The giant turning the machine looked up slowly and said, “You forgot to pull the head out.”
The other giant, puzzled, set down the large box. “Strange. I thought I did.”
He reached in and pulled out the head, holding it in both hands. “Oh, here it is. I'll put it away.”
The giant at the machine suddenly licked his lips, eyes locked onto the human head with an intense hunger.
But in the end, he said nothing—just nodded and resud cranking the machine.
The machine continued its operation without the head, grinding the remaining contents into pulp.
Curious about what the giants would do with the head, Saul followed them.
But just as he approached, a semi-transparent, crying face suddenly burst from the head in the giant’s hands. It wailed silently as it flew straight at Saul.
He dodged to the left, but the face twisted midair with eerie agility, opening its mouth to bite him.
Saul instinctively raised his arm to block it. He couldn’t release any magic at the mont, so he could only rely on his ntal body to endure it.
The face bit into his arm with a sickening crunch, sending a wave of surreal, soul-piercing pain through his mind.
Gritting his teeth, Saul grabbed the face clamped on his fingers and tore it off. Then, he yanked with both hands in opposite directions.
The face emitted a haunting, wailing cry—pitiful beyond words.
But Saul was unmoved. He pulled again, tearing it cleanly in half. Then, he stacked the two halves and kept pulling.
Only when he’d shredded the face into a dozen pieces did he stop, still shaken.
By then, it was utterly silent.
He let go, and the pieces dispersed into wisps of greenish smoke.
“That was close!” Saul lowered his hands, wiping his face as if brushing away cold sweat that wasn’t there. “Leaving your body really invites trouble. I should head back quickly.”
He glanced down and noticed the ring finger on his right hand was shorter. It was probably bitten off and swallowed by the face.
But it was too late for him to get it back.
The ghostly face had already turned to smoke. His finger likely vanished along with it.
At the sa ti, the head in the giant’s hands suddenly shattered into more than a dozen pieces—so broken it could never be put back together.
Red and white fluid oozed from the fragnts, seeping through the giant’s fingers.
“Ah, it broke.” The giant stood dumbly in place.
The other giant abandoned the machine controls and rushed over with a loud clatter. “It’s broken. Good. We can eat it.”
He didn’t wait for a reply. He just buried his face in the giant’s palms and started noisily devouring the fragnts.
The other giant snapped out of his daze, quickly pulling his hand back and leaning in to eat as well.
The two giants fought over the shattered head, nearly coming to blows.
Saul looked away in disgust. “Are these giants cannibals? But they didn’t react to the other body parts—maybe they’re brain-eaters?”
He glanced at his right hand with a pang of regret. “I wonder if this’ll have any side effects… Better get back fast.”
He looked up and started walking toward the ceiling, intending to pass through the upper floor directly.
As before, he stepped upward as if walking on stairs, until his head slowly subrged into the ceiling.
But as he erged on the next floor, he realized he wasn’t in the first level of the East Tower.
He was inside a pitch-black interlayer.
His head had passed through sothing like a thin film, and now he was face-to-face with countless eyes.
The eyes were packed tightly together, pupil slits as fine as needle tips.
The mont Saul’s head popped through, all those pupils shifted at once—staring straight at him.
Saul’s scalp tingled. “This… isn’t this that strange space the Tower Master took through ten days ago when we entered the second floor of the East Tower? Was that room just now not a basent?”
He couldn’t determine his location, so he braced himself and continued moving upward under the weight of all those stares.
But as soon as his full body entered the space, an intense heat engulfed him—like being drenched in boiling oil.
The diary flew out in front of him in sync with the pain.
June 12, Lunar Calendar of the Year 316.
You’ve developed a bad habit of sleepwalking—falling from the sky to the depths below.
The first fall caught those creatures off guard, and you narrowly escaped.
But now that you’ve shown up again, steaming hot and delicious,
They’ve made up their minds:
Even if it angers the Tower Master,
They’ll enjoy this al delivered straight to their mouths.
Take a look down—is your body bubbling?
That’s the tempting sight of a pot of rich, creamy clam chowder coming to a boil.
The mont Saul saw the diary appear, he was ready to flee. But after reading the entry, he turned and bolted.
Now he truly understood what it ant to “run like your pants are on fire.”
In the face of mortal danger, he finally grasped instinctively how to float like a ghost.
With a swift swoosh, he shot back down below.
When he returned to the basent, his entire body was still trembling.
Not from fear but from the heat.
He could almost see steam rising off his skin.
“If I’d stayed in there even a mont longer, I really might have boiled alive.”
It took a long while before Saul finally cald down.
Looking at the doorway the giants had used, he decided it was better to return via the normal path.
The East Tower was clearly far more dangerous than the West Tower—he’d nearly died just from walking through a wall.
He passed through the door of the giant’s room without resistance and carefully peeked at the corridor outside.
It was the typical sloped ramp found throughout both towers—gently inclined with just enough friction to walk steadily.
He ascended along the ramp, and before long, reached the end of the path.
There was a wall.
“I didn’t see any other exits along the way. The giants must’ve co through here. Is there so hidden chanism?” Saul wondered as he continued forward.
In any case, physical barriers no longer stopped him.
Still, he remained cautious while passing through walls—he didn’t want to end up in that eyeball space again.
This ti, he successfully phased through the wall and entered a dim hallway.
There were candles here too, but their light was faint and didn’t reach every corner, leaving scattered pools of glow.
Here, Saul knew exactly where he was.
This was the shadowy corridor connecting the second and first floors of the East Tower—the one that distorted your sense of direction.
“Finally back. Who knew sleeping could lead to an out-of-body experience? Maybe I really should order a… coffin that can trap my soul.”
Though his body still ached from the burns, Saul could tell his ntal form was stable. With so potions and rest, he’d recover quickly.
He began to relax.
This, too, was thanks to his exceptional ntal aptitude. If soone with weaker ntal strength had gone through that, they’d probably be insane by now.
Saul turned right and soon arrived at the first bronze door leading to the storeroom.
“But I don’t have a body—how am I supposed to push the door open?” he muttered.
Before he could figure it out, the bronze doors suddenly opened a crack.
“Soone coming out?”
But before he could celebrate, he noticed sothing shocking—the doors were opening together.
When both bronze doors opened at once, you had to imdiately freeze in place until they shut again!
Despite his shock, Saul stood stock-still, just as ntor Kaz had warned him.
Thin, noodle-like white arms extended from inside, groping blindly through the air, across the floor, and along the walls—searching for sothing.
(End of Chapter)
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