Someone once said that the question is not what you see, but whether what you see is harmful or not, and whether it will have a negative effect on other things. Pen ~ fun ~ pavilion www.biquge.info

The dripping blood and the wriggling pieces of flesh piled up together to give off a pungent stench, and the sight projected onto consciousness did indeed give a rather bad first impression. But if you think about it from this perspective, then no matter what the "flesh and blood world" that Frick sees now, although it is full of many scenes that people with common sense regard as strange, it is not very spiritually friendly.

If given enough time, he will not only be able to get used to the fleshy textures that emerge from the walls, but he will not be too touched even if his body becomes a part of them. At that time, he may be able to continue to live a "normal" life like an ordinary person.

Habit is a terrible thing, and even if this strange "ability" is really eating away at his spirit in an incomprehensible way, Frick no longer makes a fuss about what he sees - even he has become accustomed to treating it as part of "normal".

Given the circumstances he was in, the excuse that he had to rely on this unpleasant ability to escape from the enemy might have given him some comfort, but he was well aware that he was not sure how long the anomaly would last, and that he could not guarantee that he would be able to return to society normally after escaping.

With every step he took in this space, Frick could clearly hear the sound of his sanity crumbling, the unpleasant feeling that accompanied the headache pricked his nerves. The worst thing was that it seemed that as he continued to use this power, it corroded Frick's spirit more and more.

The Soldier said that he could not retain his original common sense after learning about the battlefield, while the Warlock said that if he delved too deeply into the "truth" of the world, he would lose his mind. Now it seems that after these two, even the simple work of organizing books has become extremely dangerous.

Of course, it is impossible for everyone's life to be so turbulent, otherwise it is very likely that most of the world's population will fall into madness - or die before they go mad. Frick had learned the world's unreasonableness, but he was curious about where the scenery he saw came from.

The Wizards claim to be exploring the truth of the world, but they probably haven't gone far enough to have to deal with such a scene every day. It's possible that Frick is working beyond what is supposed to be "safe" and into areas that were once considered taboo.

Before he knew it, he took another step forward, and the cold rocky ground gave him a soft touch at this time, and he even felt his feet fall. Frick, who had thought he had stepped on a mechanism and subconsciously looked at his feet, found that his feet were indeed in a cloud of dark red carrion, and a warm touch came from the soles of his feet, as if to prove that he was not false.

Could it be that his mental state has really deteriorated to the point where he can't even distinguish between reality and fantasy?

The warm, damp touch from under his feet made Frick sick, and even though he had forcibly pulled his foot out of the wound on the piece of carrion, the slimy touch still lingered on his foot. In a trance, he took a few more steps forward, but at some point the ground turned back to a hard stone slab.

He hadn't forgotten that he had also experienced the sensation of confusing reality with illusion in the past, but they were never once as real as they are now. Perhaps he had lost himself in the gap between the two, for he realized that these apparitions could affect reality.

Headaches were splitting, the side effects of using the abilities were getting worse, and the double wear and tear on both the mental and physical bodies made Frick feel quite exhausted. The mana that had barely recovered from his coma was completely insufficient to support the consumption, but in a moment he let out a fierce gasp.

His body seemed to be as heavy as it had been when he was sick, and his mind was heating up from receiving too much information, and Frick felt that his thoughts had slowed down and the world seemed to be clouded with a veil. This was a sign of a rapid depletion of mana in his body, and the magic control course he had received reminded him that he should immediately stop depleting too much mana, but he was indifferent to it.

The horizon flickered and flickered, and two very different landscapes flashed in Frick's mind irregularly, almost tearing his brain to pieces. The "birdcage" in his hand has become a good support now, barely keeping him from falling to his knees.

Eventually, the flickering image took on a staggered look in Frick's consciousness, but even so, it was not until a long time later that he could barely breathe, although his eyes were black for bursts due to the excessive consumption of energy, but the image sent directly to his consciousness was retained.

This result is actually completely different from what he originally envisioned - the power that Frick originally thought needed mana support would be disintegrated due to the consumption of his own mana, and at most some images would remain in his memory. But looking at it now, these images show no sign of wanting to dissipate, but rather these disparate scenes stacked on top of each other from different angles can make him more clearly what exists around him.

Frick forced himself to walk to a wall, then put his hand on it, trying to see if he could feel the unusual texture he had just done. Even though the ground had recently turned back to hard, cold slate, the walls around it still smelled of disgusting carrion.

He had initially felt like a chamber resembling the bottom of a well, but now it felt like the stomach or intestines of some kind of super-giant monster. Perhaps he should be glad that these were just hallucinations stimulated by that ability, otherwise he wouldn't be able to stand it if it was full of digested food.

But even if these are really just "phantoms", it would be fine...... He sighed and reached for his pink arms, but the heat emanating from them made him hesitate. Having confirmed that he was able to relate to these hallucinations, he was surprisingly cautious in his every move - he didn't know what his casual actions would lead to, so he had to give him as much time to react as he could.

But the moment Flick gently put his hand on the pulsating **, the tiny tentacles that grew from between his fingers suddenly wrapped around the pieces of flesh with the same texture as it. Looking at his monster-like body, he subconsciously shrank back, but unexpectedly, he pulled out a steaming mass of "something" from the pink piece of flesh, which extended with his dragging.

It was a tentacle that looked like part of the body of some kind of deep-sea mollusk, but had human-like muscle and fat structure. The lump of flesh protruded from the wall as Flick dragged it, causing him to shake his hand off it as if he had been electrocuted and ran back a few steps before he could barely calm down.

It is alive...... Frick didn't know why he thought the way he saw it, but even though he was disconnected from the tentacle thread, it continued to stretch. Soon after, the other side of the room was connected like a bridge.

Not only that, but the surrounding walls made a low noise, as if they had all woken up from their sleep because of the "tentacle" activity, and the squirming of the fleshy walls became more pronounced. A moment later, several more thick tentacles poked out of the wriggling walls around them, rapidly extending diagonally upward, and finally forming a path that seemed to spread upward.

"What the hell is this?"

Flick looked at the "ladders" that seemed to have been built and didn't know what to say for a while, he thought that his ability to interfere with illusions was surreal enough, but he didn't expect that the next series of unfolding would directly break through the limits of his common sense.

While it is unknown if "normal people" can see and touch the wrists that are connected to the walls, they are real things in Frick's senses. When he used common sense to climb upwards with the help of these irregular pieces of flesh, he found it unexpectedly relaxed.

Climbing up the tentacles should lead to the entrance to the chamber, but Frick wasn't sure if it was appropriate to do so. On the one hand, he is convincing himself that these are all illusions, but on the other hand, he has used them as if they were real objects, so that he does not know what to do.

Not long ago, he thought that being able to feel the ground under his feet was enough to reassure him, but he didn't expect this wooden staff to support his sanity to be ...... so quickly What made him even more laughable was that he still had to use such an unbelievable method to find an exit.

"What do you think you're doing? Probably only the scriveners who are active on the front lines will live on the cusp of this kind of situation, except for the people of the Observation Bureau. Looking at the flesh-colored wall in front of him that was still slowly squirming, he couldn't help but want to laugh at himself, "But since it's the path he chose, even if he knows that the Leviathan's stomach is in front of him, he will have to go down......"

So at this point, Frick is a little envious of some pragmatists who at least use all their resources regardless of their basis. Presumably, the more he knew, the more restrictions he had, and he knew very well that blindly relying on this ability would have troublesome consequences.

But if this continues, does he still have a choice?