The Night that (7): The mirror appeared in the desert.

The arc ends in the next chapter of (P)(A)(T). It took me a while to post because these are 2 huge chapters, which, in my opinion, are the best ones I’ve written.

Well, I think that’s it. I won’t drag it out. If anyone wants to read 3/7 chapters ahead or just support me, that’s possible with my (P)(A)(T). If not, I still thank you for reading. Thank you very much!

That said, good Night and happy reading!

[...]---[...]

POV: Devas Asura.

"So many fucking ants!"

I knew there were a lot of them. Besides seeing the dots popping up on the minimap, I could feel them moving beneath and over the sand. In the game, they also came in quantities that were, at the very least, unpleasant. But after a few minutes, the word "a lot" became ridiculously inaccurate.

The correct term would be: yes.

How many ants had attacked me in these past forty minutes or so? Yes. That was the number: yes.

I had completely lost count…

After the first few seconds, where I was casually killing ants, I started to speed up my movements. Nowhere near my maximum speed or strength, but I was probably killing at least a hundred ants per second. I didn’t even need to aim—just pick a direction and strike hard enough to take out at least twenty at a time.

…Then I realized the number simply wasn’t going down.

If I killed twenty with one strike, thirty more would casually jump out of the sand, completely ignoring the corpses of their fallen brethren and charging at me with extreme prejudice. The concepts of "dodging attacks" and "self-preservation instinct" had apparently been erased from their minds from the very start.

It got to a point where, if it weren’t for the VoidBag, the fight—if that blender of carnage could even be called a fight—would have taken place atop a mountain of dead ants. Even so, the whole place reeked of rotting, half-charred corpses. I pulled the sand into the VoidBag as well when everything started turning into some sort of sludge, thanks to the blood.

I didn’t know the exact number, but I was sure it had to be at least a hundred thousand ants. If not more… So, I may or may not have gotten fed up and just incinerated everything within a ten-kilometer radius around me.

It wasn’t really complicated. I grabbed the air in front of me with my right hand and the air behind me with my left. Then, I twisted everything around me in a counterclockwise motion while commanding the Shadowflame to follow, accelerate the airflow, and burn everything.

I kept the hurricane going for about thirty seconds—enough time for the flames to reach deep underground and wipe out everything there as well, making all the red dots within the ten-kilometer radius of my minimap disappear. Not because it was exhausting—on the contrary, using Shadowflame like that barely took any effort, especially when it had "fuel" to burn and recover from—and fuel was the last thing lacking in this giant anthill of a desert.

Once everything was dead, I pulled the Shadowflame back, covering my body with it, and looked around. The landscape had changed drastically: from a desert with dunes upon dunes of sand to an incredibly flat, ten-kilometer-wide plain of glowing red molten glass.

And the glass wasn’t just on the surface. I could tell that at least fifty meters beneath the "plain" had also turned into glass, not to mention the massive "spiderweb" that the Shadowflame had created below that, hunting down every last ant in the area.

"Maybe I overdid it…" I muttered.

("Maybe, but it was clearly enough to wipe out all the ants. Those infinite waves were starting to get repetitive.")

Before I could reply to Ozma, a message popped up in front of me. It was delivered by an antlion, which was rowing a small wooden boat across the "sea" of molten glass. Right after handing me the message, the boat sank along with the ant, which gave me a thumbs-up as it disappeared beneath the glass.

[AdvocateOfGenderEquality]I’d really appreciate it if, next time you decide to create a FUCKING MASS EXTINCTION EVENT, you give us a heads-up first. You know, my heart is fragile, and my bladder gets startled easily. Had to focus real hard not to relive a very sad incident from my past…(Emote of a generic dude clutching his chest with one hand)

"Not gonna lie, I kinda forgot for a moment that you guys are using 'Simultaneous Existence' and are basically right here with me." I glanced around; everything was glowing red, the air shimmering from the heat. I was knee-deep in molten glass. "How are things on your end, by the way?"

This time, two messages arrived, thrown into the air by two parachuting ants. They released them moments before disintegrating into dust, long before even reaching the ground.

[AsuraLady]Hot. Not even close to what it should actually be, though. The stream says the current temperature here is just 2% of the total heat in your area. It’s like being inside a sauna, and the glass feels like warm water, but with the texture of thick glue. Not bad, but I’d appreciate it if you could solidify the ground—it’s awful trying to move in this stuff!(Emote of a pink-maned lion lying inside a sauna)

[(MOD)GeniusBillionairePlayboy]I’m not incinerated, nor am I dying just from breathing. Also, this is my first time standing on molten glass. You know, the air should be full of toxic gases and glass particles, not to mention, of course, being hot as fuck. How the hell are you breathing so easily when there probably isn’t even oxygen left in the air right now?!(Emote of Iron Man scratching his chin with a question mark over his head)

"There’s some, actually. I don’t need much to breathe." I shrugged. "Shadowflame also didn’t overheat the air around me, so the heat never really affected me."

In reality, the flame hadn’t affected anything beyond the ten kilometers around me. Even though I had created that hurricane on impulse, I had been careful not to accidentally kill someone with a massive heat wave or something.

"As for the air: Shadowflame burned and consumed the gases in the atmosphere, along with the glass particles." Something I should keep in mind for the future so I don’t accidentally create a dead zone somewhere. I looked up. "The airflow is a bit unstable and fucked, but it should normalize soon."

Shadowflame had consumed nearly all the oxygen in the area, leaving only the space around me untouched and creating air vacuums and unstable thermal currents. It wasn’t dangerous for me, but it definitely wasn’t a pleasant place to be. Breathing was complicated, to say the least, and it was really hot—so much so that, if Shadowflame weren’t preventing the heat from reaching me, I’d be drenched in sweat.

I looked down at myself. The only reason I wasn’t completely naked right now, with my clothes having been incinerated, was thanks to the flame protecting them. Even so, my shoes, socks, and part of my pants up to my knees had disappeared, since I was partially submerged in the molten glass.

"That was a good pair of shoes. A shame. My pants turned into shorts too."

("You were wearing shoes and sweatpants in a desert. The fact that the former burned and the latter turned into shorts was just reality correcting an abomination.") Ozma’s voice sounded amused.

"You wore the exact same suit the entire month I was in Remnant—I don’t even know how that thing didn’t stink. You have no right to judge here," I shot back instantly.

("It wasn’t just one suit—I had multiple identical ones. I’m not a slob.") He explained. I didn’t even need to look inside my Spiritual Realm to know his face was scrunched up in disgust. ("And it was stylish. Wearing pants and shoes in a desert is just weird.")

"And having a wardrobe with the exact same sets of clothes isn’t strange at all, of course not…" My words were completely devoid of sarcasm.

Finishing my short exchange with Ozma, I pulled something from my inventory to run a test—one of the hundred Ice Torches I had stored.

I'd had these torches for a while. Their function was pretty simple, to be honest. Basically, the cold blue flame of the Ice Torches absorbed ambient heat to sustain itself—a cold flame.

It was useful, so much so that I had a few projects in mind involving this thing, but after I got Shadowflame, which could do the same thing or even better, I kind of set them aside. But now was a good time to test something I’d been wanting to for a while.

The moment the torch left my inventory, the flame grew to completely engulf my body and the surrounding five meters before it stopped expanding—even though it didn't stop absorbing the heat around it. I could feel the temperature dropping by the second. It wasn’t exactly a sharp drop of several degrees, but it was definitely noticeable.

Before the Ice Torch flame could reach its limit—if it even had one—I covered it with Shadowflame and commanded the latter to consume the former. I had a feeling something would happen if I did that. The connection I had with Shadowflame told me so—it was like an instinct.

At first, nothing happened. I could feel the Ice Torch flame "resisting" Shadowflame, trying to absorb its heat. I kept the temperature of the purple flame steady instead of lowering it, so it simply "gave in." It didn't "lose" or get "consumed"; it simply "yielded" and seemed to merge with Shadowflame.

When that happened, the Ice Torch went completely out, turning into nothing more than a piece of wood. Even the tip of the torch, where the Ice Mana-infused material used to be, had disappeared—this part was consumed by Shadowflame.

I could practically hear a happy "purr" coming from the purple flame as it happened.

Externally, nothing had changed. Shadowflame was still purple, oscillating between shades as it flickered on its own, without wind. Its status was also the same—nothing had changed. But strangely, I could feel that the flame could now absorb heat much more easily than before, basically like the Ice Torch flame—or rather, the way it already could, combined with the way the Ice Torch flame used to.

"Such a stupidly broken ability, if I do say so myself," I said to the flame in my hand.

Shadowflame was, overall, incredibly strong. By a ridiculous margin, it was the strongest "item" I had.

The flame seemed "pleased" with my words. That happiness faded a little when I discovered I could change its hue to something closer to the Ice Torch’s blue—purely aesthetic—but returned when I set it back to purple.

This little thing really liked its own color. It had even pouted at Millia over it once, hadn’t it…?

I covered my entire right hand with Shadowflame before leaning forward and touching the molten glass. I felt the material ripple beneath my palm before it began to harden rapidly, as I absorbed heat not just from the ground but also from the air, cooling the environment quickly.

Not even a minute later, the glass had completely solidified into a plain of frosted, opaque "crystal," with a massive spiral carved into its surface, starting from where I stood and extending throughout the ten-kilometer radius.

The glass had taken on an opaque reddish tone that, when illuminated by the sun, shone a deep orange. Its entire surface was covered in a thick white mist, with frost forming a thin layer of ice over it.

A faint white mist escaped my lips as I breathed.

The coloration was probably due to the impurities in the sand when it was turned into glass—not to mention the blood and bodies of the ants. Given that the interior of the glass, especially the "web" that Shadowflame had created while hunting down ants underground, had a more greenish hue with brown tones, this hypothesis was probably correct.

I clapped my hands together as I straightened my back and looked around.

"Looks like I’ve got a talent for art," I joked before lifting my right leg.

"Craaaaaaack!"

The entire interior of the glass cracked, starting from the point where I pulled my leg away. The surface remained intact—a flat layer with an immense spiral relief—but the underground had completely fractured into fractal patterns.

I pulled my other leg out of the glass and quickly swapped my current clothes for something else: a simple beige beach shorts, a white button-up beach shirt with a floral print, a straw hat, sunglasses, and white flip-flops.

("We’re not at a beach.") Ozma wasted no time.

"There’s enough sand," I replied just as fast.

With a light laugh, I took off running again, asking Jinn to check with Dylan or Alalia for the direction of the main city I knew existed in the desert.

I was originally planning to just pass by and briefly check on the residents, like I did with Winterhord, but that changed after all these discoveries…

The desert I was in was on the opposite side of Winterhord, with the kingdom in between and the storm covering it. My thought was simple: if I hadn’t come to this world, what would’ve happened if someone had tried to flee the storm?

"Jumping from the frying pan into the fire…" I muttered. Or into the ice, in Winterhord’s case.

On one side, there was a frozen mountain range, with an alien deer wandering around and killing everything the cold hadn’t already wiped out…

On the other, a scorching desert, with thousands—most likely millions, or even tens of millions—of ants that would kill anything that didn’t walk on the sand as lightly as a feather…

…I wouldn’t be surprised in the slightest if the other directions surrounding the kingdom were facing just as fucked-up problems.

This whole situation was a giant trap. Nothing and no one was allowed to leave the storm, and even if they did, the situation outside wasn’t any better…

It was like a massive offering…

…Whether inside or out, everything would end in death.

[…]

It didn’t take me long to find the city: Shahrabad. The name was Persian—or the Terraria equivalent. Jarvis had told me the possible meaning of the word: “Prosperous City” or “Inhabited City,” assuming it held the same meaning in this world.

There was no way I could’ve passed by it without noticing…

As expected, every village, refuge, house, or anything resembling one along the way had been abandoned or destroyed.

Unlike the villages inside the storm, these were covered in bloodstains, with a few scattered body parts—very few. Every corpse I came across had been gnawed on, torn apart, and completely looted.

The ants had done their damage, and the bandits and scavengers had taken advantage of the chaos to strip everything of value.

I stopped at a distance from the city while reading Jinn’s message.

[(MOD)JinnOfTheLamp]: About the ants, I’ve already warned everyone. Helena and Charlotte said they had already been informed, but they were told the situation was under control. Both of them have given you full clearance to handle the issue however you see fit and said they’ll protect you from any political intrigue or schemes that might arise.(Emote of a Chibi Jinn holding a blank card)

…It was kind of cute how those two thought I cared about political intrigue.

“Mind control or traitors. Probably both,” I said to the camera. It didn’t take much thought to figure out why the princess and the duchess were in the dark. “Didn’t Alalia sense anything? These ants are infected with Crimson.”

I had examined one of the ant corpses I stored in the VoidBag. The reddish-brown veins running through their bodies were a byproduct of Crimson, making them perpetually ravenous, more aggressive, and hypersensitive to any stimuli.

Each ant basically hated anything that wasn’t another ant or something infected with the same corruption as them. They also seemed to detect whenever an ant died nearby due to the ‘crimson blood’ in their bodies, instinctively moving toward whatever had killed their ‘brother’ until they destroyed it, like some kind of twisted hive mind.

The worst part? These ants were apparently born this way—they weren’t modified. I analyzed several of them, and none were older than a week—practically newborns, drones designed to exterminate anything that got too close to the anthill or posed a threat to the queen.

There was a fucking queen!

A mutant one, at that, since the description for every ant I analyzed was always the same: “One of the millions of ants born from the ‘Mutant Infected Antlion Queen.’”

A rather unpleasant piece of information, if I were to voice my opinion out loud.

I glanced back at the (CHAT) when Jinn sent another message.

[(MOD)JinnOfTheLamp]: She said her senses are dulled in the desert due to the lack of what she calls ‘green nature,’ which she has more affinity with. But she admits she should have sensed even the slightest trace of Crimson, even in the desert. Something is subtly interfering with her senses.(Emote of a Chibi Jinn putting a bucket over a plant)

…Honestly, I was starting to think Alalia just had a lot of mana and nothing else. Or maybe she was blind, possibly deaf too, and probably couldn’t even smell.

“I’ll bring some of the ant corpses for her to analyze later. I won’t be here for long—once I burn what needs to be burned, I’m heading straight back to the kingdom,” I said with a sigh. Maybe it was something in how the ants were created or how Crimson was being used.

The goblins or cultists—or maybe they were one and the same—must have found out about Alalia’s existence somehow. Given the power and authority she held, it made sense for their plans to involve staying off her radar.

Alalia hadn’t detected the sigils in the bodies of Jille’s townsfolk either… well, not before Dylan purified them with Water Bolt.

This would be the first time we had an actual sample of Crimson. As much as the whole storm reeked of blood, along with the zombies and decay, nothing there seemed to have direct ties to Crimson—at least nothing I had gotten my hands on and analyzed with Analyze: Item.

Even the Demon Eye was ‘clean’—if that word could even be used for something that disgusting.

[(MOD)JinnOfTheLamp]: Alright! I’ll speed things up here. Oh, and Alalia said she’s disappointed because I told her you weren’t surprised by the city. Should I tell her this isn’t the first time you’ve seen a floating island?(Emote of a Chibi Jinn tossing her phone aside)

“Go ahead.” I waved at the camera as if saying goodbye before turning toward Shahrabad.

The city wasn’t on the ground—it was in the air: a massive floating island, though not as big as Atlas, yet just as high in the sky.

Its underside was misshapen, as if the island had been torn from the earth, forming a triangular base with the same color as the desert sand. Enormous platforms, protected by glass domes, encircled the island, forming streets lined with buildings. I could see people and animals moving about as if the height didn’t concern them.

Further up, the floating island flattened into a squared-off base, like an inverted pyramid, where the actual city was located. From my angle, I couldn’t see much, but I could already tell it was a large city—much bigger than Winterhord, second only to the kingdom itself.

The island was anchored to the ground by nine colossal chains, rough and sandy in appearance, as if they were made from the very desert itself. Four of these chains were attached to the island’s squared-off base—one at each corner—while another four connected to its triangular body, each stretching down and piercing deep into the sand below.

The ninth chain extended from the island’s ‘tip’ at a ninety-degree angle, acting as a massive pillar. It was thicker than the others—almost twice as wide—and had a spiral staircase winding down into a crater beneath the island—something that, even without getting closer, I knew had to be the Antlion nest…

“That’s pretty damn impressive.” I whistled, starting to walk toward the nearest chain—one of the four connected to the island’s ‘base.’

Three messages popped up in my vision as I walked—one carried by a black cat, another by a cartoonish dwarf. They started fighting the moment they dropped the messages, before a pomegranate fell on each of their heads, making everything vanish like a mirage.

[BlakeHuntressLive]It’s prettier than Atlas. Weiss is wrong.(Emote of a black cat pointing at a dwarf)

[(MOD)WhiteHuntressLive]Atlas is prettier. Blake is wrong.(Emote of a dwarf pointing at a black cat)

[TheBestAndMostBeautifulThief]For everything terrifying in this world, there's something equally beautiful, huh? Remnant is beautiful too, but damn, if this isn’t impressive… I’m with Kitty on this one. 2 to 1, the desert city wins.(Emote of a bandit kicking both the dwarf and the black cat)

A faint, amused smile crossed my face as I read the messages. I waved them away with the back of my hand before speaking again.

“But seriously… why chain the island? It’s the same thing with Atlas. Why take away one of the biggest advantages of having a floating city—mobility?”

Ozma’s response came quickly.

(“Not sure about this one, but in Atlas’s case, it was because the island would drift aimlessly. James tried to start a project for an engine big enough to move it like a ship, but it never got off the ground due to costs.”)

“Makes sense. This one must have the same problem, or something similar.” I accepted the explanation and pointed at the chain at the island’s ‘tip.’ “Actually, it’s probably because of the antlion nest. I wouldn’t be surprised if, before the ants went insane, this was one of—if not the biggest—sources of income for the island.”

There was no reason to have a staircase on that chain unless people needed to go down to the nest and use it in some way. Of course, the staircase didn’t seem to be in use—I couldn’t see anyone there—but that was probably because the ants were completely bloodthirsty at the moment.

As I approached the city, more and more dots began appearing on my minimap.

The vast majority were red, but they vanished once I adjusted the settings to ignore “antlion” entities unless they were relevant. I was already certain this was the antlion nest, but a confirmation was always nice.

With the red dots no longer ‘cluttering’ the minimap, only the yellow ones remained. I had been expecting to see some orange ones—that would’ve been better, actually. Seeing only yellow dots was more suspicious than anything…

It didn’t take long to reach the base of the chain. I walked calmly, glancing at the nest. It was quite a distance from the burrow, but still close enough to send shivers down a normal person’s spine just from looking.

I knew this thanks to the (CHAT) comments—there were normal people watching. Thanks to Reality 4D (Safe), they felt the shivers.

Everything surrounding the burrow was perfectly flat, made of sandstone and covered in tens of thousands of mystical symbols. The same went for the areas around the chains and the roads leading up to them.

Even as I focused, I couldn’t hear a single noise coming from below.

Every tremor, echo, or sound that the people in the line—not very long, only about fifty or sixty—might’ve made was being completely absorbed by the formations on the ground. No ants were being drawn in.

Curiously, no one here seemed to be on foot—everyone was mounted on ostriches in varying shades of yellow and light orange. Their footsteps were insanely light, even for those carrying crates or multiple riders.

A mount specialized in soft footsteps. Probably highly resistant to heat and capable of traversing the desert with ease, given their coloration and the fact that everyone was using them. They weren’t bad-looking either—many even had armor.

I made a mental note to have Jinn ask Robyn if she wanted me to buy a pair or two of these ostrich eggs in case she wanted to breed them for sale, then headed toward the line, which was moving along. I suppressed my mana as much as possible.

I got more than a few looks when I stepped into the last place in line, probably because of my attire and the fact that I was on foot. I returned each and every gaze, and they all quickly looked away.

Everyone here was dressed for the sun—layers of white fabric covering nearly every inch of skin—many of them with temperature-regulating symbols painted onto the cloth.

The inscriptions weren’t great, not even decent, really, but the inks were of incredible quality. Was this city specialized in inks or something?... I wouldn’t complain if it was—new materials were always welcome.

I also noticed that many of the people here were reptilian Beaskins—mostly snakes and lizards. There was no shortage of slit yellow eyes staring at me, nor glimpses of scales beneath their robes, along with a few tails.

I was tempted to ask if they were Lizardmen or not, but that was probably rude.

While waiting for the line to move, I kept part of my attention on the whispered conversations around me as my gaze drifted to the colossal chain ahead.

The inside of the links was hollow, carved out, with what looked like an internal staircase spiraling all the way up to the city. A few guards stood at the entrance, checking each person before letting them begin what I was sure was a climb of tens of thousands of steps.

The good news was that everyone in this city must have had insanely strong leg muscles. The bad news was that their knees were probably completely shot before they even hit thirty—maybe before twenty-five.

A small missile shot through the air before exploding right in front of me. The smoke formed a miniature sandstorm, shaping itself into the words of a message:

[(MOD)GeniusBillionairePlayboy]It must be insanely easy to get rich in Terraria. Just invent elevators, patent them, and kick back at home… until some bullshit happens and your city gets attacked by some freakish abomination, but that’s part of the package. Seriously, my knees hurt just looking at this...(Emote of Iron Man screwing his knee back in place)

...Not a bad idea, to be honest.

I didn’t need money, but I could always design an elevator model and hand it over to Melissa or Dylan to patent for me. That would also help the poor souls with strong legs have at least thirty years of useful knee function.

When it was my turn in line, I was "greeted" by two guards—both men, clad in identical armor, their faces partially covered by cloth. They looked me up and down; I could feel the suspicion in their gazes, along with a hint of unease.

One of the guards stepped forward while the other remained still, though I noticed him signaling to the others. The one who spoke to me lowered his cloth mask just enough to reveal his mouth.

“A contractor? May I see your guild card?” His voice was respectful.

(“Who would’ve thought that wearing beach clothes in a desert would immediately mark you as a contractor?…”)

Ignoring my schizophrenia, I pulled out my guild card and handed it to him. The hesitation on his face lingered longer than the respect in his voice, which quickly turned neutral.

“Devas, bronze-ranked contractor,” the guard announced loudly, informing his companions, who relaxed significantly. “What brings you to Shahrabad? What’s the purpose of your visit?”

“Acquiring goods, tourism, and I’m running from that thing.” I thumbed toward the storm on the horizon. Even from this distance, the gray clouds were visible. “Figured I’d take my chances in the desert—I've always handled heat better than cold and rain anyway.” I shrugged.

The last traces of suspicion in the guards' eyes vanished after hearing my explanation, especially the part about handling heat better. The guard examined my card for a few more moments before handing it back.

“I see. Is this your first visit?” he asked. I nodded. “I’ll need you to sign some registration documents. You can keep them; they’ll just make it easier for you to exit and re-enter the city in the future.”

I skimmed through the documents the guard gave me. Simple stuff—name, age, gender, guild ranking, and a few other minor details, just a brief form. Nothing magical, either. I used Analyze: Item on the papers just to be sure.

As I filled them out, I asked, “You know, the entry security here is way stricter than in the kingdom. Did something happen to cause this? Or is it those damn ants?”

Not that the kingdom actually had entry security. I didn’t even have to sign anything when I first arrived.

“You must be from a remote village if you haven’t heard the news,” he said, as if it were obvious, ignoring the mention of the ants. “Shahrabad was the target of a terrorist attack a few years ago. The eastern chain was hit by a powerful explosive spell. It wasn’t enough to break it, but it did sustain damage. Since then, we’ve tightened security at all entry and exit points.”

“…I see.” I nodded slowly.

No need to fake surprise—I sucked at that, and I was genuinely caught off guard. I had expected all sorts of reasons—maybe something to do with the ants, the storm, or the influx of travelers—but terrorism? That was new…

I filed the information away for later and finished signing the papers. The guard took one of them and stored it in his Travel Space—his right earring—before handing the other back to me.

“Keep this. It'll make things easier for both of us,” he said seriously before signaling another guard. “My colleague here will take you to the marking room. I hope you enjoy your stay in Shahrabad.”

“Marking room?…” I asked while following the other guard. Damn, that sounded a bit ominous.

I was pretty sure my expression didn’t betray any concern, but the guard waved his left hand dismissively, as if telling me to relax, while opening the door.

“It’s nothing serious, just a temporary tattoo using ink,” he said, stepping inside. The room was small and well-lit, containing only a table, two chairs, and a covered glass basin filled with what looked like golden ink—almost glowing.

“This is something our government implemented after the attack. Everyone entering Shahrabad must be stamped. It’s nearly impossible to forge. The ink was handcrafted by our best Ink Masters.”

He continued explaining as he removed the basin’s cover. Then, he pulled what looked like a stamp from his Travel Space—an earring identical to the one the other guard had, probably standard issue.

The stamp bore the impression of an upside-down pyramid with a nine-pointed crown on top. If I had to guess, the pyramid symbolized the island, and the crown represented the government. The nine points likely corresponded to the nine chains.

“I assume I can’t enter the city without the stamp?” I asked. He shook his head.

“It’s standard procedure. The guards at the chain’s top will want to see the mark. Every shop in the city also asks for it.” He carefully dipped the stamp into the ink before turning to me. “Don’t worry, it’s not permanent. It can be easily removed with the counterformula.”

[AdvocateOfGenderEquality]This shit is just like Aqua’s crazy cult! Burn everything, now! Fire, turn it all to ashes, and let’s get out of here!(Emote of a generic guy running from cultists in aqua-blue robes)

I ignored Kazuma’s message and activated my mental mic.

(“How much you wanna bet this ink has some messed-up shit in it?”) I asked Ozma and the stream mentally.

(“I’m too old to fall for a bet like that. Of course, there’s something in it.”) He scoffed, completely unsurprised. (“You’re actually gonna let that thing touch your skin? Could be risky.”)

(“Less risky than the rain.”) I shot back before addressing the guard.

“Do I get to choose where the mark goes?”

“Yes, but as I mentioned, shops require you to show it when making a purchase. A place like the back of your hand or shoulder makes that easier… And no weird spots, please.” His voice turned almost pleading at the end.

“Do people have peculiar tastes?”

“I’d rather not think about it. Where do you want it?” He didn’t even try to hide how quickly he changed the subject. I extended my right hand, palm down.

“The back of my hand.”

He nodded, steadying my hand with one of his own while holding the stamp in the other.

The moment that damn thing touched my skin, I didn’t even need to use Analyze: Item.

Because the instant that shit made contact, my Shadowflame, my mana, my spiritual energy, my nightmare energy, and the Echo Humanitatis all reacted—aggressively.

The kind of aggression that screamed: eradicate the target with extreme prejudice.

... My body hadn’t even reacted this badly when I stood in the rain.

The ink didn’t last even a fraction of a fraction of a second on my skin before being incinerated by the Shadowflame. My energies surged through my body, hunting for any trace of what had touched me, in ridiculous harmony—like three hunting dogs after a rabbit.

For the first time since arriving in Terraria, my eyes glowed orange. My Aura flared to life on its own, the dozens of symbols, marks, and crimson veins within it glowing and swirling around me with ferocity.

The guard stared at my hand in shock, dropping the stamp. Before he could react, every shadow in the room darkened into pure pitch, and my Nightmares' eyes snapped open. The light dimmed.

I suppressed Shadowflame’s urge to incinerate the guard and the ink on the table—and moved.

Shadows covered my right hand, now filled with watching eyes. My arm blurred before the guard could blink. I grabbed his face, his newly terrified eyes meeting the ones in my palm.

“Hallucinate.”

His gaze went blank, unfocused.

I withdrew my hand and picked up the fallen stamp, setting it on the table. Taking a few steps back, I watched as the shadows calmed, my Nightmares' eyes fading, and my energies settled inside me.

I snapped my fingers. The guard’s eyes refocused, dazed and slightly terrified, like he’d just woken up from a nightmare.

“I… what? What happened?” he mumbled, looking around before locking eyes with me—without really looking at me. “You?… Did something happen?”

“You were explaining the stamp and the ink.” I pointed at the table, keeping my expression and tone as neutral as possible.

It was a good thing he was too disoriented to focus on me, because my poker face had shattered the moment I read one of the ingredients in that ink.

[Fragments of gray and white brain matter from a Cultist body, personally touched by 'The Brain.']

[...]---[...]

I ended up expanding this 'mini arc' in the desert a bit more because it was the best moment to include it. Devas will speed things up, don’t worry. The NPCs should appear in the next chapter.

Not many comments from me this time—I’m tired and stayed up really late. I haven’t even slept yet, actually. If you have any comments, feel free to leave them, and I’ll reply when I wake up later today.

Good Night and happy reading!

PS: Hallucinate.