586. The First Chapter of the Book of Wrath

586. The First Chapter of the Book of Wrath

It was a simple Corrupted. Nothing about it seemed dangerous at all, even as a Main Sequence Corrupted according to Nav. However, what irked her was that Nav did not know the name of the tale of the Wrath Affinity.

“The presence within the Floor of Ego is reacting again. They’re telling me that it is something that must be discovered rather than revealed. Strange. They know more than I do even though I am supposedly an advanced AI. Even the Archivist would not have known the answer.”

Questioning their identity was no use until the day their Floor opened. Still, Frost’s curiosity didn’t die out easily as she pondered on how they knew this answer.

... We’ll never know anything until we keep collecting Main Sequence Corrupted.

Frost patted Deiman’s head to clear her mind as she listened intently to voice of the Corrupted.Cheêck out latest novels at novelhall.com

< “The choice is not made by the one who wears. That choice is made by apparel destined to define them.” >

I hate how cryptic they can be. But this one... somehow sticks to me more than I’m willing to admit.

Suddenly, a shriek interrupted the sermon.

There was one person in the crowd that had managed to retain their mind. A young girl tried to make herself as small as possible within the crowd, hiding amongst their shoulders but was easily found out by the cultists.

“L-Let me – go –! Brother! Snap out of it!”

She had been travelling with her brother in these desolate lands for a chance of a better life. They made a promise that if either one of them was chosen by the Mad Slippers then they’d help each other out.

But they were foolish. There was no such thing as a ticket to heaven – only to hell.

Her mind was intact, and she thrashed in the hands of the cultists who dragged her to the front of the crowd.

“B-Brother! BROTHER! Open your eyes! Open... them...?”

“Sister! It’s chose you!” A pair of familiar hands clasped onto her cheeks, squeezing them as the crazed eyes of her most trusted person drilled into hers. “You’ve been chosen! Look! Can’t you hear it!? It was always meant to be!”

< “The wearer becomes the worn unwillingly. It is fated. It is destiny. It is a fairytale of convenient theories.” >

Despair sunk its claws into her heart. Everyone had lost their minds. Noses bled and eyes were peeled like their eyelids were snipped off. Suddenly, the hands that held her began to squeeze tightly. At the same time, the hands of the maddened crowd clawed at her in envy.

“Is it you that it’s calling!?

“Die... die! DIE!”

“If you’re the one that wears it... then doesn’t that mean you’re a murder?”

“Evil... I see it now. It suits you perfectly. You’re disgusting!”

Envy?

No. What Frost witnessed could not be envy.

It was wrath.

Insurmountable wrath because of something the girl was unwillingly given to wear as if it was always meant to be. Frost’s skin crawled as she bit her bottom lip, her eyes burning with a similar hatred.

< “The burden of predefinitions overwhelming the small insignificant tale that will never be heard.” >

Because this Corrupted tapped into something that had always haunted her since the very beginning.

The girl was eventually brought up to the podium, her arms held by the many arms of the cultist. Tears tumbled down her face as she regretted her foolish optimism that brough her and her brother to a place like this.

Without warning, a sharp pain ran through her spine before it turned to a dull throb. All sensation in her legs disappeared as blood now trickled down her legs.

“Such a strong resonance. It will be a problem if you can run away.” The head of the cultist poked a knee with a walking stick as she was lifted till her toes hovered above the ground. “A severed spine is a small price to pay for the gift of destiny. Think of it as a prophecy fulfilled. Can you hear their cries of praise?”

Her face was pressed against the stone, inches away from the toes of the Corrupted slippers. There, before her eyes were the hundreds of faces that cried soundlessly within their eternal prison.

< “Thoughtful tales reflected on each face. Which one belongs to the wearer? Which ones are the tales of many?” >

“You traitor!”

“Whore!”

“Murderer!”

The names she called her were untrue. She had never committed any of these crimes. Yet being associated with the Corrupted caused them to unleash their fury towards her, and in turn, a flame ignited within the very depths of her heart.

< “Wrathful flame. Heavy steps. A shoe claps with each step, drowning the voice of its wearer.” >

Unwritten stories were plastered onto her regardless that she was just a normal girl seeking a chance to turn her life around. Fantasies of others, prejudices and lies became truths as her body began to crave the slippers, her mind slipping to its demands to wear them.

No. She was going to be worn by it.

< “Materialized wrath in red, displayed so crystal clear with the faces of accumulated anguish.” >

The countless roars of anguish disappeared all at once moments before the sound of something shattering snapped the Shells out of their trance momentarily. And with a roar that shattered the glass mosaics in the ceiling –

“– I WILL NOT BE TIED DOWN TO THOSE USELESS FAIRYTALES!”

– She eliminated the Unfair Tale, casting them away as she nearly crushed the head of the man still in her other hand. All that remained were embers, and, to her surprise, a crystal bullet.

“... This time... As Frost... As me. I plan to make my own story. They can think what they want about me. They make those tales fit me as conveniently as they wish. But in the end, it’ll all burn down and only mine will be left standing!”

< Unfair Tale has Successfully Been Subjugated >

< Stats of the Unfair Tale Gained >

< Adding Unfair Tale to Your Collection >

< It is the first Chapter in the Book of Wrath. Wrath is only a placeholder until we find out its true name >

Infinite Hatred

< A bullet forged by our unending wrath to break free from the bindings of fairytales >

ORIGIN : Object

AFFINITY : Wrath

TYPE : Tool

ATT : 500

< EFFECT: Infinite Hatred may only be used in firearms. Multiply damage by 5x per level of Emotional State. Ammunition automatically returns >

< SPECIAL EFFECT: When used by its rightful owner, multiply damage by 10x per level of Emotional State >

< ADDITIONAL SPECIAL EFFECT: When used in the presence of another wrathful shooter, double the final damage. Enemy RESIST becomes halved >

It was not particularly spectacular since this was only a Monsoon Corrupted.

Furthermore, it was convenient that she gained a bullet when she finally possessed a firearm.

But what surprised Frost enough to quench her flames were the special effects.

Because if she read it properly, then these conditions needed to be met by two people. But which one was she?

The rightful owner, or the wrathful shooter? Or perhaps...

... Was she neither of them?

In any case, the Unfair Tale was a Corrupted Object that swallowed the egos of those it wore, like how wrath and the burdens of the slipper could swallow one till nothing was left of them.

“Tch. It’s still a fresh wound, you know? The fact that I still don’t know what the fuck I really am, and they have the gall to decide that for me... Disorder. So I’m not the only one that feels this way... how reassuring. Don’t we all just want to be who we decide to be?”

Frost sighed before lifting the man. She threw his body onto the podium, his head hanging loosely off the edge which was pulled down with her strings. Any further and his head would rip right off.

“Now then – it’s time to get my answers before we head off to the Capital. Think carefully. You can either answer truthfully or be given a painless death. Or I can walk through into the depths of hell and turn you into something you’ll never come back from.”

< Do you wish to equip the Black Dahlia? >

< Yes | Use them as fertilizer >

< Wearing the Black Dahlia >

Suddenly, the brambles became thicker. Colorful flowers sprouted in place of the thorns as a giant, black dahlia blossomed behind the back of her head. It was like a giant hat, but if one looked closely, then they’d find rows of teeth hiding in wait behind those beautiful petals.

< Borrowing Active and Passive Skills of the Black Dahlia >

Her trousers were swiftly moved into her Dimensional Storage the moment they began to stretch, for her lower was replaced by dozens of thick, tendril-like roots. Like the many hands of the Greed Counter, she could feel and control every single one of them like fingers.

< The Black Dahlia has Successfully Been Equipped >

Suddenly, a blue flower appeared on the man’s head.

The blue represented lust.

After all, the colors of the petals were dyed by the sins of the flower’s victims.

All for the sake of blossoming into something beautiful.