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1492 Words
It was not over yet. Behind the semi-transparent panel, Sebastian tilted his head slightly, and suddenly, two more lines of ethereal numbers drifted through the oppressive darkness, written in a pale light visible only to him.
[Strength: 1 ~ 1]
[Affection: 100]
Ellen had finished dressing, pulling on her thick cotton-padded boots to shield her weary feet before walking toward the heavy wooden door of the apothecary. Sebastian called out in a voice tinged with uncertainty, "Manager."
Ellen stopped in her tracks, and as she did, those two lines of data froze in the void, tracking her position. A sharp, somewhat feisty voice cut through the cold air. "Still calling me 'Manager'?" she retorted, her tone blending a hint of annoyance with a deeper, underlying affection. "After everything that happened between us, do you still lack the courage to acknowledge it? Tell me... is there a single inch of my body your hands did not touch last night? Speak up!"
Even though Sebastian was cloaked in absolute blindness, his mind instinctively rendered a vivid image of the young woman standing there, hands on her slender hips, her eyes flashing with a mix of indignation and playfulness. His use of the title "Manager" was merely a desperate attempt to confirm whether these shifting numbers truly belonged to her. Now, he had his confirmation.
He took a steadying breath and spoke softly, "Ellen."
"Call! Me! Wife!" came the fierce, immediate response.
"Wife," he replied, a faint smile touching his lips.
"That's much better," she huffed, satisfied.
With that, Ellen eased the door open just a fraction, careful not to let the meager warmth gathered by the hearth escape into the biting winter. She slipped through the gap, but before she had fully cleared the threshold, she abruptly pulled her leg back in, slammed the door shut with a resounding thud, and rushed back to the bedside.
Sebastian felt his face being cupped by two small, firm hands. He sensed the two lines of data hovering mere inches from his sightless eyes. Her palms were not fleshy, nor were they particularly warm; their calloused texture told the silent story of years spent foraging for herbs on jagged cliffs.
"Remember this," her voice came, laced with a touch of possessive bravado. "Now that you are my husband, you must take responsibility. I will not die, and you are not allowed to die either! Otherwise... otherwise, I'll haunt you even as a ghost!"
Sebastian nodded silently, and the weight of her hands vanished. The wooden door opened once more and clicked shut. In the ensuing darkness, the numbers faded, and from outside came the rasping sound of a small wooden stool being moved, followed by the rhythmic, heavy thuds of an axe striking wood.
The sound of the axe, mingled with the howling wind and the shifting snow, created a profound sense of desolation—a feeling that the world had been emptied of all life, leaving only this tiny cabin as an island of silence in a frozen sea. The external noise only served to emphasize the absolute quiet within the room, a rare and precious peace in an era of chaos.
Sebastian withdrew his wandering thoughts and focused on the startling changes before him. As a traveler from another world, the interface and the floating data were not entirely alien to him. In fact, they were disturbingly familiar; the panel was an exact replica of the "Cheat Assistant" he had programmed for a game in his previous life.
As for the game itself... he paused, a cold shiver running down his spine. He shook his head vigorously.
"No, it can't be."
That game had been a psychological horror masterpiece so terrifying that it was rumored to have frightened some players to death. In the memories of his predecessor, this was merely a turbulent world of warring kingdoms and martial arts—it shouldn't have anything to do with that digital nightmare.
"It's impossible," he whispered, reaffirming his denial. He began to scrutinize the data from top to bottom.
According to the logic of the panel:
First, "Eternal Immortality" was a player trait—it meant he would never age, but it did not mean he was invincible to steel or violence.
Second, a person's strength consisted of a "Minimum" and a "Maximum" value.
- The Minimum: Determined by one's Realm. To increase this, one had to cultivate techniques that tempered the physical body and granted foundational power.
- The Maximum: Determined by skills and weapons, with skills playing the dominant role. The more profound the skill, the more devastating the power one could unleash.
Ellen's "1 ~ 1" indicated she was an ordinary human who had never cultivated any martial skills; she could only exert her basic physical strength without tapping into any hidden potential.
The reason he gained "Attribute Points" from his intimacy with Ellen was due to a "Fertility Incentive" mechanic he had programmed into the assistant. By binding to a wife and maintaining a harmonious marriage, he would receive daily cheat points. However, only one target could be bound at a time; any additional partners would yield no further benefits.
Slowly... very slowly, Sebastian's inner gaze drifted to the final line of data.
[Taboos: Not Unlocked]
A sudden, bone-chilling cold surged into his mind. The icy air felt as though countless pale, dead hands were stroking his skin, causing waves of goosebumps to ripple across his arms.
"Wait... why is this here?" he panicked internally. "When I made the assistant, I specifically did not include this option. It shouldn't exist."
The text for "Taboos: Not Unlocked" was written in a dull, ashen gray, contrasting with the sharp black of the other entries. Yet, the mere word "Taboo" dragged Sebastian back to the most extreme horror game world imaginable. The game was called "Avici Hell."
Its core gameplay was a brutal "Battle Royale" of survival. Escape meant hiding from vengeful spirits; killing meant eliminating competitors to seize their meager resources. It was a bleak, apocalyptic title. Originally, it had gained a massive following for its haunting art style and complex lore, but then the inexplicable began to happen.
Multiple players were found dead while playing "Avici Hell." Investigators found no physical wounds or signs of foul play. They looked as though they had been literally scared to death—their faces contorted in agony, their limbs frozen at grotesque, unnatural angles. The game was subsequently banned.
But before it vanished, Sebastian had secretly kept a copy. As a firm materialist who listened to horror soundtracks to stay alert and kept demon figurines on his desk to prevent napping while working, he never believed in ghosts. Once the dust had settled, he had attempted to program a cheat tool to explore the forbidden depths of the game.
Suddenly, his mind went blank.
He realized he could no longer remember anything about his time playing "Avici Hell." Every memory of that period had been wiped clean from his mind.
In the next instant, his entire body began to tremble. His limbs felt like ice as he fell into a metaphorical abyss. He understood now... the world he had transmigrated into might very well be the world of "Avici Hell," or perhaps an era even older and more terrifying. The reason "Taboos" were locked was likely because he had arrived before the horrific supernatural phenomena had fully descended upon the world.
After a long silence, Sebastian's fists clenched so hard his knuckles turned white.
"Survive!" he swore. "I must survive!!"
He took several deep, stabilizing breaths, looked at the panel, and commanded silently: 'Upgrade!'
A '+' sign appeared next to the "Mind's Eye" skill.
He allocated 1 point.
The progress bar for "Mind's Eye" jumped from "Uninitiated (0/1)" to "Uninitiated (1/1)," then instantly shifted to "Entry Level (0/2)."
A strange sensation washed over him. It felt as though years of experience in perceiving the world through sound and touch had been condensed into a single moment. Even as a blind man, he felt a sudden progress. He could vaguely sense the outlines of objects near him.
He raised his head and scanned his surroundings. Everything was still black, but as he ran his hand over the wooden bedframe, the tactile sensation and the faint sound it made acted like a charcoal pencil in his dark world, sketching a "gray-white" outline. As he touched more surfaces, the sketch became more complete, gradually forming a 3D model of a pale-lined gray bed within the void of his mind.
For the first time, the world of the blind man had shapes.
Sebastian let out a small sigh of relief. He looked toward the distance, intending to use his hands to "touch" more of the world into existence.
Suddenly, he saw two lines of floating data again.
It was Ellen's data.
She was outside the door, but even through the thick wood, he could "see" her presence through the system.
- Writer
