Warlock of War: My Ares System

Chapter 522 The Failure Of A Fly

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"What the hell are you talking about?" 

Holes suddenly rid my body. Simple as that. Blood hesitated to pour from them as if even they couldn't comprehend the idea that I had been injured so quickly. And when my black goo did begin to flow from each hole, I regenerated so fast that-

Holes rid my body once more. This time, I instinctively began to move, watching the trees behind me disappear as if they had been replaced with air. So, I quickly increased my speed to its utmost max while splitting my body into millions of tiny, flesh-tearing flies. I made sure to create as many as possible, just so that-

All of them were eradicated, engulfed by a heavenly sun that shimmered over the deity's body. All of my being had disappeared. From the marrow of my bones to the veins drawing black goo toward my beating demonic hearts… everything had disappeared, leaving my soul to begin rising upwards. 

No… No! No! I can't die like this! I have yet to kill him! I CAN'T FUCKING DIE LIKE THIS! FUCK! NO! SYSTEM! SYSTEM! [COPIED SKILL: PRIMORDIAL SIN OF GLUTTONY]!

…

I woke up suddenly, disoriented, and slowly began to regain my senses. Something was different, very different. My body felt odd, foreign. I couldn't quite grasp what had happened. Groggily, I rubbed my eyes, and as my fingers traced over my skin, I felt a strange coarseness, a series of segments that I couldn't make sense of.

Confusion flooded my mind as I examined myself. My limbs were different, elongated, with an odd buzzing sensation coursing through them. I tried to lift myself off the surface I was on, but my attempts were clumsy, and I could only manage to flutter awkwardly in place. The sound of my own wings seemed unnaturally loud, and I couldn't control this new body.

Driven by some instinctual urge, I crawled up a nearby surface, clinging to it with my spindly legs. As I ascended, my perspective shifted, and I beheld a nightmarish scene that left me utterly bewildered. Instead of the familiar world I knew, I saw an endless expanse of trash and debris stretching out before me. It was a dump, an unimaginable wasteland of discarded possessions and filth that seemed to go on forever.

The dump sprawled outwards, an endless expanse of chaos and despair, a monument to humanity's disregard for the planet. I clung to the uneven surface, my multifaceted eyes struggling to take in the enormity of the scene.

Piles of refuse, some towering higher than a house, created jagged peaks against the murky horizon. The refuse was a grotesque collage of modern life gone awry: broken glass, discarded plastic bottles, decaying food scraps, and the skeletons of long-forgotten appliances. Twisted, rusted metal jutted out at strange angles, like the skeletal remains of a forgotten cityscape.

Between the garbage heaps, a network of narrow paths and winding alleys emerged. These paths, uneven and treacherous, were formed by the relentless trampling of scavengers and insects alike. Scavenger birds circled overhead, their ominous silhouettes a constant reminder of the grim competition for survival.

Putrid puddles of stagnant water pooled in depressions, their surfaces coated with an iridescent film of oils and chemicals. The water's murky depths concealed a world of microbial decay, a microscopic ecosystem feeding off the toxins seeping into the ground.

Despite the desolation, life clung stubbornly to this forsaken place. Insects of all shapes and sizes scuttled and soared through the air. Flies, their wings shimmering with an otherworldly beauty, swarmed around pockets of decomposing matter, oblivious to the repugnant surroundings. Larger beetles and roaches navigated the treacherous terrain, their exoskeletons glistening like armor.

In the distance, the rumble of heavy machinery and the distant hum of factories blended into a dissonant symphony of industry. The ever-present noise served as a constant reminder of the relentless march of human civilization, even in this desolate wasteland.

The polluted cloud that hung overhead seemed to pulse with malevolence, casting a sickly glow over the landscape. It obscured the sun, casting an eternal twilight over this blighted realm. The air felt heavy, a palpable weight pressing down on my fragile fly form.

As I clung to the grimy surface of the wall, my tiny fly body trembling with the surreal enormity of the dump, something utterly inexplicable unfolded before my multifaceted eyes. The oppressive, polluted clouds that had obscured the sun began to part, revealing a crack in the very fabric of space itself.

From this rift emerged a grotesque and alien sight—a pitch-black hand, unnaturally large, with elongated, bony fingers that seemed to stretch past existence itself. It reached out with deliberate slowness, a spectral apparition breaking through the twisted reality of the dump.

The hand was unlike anything I had ever seen, an otherworldly appendage that defied all logic and reason. It hovered menacingly above me, and for a moment, I was paralyzed with fear, my tiny fly heart pounding in my fragile chest.

But then, with an eerie sense of purpose, the hand extended its index finger. It moved in a slow, deliberate arc as if tracing an invisible path through the polluted air. The tip of that elongated finger hovered inches away from me, and I watched in awe as it began to emit a faint, ethereal light.

A strange warmth washed over me, radiating from the finger's touch. My tiny fly body began to tingle, and I felt a profound transformation taking place. My limbs elongated, my body reshaped itself, and my iridescent wings slowly withered away, replaced by more familiar human appendages.

In a surreal metamorphosis, I was no longer a fly but a human once again, standing on two legs amidst the filth and decay of the dump. I was clothed in rags, my skin pale and clammy from my inexplicable journey. I blinked in disbelief at my newfound form, my human senses returning to me with a rush of recognition.

I turned my gaze towards the enigmatic hand, which had retreated back into the rift in space, leaving me with a sense of profound wonder and gratitude. It was a blessing, an inexplicable transformation that had granted me a reprieve from the nightmarish existence as a fly in this desolate wasteland.

It wasn't. It definitely wasn't. 

…

The forest itself seemed to come alive, its luminous mushrooms pulsating with an eerie intensity. It was then that I saw it—the same grotesque black hand that had transformed me in the dump, emerging from a rift in the fabric of reality. With grim determination, it reached out and seized my disembodied soul, a vice-like grip that filled me with an overwhelming sense of dread.

As the hand clutched my soul, it yanked me back toward my lifeless body, pulling me through the rift and into the physical world once more. The reunion was agonizing, a jarring collision of the spiritual and the corporeal. I screamed and writhed in agony as my soul was forced back into my body.

Yet, even with the reunification, it still held on. The grotesque black hand continued to clutch my disembodied soul, an overwhelming sense of malevolence emanated from it as if it were an extension of a sinister and ancient power. The forest, once so enchanting, now seemed to respond to this dark intrusion. The luminous mushrooms, once pulsating with a gentle radiance, intensified their glow, casting eerie, shifting shadows that danced across the trees and forest floor.

The rift in the fabric of reality widened, and with a relentless determination, the hand yanked me closer to my lifeless body. The transition was a nightmarish collision of the ethereal and the physical, and I could feel the agonizing pull as my soul was forcefully reintegrated into my corporeal form.

The pain was excruciating as if every nerve and sinew in my body was being stretched and contorted. My screams pierced the unnatural stillness of the forest, reverberating through the luminescent mushroom grove like a mournful dirge. My limbs twisted and spasmed uncontrollably, my fingers clawing at the earth in a futile attempt to escape the torment.

Dark, malevolent magic surged through my veins like a torrent, infecting every aspect of my being. It was as though I had become a conduit for some ancient, unholy power. My senses were overwhelmed by the acrid taste of corruption, and my vision was clouded by an oppressive darkness.

Tears continuously flowed uncontrollably down my face, mixing with the sweat of agony. Incoherent words of torment escaped my lips as I struggled to make sense of the agonizing transformation. It was as though I were being torn apart from the inside, my very essence corrupted and contorted by the unnatural infusion of this malevolent force.

Amid the surreal, pulsating glow of the bioluminescent mushrooms, I realized the irreversible nature of the change that had overtaken me. The forest, once a place of wonder, now bore witness to my torment, its eerie illumination casting long, distorted shadows that seemed to mock my suffering. I was forever altered, marked by forces beyond my comprehension, and the dark magic now coursed through me like a relentless curse, a testament to the inexplicable and malevolent powers that had chosen me as their vessel.

[Your soul has been sacrificed]