Chapter 53: Return
948 Words
The entire long street was littered with the corpses of demons, lying haphazardly…
Sherlock couldn't recognize the types or names of these demons, but they were undoubtedly dead. Their bodies, like the corpse of the carrion dog in his room, had become nests of tentacles. Thick or thin black tendrils grew on the remains, like algae submerged in seawater, swaying wildly with the raging currents, yet simultaneously stretching desperately towards the sky.
Sherlock looked up at the terrifying sun overhead. Countless tentacles, millions of kilometers long, twisted and contorted, as if establishing some incomprehensible connection with the ground.
This scene undoubtedly exuded a sense of the bizarre and unknown mystery, but even more so, many of these tentacles, nourished by the demon corpses, had peeled away. They crawled and wriggled on the ground, reaching the edge of the domain, frantically crawling outwards, seemingly devouring control of the surrounding space without mercy.
Sherlock gazed at his surroundings, feeling the connection between himself and the ever-growing number of tentacles, and experiencing an inexplicable sense of pleasure at being in his own domain.
He smiled.
Suddenly, he felt something subtly touching his feet.
Instinctively looking down, he saw his original little tentacle, like a pet, slowly crawling onto his shoe, then clumsily trying to climb up his trouser leg, as if it had done something great and wanted its master's praise.
But it was far too clumsy; it had barely reached his knee when it thudded off, landing pitifully on the ground, taking a long time to recover.
Sherlock bent down and picked it up in his palm.
"What? Trying to curry favor?"
The tentacle couldn't speak, of course, but its adorable, playful wriggling made Sherlock smile even more.
At the same time, he was somewhat surprised to find that he seemed to be able to vaguely understand what the little creature was trying to express.
"Is this what the book calls the compatibility between a contractor and their contracted demon?"
[Compatibility]... Well, actually, this doesn't need much explanation. A little thought reveals it's simply the connection between the contractor and their contracted demon.
Whether it's summoning, controlling, or awakening a dream, this is evident.
The higher the connection, or compatibility, with their demon, the stronger the commonality between them. Reaching a certain level allows for a leap in growth.
The Vatican calls this kind of significant growth a 'stage of evolution'.
Between the first and second stages, the contractor's ability to somewhat understand the meaning expressed by their demon is a crucial step.
Sherlock had read all of this in books.
But what surprised him was that he'd only been a contractor for less than a week, and his compatibility had already reached this level?
"Or is it because I brought this little guy back to hell, let him crawl around everywhere, build nests, breed—basically, didn't give him much restraint—that he's so excited, completely abandoning any self-respect and treating me like someone he can rely on?
Tsk, what's the difference between this and raising a stupid pet that only knows how to be cute?"
Probably sensing that its master was calling it a stupid pet, that little tentacle… well… wriggled even more enthusiastically.
At the same time, Sherlock also sensed that the other party was sending him another message.
This message roughly meant… a desire to return.
"Return…" Sherlock didn't quite understand the specific meaning at first, but he could clearly sense that this so-called 'return' wouldn't bring him any negative consequences.
So, he smiled and nodded: "Alright, then show me what else you can do?"
Hearing its master's words, the little tentacle rolled around happily in his palm, almost falling off, but thankfully crawling back.
Then, as if to show off its skills, it wagged its little tail and then lay down in Sherlock's palm.
Slowly… it melted into his hand.
Well… it's a bit hard to describe, but the little tentacle seemed to transform into something between solid and liquid, slowly creeping along the sweat glands in Sherlock's palm and into his hand.
And throughout this entire process, he didn't feel a thing.
"What's going on?" Sherlock muttered, spending a long time sensing his body, but finding no change.
So he subconsciously took out a cigarette from his pocket and put it to his lips, then habitually reached for his lighter;
But just as he turned his head, he was surprised to find a slender tentacle already beside him, coiled around the lighter in his pocket…
"Click."
A flame rose from the fuel-soaked cotton thread, fawningly approaching the cigarette.
"..." Sherlock paused for a moment, realizing the distance to light the cigarette was just right, then let the tentacle ignite it before respectfully putting the lighter back in his pocket.
"Seems... a bit more sensible now."
He took a satisfying drag, watching his expanding domain, and exhaled the smoke into the scorching winds of hell...
Suddenly, something occurred to him.
If he smoked in hell, would the cigarette disappear when he returned to the real world?
If not, wouldn't he be able to save a lot of money on cigarettes?!
This thought made Sherlock even more excited. He happily looked at the twisted, terrifying tentacles around him, experiencing a strange feeling of being surrounded and worshipped.
Then...
"Mr. Holmes?"
"Mr. Holmes, are you there?"
In the real world, a knocking at the door woke him.
"Coming." Sherlock opened his eyes in reality, casually took out a cigarette from his pocket, glanced at it, and realized one was missing. Regrettingly, he put it back, then went to the door, opened it, and adopted a fairly gentlemanly demeanor.
"What can I do for you, my landlord?"
- Writer
