We arrived at the second floor of the safe house.
The second floor had many private rooms, all connected by a central corridor. The cartographer led the way and entered one of the rooms—it wasn’t the room where the mad partner was held, but his own bedroom. He said he wanted to get his diary first, and then took to another room used for confinent.
I glanced at the diary in the cartographer’s hand. It was a notebook with a brown cover. He had ntioned before that the na Mazao sounded familiar to him, but he might need to review his diary to recall it. I wasn’t sure what exactly was recorded inside. Though it’s unethical to have designs on soone else’s diary, right now I was indeed driven by considerable curiosity about this "Doomsday survivor’s diary."
The cartographer pushed open the door to the confinent room.
As soon as the door creaked open, a violent struggle emanated from inside, accompanied by the clanking of iron chains. The cartographer walked inside holding the Blessed Lantern without changing his expression, and I followed him in. Tan Xiang, steeling herself, also joined us.
Once the three of us were inside, the cartographer closed the door casually. Whether casually closing the door is a conventional habit of Doomsday survivors, I couldn’t say, but Tan Xiang beca even more uneasy.
I looked toward the depths of the room.
This room used to be a large private dining room, but now the table and chairs had been removed, revealing a figure sitting miserably on the floor at the deepest part. The lantern’s illumination was insufficient, so I summoned a Fireball for more light. The glare likely irritated the figure in the depths, causing his eyes accustod to darkness to feel pain. He quickly covered his eyes and let out a beast-like warning growl.
From his appearance, he was even scruffier than a beggar, almost like a wild man. His long black hair was greasy and tangled, matted with dust, while his chin and upper lip were covered with a scraggly beard. Wearing a deep brown, blood-stained mountaineering outfit, he had no gloves, shoes, or socks, and his exposed hands and feet were scarred.
His face was also sared with blood and dust, the facial muscles twisted in such a grueso way that he resembled a zombie, ready to devour humans.
As he emitted a guttural roar from his throat, his gaze scanned each of us one by one. The cartographer maintained his usual composure, while I t his gaze steadily. When he turned to Tan Xiang, however, she faltered—she couldn’t help but step back, her voice trembling with fear.
Consequently, the man resembling a zombie fixated his gaze on Tan Xiang, as if sensing a vulnerability in the group. Tan Xiang retreated further, her back slamming against the door, her legs weakening.
I scrutinized this disheveled man, wondering if he really had clues about Little Bowl.
Where had he encountered Little Bowl before? What had transpired between them?
"Why... why is he staring at ..." Tan Xiang’s voice quivered, "Cartographer... isn’t this man your partner? Can you talk to him?"
"It’s because you showed fear that he’s treating you like easy prey. Can’t you learn from Zhuang Cheng? Look how calm he is." The cartographer placed the lantern on the cabinet beside him.
"He’s a supernatural power user, of course, he can be calm!" Tan Xiang protested.
"A man can lack ability, but not courage."
As the cartographer spoke these words of indeterminate wisdom while he flipped open his diary, using the white light of the Blessed Lantern to illuminate the text, he continued, "At this rate, I can’t trust taking you along for future outings... Hmm, as training to build courage, should I leave you locked up with my forr partner here..."
"Ah!" Tan Xiang was terribly frightened.
"Cartographer, what’s your partner’s na? How should I communicate with him?" I asked.
"He, like , has forgotten his true na. Now, his na is ’Wandering Soul.’" The cartographer’s gaze moved over the pages of his diary, seemingly searching for content related to the ’Mazao’ I ntioned on the journey here, "As for how to communicate with him... that’s sothing I’d also like to know."
"How did he go mad?" I asked.
"I can’t recall clearly—probably related to frenzy. Doomsday era madness is mostly caused by frenzy. Especially in his case, just a glance makes it evident it’s frenzy-induced." The cartographer replied, "Now he frantically tries to kill any person who cos near him. His mind is consud by the words ’kill people.’
"Sin Demons are also strange beings that operate solely under the motive of ’killing people,’ and he’s on the verge of Sin demonization. Right now, my two other partners—those two kids you saw downstairs—and I can only keep calling out his na, reminding him not to forget he’s called ’Wandering Soul.’ We also chat with him about past small events, hoping to rekindle his original sanity.
"In truth, we’re nearly at the point of giving up. Not only does this approach show no signs of success, but even we are gradually forgetting those past events we shared with him. Perhaps not too far in the future, we’ll even forget his na and then assu he’s just so inexplicable stranger on the verge of Sin demonization who happened to appear on the upper floor of our safe house, ultimately abandoning him cold-heartedly..."
His voice was filled with sorrow.
Based on the Doomsday era knowledge I’ve acquired, people nearing Sin demonization generally cannot be saved.
Because people in this state cannot think normally, and even more so cannot comprehend external information, even if soone beside them keeps calling their na, it cannot truly reach their heart.
However, Mazao’s Power of Return is an exceptional case; she can use her power to bring those on the verge of Sin demonization back to normal, but if the person is fully Sin demonized, not even the Power of Return can save them.
In the past, the first ti Mazao t Little Bowl, she used the Power of Return to save Little Bowl, who was on the brink of Sin demonization.
Later, when Little Bowl was in the Void Realm and known to as Number Two, she managed to escape Sin demonization by reclaiming her na, which was a sort of clever maneuver. Since she retained the ability to think normally within the Void Realm, she could escape the danger of being on the brink of Sin demonization in the real world by reclaiming her na and reactivating her not yet fully subrged mories.
"I have a question..." Tan Xiang cautiously raised his hand.
"What question?" the Cartographer asked.
"This person called Wandering Soul... how do they usually eat and excrete?" Tan Xiang surprisingly noticed this detail, yet it was a crucial point, "If he goes mad and attacks anyone who approaches him, even delivering als must be very difficult, right? After all, does he even know how to eat now?
"And excretion, surely you can’t untie him every ti he needs to relieve himself? I haven’t seen any traces of him relieving himself on the ground..."
Actually, I thought Tan Xiang wanted to ask a much colder question—keeping such a ticking ti bomb without any chance of rescue in a safe house, while still providing him food and water, is this really reasonable in such a resource-scarce Doomsday environnt?
Although Tan Xiang probably didn’t know what Sin demonization and Frenzy ant, he certainly sensed the danger of Wandering Soul.
And the Cartographer responded expressionlessly, "He doesn’t need to eat, so he also doesn’t need to excrete."
"Ah?" Tan Xiang clearly didn’t expect such an answer.
"Those on the brink of Sin demonization will pre-emptively display so characteristics of Sin Demons. Having only murder motives in mind is just one of them," the Cartographer said, "Sin Demons are aberrant existence that do not require food and water, so they also do not need food and water.
"At the sa ti, they beco incredibly powerful, with rapid physical regeneration, able to sense soul waves like a Blessed Monk... take a closer look at his limbs and torso."
Upon closer inspection, you will find that Wandering Soul is not only bound by iron chains, but the chains also pierce through his limbs and torso, yet no blood flows from them, as if the blood has dried up.
"If it wasn’t to this extent, such iron chains wouldn’t be able to hold him; he might even dig through the floor with his hands to escape," the Cartographer said.
"He... isn’t he your partner? You treat him like this..." Tan Xiang muttered in shock.
"Yes, he is my partner, but... I can hardly rember who he is anymore..." the Cartographer murmured.
His words answered a question in my mind, regarding how Little Bowl survived in the Doomsday Era while on the brink of Sin demonization.
Simply not being killed by anomalies could be explained by luck, but how did she manage to replenish food and water while alone and not in her right mind?
Humans die after three days without water or seven days without food; although it’s unclear how long Little Bowl was in the state of being on the brink of Sin demonization, it was clearly more than just three or seven days. And if she didn’t need food and water in that state, then everything would make sense.
Suddenly, the Cartographer paused while flipping through the notebook; he looked at the text on the page, then turned his head to glance at .
"Zhuang Cheng, I found records related to the ’Mazao’ you ntioned earlier in my diary," said the Cartographer, "Let confirm, do you really know that girl called Mazao?"
"Yes, is there a problem?" I asked.
Perhaps the Cartographer realized Mazao was a notorious Unfortunate person in the Doomsday Era, leading him to suspect that his previous misfortunes might be related to , the "person associated with Mazao." Since I was already in this safe house, there was no need for further pretense, so I admitted it.
Then the Cartographer spoke words beyond my expectations.
"According to my records, that girl called Mazao is a Blessed Monk with power matching a Demigod, yet she is also a bloodless, tearless murderer," the Cartographer said in a deep voice, "Regardless of age or gender, as long as they are human, she rcilessly slays by her own hand.
"Kills the strong, kills the weak, kills the good, kills the evil, kills warriors, kills those who surrender, kills those who flee... countless lives have been lost under her butcher’s knife, she is simply synonymous with terror.
"The very few who miraculously escaped death from her hands called her the ’Evangelical Witch.’"
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