27. Surviving the Otherworld

When I began to worry about the field mouse running under the starry sky, the field mouse arrived carrying a ranger.

She was Ranger Lieutenant Wen Ling, an ordinary-looking middle-aged woman, but at this moment, I noticed she was very emaciated and hunchbacked, resembling someone gravely ill.

Typhon said, "Make Norris speak."

Wen Ling shuddered, turning around with a tremor. She lifted her long hair to reveal a terrifying tumor on the back of her neck, which had transformed into a human face that closely resembled Norris Giovanni.

This spell was as sickening as it was nauseating to my stomach.

Norris said, "Lady Typhon, how is the progress?"

Typhon replied, "According to your astrological theories, we found the first sealing stone. Now we have clues to the second, which belongs to a demon named Osmo."

Norris said, "That will likely lead you into another realm. Exercise utmost caution; I suspect someone other than Ambrosia is plotting against the sealing stones."

Typhon frowned and asked, "Who?"

"It's hard to say, potentially trickier and more dangerous than Ambrosia. I heard the voices of the dead, and they made my blood run cold."

Typhon said, "If I must guess the enemy's identity, I would rather be misled than remain entirely ignorant."

Norris said, "The wraiths whispered in my ear: 'Beware the pale bride; she has come from the grave to exact vengeance on Giovanni.' I... have never known any pale bride, but the dead do not lie to me."

Yet he was not entirely trustworthy, for he hesitated slightly as he reached this point.

Typhon asked, "Is this pale bride not a member of the Giovanni family?"

"She should be an avenger, and our family has no shortage of enemies."

"Does she also wish to become the God of the Dead?"

Norris replied, "Recent omens have grown exceedingly clear. The location of the sealing stone guides us toward the traces of the others. Her desires may not align with Ambrosia's, but the secrets my father hid are alluring enough that the hungry will inevitably swarm."

Typhon said, "Yet my greatest concern remains Ambrosia."

Norris said, "His methods are deeply troublesome, but the greatest strength of necromancy lies in its traps and mechanisms. If we need not guard against his pre-arranged hordes of corpses, he is no match for you."

Typhon gave a bitter laugh. "It seems we still need your help to deal with necromancy."

"Then take Wen Ling with me. She is the medium for my spellcasting. Keep her alive, and I will be able to lend you a hand."

The tumor closed its eyes, and Wen Ling's long hair covered it once more. She was even more frightened now, yet she still obeyed Norris's command. I could only hope Norris's sorcery would not cost her life.

Lamia took Wen Ling's hand and said, "It will be fine. When you encounter enemies, stay far away, just like me."

Wen Ling whispered, "Thank you, officer."

The mask engaged its engines, and we resumed our journey. Following Norris's advice, we discarded that filthy tongue to avoid being tracked by Ambrosia.

Three days later, we arrived at a village—a bizarre village that resembled the Chinatowns depicted in books. An auspicious red-lacquered gate bore incomprehensible oriental characters, and remarkably, there were living people on the streets. Ordinarily, surviving humans would not choose to live on the surface, for demons would never tolerate human survival, and the harsh sunlight would shorten human lifespans.

The sky was growing dark, an ideal time for kindred activities.

Lamia said, "This is strange."

Typhon said, "Extremely strange. This is a pocket dimension! Mask, keep watch and do not step out of the vehicle under any circumstances."

Chris said, "I will stay behind as well to provide support if needed."

I said, "Duchess, you are not permitted to do anything excessive to my partner."

Chris stared intently at me and asked, "What kind of excessive things?"

I smiled and said, "I cannot go into details, or you will beat me."

Yet I was beaten anyway. Do these female vampires always get itchy hands if they don't hit someone?

We disembarked and walked toward the village. The lanterns in the village cast a dim, crimson glow, and the thin mist heightened our tension. I wondered if the people in this village were ghosts? No, this was science fiction, not the supernatural; which raised the question—could they be lingering hallucinations generated by brainwaves?

Someone shouted, "Humans! Humans! Humans from the outside world!"

They dropped whatever they were doing and ran toward us. Typhon drew her sword, Lamia gripped Gungnir, and I stepped forward to take the lead. I saw clearly that these were living human beings, neither illusory nor phantom—bona fide humans with vital breath, though their complexions had a sickly, greenish pallor as if they had never seen the sun in their lives, far worse than the residents of the underground villages.

I shouted, "Stop right there!"

In truth, there was no need for me to shout; they had already halted about three or four meters away from us. Hundreds of people blocked the street, every single one of them staring at us the way visitors at a zoo look at caged animals.

I said, "We are Black Coffin rangers, arriving in goodwill. Where is this place?"

Someone replied, "Fort Osmo."

We knew we had come to the right place. I asked, "Is this another realm?"

They answered all at once: "That's right!" "We can't get out, but occasionally people enter through wormholes." "It seems related to the stellar alignments outside."

I asked, "Has anyone entered recently?"

"No, we haven't seen anyone from the outside world for a very, very long time!"

I observed their expressions. In an instant, a flash of lightning surged from Mjolnir. Startled, they stepped back. I barked, "I know your game! I'm warning you, the sword in my hand isn't for show. If you intend to capture and eat us, or keep us as tourist attractions for the rest of our lives, I'll chop off your heads one by one and use them as chamber pots..."

Enraged by my words, the crowd pointed and cursed at me. I had predicted it correctly!

Filled with righteous indignation, my internal Qi surged. Instantly opening my Governor and Conception meridians, inner power flooded my limbs and bones, and I prepared to charge forward and slaughter everything in sight. Lamia hastily covered my mouth and said, "We only wish to see Osmo. We harbor no ill intent."

They shouted, "You want to see the Osmo God? Why?"

Lamia said, "We have a matter of utmost importance. If anything goes wrong, you cannot bear the consequences."

They grew frightened, and an elderly villager stepped forward and said, "I will take you to see the divine being. But remember, in the presence of the deity, you must not let him see your weapons."

I sneered, "Are you afraid we'll kill him?" With practiced ease, Lamia delivered a kick to me. That vicious woman—tonight I would make her cry and beg for mercy, though it seemed unlikely there would be an opportunity tonight.

The old man said, "No, weapons will anger the deity, and all of your lives will be forfeit, just like all the previous intruders who wandered in."

A deep shock gripped my heart. I wondered whether I should strike that demon with my sword the moment we met—after all, striking first gains the upper hand, while striking later brings misfortune. If I didn't show him a bit of spine, he'd think I was a pushover. Typhon snapped, "Fishbone, if you pull another stunt like that, I'll geld you!"

Why did she always threaten me with below-the-belt measures? Ah, truly, the heart of a woman is the most venomous.

Typhon asked again, "Did your people originally come from... our world?"

The old man replied, "As you can see, this place was originally Chinatown in San Francisco. It's all recorded in the village's local chronicles."

"Then how did you end up here?"

The old man said, "We owe it all to the deity. He rescued us and brought us here, sparing us from the apocalypse."

I asked, "What deity? He must have been a wealthy scientist who discovered advanced wormhole technology."

The old man stared with dimmed eyes, as if my words were falling on deaf ears.

Typhon asked, "Old sir, how did you know an apocalypse occurred? Weren't you sealed away here all along?"

The old man said, "Travelers from the outside world told us. And not just once—every single traveler who came here said the same thing. That was when we realized we had wronged the deity. From then on, we named this place Fort Osmo to thank him for saving our lives, and it has been passed down from generation to generation until today."

I reached out to support the old man, putting on an exceptionally amiable appearance. Lamia asked, "What mischief are you stirring up again?"

Oh, my dear Lamia, this is no mischief. Just think about it—how much does the modus operandi of this affair resemble a certain someone? Mastery of spatial teleportation technology coupled with a benevolent heart and wisdom to save the world; as far as I knew, only my wise and martial past self could accomplish such a feat.

Yes, that Osmo must have been a disciple of Saint Longinus, and he would surely recognize me. When that time came, he would shed tears of gratitude and cede all authority over this village to me, letting me inherit the glory of the savior and become the new deity of this land.

Yet I did not tell them the truth immediately; I wanted them to be pleasantly surprised.

We walked into a gloomy high-rise building with blood-red windows. In the center of the grand hall sat a strange figure upon an elevated chair. It was merely a human head—a lean, enormous bald head wearing a black crown. Upon closer inspection, the head rested upon a layer of red cloth beneath which numerous snakes seemed to writhe and slither.

Osmo opened his eyes, looking thoroughly displeased. His brows were knit as if he were a filial son presiding over a funeral.

He said, "More outsiders. I warn you, if you resort to violence against me, all of you will die."

What kind of person was I? How could I tolerate such a threat? I stepped forward and said, "Tell me, do you recognize me?"

He said, "No."

In a split second, I felt as desolate as a spare tire rejected after proposing to a lover of ten years.

After a second, I rallied my spirits and said loudly, "Do you know a professor named Longinus? He probably has a big beard."

Osmo replied again, "Never heard of him."

Blood rushed to my head, and I felt as humiliated as a groom discovering on his wedding night that his bride had cuckolded him with the best man. Just as I reached to draw my sword, Lamia and Typhon slapped me simultaneously, sending me crashing to the floor.

Typhon said, "Esteemed Excellency, we have come for a sealing stone belonging to Augustus Giovanni. Is it perchance in your possession?"

Osmo said, "No."

Typhon said aloud, "Excellency, since you are the supreme ruler here, there is no need to conceal it from us."

Osmo said, "My answer of 'no' does not mean the sealing stone is not in my possession; rather, that sealing stone does not belong to Augustus Giovanni. It belongs to an ancient vampire named Cappadocia."