Chapter 1200
The Meeting of Father and Son
Chapter 1200 The Meeting of Father and Son
Those guards, ambushers, and officers who were just moments before were now lying scattered on the ground, the only sounds in the space being the low rumble from deep within the steam pipes and the soft patter of blood dripping onto the metal floor.
In the center of this deathly silence, Forgrim still stood there, not even the hem of his clothes disheveled.
He looked at the corpses scattered on the ground, his expression not changing much, but just as he was about to look away, he suddenly noticed that there was still one person alive.
Hedrick Black Furnace.
The old dwarf was still standing, or rather, still barely standing.
His legs were trembling, his lips were trembling, and his face was filled with undisguised terror. He stared at Forgrim as if he were looking at a monster.
Forgrim raised an eyebrow slightly, a hint of genuine surprise finally appearing in his eyes.
"Ok?"
He spoke softly, clearly surprised that the other person had survived under Wajit's gaze.
The old dwarf seemed to have his last shred of composure shattered by the soft sound. He staggered back half a step, a dry, hoarse sound escaping his throat, his eyes filled with fear and disbelief.
"They...they were right after all..."
The old dwarf Hedrick looked at Forgrim, his voice trembling so much it was almost incoherent.
"You...you're not even human."
"You are a monster..."
As he finished speaking, Forgrim finally frowned slightly; he hadn't expected the old man to still be standing.
【Senses Confusion】is one of his sharpest and most stable abilities. Anyone directly covered by that power will have their five senses, perceptions, memories, and fears torn apart in an instant. It can even be forcibly mixed at the boundary between consciousness and reality, turning hallucinations directly into tangible death.
Even among experts of the same level, this level of illusion would be enough to plunge someone into an extremely dangerous state of imbalance, yet the old dwarf managed to withstand it.
Even though he was struggling and his spirit was on the verge of breaking, he did not collapse on the spot like the others.
This in itself illustrates a point—there is something hidden within the old dwarf that he himself is unaware of.
Forgrim did not hesitate.
With a thought, [Vajit] behind him gently raised its head. Its snake-like eyes, like golden cracks, narrowed slightly in the dim council hall. New illusionary ripples began to spread quietly along the space, like a thin veil that could cut through consciousness, covering the old dwarf Hedrick again.
This time, he doesn't intend to hold back.
Since the opponent can withstand the first round, then pry out everything hidden in his mind, including his will and fear.
But just as [Wajit]'s gaze truly fell upon the old dwarf, a sudden change occurred.
The metal wall, which was originally mottled and stained by gunfire and blood, suddenly began to seep out a very thin layer of milky white liquid. The liquid started as just a few irregular streaks, like someone had spilled milk in the depths of the shadows.
But the next second, it slowly flowed down along the weld and crack, carrying a layer of faint, almost pathological phosphorescence, quietly spreading between the ground, the corner of the table, the ceiling, and the corpse.
An extremely strange smell filled the entire council chamber in a very short time.
The smell was like rotten goat milk, or like freshly opened disinfectant. Two scents that shouldn't be mixed together were forcibly blended, creating a damp, cold odor that made one instinctively nauseous, yet one couldn't quite put their finger on what was wrong.
The second-in-command, Aidoron, instantly changed his expression.
When an ordinary person confronts this indescribable thing with their naked eyes and will, their so-called reason, experience, courage, and training all seem as fragile as paper.
His SAN value was completely depleted, and he fell into a state of spiritual collapse.
The old dwarf's face still bore traces of terror and collapse, but as the milky liquid continued to spread between the walls, table corners, and the corpse, his soul was being gently pressed down by something, forcibly pulled out of his "human" state bit by bit.
What's even more disgusting is that the change wasn't just in facial expressions.
Milky white liquid began to slowly seep from the corners of his eyes, the sides of his nose, the corners of his mouth, and even his ear canals.
The next moment, the same thing began to appear on his second-in-command, Edron.
White lotion seeped out little by little from the back of his hands and below his neck, first as a very thin layer, then quickly spreading along the gaps between his skin and clothing. The liquid, as if alive, slowly wandered along his collarbone, wrists, and cheeks, carrying a nauseatingly soothing sensation.
Clang——
A sword rang out suddenly.
The voice was clear and sharp, as if it had cut a hole in the damp, sticky atmosphere that was almost soaking the entire council chamber.
"Disgusting thing!!!"
Forgrim drew his sword; he was disgusted by it.
The sword Carax, which he had forged himself, burst into a blinding flash the moment it was drawn. The blade was not heavy, but it moved with an almost artistic fluidity.
Once this elegance is combined with his power, it is no longer just a beautiful sight to behold, but a transcendent swordsmanship that can simultaneously push precision and destruction to their extremes.
Phoenix Sword Technique: Cry of Fire Dance —
Without the slightest hesitation, he raised his hand and unleashed a sword strike, which transformed into a massive fiery slash that spanned the entire council hall. The intense sword light expanded into a blazing crescent moon the moment it left the blade, carrying intense heat that could tear through metal and scorch the air, and pressed down fiercely on the old dwarf and the distorted environment around him.
At the same time, the phantom of [Wajit] also slid out from the side. She did not participate in the frontal destruction, but appeared next to Edoron at almost the same time.
With a slight turn of those serpentine eyes, the mental interference power belonging to the Sovereign's avatar directly cut into Aidoron's consciousness, which was on the verge of collapse. It forcefully pulled away the white divinity that was trying to completely soothe him, and forcibly pulled this deputy, who was about to be overwhelmed, back from the brink of losing control.
boom--!
The fiery slash crashed down.
The old dwarf was the first to be hit. His entire body, along with the ground, tables, chairs, corpses, and walls around him that were already covered in milky white liquid, was torn apart by the attack. The scorching sword light blasted a huge gash between the metal and the flesh.
click-
The heavy steel round table in the Chongdu factory was split in two along with the ground. White molten iron and white slurry surged from the crack, while the raging flames spread rapidly, like a crimson beast released from its cage, burning along the cracks, corners and ceiling, trying to burn the entire area that had begun to distort completely in one go.
A raging fire broke out.
The intense heat distorted the air, and the originally damp, milky liquid hissed and evaporated in the flames. The entire council chamber was instantly illuminated by the firelight, and the connecting corridors and building nodes were also affected by the attack, beginning to collapse and burn in patches.
But right in the heart of the raging flames.
The old dwarf stood up again.
No, it shouldn't be said that the old dwarf Hedrick stood up.
It was more like something draped in the remains of Hedrick, rising again amidst the flames and white foam.
His body had been cleaved in two by the flames, but the two pieces of his body did not fall. Instead, they were reassembled under the frenzied embrace of the milky white liquid.
Those liquids, resembling "aircraft waste," were like countless tiny, slippery tongues, stitching back and forth between wounds, bone crevices, and charred flesh, forcibly bringing back what should have been dead.
And it wasn't just him.
The entire conference hall is changing.
The walls, scorched by the flames, did not stop leaking due to the high temperature. Instead, more milky white liquid gushed out from the cracks, and the outer building structure began to be gradually soaked by that substance, all of which were covered with a wet, pale layer.
The milky white liquid is increasing.
The old dwarf's mouth clicked and twitched, his facial muscles twitching between charred black and milky white. It was no longer the sound a normal living being could make, yet a series of incoherent and fanatical babbling words still managed to squeeze out little by little from the depths of that distorted throat.
“Praise be to Isota… praise be to the milky white that slowly seeps from the cracks in the walls, the one who covers all beings with gentleness, silence, dampness and irresistible drowsiness…” The voice, with its damp echo, reverberated back and forth in the burning and collapsing council chamber, like some kind of hymn that should not be spoken, creeping further away along with the milk and steam.
"Praise be to the milk of dreamslessness, praise be to the white-thirsty one, praise be to the weaner of the quiet night..."
As the prayer was recited, the milky liquid began to gather more noticeably, pooling upwards along the walls, piling up in layers in the darkest corners of the ceiling, and leaving long, wet, glistening streaks along the limbs and severed wounds of the corpse under the round table.
And in that deepest, darkest darkness, something more complete is slowly emerging.
It has no clear outline or distinct shape, but anyone who sees it will instinctively think of the same set of words—breastfeeding, feeding, incubation, larva, and that kind of hollow soothing that lulls all resistance to sleep, to be docile, and to the point of losing oneself.
Even after being abruptly pulled from that milky divinity by Vajit, the deputy Edoron's face remained as pale as a piece of paper just pulled from the water.
He stood behind Forgrim, his eyes fixed on the distorted space ahead, flickering with light from the flames. His Adam's apple bobbed several times before he finally managed to squeeze out a sentence, his voice trembling noticeably:
"My lord... what the hell is this thing? Is it still alive, or... have we been dragged into the belly of some kind of monster?"
While staring at the surging milky liquid in front of him, Forgrim tilted his head slightly, his expression surprisingly calm, even retaining a semblance of that damned elegance. He hesitated for half a second, then replied in a very irresponsible tone:
"To be honest, I don't know what it is, but one thing I'm very sure of is that if this stuff actually splashes on me, it will definitely become the most disgusting, the most unpleasant to recall, and the nightmare I never want to think about again before I die."
Aidoron's lips twitched as he watched the old dwarf's mangled body, cleaved and reformed by flames, staggering towards them, dragging a trail of milky white fluid. He was on the verge of tears, his voice filled with despair and utter hopelessness.
"At a time like this, sir, you still have the mood to joke... What should we do now?"
Forgrim finally dropped the last bit of his joking tone. He raised his hand and gripped the sword, Karax, which trembled slightly in the firelight. With his other hand, he decisively signaled Vagit to take action.
The next moment, the avatar extended its snake-tail-like lower body and firmly wrapped it around Aidoron's arm, keeping the still-recovering lieutenant firmly within its protective range.
"How to do?"
Forgrim turned and left, his tone serious and without the slightest hesitation.
"In a situation like this, of course you run."
As he said this, he suddenly exerted force with his feet, and his whole body shot out of the council chamber ruins like an arrow. Wajit followed closely behind with Edoron, quickly moving through the flames, white foam and collapsed steel beams.
"This thing has clearly gone beyond the scope of a normal enemy. We don't know where its main body is, how far its contamination range is, or how many other tricks this disgusting thing has up its sleeve. Under these circumstances, to still grit our teeth and fight it to the death is not brave, it's stupid."
As he spoke, he raised his hand and swung his sword.
The crimson flames of the sword cleaved diagonally through the corridor blocked by the milky white liquid. The entire steel passage burst open with a huge gap in the intense heat, and a large portion of the white liquid clinging to the walls and ceiling was instantly evaporated, along with some fleshy tissue that was twitching inside, which was burned to a crisp.
They charged forward, cutting down everything in their path.
Forgrim's sword flashed almost non-stop, each swing like carving a narrow path through a sea of fire, while [Vajit] constantly used its power to disrupt the distorted structures trying to catch up, preventing Edoron from being dragged back during his escape.
But the thing behind them clearly wasn't going to let them off so easily.
Hedrick's mangled remains, no longer recognizable as human, staggered through the flames, muttering incoherently in a strange, intimate tone—a mixture of churning milk and rubbing bones—as if calling to a long-lost relative, or urging an infant to return to its mother's womb.
“Forgrim…brother…you are one of us…you can hear it, you can smell it, you are the same as us…brothers should embrace each other, should return to a warm, damp, quiet place, where there is no more bloodshed, no more fighting, no more dreams…”
Aidoron felt a chill run down his spine and almost slipped on his feet.
Forgrim sped forward, shouting back without turning his head.
"Go to hell, brother! May vulgarity and stench go to hell with you, you lump of white scum! Who would want to be brothers with a disgusting thing that crawled out of a crack in the wall and smells like rotten goat's milk? If you really want to find your relatives, go look in the mirror first and see if you look more like a brother or a curse that crawled out of a toilet!"
I must say, Forgrim is quite humorous; he has a whole repertoire of witty remarks.
As he spoke, he swept his sword out again, the flaming blade sweeping fiercely across the area beneath the elevated platform, cleaving a section of the support structure soaked in white liquid, causing it to collapse. The massive metal beam crashed down, temporarily suppressing the grotesque old dwarf and the surging milky liquid behind him.
They finally broke out of the main council area, smashed open the last alloy door that was half corroded by white paste, and stumbled into the outer corridor. Just as Forgrim was about to continue his evacuation towards the outskirts of the Heavy Capital Factory by following the route he remembered, he looked up and his steps faltered for the first time.
Because the outside was also covered in that milky white liquid.
Aidoron stood rooted to the spot, his face turning from deathly pale to ashen. He opened his mouth for a long time before finally managing to utter a barely human voice: "My lord..."
Forgrim gripped his sword, gazing at the scene before him, and finally fell silent for a moment.
Then, he slowly raised his eyes and looked at the world that had completely lost its factory outline, leaving only boundless milky white and writhing creatures. For the first time, his tone became truly solemn.
"It seems..."
He paused, staring at the white fluid and fleshy membrane covering everything, and his voice lowered.
“We haven’t been in its territory since the beginning.”
"But it's inside its body."
The deputy glanced at his master and asked, "Sir, what should we do now?"
Forgrim gazed at the ever-approaching white wave, remaining silent for a brief moment. This time, he no longer maintained his almost innate elegance; even the usual curve of his lips seemed somewhat forced.
He simply gripped the sword of Carax tightly in his hand, and spoke in a low voice with a clear sense of despair, yet a stubborn refusal to accept his fate:
"What to do? Naturally, we should try to avoid dying in this pot of damned white liquid. After all, if a person is destined to die, it is best to die with some dignity, rather than like two unlucky fools who were drowned alive by some kind of undignified male bodily fluid in the steel ruins of a foreign land. If such a way of dying were to be written into history books by future generations, even the most tolerant poet would find it vulgar."
Even on his deathbed, Forgrim couldn't let go of his damned elegance.
Second-in-command: "..."
As soon as he finished speaking, the overwhelming milky white liquid pressed down on him.
It wasn't a torrent in the ordinary sense; it was more like a living ocean overturning forward, engulfing everything from skybridges and towers to mine tracks, steam pipes, and blast furnace remains. The entire Chongqing plant was like being dragged into a constantly expanding sea, with surging white waves on all sides.
Forgrim stopped wasting his breath.
He gripped the sword in a reverse grip, flames rising along the spine of the blade, and together with the phantom of Vajit, they suddenly rose higher behind him. The posture even carried an almost absurd tragic grandeur, much like the knights in ancient stories who, knowing that defeat was inevitable ahead, still insisted on charging forward on horseback.
“I have no intention of losing my life in a place like this, so even if I am to die, I will first cut my sword into its throat and see who will give up first.”
Just as he was preparing to charge into this milky white torrent, which was enough to engulf the world, with his unyielding will, like Don Quixote, a pure, almost sacred golden flame suddenly appeared from within the milky white flood.
They covered the entire Chongqing factory in an instant.
The fire was so intense that it seemed to set the sky ablaze. All the milky white liquid churned, contracted, and shrieked violently in the golden flames, as if this white sea, which had been breeding nightmares, had finally encountered something that truly terrified it.
At that moment, Forgrim's charge crashed headlong into the burning emulsion.
Strangely, the golden flames did not burn him, nor did they cause him the slightest burning pain.
On the contrary, when he actually rushed into it, the golden flames flowed past his armor, robes and hair, giving him an extremely gentle touch, like some kind of protection from a higher and more ancient place, forcibly opening a safe path for him in the deepest part of chaos and pollution.
The feeling was so strange that Forgrim instinctively paused for a moment, and in that instant, he suddenly raised his head, his eyes fixed on what lay ahead.
Deep within the surging golden flames, a figure was slowly approaching.
Xia Xiu walked through the burning ocean of milk, the golden flames beneath his feet automatically parting to make way for him. Holding a silver cane in his hand, he was so composed that it was as if he were not walking through a monstrous tide of mutation that was devouring the world, but simply walking through a long corridor paved with fire and light.
Those golden eyes silently observed Forgrim through the flames.
Then he spoke, and his tone actually mimicked Forgrim's sarcastic and poetic manner.
“Forgrim…you really put me in a bit of a dilemma. Should I praise your courage, or laugh at you for choosing the worst possible meeting setting for yourself?”
"But to be honest, you're more interesting than I expected—humorous, stubborn, and courageous at the same time..."
"The six children I met were all more divine than human; they were all quiet and reserved."
"You are more human than divine, but your little quirks are a bit too subtle. You've probably been too influenced by some third-rate poet named Shakespeare. But it's not a big problem. You can change these habits over time and eventually become a normal person."