The booming sounds of the battle between gods and demons outside were like distant thunder, transmitted ceaselessly through layers of flesh and space. Each time Pluton Osiris's "Hymn of the Departed Soul" rose in pitch, or the Evil God's tentacles tore through space with a screech, the "heart-like" fleshy platform beneath Ian's feet trembled violently, and the beating sound became chaotic and urgent as if a giant beast was rampaging in anger.
This constant and violent energy fluctuation from the outside world, like an invisible sledgehammer, continuously impacted the structure of the cellar, as well as Ian's tense nerves.
He suppressed the instinctive chill caused by those pure dark eyes, keeping the magic wand's light steadily locked onto the boy. This eerie calm formed a hell-like contrast with the surrounding violent pulsations.
The mysterious boy seemed quite harmless.
His knees were drawn up to his chest, his arms tightly wrapped around, his head buried deeply in the crook of his arm, motionless, like a forgotten, abandoned rag doll.
His hair was a pale gold, glimmering faintly under the golden light of the magic wand.
What was most peculiar was that the boy's existence was entirely out of place with the pulsating flesh around him, and the pervasive evil energy. He bore not a trace of assimilation, no buds, no mucus, and even the ubiquitous pulsating sound seemed to diminish to the point of insignificance within a meter of his body, as if he himself was a "silent zone" isolating the Evil God's power.
Of course.
Even so.
Ian's vigilance did not wane at all. How could there be a living person in this cellar? And a child, no less? Was it a trap? Another guise of the Evil God? Or... something else entirely.
A more intense, mixed impulse of curiosity and inquiry drove Ian. He cautiously, step by step, approached the corner. Every step took on the pulsating ground of flesh, every step made the low heartbeat sound clearer. He was getting closer to the boy, the magic wand's light clearly illuminating the boy's back.
At this moment, the boy seemed to sense something. The head buried in his arm slowly, with the hesitant feel of a rusty machine, began to lift, little by little.
He maintained the curled-up posture, those extraordinary eyes vacantly "looking" in Ian's direction, yet as if penetrating through him to the void at the ends of time and space.
No fear, no hostility, only a dead, bewildered stare.
"This doesn't seem like a place to wait for someone."
Ian held his breath, the light of the magic wand tightly fixed.
He tentatively took another small step forward. The golden light from the magic wand moved with him, illuminating a small area by the boy's feet. There, the pulsating of flesh seemed further weakened, even forming a faint, nearly invisible golden halo to the naked eye, like the oldest sealing rune.
Silently contending with the surrounding purple-red veins of the Evil God. Perhaps that was why the boy wasn't affected by the Evil God's power, though it might still be a scene deliberately contrived by the Evil God to lower Ian's guard. Regardless, the boy's presence in such a place was indeed suspicious.
The Evil God could devour everything, mimic everything! A seemingly harmless, amnesiac child is the perfect disguise! It might be waiting for him to lower his guard, approach, and then—ambush Ian.
"Do you know what's happening outside?"
Ian tested, asking.
The boy shook his head blankly, but for the first time, a ripple passed through his eyes,
"Very noisy... very painful. Many voices are screaming." The boy still seemed very harmless. He slowly, very slowly blinked his eyes. The movement was raw, like rusty gears. Then he tilted his head slightly, answering in a childlike innocence, yet with a frictional, metallic sluggishness.
"That is the Evil God Set-Apep fighting with the Gods."
Ian explained, carefully observing the boy's reaction. The boy trembled suddenly upon hearing the name "Set-Apep," a glint of gold flashing through his eyes.
"Evil God... Evil God..."
He seemed to want to express something, but his language system was utterly shattered and reassembled, uttering only unintelligible, pain-laden syllables. He raised a pale little hand, unconsciously and tremblingly touching his cheek, as if confirming his own existence. A very faint ripple belonging to "confusion" finally passed through those eyes.
"Amnesia?" Ian's heart raced. This response... didn't seem like a disguise. A pretender wouldn't be so utterly "blank." But the more it was so, the more dangerous it felt. This "amnesia" itself might be the Evil God's most malicious trap! Using reality to deceive, to ultimately control the boy in an ambush.
It was inducing sympathy, inducing closeness!
An Evil God's avatar able to perfectly simulate a child's helplessness and confusion, its cunning far exceeded imagination! It might be waiting for a "hug," a "touch," then instantly launch an attack on Ian! Maybe not just an attack, but an attempt to devour Ian, as before, the Evil God had shown significant interest in Ian.
"The Evil God, he stole... stole..."
The boy gently repeated, his tone carrying a peculiar sense of familiarity.
"Stole what?" Ian urgently followed up.
But the boy returned to that hollow state, as if the ripple from a moment ago had never occurred.