As soon as Vanna and Morris began their descent from the towering mountaintop, they found themselves engaged in a relentless battle against counterfeit monsters. These beasts, formed from the elemental constituents of the environment around them, were born of the dense, disorientating fog that engulfed everything in sight. The number of these abhorrent creatures that they’d slain was already lost to memory, but one harsh truth was inescapable: no matter how many they killed, more would spring forth from the haze to take their place. The act of destroying them seemed to have little lasting effect; it was futile.
Morris stared intensely into the thick blanket of white, his eyes occasionally sparking with a pale silver hue as if reflecting the very fog they sought to penetrate. He was trying to discern any signs of thought or intention from within the mist, hoping to locate the puppet masters responsible for these monstrosities.
In an unexpected moment, he sharply shifted his focus in a particular direction, declaring, “Our path lies this way.”
Reacting swiftly to his guidance, Vanna extended her hand and manipulated the ever-present fog to shape a new, massive sword. She then stepped forward, leading the way for Morris.
They navigated their way through the enveloping whiteness, traversing now-deserted streets, only able to make out the vague outlines of nearby buildings by the dim, ghostly luminescence of the street lamps. Sounds echoed intermittently in the foggy distance — sometimes the clash of city guards fending off the monstrous onslaught, at times eerie howls and roars, and occasionally desperate cries for help, so close it seemed they originated right next to them.
But where these cries originated, there was only a surge of inky, swirling mud.
As the fog shifted and moved, the forms of the buildings within seemed to animate and change, appearing to Morris as if the city itself was coming to life. Towering edifices within the fog transformed into gargantuan, fleshy titans, rooftops grew into enormous tentacles and eye stalks, and even the streetlights began to sway, their dark poles bending like supple flora. The lamp lights morphed into clusters of foggy, yellow eyes.
Suddenly, a gentle, calming prayer echoed from ahead, cutting through Morris’s thoughts and bringing his distorted vision back into focus.
Vanna was muttering the prayer under her breath, her form enveloped in layers of radiant light that disturbed the oppressive fog.
“Keep your guard up,” Vanna warned, not turning her head as she finished her prayer. “Something within the fog has the ability to manipulate our perceptions. We’ve been submerged in this fog for too long.”
Morris responded with nonchalance, “It doesn’t really matter. I’m used to occasional run-ins with illusions and auditory hallucinations.”
“Your mental health should certainly be a topic of conversation next time I speak with Heidi,” Vanna retorted.
At the mention of Heidi’s name, Morris’s lips twitched as if ready to counter, but at that exact moment, a whirl of mist blew in from the side. His vision was momentarily blurred, and when it cleared, Vanna was nowhere to be seen.
The seasoned scholar stopped in his tracks at once, alertness creeping into his voice as he called out into the thick, shifting whiteness, “Vanna?”
The fog gave no response, instead rippling ominously in the still air around him.
Tension gripped Morris as his senses sharpened, and he quickly scrutinized the environment encircling him.
Seemingly out of nowhere, he could only discern the endless expanse of the pale, cold fog. The faint outlines of buildings that he had been using as navigation markers were now missing from sight. Even the dim streetlights that provided a fragile semblance of direction were no longer visible. Immersed within this chaotic, hazy void, his attention was abruptly drawn to a disturbing sight.
A massive, daunting shadow loomed within the vapor, mimicking the dimensions of a towering skyscraper. But upon closer inspection, it possessed a subtly rhythmic sway, reminiscent of the tentacle of a monstrous sea creature stretching from the sky to the earth, stroking the earth below it with a dread-inspiring grace. Morris found himself inexorably drawn to this phantom silhouette, hypnotized by its tantalizing aura as if it held the key to unlocking secrets hidden deep within its formidable shadow.
Yet, in the next moment, he furrowed his brows and shook his head in a sharp, dismissing gesture.
There were no truths hidden within this apparition. It was merely an illusion designed to ensnare the unwary mind.
“Huh?” A voice suddenly cut through the haze, a note of surprise clear in its tone.
Without missing a beat, Morris turned towards the source of the sound. He noted that the gigantic illusion had vanished, and in its place, a tall, slender figure was slowly materializing from the fog.
“It’s surprising that you remained unaffected.” The figure solidified into a middle-aged man dressed in a dark blue coat, clutching a large black book in his hands. A chain of pitch-black color extended from his neck upwards into the air, culminating in a creature that bore a striking resemblance to a jellyfish. It pulsated rhythmically, expanding and contracting like smoke, eerily floating in the air above him.
Choosing to stay silent, Morris fixed his gaze intently on the man and the “smokey jellyfish” attached to him, ready to react to any potential threat.
“Don’t be so tense, old man. I don’t mind engaging in a conversation with you. After all, the day of final arrival is upon us, and I have plenty of time,” the man spoke with surprising calmness, even offering a casual smile. “I’m genuinely curious as to why you weren’t affected after witnessing the form of our master. You can perceive these illusions, which proves your spiritual vision is not lacking, but you… you didn’t lose your sanity?”
“Apologies, but my mind has always been resilient. It’s not easily disturbed by mere illusions,” Morris responded, maintaining his composure, silently invoking the name of Lahem within his mind. “Where have you taken my companions?”
“Let’s not worry about others for now, old man. You…”
The eerie calm surrounding the cultist was abruptly broken as Morris narrowed his eyes and thrust his hand towards him, his voice resonating with the power of intellect, “Romansov’s inequality system!”
A torrent of knowledge was compacted into mere words, and a staggering amount of information was instantaneously injected into the target’s cognitive faculties. The cultist’s form wavered momentarily as though assailed by intense pain, and his gaze dropped to the ground.
However, just as Morris braced himself to unleash a second mental onslaught, a potent sense of caution set off alarms within his heart. He hastily sealed his lips and suppressed his train of thought. Simultaneously, he saw the cultist raise his head, his eyes shimmering with a trace of mockery.
His mental assault had rebounded, and a wave of dizziness immediately engulfed Morris. Fortunately, his quick reaction helped mitigate the severity of the disorientation.
“What a pity,” the cultist spread his hands, looking at the unsteady scholar with mock sympathy, “It appears I’m not so susceptible to this…”
“Boom!”
His taunting words were cut short as the smoky jellyfish floating behind him started to contract at an alarming speed. The very next moment, as the jellyfish expanded explosively, a gargantuan black fireball materialized in front of the cultist. The fireball cut through the air with a deafening roar and crashed into the spot where Morris had been standing moments before.
A dark cloud of smoke erupted from the point of impact, causing even the surrounding dense fog to ripple violently. The cultist, the agent of destruction, gazed at the lingering smoke and shook his head in feigned regret. “So many ‘shells’ have been obliterated by cognitive impacts. Did you really think I would expose myself without any safeguards? Unfortunately, knowledge doesn’t necessarily equate to wisdom.”
“Clang — crack!”
The sudden sound of an object striking the ground interrupted the cultist’s self-satisfied monologue. His eyes instantly widened, and with a swift incantation, he summoned a whirlwind to clear the black smoke — before him lay the shards of a shattered prism.
The fragmented surface of the prism still faintly reflected Morris’ image.
“A prism? ‘Optical Deception’?!”
The realization dawned on the cultist almost immediately. In the very next second, his gaze was drawn towards a particular direction. Then, almost simultaneously, Morris’ figure emerged from seemingly solid ground.
The figure raised his right hand, enunciating each word clearly and emphatically, “McAfee Conjecture and Proof.”
However, this time, the cultist, who existed in symbiosis with the smoky jellyfish, didn’t even flinch. No longer concealing his true strength, he reached out to grip the floating chain behind his neck, tapping into the power of the sinister entity while keeping his eyes firmly trained on the elderly scholar not far away, “I apologize. Actually, I am a graduate of the Department of Mathematics at the Central University of Mok City…”
“Click.”
The crisp sound of a gun’s inner workings echoed in Morris’s ears. Almost simultaneously, a second Morris materialized behind the cultist, pressing the cold barrel of a revolver against the man’s skull.
“Bang!”
With the deafening gunshot, the body with a bullet-ridden brain slumped to the ground, and the sinister entity that lived in symbiosis with it rapidly dissipated, wailing in its final moments.
“You neglected to mention your university degree earlier.”
The elderly scholar blew away the smoke curling from the gun barrel, shaking his head as he stowed the revolver away. Before him, the illusionary “Morris” started to evaporate like morning dew. Where the mirage faded, a tiny crystal prism tumbled to the ground, shattering upon impact.
Morris looked at the broken prism with a hint of regret, using his walking stick to prod disdainfully at the lifeless body of the cultist.
“You wasted two of my prisms, including your university education.”
As he spoke, the surrounding fog began to stir once again. The scenes encapsulated within the haze underwent rapid transformations, and the silhouettes of the previously vanished buildings and streetlights started to resurface in Morris’s vision. He then saw Vanna sprinting towards him from the side.
“Are you okay?!” Vanna hollered worriedly even before she had reached him, “You suddenly disappeared…”
“I was under the impression that you had disappeared,” Morris gestured dismissively, “It seems to be some sort of transient illusion… wait.”
Something suddenly struck him, halting his words, and Vanna too abruptly stopped a few meters away.
“First, let’s confirm if we’re real.” They echoed each other’s words.
They exchanged glances, and again, simultaneously, they shouted, “Code Vanished!”
“It appears we’re authentic,” Morris nodded after ascertaining that neither of them showed any anomalies, “Caution always pays off.”
For the first time, Vanna noticed the cultist’s corpse sprawled on the ground. Her gaze flickered subtly, “Did you take care of this?”
“Crossed paths with a well-educated individual,” Morris nodded, “We engaged in a scholarly debate, and, fortunately, I had a more effective resolution method.”
Vanna, taken aback, could only respond with a puzzled, “…?”
