Chapter 66 - Prisoners and Interrogation: Part 2

Adam's breath was shallow as the memories replayed in his mind like a vivid, unrelenting film. The fight against Bai Huolong had been a nightmare in every sense of the word—a chaotic symphony of violence, death, and despair.

He could still see the moment the vice-captains fell, their bodies hitting the ground with sickening finality. Their deaths had not been quick or clean, and each loss felt like a hammer blow to the morale of the group. The battlefield became a macabre theater as the fallen were reanimated, their corpses twisted into Jiang Shi—puppets of Bai Huolong’s malevolent will.

The transformation of the Jiang Shi was grotesque. Adam remembered the sound of bones snapping and flesh warping as the bodies rose again, their eyes glowing with unnatural light. The air had been thick with the metallic tang of blood, mingling with the acrid stench of decay.

Adam had felt his mind teetering on the edge of a dark abyss. The chaos around him, the screams of his allies, and the overwhelming presence of the Don had threatened to consume him. His [Cursed Eyes], a blessing and a curse, had shown him the horrifying truth of the auras that pulsed around the battlefield—dense, oppressive, and dripping with malice.

It was Kazue and Drake who had pulled him back from that precipice. Kazue's voice, firm and unyielding, cut through the noise, grounding him. Drake’s steady hand on his shoulder had been an anchor, reminding him that he wasn’t alone. Together, they had faced the onslaught, channeling their desperation into a final, coordinated effort that led to Bai Huolong’s defeat.

The memory of the man’s final moments was seared into Adam’s mind. The Don had fought like a demon, his power was monstrous and seemingly endless. But even he had fallen, his body crumpling to the ground as their combined efforts brought an end to his terror.

It was then that Park Zhen and Abbess Xinhui appeared, their arrival marked by an aura of authority and menace that had silenced the battlefield. Their mere presence had made it clear that the fight was far from over. The betrayal of Shen Yue had been the final blow—a cold, cruel twist that left Adam reeling.

The last thing he remembered before losing consciousness was the weight of it all crashing down on him. His vision had blurred after being attacked, his body succumbing to exhaustion and injuries, and then... nothing.

Now, he found himself once again in the strange, otherworldly plane that seemed to claim him every time he blacked out. The familiar sight of crumbled ruins stretched out before him, shrouded in an oppressive gloom. The once-still darkness was now alive with movement; black tentacles writhed and coiled around the debris, creeping like living shadows.

At the center of it all stood the pulsating mound of tentacles that imprisoned the Undead Empress. Her prison was as grotesque as ever, and the massive, lidless eye that hovered above it remained fixed on Adam. Its unblinking gaze was heavy, suffocating, a constant reminder of his parasitic connection to this strange realm.

Adam's [Cursed Eyes] were useless here, this place operated on its own set of rules, untouched by the powers he relied on in the real world. He sighed, running a hand through his hair as he replayed the events in his head once again, trying to make sense of where he had gone wrong.

But just as he resigned himself to another endless stretch of reflection, a sudden flash of light appeared before him, and a system window materialized, hovering in front of his face. The words on the screen sent a shiver down his spine.

[A higher entity wishes to contact you] [Do you accept?] [Y/N]

Adam froze, his eyes darting around the ruins. The tentacles continued their slow, eerie movements, and the Ghost Empress remained locked in her prison. The unblinking eye hadn't moved. Everything seemed unchanged, yet the appearance of the system message was anything but ordinary.

His fingers hovered over the options. Suspicion gnawed at him. This was his mind—how could an external force intervene here? After a long moment of deliberation, he selected ‘N’, unwilling to take the risk, however, another window immediately appeared.

[The higher entity is initiating forced contact.] [Due to the rank restriction between the higher entity and the scenario, the entity's power has been significantly reduced (96% penalty to power).] [Materializing...]

Adam’s heart pounded as the air around him seemed to split apart. A jagged tear formed in the fabric of the space, and from it, inky black tentacles emerged, writhing and twisting as they pushed through the breach. The oppressive atmosphere grew heavier, the shadows deepening and the air crackling with unseen energy.

Then, from the rift, a small figure emerged—a tiny black squid no larger than his hand, crowned with a faint golden halo.

The tension in the air vanished instantly, like a balloon deflating. An almost comical absurdity replaced the ominous pressure as the little squid floated in front of Adam, its tiny tentacles waving gently.

He stared, dumbfounded. The squid blinked at him—or at least, he thought it did. Its small, beady eyes seemed to glimmer with a weird light.

“You’ve got to be kidding me.”

Adam muttered under his breath. The tiny squid moved before him, its dark tentacles waving gently, the golden halo above its bulbous body glowing faintly. For a moment, the silence stretched between them, oppressive yet absurd. Then, in a startlingly deep and guttural voice that reverberated through the air, the squid spoke.

“Ahem.”

It began, clearing a nonexistent throat. Its voice was otherworldly—gravelly and imposing, like the echoes of a distant cavern. It was the kind of voice that could send shivers down anyone’s spine if not for the fact it was coming from a creature the size of Adam’s palm.

“I am The_Hunger.”

The squid declared solemnly.

“A manifestation of that which exists beyond existence itself. What you might call a ‘patron.’”

Adam blinked. He couldn’t decide if the situation was terrifying, ridiculous, or both. The name, however, struck a chord in his memory. Patron… Like in Drake’s title, ‘Otherworldly Fanbase’. A sinking realization washed over him. This entity was connected to the anomalies they had been encountering, tied to the chaos and incomprehensible powers that seemed to loom over their lives.

“This can’t be good.”

Adam muttered under his breath, his mind racing as he tried to process what was happening.

“You are correct.”

The_Hunger said, as if reading his thoughts. Its voice retained an air of arrogance, a subtle condescension that made Adam’s skin crawl.

“Goodness has nothing to do with this. I have been watching you, Adam Scholar. You, who have become the champion of my beloved pet—the Overmind.”

Adam stiffened at the mention of the Overmind, the entity that had blessed him after he got control over the parasite.

“Your... pet?”

Adam asked cautiously, his voice steady despite the storm of unease swirling inside him.

“Yes.”

The squid replied, almost fondly.

“The Overmind has taken a liking to you. You are the first sentient creature to assert control over one of its offspring successfully. For this, it has blessed you with gifts far beyond what one of your pitiful level should possess.”

Adam clenched his fists, a mixture of anger and wariness bubbling beneath the surface.

“And why exactly does that matter to you?”

“Because…”

The_Hunger said, the golden halo glowing brighter.

“...You have potential. Potential to become not just the Overmind’s champion, but my own. To ascend as an acolyte of the Hunger Gospel.”

The words hung in the air, heavy with implication. Adam’s mind raced, piecing together what the squid had said. Acolyte. Champion. Patron. This was no ordinary conversation; this was a negotiation with something far beyond his comprehension.

“And what would that entail?”

Adam asked, careful to keep his tone neutral.

“It means a contract, a pact between you and me. Such contracts are not typically available to those of your limited capabilities. However, your connection to the Overmind allows me to bypass those restrictions.”

The_Hunger said simply, Adam’s stomach churned, but he forced himself to remain calm.

“A contract. And what would that give me?”

The squid’s tentacles waved in a way that could almost be interpreted as a shrug.

“Power. More power than you can fathom. Enough to crush the enemies in this world with a mere thought. Enough to dominate the insignificant wretch you currently host within your body.”

Adam’s eyes narrowed… The Ghost Empress. The squid’s words painted a tempting picture, but they also sent alarm bells ringing in his head.

“And would I still be myself? Would I retain my free will?”

“Of course.”

The_Hunger said smoothly, though the arrogance in its tone was impossible to miss.

“You would be yourself, merely enhanced. A force of nature. A vessel for my will, yes, but with agency to act as you see fit.”

The answer did little to reassure Adam. He could feel the strings in this arrangement, even if they weren’t yet visible. Still, he asked.

“Why now? Why make this offer to me?”

“Because you are floundering. A fledgling, struggling with power you barely comprehend. My pet has pleaded for me to intervene, to save you from the mediocrity you are destined for without my guidance. And so I offer you this—transcendence, Adam Scholar.”

The_Hunger said bluntly, its golden halo pulsing, and its voice growing more intense.

“Make the pact, and you will achieve greatness beyond imagining. Refuse, and you will remain as you are—weak, insignificant, barely clinging to survival.”

Adam’s heart pounded, but his face remained impassive. The offer was alluring, too alluring, but his experiences had taught him to be wary of anything that seemed too good to be true.

“I... appreciate the offer, but I’m not ready to make any decisions right now.”

Adam said carefully, making The_Hunger’s laughter boom, a sound so out of place from such a small creature that it sent a shiver down Adam’s spine.

“Oh, little creature, I can see into you, see the very essence of your being. You may resist now, but you cannot escape your fate. Sooner or later, you will beg for this contract.”

The squid paused, its golden halo flickering as if in contemplation.

“But as a token of goodwill, and at the behest of my pet, I will grant you a taste of what you could possess.”

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Before Adam could respond, a wave of heat surged through his body. It wasn’t painful, but it was disorienting, a sensation of raw energy coursing through his veins. He looked down at his hands, expecting some visible change, but there was nothing. Still, the warmth remained, a subtle reminder of what had just occurred.

“This is but a fraction of a fraction of my power. Remember it, Adam Scholar. Remember what you could have.”

The_Hunger said, its voice quieter now. The darkness around them began to lighten, the ruins dissolving into a blinding white void. Adam felt himself being pulled away, his consciousness shifting.

“Wait!”

He said, forcing himself to speak despite the disorienting sensation.

“And what must I give in return?”

There should be a price, a real one, there was nothing in the system you could gain without paying the cost for it. The_Hunger turned to him, its gaze inscrutable. For a moment, silence stretched between them. Then, the air shimmered, and a colossal, eldritch eye materialized above the squid. Its size dwarfed even the eye beside the Ghost Empress, and its gaze bore into Adam with an intensity that made him stagger.

“Everything.”

The patron said simply, its voice carrying the weight of inevitability… And then, the world went blank.

Adam’s eyes fluttered open, his senses gradually sharpening as he processed his surroundings. A heavy, metallic clang echoed through the air, and the cold, damp floor beneath him sent a shiver up his spine. He lifted his head, blinking against the dim light filtering into the room.

The cell was stark and oppressive, with thick iron bars enclosing him on all sides. The walls bore deep scratches and discolorations, as though countless prisoners before him had tried, and failed, to escape. His wrists, ankles, and neck were bound by heavy shackles connected to thick chains that clinked with every slight movement. He tested their weight, pulling gently; they seemed mundane, nothing more than ordinary restraints. Could he phase through these? It was a possibility.

But before he could act, a soft sound—a faint rustling—drew his attention to the cell adjacent to his. Peering through the bars, Adam spotted someone sitting in the corner, their form hunched and motionless. The figure’s head rested against their knees, arms draped loosely over them, face obscured entirely. The silence hung heavily between them, broken only by the occasional groan of chains as the boy shifted slightly closer.

“Jianfeng?”

Adam’s voice was steady but quiet, cutting through the oppressive silence.

“Is that you?”

There was no response. The figure didn’t stir, and for a moment, Adam wondered if he was mistaken. But the distinct silver streak in the man’s hair confirmed it. The boy moved closer to the edge of his cell, gripping the bars.

“Jianfeng.”

He called again, more firmly this time.

“It’s me, Adam. Where are we? Is this the city Park Zhen mentioned?”

Still, no response. Jianfeng’s stillness was unsettling, a stark contrast to the resolute, almost indomitable warrior Adam had come to know. He tried again, forcing calm into his voice.

“Jianfeng, we need to figure this out. Come on, snap out of it.”

After a long, heavy pause, the man finally stirred, though it was faint, like a man being roused from the depths of despair. His voice, when it came, was barely audible—hoarse and brittle, like dry leaves crumbling underfoot.

“Why does it matter?”

Jianfeng muttered without lifting his head. Adam frowned, his patience thinning but his concern growing.

“What are you talking about? Of course, it matters. We need to figure out where we are and how to get out of here.”

The immortal master let out a bitter laugh, hollow and devoid of life. Slowly, he raised his head, and Adam’s breath caught. Jianfeng’s eyes were dull, lacking the fiery determination they once held. The man before him looked utterly defeated, his expression a mask of despair that the boy couldn’t reconcile with the immortal warrior’s reputation.

“It’s all meaningless, five hundred years... Five centuries of planning, preparing, holding on. And for what? To lose everything? My power, my friends... even my son.”

Jianfeng said, his voice cracking. Adam’s grip tightened on the bars.

“Jianfeng, I get that you’re upset, but this isn’t the time to—”

“Upset?”

Jianfeng interrupted, his tone rising slightly before falling back into a hollow whisper.

“You don’t understand. You can’t. You’ve never held onto something for centuries, believing in it with every fiber of your being, only to watch it crumble because of a betrayal you never saw coming. My own son...”

The weight of his words hung between them. Adam struggled to respond, his own frustration mounting. He understood loss and betrayal, but Jianfeng’s desolation was on a scale he couldn’t fully grasp.

“Look, you’re not the only one who’s lost something. But giving up now won’t help. We have to keep moving forward. If you give up, then—”

Adam began, trying to steady his voice, but Jianfeng cut him off, his voice sharper now, though still laced with despair.

“Then what? It’s over. There’s nothing left. No plan, no vengeance, no hope.”

Adam stared at him, a mix of pity and disgust churning in his chest. He wanted to understand, to empathize, but he couldn’t shake the irritation at seeing someone so powerful, someone who had endured so much, crumble like this.

Realizing he wouldn’t get through to Jianfeng, Adam exhaled heavily and stepped back toward the center of his cell. His mind raced as he considered his next move. Escaping seemed plausible, but before acting, he paused, remembering the encounter in his subconscious. The patron’s ominous words replayed in his mind, and he decided to check for any changes.

He raised his hand and summoned his stat menu. His eyes scanned it carefully. Everything seemed normal at first glance, but then his gaze landed on his trait. [The Hunger] was now labeled [The True Hunger], and although the description hadn’t changed, the subtle alteration sent a shiver down his spine.

“Was this what it meant?”

Adam muttered under his breath, but before he could theorize further, the heavy creak of a door opening echoed through the chamber. His head snapped up, and his heart sank as he recognized the figure stepping into the room.

Park Zhen entered with the same composed demeanor as always. His hair was perfectly slicked back, and his tuxedo was immaculate, as though he hadn’t been involved in any of the chaos that led to this point. The Don’s polished shoes echoed softly against the cold stone floor as he walked unhurriedly toward the cells. His presence was calm yet commanding, his expression one of practiced composure. His eyes briefly flicked to Adam as he passed, but there was no acknowledgment, no sign of concern or interest. The boy felt a flash of irritation, clenching his fists against the chains as he followed the man’s every step with a hard gaze.

Park Zhen’s stride came to a halt in front of Jianfeng’s cell. The immortal warrior remained motionless, his face buried in his knees, oblivious or uncaring about the world around him. The Don stood there in silence for a moment, his hands clasped behind his back, observing the broken figure of his former ally and his lips curved into a faint, almost melancholic smile, though his eyes betrayed a flicker of disappointment.

Without a word, Park Zhen reached into his pocket and retrieved a small metallic key, which he used to unlock the cell. The heavy door creaked open, and he stepped inside, his movements deliberate yet without any air of hostility. He came to a stop a few steps away from Jianfeng, his serene expression unwavering.

“You’ve fallen so far.”

Park Zhen said softly, his voice devoid of scorn. Instead, it carried a genuine sadness, as though he mourned the sight before him.

“To see you like this, after all you’ve been through... It’s difficult to reconcile the man you once were with what I see now.”

Jianfeng gave no response. His posture remained unchanged, his silence oppressive. Park Zhen tilted his head slightly, as if waiting for some acknowledgment, but when none came, he continued speaking, his tone steady.

“Five hundred years, Jianfeng. Five centuries of battles, of victories, of losses. And through it all, you were unyielding, a beacon for your allies, and a terror to your enemies.”

His eyes softened as he took another step closer.

“I respected you. Truly. I still do. But this... This is not the man I once knew, as an ally and an enemy.”

Adam, still gripping the bars of his cell, listened intently. Park Zhen’s words were calm and measured, yet they carried weight. There was no mockery, no arrogance—only a strange sincerity that left Adam feeling unsettled. He watched as The Don reached into the inner pocket of his tuxedo and pulled out a small black cube.

Adam’s eyes immediately focused on the object, and his cursed ability, always active, provided information about it in the form of a glowing overlay. The text appeared clearly in his vision:

[ Interdimensional Containment Cube - Rank A ] ⌠Additional Information⌡ ⌠A high-level containment device used by the Nova Crusaders of the 'Hero Organization'. This item allows the capture and imprisonment of dangerous criminals and Kaiju. Once activated, it traps the target within a pocket dimension from which escape is impossible without external intervention. The target must be significantly weakened or unresisting for successful capture.⌡

Adam’s thoughts raced as he processed the information. Another item from another world. Just like the skills, plot devices, and other artifacts they’ve been using. He felt his frustration grow. How do they get these things? Is Lord Varek a user too? Or has some other user replaced the original character?

His mind spiraled into speculation, connecting fragments of information as he tried to piece together a theory. He had no solid answers, but the idea that a user might have infiltrated and even remained in this world’s story and assumed control made unsettling sense, nevertheless, Park Zhen’s voice pulled Adam out of his thoughts.

“Jianfeng, I wish this could have ended differently. I truly do. But even now, you leave me no choice.”

He said, holding the cube before him, his tone was gentle, but his words carried finality.

Jianfeng did not react. His silence persisted, his body remaining as lifeless as his eyes. The Don sighed softly, his expression tinged with regret. He moved closer, holding the cube out toward the Alliance’s master. The device began to hum faintly, a low vibration that filled the air. A swirl of energy erupted from its surface, wrapping around Jianfeng like tendrils of light.

The energy began to pull Jianfeng toward the cube, the swirling force growing stronger. The man did not resist, he remained utterly passive, and his limbs slack as he allowed the device to absorb him. Adam watched in stunned silence as the immortal warrior, once a figure of near-mythical strength, was reduced to nothing more than a defeated prisoner.

The process concluded with a strange sound—a sharp, hollow chime that echoed briefly before fading. The cube dropped to the floor, now dark and still. A small notification appeared in Adam’s vision:

⌠The 'Interdimensional Containment Cube' will remain locked in place while containing the entity Shen Jianfeng. Removal is impossible until the entity is released.⌡

Park Zhen bent down and looked at the cube, inspecting it briefly before letting it down the cell’s floor. He straightened his jacket with meticulous care, brushing away an invisible speck of dust, then turned to leave the room, closing the door behind him. His movements were as precise and unhurried as ever, as though what had just transpired were nothing more than routine.

When he finally turned his attention to Adam, his expression was as composed as ever. A faint smile tugged at his lips, but his eyes were sharp, calculating.

“Now, let’s talk.”

Park Zhen’s eyes locked onto Adam’s as he approached, his measured footsteps once again echoing off the cold stone walls. The faint smile he wore earlier persisted, though his gaze was sharper now, focused. Adam met his stare, tense but determined, still gripping the now-empty bars of his cell. His mind raced with possibilities, searching for the right balance between caution and confrontation.

The silence hung heavily in the air before Park Zhen finally spoke. His tone was as calm and disarming as before, almost pleasant, yet carrying an unmistakable weight.

“You’ve made quite an impression, Adam Scholar.”

He began, his voice smooth and deliberate.

“Tell me, is that strength you demonstrated against Bai Huolong truly the extent of your abilities?”

Adam stiffened at the question, his eyes narrowing slightly, thinking the reason the Don would have to ask that kind of things. Taking a deep breath, he chose his words carefully.

“I’m stronger than what I showed, I’ve got more cards up my sleeve.”

Adam said, his voice steady but taut. Park Zhen’s smile remained unchanged, but there was a subtle shift in his expression, a flicker of interest—or perhaps amusement.

“Is that so? Then why hide it? In situations like yours, it would seem wiser to reveal everything, wouldn’t you agree?”

He said, taking a slow step closer to the cell. Adam knew he was being baited, but he also understood the opportunity presented. If Park Zhen wanted to see more, he would show him—on his terms. Steeling himself, Adam activated his skill, [Ghost Phasing]. The chains binding him shimmered briefly before his wrists and ankles phased through them, his limbs becoming intangible for mere moments. He stepped away from the restraints, his breathing steady, but his muscles tense, prepared for retaliation.

Park Zhen tilted his head slightly, his expression unchanged. If he was impressed, he didn’t show it.

“Interesting, but if that’s all, then I wonder if it was even worth asking.”

He said softly, his voice as even as ever. Meanwhile, Adam’s jaw tightened.

“You’re asking these things on Lord Varek’s orders, aren’t you?”

Park Zhen didn’t respond immediately. His smile remained, but his eyes seemed to evaluate Adam further, as if considering the merit of his question. When he didn’t answer, the boy pressed on.

“It’s obvious, you and your people are interested in abilities like mine, like the ones the rest of the group had. You’re after things that don’t belong in this world. Why is that? Is it because your so-called Lord Varek comes from another world too?”

Adam continued, his tone more assertive now. This time, Park Zhen chuckled—a low, quiet sound that seemed entirely out of place in the tension-filled room. It wasn’t mocking, but rather an expression of amusement, as though Adam’s words were naive yet intriguing.

“That’s a bold assumption, and a foolish one. You really have no idea what you’re talking about.”

The Don said, still smiling faintly, but Adam’s eyes narrowed, his mind racing. Park Zhen’s reaction wasn’t one of anger or denial—it was too controlled, too deliberate. Adam decided to take a different approach, leaning into his observations.

“Maybe I don’t know everything, but I can see enough to know that your loyalty to him isn’t ordinary. You’re not just following orders— Do you actually believe in him? What makes him so different that someone like you, who seems capable of independent thought, would devote themselves completely?”

It was a far stretch based mostly on what Jianfeng had told the group about the city’s regent, but Park Zhen’s expression didn’t falter. If anything, his faint smile deepened.

“No one is more loyal to Lord Varek than I am. My dedication is absolute, and there is no need for you to understand it. It is simply the way things are.”

Adam hesitated for a moment, then decided to take an even greater risk. He let a smirk play on his lips, an expression of confidence that didn’t quite reach his tense eyes.

“Absolute loyalty, huh? Then tell me something. If that’s true, why can’t I see it?”

Park Zhen’s smile faltered, ever so slightly, but his composure didn’t break. Adam stepped closer to the bars, his gaze intense, unwavering, ready to reveal something that had been haunting him since the time he met the Dons Bai Huolong and Abbess Xinhui.

“I’m not just guessing about you or your people, I can’t see the system in you—the ‘infection’, if you want to call it that. It shows me who’s tied to the other world’s mechanics. But you... I don’t see anything. No status. No skills. Nothing. Why is that?”

It was true, both Dons had those glitchy status windows as if they were some kind of user, but not the city’s regent. For the first time, Park Zhen was silent, his calm demeanor shifting into something unreadable. Adam held his gaze, unflinching, waiting for a response as the tension thickened between them… had it worked?