lives to their end! Funeral Rites, Reap!”
As ethereal, thunderous incantations seemed to shake the very heavens, the colossal scythe, carrying the whispers of lost souls, swept downward.
Across the entire visible ruin, except for the small area where the group stood, everything seemed to fracture for an instant.
Like a mirror shattering, spiderweb cracks appeared.
Then...
Sighs embracing death rose one after another, echoing to the sky. Countless grotesquely enlarged tentacled horrors, once feasting on flesh, closed their eyes and fell still, as if entering peaceful sleep.
Death is never a cataclysmic event.
The moment the scythe fell, their flames of life were quietly snuffed out.
The man died; the scythe vanished.
It took only a few seconds.
But the rising miasma of the dead had not yet dispersed. This energy twisted and churned, gathering once more, coalescing to reform Song, who should have been “dead.”
He fell from mid-air, gasping for breath and drenched in sweat. The moment he hit the ground, he collapsed into the gore, his body convulsing uncontrollably.
Nangong, the closest to him, moved by a Cleric’s instinct, reached out to pull him up. The moment her hand touched Song’s wrist, she found his body was unnaturally healthy, even in peak condition, brimming with vitality.
His convulsions weren’t from exhaustion after a desperate ultimate move—they were the tremors of ecstatic overload.
“Holy s**t—HOLY s**t—
I think I saw the visage of my Lord, saw Him seated upon the Bone Throne, granting me a scythe of immense power.
Incredible—
Chen, you’re a f*****g genius!!!”
He panted raggedly, struggling to get up, limbs twitching erratically.
“Just for that one moment… my whole life… was worth it...”
- Writer
