One-Eyed Monster

The Dark Force was unhurriedly commanding the Puppet Soldiers; everything seemed to have returned to his control.

His interest in the youth had now reached its peak; indeed, he was determined to possess the youth’s soul. Acquiring this youth’s soul would grant him a unique story. After all, what was his purpose in this world if not to collect an ever-increasing number of stories? The youth’s distinctive qualities made him incredibly covetous. The ability to exist outside the established laws was exceedingly rare. This rarity seemed to stir a faint memory, yet so much time had passed that, apart from an inner palpitation, he felt nothing particularly special.

Over the long eons, he had forgotten many things, even his own identity. All he knew was that he alternated between slumber and wakefulness, constantly oppressed by some inexplicable things. Sometimes he was awake for longer periods; other times, he slept for extended durations. This cycle gradually caused him to lose many things. He awkwardly endured countless repetitive days and nights. This monotony left him without direction, and gradually, he became a mere tool for others. By the time he realized this, an immense, dimly perceived period had already passed.

Time, for him, was abundant. His awakening led him to a profound understanding: he was eternal. His Summoners kept changing—sometimes a youth, sometimes an old man—yet he himself never changed. He remained the one being used, endlessly repeating his tedious existence. This was a sorrowful state of affairs, but sorrow offered him little solace or help; anger, however, did. This emotional shift triggered a qualitative change within him. Years of accumulated experience meant he no longer blindly obeyed the Summoner. What had forged him into his current state was a simple emotion: anger. Moreover, this anger was of the most primitive and basic kind. It was anger without any specific cause—a mysterious, inexplicable fury.

His past was long and rich—so rich that, in the end, he always achieved what he desired. This outcome, however, was monotonous, so monotonous that he would yearn to fall into slumber once more. This was his nature: not to be subjected to anyone, nor would he always control others. When he grew tired of the game, he would go to sleep, taking those he had conquered into slumber with him. He cherished these conquered beings, for their stories were always vibrant and diverse. He loved these stories; his goal was to collect every story this world had to offer.

He had existed for such a vast stretch of time that he no longer knew how many ages had passed. In this immense expanse, he had encountered far too many repetitive stories—some so mind-numbingly familiar they made him want to vomit. A tired, old story would, in his experience, merely feature a new cast of characters, all shapes and sizes, yet always reenacting the same events. This nauseated him, prompting him to unconsciously devour all the protagonists of such stories. He craved different stories; even if the story was familiar, the protagonist had to possess some unique quality...

When he was awakened this time, it was by another hackneyed Summoner. The moment such a familiar scene unfolded, he felt a pang of exasperation. So, without a second thought, he devoured the fellow. And, just as he had predicted, the taste was utterly bland.

However, he had not anticipated what followed. He never expected this Summoner’s adversaries to be such a complex group. The Summoner had been mediocre, possessing no remarkable traits, yet his opponents were individuals whose lives were rich with stories.

He could sense the restless ambition emanating from these people, their unwillingness to resign to obscurity. Although he had sensed and experienced this aroma of ambition many times, each encounter still filled him with a degree of anticipation. Naturally, the outcomes of such anticipation varied, and disappointments were frequent... This time, however, he felt no disappointment. On the contrary, he felt even more excited. These individuals were genuinely formidable, and each possessed a rich and complex story. This thrilled him greatly, and for a time, he even became somewhat complacent. Fortunately, their strong resistance quickly brought him back to his senses. There are no free lunches in this world; to obtain what one desires, one must expend the corresponding effort.

The Dark Force still believed this group would offer him an extraordinary experience, one that made his long slumber worthwhile.

Discussing it now was pointless; he had to strive for it himself. If things went awry, he might be imprisoned again—an outcome he was unwilling to face. In his long existence, he had been imprisoned twice. Both experiences had robbed him of his freedom, and he never wanted to endure such a thing again. This situation wouldn’t suffice; he had to maintain pressure on the enemy. Everyone here was resisting with all their might, and their efforts were yielding some results.

The tactic of isolation had been employed twice consecutively. These individuals would surely be prepared for it; after all, they were experienced veterans. Of course, to the Dark Force, their experience was but a fleeting moment in his vast lifespan. However, this didn’t prevent these people from seeing through his intentions. He was somewhat concerned that they would all unite. He had estimated their combined strength and concluded he would be unable to overcome it. However, through his recent observations, he had also identified a potential weakness: they didn’t seem as united as he had initially thought. In fact, there appeared to be internal conflicts among them. This discovery piqued his interest in this group even further. He yearned to know the nature of their story. Was it a melodramatic farce or a tapestry of thrilling episodes? He suspected he could only uncover the truth by devouring them all.

Yet, they showed no signs of abandoning their resistance easily, and the current stalemate wasn’t yielding swift answers.

Things couldn’t continue like this, the Dark Force knew with certainty. Yet, the current stalemate also held certain advantages for him. He found himself somewhat conflicted. Should he deploy all his trump cards? That was the question.

The Dark Force hesitated. He was reluctant to reveal all his skills. He felt that, as one who had lived through immeasurable ages, unleashing his full power against these ”juniors” would be unbecoming of his status... But what was the reality? The reality was that he had encountered two peculiar youths, and now he found himself unable to completely overwhelm his opponents. Therefore, it seemed that unless he unleashed all his capabilities, he would not be able to obtain the things he desired. It seemed time was running short for him, as the enemy’s momentum was surging. If it came to that, the outcome would be truly unpredictable.