I Forged the Myth of the Ancient Overlords
Chapter 779 - 779 778. Get used to it_1

Chapter 779: 778. Get used to it_1 Chapter 779: 778. Get used to it_1 “Damn, huh, why did I say damn? I feel like I just said it before.”

Old Eggplant took off his helmet, the feeling of having been crushed to death by a dump truck still resonating in his body. He got up, hastily grabbed his cellphone, and tapped on someone’s avatar in a group chat.

[Old Eggplant]: Were you just sacrificed too?

[Zhou Changqing]: Too? Was that you screaming at the door just now?

[Old Eggplant]: I wasn’t screaming, I was trying to save you!

[Zhou Changqing]: Well, thank you for that, but it really hurt.

[Old Eggplant]: It’s always painful the first time, you’ll get used to it.

[Zhou Changqing]: ???

[Old Eggplant]: Never mind, the next time you enter the game, they won’t grab you for a sacrifice again. The bodies we use in this instance aren’t human, so it seems we can’t be sacrificed to those monsters.

[Zhou Changqing]: So, this is still an MMO instance?

The two quickly shared some of their experiences.

Zhou Changqing and Old Eggplant’s experiences were similar—they appeared near a field and were then caught by passersby and taken to the church to be prepared as sacrifices.

Old Eggplant informed him about the issue with the passage of time, and Zhou Changqing slapped his thigh.

[Zhou Changqing]: Then we should re-enter the game immediately, otherwise they will definitely find other people to sacrifice. If a key character gets caught, we might never be able to clear the instance!

[Old Eggplant]: Maybe when the instance ends, we could start over again in this city?

Old Eggplant thought of some online game settings where, although the in-game time synchronized with reality, it was only on a weekly basis. At the start of a new week, all monsters, instances, and quests would reset, allowing players to continue challenging even if they hadn’t succeeded the previous week.

[Zhou Changqing]: We can’t bet on that possibility. Previous instances all started from scratch, and this time, the instance time is synchronized, which definitely indicates a problem. It’s like with Night Country—we haven’t re-entered Night Country, so I’m inclined to believe this is irreversible.

Seeing his analysis, Old Eggplant felt he made a lot of sense.

So the two agreed on a meeting place and entered the game at the same time.

However this time, Old Eggplant did not reappear near that grassy area but on a main street instead.

The street was deserted and eerily silent.

He looked around, but saw no cars passing by.

“Did I resurrect here because I died a different way or at a different place this time?”

Old Eggplant wondered.

Many games have such a setting where players would not resurrect at the exact spot of death but at the nearest save point, to prevent unlucky players from being corpse-camped by monsters.

He remembered his arrangement with Zhou Changqing, glanced at the street, and suddenly realized he had no idea how to get to that field.

“There’s not a single person on the streets, and it’s not even late. What happened to all the citizens?”

Old Eggplant walked along the street, trying to find that church he had seen earlier, but Miskatonic clearly had more than one church. He had just seen a spire-topped building and ran towards it, only to find it wasn’t the one he started at.

The doors of this church were tightly shut, yet the inside was brightly lit. It was unclear whether the illumination came from candlelight or incandescent bulbs, but the light shined through the stained glass, giving it a sanctified feel.

The stained glass depicted the scene of Virgin Mary giving birth to the Holy Child, which should have been solemn and sacred.

But on closer inspection, Old Eggplant noticed that the Virgin Mary’s face was filled with a sinister quality, her eyes and brows not kind but seductive and charming. The infant she gave birth to was not Jehovah, the savior of mankind, but a writhing tentacled monster. Under the flickering light, the stained glass scene seemed so lifelike, as if it were about to crawl out of the glass into reality.

He felt a chill on his scalp and listened closely. From inside the church, there came some chanting sounds.

The prayers were not from the Bible but incomprehensible murmurs praising some great, nameless entities from the far reaches of space.

Old Eggplant knocked on the door, and the sounds inside abruptly stopped.

Although he couldn’t see what was happening inside the door, [Old Eggplant] felt as if he could vividly imagine the faithful who had been praying devoutly in the church suddenly turning their heads in unison toward the entrance.

There was a moment of cowardice, but [Old Eggplant] still mustered up the courage to wait.

After all, if he died, he would just start over. Who was he afraid of?

A moment later, footsteps were heard at the door. The other party didn’t open the door, but spoke from behind it.

“Who’s there?”

“I’d like to ask, where can I find a grassy area and a parking lot nearby?”

[Old Eggplant] thought it was pretty good that he could communicate with these people, and without caring whether the other person was polite, he asked.

“Are you an outsider?”

The other party didn’t respond but instead asked a question in return.

“More or less?”

[Old Eggplant] wasn’t sure if he qualified, but after thinking about it, he definitely couldn’t say he was a local.

“Outsider, leave, leave now.”

The other person responded with that sentence and then there was silence again.

[Old Eggplant] knocked on the door again.

But there was no response anymore.

He frowned slightly, having gained no useful information, only feeling the rejection of outsiders here.

He continued along the street and saw that although the rolling shutter door of a shop was down, it seemed like the lights were still on.

“Maybe those in the church are followers of some unknown Evil God, and they have deep malice toward us, but perhaps the common people in the city might be a bit nicer.”

[Old Eggplant] thought to himself as he came to the entrance of that shop. He heard sounds coming from inside, and upon listening carefully, it sounded like a sewing machine or a similar kind of machinery being operated by hand.

He knocked on the door.

Bang, bang, bang—

The sound of the rolling shutter was loud. [Old Eggplant] heard the continuous noise inside come to a sudden halt, followed by a voice.

“Who is it?”

It was a gentle female voice that, just from the sound, allowed [Old Eggplant] to conjure up an image of a young girl speaking to him from behind the rolling shutter.

He repeated the question he had asked earlier, and the person on the other side went silent for a moment.

“Are you an outsider?”

Upon hearing this, [Old Eggplant] was taken aback and found it somewhat amusing.

This felt like conversing in a game where the NPC only had one or two programmed responses. It was normal in a game, but once it happened in reality, it seemed a bit funny.

“No, I’m just lost.”

[Old Eggplant] made up a lie, and with his authentic New England accent that came with the game, the other person, having not seen him, wouldn’t have a problem with a little lie.

“Really?”

The other side seemed to ponder for a short while, and then the shutter door was lifted slightly.

[Old Eggplant] saw, in the light, a shadow cast by the other person.

In the shadow, countless tentacles spread out.