The Whisper of the God of Love (Part 4)

Smoke and dust filled the air, thick and acrid.

The aftershock of the impact sent a powerful gust of wind tearing through the clearing, whipping Ewan’s hair into a chaotic mess.

His heart was in a similar state of disarray.

Thankfully, his heart was strong.

Ewan, still clutching his perfectly roasted fish, thought for a long, contemplative moment, then silently, deliberately, turned his head back around.

I’ll just pretend I didn’t see that.

It was just a meteor strike. A common, everyday occurrence. It’s not like a symbiotic alien was going to crawl out of it and try to take over the world. What was there to be surprised about? He was a man who had been personally baptized by the holy sacrament of Truck-kun, a veteran who had experienced the miracle of transmigration. How could he possibly lose his legendary composure over something so trivial?

Eat the fish. Eat the fish. Ignore the apocalypse.

Screech—

Just as Ewan was about to take a large, triumphant bite of his fragrant roasted fish, a sharp, grating sound, a sound that set his teeth on edge, echoed from within the swirling cloud of dust.

It was the unmistakable sound of metal opening.

Huh?

Ewan froze, his mouth still open.

Metal opening?

You’re just a meteor. A simple rock from space. How can you make a sound like that?

Don’t tell me…

It’s…

A spaceship?

Ewan’s eyes widened in shock. It wasn’t a meteor; it was a lost, and probably very confused, spaceship! And the sound he had just heard was the opening of the hatch, and the aliens inside were about to emerge, taking their first, exciting, and historic steps on this new world.

That’s one small step for a man, one giant leap for all of Zentradi-kind.

Wait, that’s not right.

But still, aliens! He really wanted to see… no, wait. How could there be aliens? This was a fantasy world, with swords and magic, not spaceships and laser guns. If aliens really did show up, the readers would curse the author for writing such derivative, genre-breaking nonsense. It had to be something else.

But that wasn’t important.

Today, he was going to eat this fish. He had said it, and not even Jesus Christ himself, descending from the heavens on a flaming chariot, could stop him.

“Cough, cough…”

As Ewan once again tried to bring the roasted fish to his mouth, he suddenly heard a cough from behind him, the distinct sound of someone choking on dust.

That voice… was so, so familiar.

It sounded exactly like Anne.

Haha, no way. I’ve run so far. How could she possibly have found me? It’s not like she’s part bloodhound, able to track my unique and alluring scent from several kilometers away.

“…” 

But, just saying. What if there’s a tiny, minuscule, and absolutely terrifying possibility that it really is Anne?

That metal opening sound… if it was Anne’s metal-controlling power… then it would make perfect, horrifying sense.

Ewan looked down at the delicious, perfectly cooked fish in his hand, was silent for a long, mournful moment… and then violently threw it on the ground.

“You damn thing! You’ve doomed me!”

Without another word, he greased the soles of his feet and prepared to flee for his life. Jesus couldn’t stop him from eating his fish, but Anne was far, far more terrifying than Jesus. Jesus wouldn’t subject him to imprisonment and kinky, soul-crushing roleplay!

But—

“Young Master?”

It seemed it was already too late.

A familiar, questioning voice came from behind him.

It really, truly was Anne!

“Haha…” Ewan let out a dry, hollow laugh, stiffly turning his head as he said with an awkward, pained grin, “Long time no see, Anne. Have you been well…?”

Ewan had been planning on using the classic three-part scumbag greeting to stabilize the situation, but before he could even get the words out, he silently retracted them.

The Anne before him… was not right.

Her hair was a mess, her expression haggard and drawn. Her usually pristine maid’s uniform was now covered in dirt and grime, and was even torn in several places, revealing the pale, perfect skin beneath. Behind her, in the large, smoking crater from the impact, the metal sphere she had created was lying there, but its once-smooth surface was now covered in ugly, deep gashes and dents, as if it had been subjected to a ferocious, brutal assault.

“Anne, what happened?”

Even an idiot could see that something was terribly wrong. Ewan’s smile vanished, his expression instantly turning serious.

“Were you fighting someone?”

“…” Anne didn’t answer directly. She stared at him for a long, unblinking moment, then took a deep, shuddering breath, her expression returning to its usual serene state as she smiled. “It’s nothing, Young Master.”

“Nonsense! Look at you…”

“I just took a little fall.”

“Are you trying to fool a child?”

“I am telling the truth,” Anne said, then paused, a dangerous glint in her eye. “And besides, are you not going to run away, Young Master? If you don’t, I will have to capture you and take you back.”

“This time,” she added, her voice a sweet, terrifying promise, “I will lock you in a special cage, so that you can never, ever escape.”

As she spoke, she took two steps forward, as if she really were about to grab him.

But Ewan didn’t move.

He stared directly at her.

He watched as she walked closer, step by step.

A rare look of authority, the innate authority of a duke’s son, of the young master of the great house of Campbell, appeared on his face.

“Then come and get me.”

“…”

“Come and get me, Anne. I won’t run!”

“…” Anne’s hand, which had been halfway to grabbing him, suddenly fell to her side. A helpless, bitter smile appeared on her face. “At a time like this, shouldn’t you be taking the opportunity to escape, Young Master? This is a once-in-a-lifetime chance.”

“I only run when you chase me. If you’re not chasing me, why should I run?” Ewan shrugged, giving an excuse he didn’t even believe himself, then asked softly, his voice full of a strange, unfamiliar concern, “Answer me. What happened, Anne?”

“Well…”

Anne sighed, and was just about to speak when she was suddenly, violently cut off by a massive, earth-shaking roar.

From behind the small hill opposite Ewan, a sound like an earthquake erupted. At the top of the hill, countless large trees suddenly toppled over, and a flock of migratory birds that had not yet left for the winter burst from the forest in a panicked, screaming cloud, as if fleeing from the very devil himself.

“Master—”

“Where are you? Come and accept my love.”

“I love you.”

As if hundreds of people were shouting at once, a multitude of voices, mixed together in a horrifying, discordant chorus, echoed through the forest, so loud it made one’s ears ache.

Ewan instinctively covered his ears, and before he could even begin to process the meaning of the words, he saw it…

A monster, almost as tall as the hill itself, slowly, grotesquely, revealed itself from the other side.

“What is that—”

Looking at the monster, Ewan’s eyes widened in shock, his mouth hanging open wide enough to fit a duck’s egg.

Deformed, pulsating flesh grew wantonly, forming strange, flailing limbs. A body that looked as if it had been crudely stitched together from countless human forms slithered across the ground, leaving a trail of what looked like blood-soaked earth in its wake. The plants it touched instantly withered and died. Countless twisted hands and feet moved randomly on its surface, like a field of grotesque, fleshy weeds in a hurricane.

And on the monster’s chest, hundreds of human faces were clustered together in a dense, horrifying, and nauseating mass. Some were crying, some were laughing, some were sad, some were angry, some were numb, and some were in despair. But no matter what emotion their eyes held, their lips were all pulled back in a blissful, ecstatic smile as they called out with a deep, heartfelt, and utterly terrifying devotion, “I love you…”

“What the hell.”

Looking at the monster, Ewan couldn’t help but shiver, feeling his sanity points plummet into the negative digits. He had just been fishing, and now this… thing… with its unique and deeply, deeply interesting appearance, had just shown up out of nowhere? In his memory, there was no magical beast that looked this refreshingly original. Was it a new species, mutated from drinking nuclear wastewater? No, no, there was no Japan in this world.

And…

Ewan’s gaze swept over the monster again, especially the dense, writhing cluster of faces on its chest, which was making his trypophobia flare up with a vengeance.

No matter how you looked at it, this thing… had something to do with people, didn’t it?