Chapter 170 The Punishment of the Gods

Chapter 170 The Punishment of the Gods

As Charles's words fell, the shoes on Nyarlathotep's feet did indeed undergo some change.

Nyarlathotep clearly noticed it too. It looked down, lifting one foot to examine the shoe. What had been ordinary thin-soled leather now shimmered with fine, scattered starlight.

Recalling Charles's words, it frowned, then raised its head to look at him. "This is your solution? You're just assuming this souvenir will let you walk on the void?"

Hearing that, Charles immediately wagged his index finger. "No, no, Nyarlathotep. I think you've misunderstood. I can't walk on the void. Rather..."

As he spoke, he lifted his foot toward the void before him and stepped down without hesitation!

Just as he'd anticipated, Charles's extended foot suspended in the void. Upon contact, he could even hear a crisp sound, as if stepping on solid ground.

Charles's lips had been tightly pressed together, but after that sound, his expression instantly relaxed, and a smile gradually spread across his face.

Hearing the sound, Nyarlathotep immediately raised an eyebrow, clear surprise on its face.

After planting one foot firmly, Charles lifted his other foot, bringing it parallel with the first.

Now his entire body stood on the void beyond the parapet.

He smiled and looked up at Nyarlathotep not far ahead, feeling thoroughly satisfied as he continued his unfinished sentence.

"I'm walking on real ground. Nyarlathotep, look—this is the real ground."

The sound of his stomping feet was unmistakable, exactly like stepping on actual solid earth.

Nyarlathotep's expression could only be described as ugly, yet it had no recourse. It could only watch helplessly as Charles walked to its side.

"There. I've reached your side. My examination is complete."

Charles paid no mind to Nyarlathotep's expression. He smiled and reached out to touch its shoulder, like the final moment in a game of tag.

Unlike Charles's beaming smile, Nyarlathotep wore no smile at all. It glanced dismissively at the grinning human and sidestepped to avoid the rude contact.

"Is that so? Well then, congratulations."

It turned and walked deeper into the white mist.

Charles followed, trailing behind it with his hands clasped behind his back, steps leisurely.

"According to protocol, Nyarlathotep, you should grant me one request."

He reminded it.

Nyarlathotep didn't look back. "Is that so? In any case, your request would be to lift the curse on you. I've already taken care of it."

Those words made Charles's steps pause slightly, but soon he caught up again. "Really? How am I supposed to confirm whether you're telling the truth or lying?"

The anomalies in the Deep Zone all lied—much less this cunning Outer God.

Charles had no intention of losing his life due to misplaced trust. He desperately wanted to return to the real world.

His last parting with Abigail hadn't been pleasant. He'd already been delayed in the mental world far too long. If he didn't return soon, Abigail would probably be even angrier. Who knows—they might break up completely over this.

That definitely wasn't what Charles wanted to see.

He and Abigail were rare kindred spirits. They couldn't split up over something so trivial.

Besides...

Charles frowned slightly. Abigail had seemed somewhat strange that day. She'd clearly claimed to have forgotten everything about the mental world, yet she'd recognized him at a glance despite his changed appearance.

Regarding Charles's suspicions, Nyarlathotep had absolutely no intention of responding.

It continued walking forward. The surrounding white mist scattered the instant it made contact, then gradually converged again behind it.

Several times, Charles failed to keep pace with Nyarlathotep and got a face full of white fog. Fortunately, the stuff only felt ice-cold to the touch—it didn't even leave a single water droplet on his face.

This path was long. So long that Charles's legs began to ache, as if he'd run a marathon. He had to stop multiple times, shaking out his legs for brief respites.

But Nyarlathotep showed no signs of waiting for him.

It maintained a steady pace forward, not even changing its posture once.

"Aren't you tired?"

After falling behind yet again and catching up, Charles looked at its straight back and even stride and couldn't help asking.

"Tired? Only you humans get tired." Nyarlathotep didn't spare him even a glance, its tone thoroughly contemptuous.

Hearing this, Charles raised an eyebrow. Rather than getting angry, he nodded in considerable agreement. But soon enough, a new question emerged.

"Where are you going? Or rather, where are you taking me?"

This question finally made Nyarlathotep stop.

Nyarlathotep turned its head, gleaming black eyes fixed intently on him. "Get it straight, Charles. I'm not taking you anywhere. You're the one following me."

Faced with this reminder, Charles remained unfazed.

He shrugged. "Come on, Nyarlathotep. If I don't follow you, what about my curse? I can't exactly stay in the mental world forever. I want to go back."

The request was simple and utterly in line with human thinking.

Perhaps annoyed by Charles's pestering, Nyarlathotep frowned and shook its head, chin lifting slightly. "Fine. I understand."

As it spoke, it raised its hand and lightly touched Charles's forehead. Immediately, a bone-piercing chill spread from between his brows, permeating his entire body within mere seconds.

Charles cried out in pain, shivering uncontrollably. Then he hunched his shoulders and clutched his arms, trembling as he looked up at Nyarlathotep.

The piercing cold made even his teeth chatter. He couldn't articulate a simple sentence clearly.

"Wh-what did you..."

Nyarlathotep didn't speak. It only watched coldly as Charles, unable to withstand the cold, crouched down and curled into himself, seeking even a trace of warmth.

The previously composed and self-possessed human could now only bow before its power.

Nyarlathotep's eyes were half-lidded, pupils clear, head tilted slightly as it huffed through its nose. "Human."

It turned and continued walking forward.

Charles curled into himself, the white vapor from his breath gradually blurring his vision. His fingers stiffened and curled, requiring enormous effort even to straighten them.

His hands clasped before his mouth, but breathing on them only provided warmth for less than a second.

The robe he wore could actually regulate temperature and was even crafted with divine power. But now, under Nyarlathotep's influence, it was utterly useless.