V2: Chapter 63: Origin
"Trash, not worth mentioning."
Octaville, as if experiencing a bout of adolescent delusions, tilted her head back, one hand covering the upper half of her face, her pupils emitting a ghostly red glow, her lips curled into a wide, villainous grin.
She spun gracefully in the air, then uttered some classic chuunibyou (middle school syndrome) quotes.
“There’s no need for chanting to deal with you lowlifes.”
If Liang Di and Hilary are similar, then Liang Lin is practically Octaville’s younger sister, only less chuunibyou.
The raging flames transformed into the shape of a fire dragon, churning and roaring in the darkness. Its flames licked at the black tentacles, each tentacle trembling and twisting in the intense heat. The originally sticky, disgusting black tentacles, now charred and cracked under the scorching fire, seemed like a symbol of death.
“Oh! What fire magic? I’ve never seen anything like it before!” The young female magician’s eyes lit up with admiration as she stared at Octaville.
Prescott laughed. “It’s just ordinary fire magic, except she shaped it. Haha~ Little Fu is still so playful, even having the leisure to shape a dragon-shaped fire.”
“…”
I thought it was some novel magic trick.
The tentacles struggled frantically, trying to escape the merciless sea of fire, but the flames followed them relentlessly, tightly binding them. Each twist of the tentacles was accompanied by a piercing howl, a cry of pain and despair, echoing above the ruins. Their howls, amidst the raging flames, sounded particularly mournful, as if telling of their unwillingness and despair.
The flames grew increasingly fierce, and the black tentacles, scorched by the fire, gradually lost their original shape, becoming mangled and broken. Finally, under the relentless onslaught of the flames, the tentacles snapped and collapsed one by one, turning into wisps of black smoke that dissipated into the air. The fire continued to rage, burning every inch of land corrupted by the dark tentacles clean and thoroughly, until the entire ruins were restored to their original light.
Huh?
"Just like that, it's solved?"
Octaville jumped down from the air. "You guys have really wasted all that time following me. You couldn't even think of using fire? Such a simple problem, and you wasted so much time and energy... sigh..."
The woman feigned distress, patting her head. "You know, if I hadn't come, wouldn't you all have perished here? You couldn't even remember to use fire in the end, right? Don't just follow me to learn magic, follow me to improve your intelligence too... Well, that's true, intelligence can't be forced."
Eleanor and Nicholas's faces darkened, while Prescott and Hewlett, the two magicians who hadn't participated in the battle, laughed uproariously.
On this land ravaged by fire, only scorched earth remained, but it was the beginning of new life, a symbol of hope.
The villagers, who had been hiding nearby, witnessed this scene and slowly, trembling, surged forward.
Octaville glanced at them. "Oh ho, now you can tell me about this evil temple? Who brought such a dangerous thing to the village?"
"This, this..."
The villagers exchanged bewildered glances, clearly still reeling from the shock of what had just transpired.
“Your village chief is dead, isn’t he? The moment I saw him, I felt something was off,” Octaville squatted down, glanced at the charred corpses on the ground, frowned, unable to identify which was the village chief, and then stood up again.
“Well, you tell me, I just want to know how deeply that thing has invaded, now it’s so openly parasitizing humans.”
“Parasitizing?”
Prescott stopped laughing. “This thing can parasitize now?”
“Yes.”
Octaville nodded gravely.
“That’s something I didn’t expect either. It started two months ago, I think. There have been several cases of Cthulhu parasitizing humans. I personally handled two, the rest were handled by other magicians. But it’s puzzling, we’ve been guarding the beach the whole time, and we haven’t seen any monsters come out. Who brought them in?”
“Hmm…”
“Cthulhu is an indescribable thing, a product of darkness and fear. It doesn't necessarily come from the depths of the sea. It can corrupt the human heart and erode reason. So, even if we, the people of the Magic Tower, guard the coast, we can't guarantee they won't get out. They can only manipulate the human heart and reason.”
Bradrick interjected.
Octaville glanced at him.
“Eh? Where did you come from?”
Bradrick wiped the sweat from his brow. “You magicians run way too fast! I just ran over and saw a flash of fire, and then nothing. What happened?”
Good grief.
Eleanor and Hewlett exchanged a glance. Eleanor smiled sheepishly. “Oh right, this guy's stamina is just too poor. We couldn't carry him, and carrying him would be a burden, so…”
“Uh, okay, we forgot to call him.”
“…”
Bradrick almost spat out blood.
Is my presence really that insignificant?
"Is this crisis completely over?"
"Let's see. I'm not entirely sure."
Octaville looked at the villagers again, her gaze sharp, causing the leading men to tremble and shrink back.
The Tower Master was somewhat speechless. She casually paced back a few steps, her face full of helplessness. "What are you afraid of? I saved you, I'm not going to eat you."
"I just want to know who it was..."
Before she could finish speaking,
"I..." A thin-looking man tremblingly raised his right hand. "I know, Hero-sama, I know, I can tell you everything."
"Oh?"
Octaville raised an eyebrow. "Fine, go ahead."
The timid man mustered his courage and took a few steps forward, pushing through the crowd to the front. However, he still didn't dare look Octaville in the eye, instead cautiously lowering his head and beginning to recount what had happened three months ago.
"That day..."
It was a bright and sunny day. The village chief, as usual, was strolling along the forest path at the edge of the village, enjoying a moment of tranquility.
Rustle...
What was that sound?
Following the sound, his gaze was drawn to a strange object on the ground. It was a tentacle, unlike any limb he had ever seen before. It was a deep black, covered in a viscous liquid, and exuded an unsettling aura.
The village chief was startled, a chill running down his spine, but curiosity compelled him to examine it more closely.
After a moment's hesitation, he carefully picked up the tentacle. It writhed slightly in his hand, as if still clinging to life. The village chief frowned, a nameless fear and unease rising within him. He realized that this tentacle was no ordinary object; it might conceal some unknown danger.
Should I throw it away? Or what should I do?
This was the first time he had ever seen anything like it. Even a normal person would be unsure what to do, so he decided to take the tentacle back to the village to discuss countermeasures with the villagers. He knew that as the village chief, he had a responsibility to protect the village's safety.
So, he took out a handkerchief, wrapped the small tentacle inside, and placed it in his bosom. On the way home, he held the tentacle tightly, his heart filled with both curiosity and worry.
Back in the village, the village chief gathered the villagers and showed them the tentacle. The villagers gathered around, discussing it animatedly. Some thought it might be the remains of some unknown creature, while others worried it might bring disaster. The village chief reassured everyone, saying he would investigate what it was.
"Don't worry, everyone," he said, "I'll immediately send my son to town to ask the priest to come and take a look."
After some discussion, the villagers decided to temporarily place the tentacle in the village ancestral hall and assign someone to guard it day and night, in case of any unforeseen circumstances.
Meanwhile, the village chief's son hurried to a nearby town to find a priest, hoping to unravel the mystery of the tentacle.
In the days that followed, the atmosphere in the village became tense. The villagers kept a close watch on the tentacle in the ancestral hall, praying it wouldn't bring disaster. The village chief, on the other hand, kept a close eye on news from the outside world, hoping to find a solution as soon as possible.
At this point, Octaville suddenly raised her hand, astutely grasping the key point. "Wait, don't rush to continue. Tell me first, what was that priest's name?"
The man hesitated, scratching his head in frustration, and began to stammer, "Uh… well, what was his name again? I've kind of forgotten…"
The man next to him interjected:
"I think, I think his name was something like Joseph."
"Joseph?"
"Joseph!" Bradrick exclaimed, "Isn't that the priest we just visited a few days ago?"
He then became indignant, "When we asked him what the monster looked like, he described a completely different monster. He actually came to see it, but he wouldn't tell the truth! This guy is definitely suspicious!"
"Well, of course, it's possible he didn't pay attention to that, but…" Octaville shrugged, "It's more likely he's a heretic, a Cthulhu worshipper."
"Alright, continue."
When Joseph arrived in the village and saw that tentacle, his eyes lit up with an unusual light.
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