Unwritten Mythos

"Sigh..."

Enko let out a weary sigh as he watched the others eagerly open their chests, their excitement quickly turning into bargaining chaos.

One player, unable to contain himself, shouted, "It's purple! Fish-Man's heart! I'm selling it for 150 points, first come, first served!"

"150 points?" someone scoffed. "Brother, Ye Gong sold it for 95 last time. Now you're charging 150?"

"Take it or leave it," the seller snapped. "If you're not buying, then keep walking!"

Nearby, others hawked their wares. "Cough cough, blue rarity—enhanced vision! 30 points, negotiable."

"White rarity, consumable adrenaline, 5 points!"

Amidst the haggling, someone turned toward Ye Gong, who had been quietly listening. "What did you get this time, Ye Gong?"

He glanced over, casually tossing his answer, "Purple rarity, fish-scale skin, 75 points."

"Now that's more like it! Only Ye Gong's got a conscience!" one player remarked, their tone both envious and appreciative.

Meanwhile, Enko stood at the edge of the crowd, shaking his head at the frenzy around him. His own earnings were dismal—just 18 points in total. Eight from the Fish-Men he killed, and the fixed 10 points for surviving. It wasn't enough to buy anything worth having.

Unused abilities could be traded for points, but once activated, they lost all trade value. That was why players immediately began swapping rewards the moment the settlement was over. It was the only way to make their hard-earned loot worthwhile.

Enko took a deep breath and stepped into the marketplace. "White rarity, grenade—10 points."

Mihawk, hearing the offer, sauntered over, his smug grin widening. "Well, well, newbie, you're still alive. I'm impressed. I've got my eye on you."

Enko barely spared him a glance, turning his gaze to the side as if the interaction was beneath him.

Mihawk chuckled, unbothered. "Hey, no need for the cold shoulder. I'm actually here to help you out. How about I take that grenade off your hands?"

"Ten points," Enko repeated, initiating the transaction.

But Mihawk waved the offer away with an exaggerated laugh. "Ah, sorry. I've changed my mind. How about I give you... three points instead? After all, white rarity? That's garbage. You'll be lucky if anyone buys it at all."

Enko's jaw clenched, but he didn't say a word. Instead, he silently exited the game, vanishing from Mihawk's sight.

Mihawk's smile twisted into a sneer. "Stupid,"

...

[The next game will begin in a month.]

Stretching her back, Mei sighed, "This is too slow. At their current pace, it'll take centuries for anyone to accumulate 50,000 points."

She refocused, her thoughts swirling with possibilities. "Go ahead and continue your arrangements. When the game starts again, aim for a larger crowd. A hundred participants is far too few."

With a flick of her will, Mei departed the game space, slipping back into her crack space.

079, the creature she had summoned, intrigued her. Through it, Mei began to form a plan. "Creating a game world is certainly possible. There's no reason I can't fabricate an entirely different real world."

Yet there remained the mystery of the essential ingredient for 079. She mused, "The steps can't be too drastic. I first need to uncover the raw material that birthed 079. Or perhaps I should finish my current experiments. Once I've fully explored its potential, I will inevitably grasp the key ingredients."

As her thoughts wandered, her gaze fell upon the slumbering giant snake coiled in the corner of the room. It stirred uneasily, sensing her scrutiny.

"Come," Mei commanded softly, "it's time for you to eat."

...

A few days later, in another base of Kitsune, tension hung in the air as a group of shadowy figures gathered around a dimly lit table.

"So, they say you can't put all your eggs in one basket," someone muttered dryly. "One basket falls, but the other remains… How many A-level employees do we have left that are still useful?"

A voice from the far side of the room answered, "Cobra is dead. Spider is dead. Shadow is dead. Eyes of the Future is barely alive—his eye's blinded, and his ability's gone."

Silence settled heavily over the table. The weight of their losses was undeniable.

"Now, the only ones who can fight are Spiritualist and Gluttony."

"Can't we use 009-4 to create some new ability users?"

"009-4, the Candy Box…" another voice cut in, hesitant. "It's at the headquarters."

"Then send someone to retrieve it," snapped a voice, frustration crackling in the air.

"The headquarters is infested with 004. Our people can't get anywhere near it."

"Send the Spiritualist! He could get through."

A deep sigh followed. "The Spiritualist left, but he ran into 003 on the way. They're currently locked in battle."

...

Under the dim night sky, the Spiritualist, dressed in a windbreaker, moved like a blur through the streets. His single eye scanned the area, wary of every corner.

"Damn it, where did he go?" he muttered, frustration lacing his voice.

His gaze darted around, tense. "He can't be hiding. Just moments ago, I got hit—caught by a light from a mirror, and a wound opened on my neck. If I hadn't reacted quickly, I'd be dead by now."

The Spiritualist clutched at the wound that barely grazed his throat, his mind racing. "So, 003 attacks through reflected surfaces? Mirrors, glass… even a glint of light?"

"In theory, as long as I avoid anything reflective, I should be safe."

With that thought, he dashed into a corner of the street where no glass, mirrors, or polished surfaces could betray him. He pressed his back against the wall, his breath ragged, but steadying. For a moment, he believed he'd outsmarted his invisible assailant.

That was until a lone passerby approached, his footsteps echoing faintly in the quiet street. The Spiritualist stiffened, his one eye locking onto the man. Their eyes met.

Suddenly, the Spiritualist's heart froze. Reflected in the passerby's pupils was his own face—a human reflection in the most unsuspecting place.

Danger.

His thoughts raced. 'People's pupils can reflect too!'

"No, I'm fine. I'm in a state of nothingness. He can't hurt me when I like this. I'm invincible… yes, invincible…" he muttered to himself, desperately clinging to the belief in his incorporeal state.

Then came the strike.

'Poof!

A sharp, agonizing pain erupted in his neck. Blood sprayed into the air as he clutched his throat, his body convulsing.

"Aaahhh… how… how is this possible?" he gasped, his strength leaving him as he collapsed. "I'm… in a state of nothingness… nothingness…"

His words trailed off as his lifeless body crumpled to the ground, motionless.

Han stepped from the shadows, watching as the Spiritualist fell. His cold gaze remained fixed on the body. "Nothingness, huh?" he murmured softly. "But can you truly be non-existent in a reflection?"

Han's attack was a conceptual one, bypassing physical states. No matter how intangible the target believed themselves to be, if they were visible in any reflective surface—even something as small as a pupil—Han could strike them down.

A faint hiss escaped his lips as he knelt beside the Spiritualist's fallen form. A low, crackling sound reached his ears, and he noticed a communicator clutched in the dead man's hand. Han picked it up, holding it to his ear.

"Spiritualist, what's your status?" a voice crackled through the device.

Han smiled faintly, his tone playful as he replied, "Ah, he's a little injured. Where are you? I can help bring him over."

The voice on the other end grew suspicious. "Who… who are you?"

Han chuckled softly. "Just a benevolent soul passing by."

"Where is the Spiritualist? Put him on!"

Han glanced at the motionless body on the ground, a flicker of amusement in his eyes. "He's… in a coma."

There was a pause on the other end, then static. The communicator abruptly cut off. Han tapped it a few times, but the silence remained.

With a sigh, he tossed the device aside, looking down at the fallen Spiritualist. "Guess your backup isn't coming." He turned away, disappearing into the shadows once more.

...

In that base of Kitsune, a tense silence filled the room as the grim news settled among the remaining members.

"Spiritualist... I'm afraid he's dead," one of the agents said, his voice weighed with unease.

The leader's eyes widened. "What did you say?"

"The person on the other end, I think it was 003."

The room tensed further. "And how can you be so sure?" came the cautious reply.

"I can't confirm it for certain, but everything about this feels wrong. I can't shake the suspicion," the agent said, voice taut with dread. "Up until now, things have spiraled out of control."

"Do you still have a back-up plan?" asked another voice, the desperation palpable.

The leader sighed, their expression growing darker. "No, but what I'm suggesting now is our last resort. Up until this point, we may have no other choice but to let the GPA participate."

The room buzzed with confusion and disbelief. "The Global Paranormal Alliance? What can they do that we can't?"

"They may not be able to do much, but their arrival will draw attention. Monsters... are drawn to them," the leader said, rubbing their temples as if warding off an impending headache.

One of the strategists raised an eyebrow, suspicion creeping into his voice. "What are you suggesting? That we use them as bait?"

The leader leaned back in their chair, closing their eyes for a brief moment, weariness seeping into their words. "Exactly. Let them charge in headfirst, stirring up chaos. It'll buy us time, at the very least. As for me… I'm tired. I want to rest, if only for a moment."