Wonderful Insane World-Chapter 64: huge wall

Dylan swallowed hard, his gaze darting away, clinging to that blurred memory from the day before.

That nightmare... it hadn’t been just a dream. The shape the girl had taken in that world — that twisted reflection, that nightmare silhouette — it wasn’t nothing. But he didn’t have enough keys, enough bearings yet to connect the dots. Not yet.

And still... he should have seen it coming. Élisa had said it, damn it. Only her tribe lived in the area. So what the hell was a girl doing there, alone, calm, in the middle of one of the most unstable zones in this damn forest?

Even the three of them had nearly died there. Multiple times. And a kid? Seriously?

He swallowed again, feeling the weight crawl up his throat. A bitter taste of guilt. And total confusion.

Then he lifted his eyes. Slowly. And locked onto the ink-black orbs of the creature.

The Rivernyx stared back without blinking. No breath. No ripple. Just that unfathomable gaze, two black bubbles suspended in water, like the universe itself had forgotten to animate them.

She was there. Draped in rotting algae, in ancient silt, half-serpent, half-witch. Her green, glistening skin was marbled with violet veins that pulsed under a ghostly light. Flaccid fins, like dead wings, quivered at her sides. Her twisted arms clung to pieces of driftwood like bones, like relics from forgotten carcasses. And her hair, heavy and matted, still oozed swamp water and moss.

She didn’t look alive. Not really. More... persistent. A mistake no god had dared to correct. A myth left to slumber at the bottom of the lake, for everyone’s sake.

And she was staring at him.

Not with hate. Not even with curiosity.

No — with that deeply unsettling patience. The kind that makes you feel like you’re just a moment. A wingbeat. A drop in her ocean. She had time. All the time in the world.

Dylan felt his guts twist.

Then she spoke.

"I can feel her remnants inside you," she whispered. Soft. Low and chilling. Like a funeral song long forgotten.

"I can feel her remnants inside you," she repeated.

Dylan tensed. Every word of the Rivernyx rang like a lead bell in his skull.

Ondine tilted her head slightly. An algae strand slid down from her temple to the water.

"She told you to leave, didn’t she?" she continued, voice calm. Almost concerned.

He flinched. She was reading him. Like a soggy notebook.

"But it wasn’t to save you. Or to scare you off her land..." Ondine moved forward half a meter, soundless. Without a ripple. "It was so you wouldn’t see her follow you."

Silence crashed down like a bag over the head. Heavy. Suffocating.

"These things..." she went on, eyes still locked with his, "they don’t get attached. They cling... and they won’t let go until you’re completely broken."

Dylan took a step back, temples throbbing. Something twisted in his chest, a dark and clawing dread.

Ondine pressed on, relentless, pulling at every thread, making truth bubble up like rot.

"She marked you, yes. But more than that... she chose you."

Behind him, Maggie stirred slightly, a faint rustle, as if her instinct screamed to run — but her feet refused to move.

"She might still be here, you know," Ondine whispered, and this time her voice slid into the cave like a slow blade. "Lurking in your shadow. Or curled up in a fold of your mind. Waiting."

She closed her eyes for a moment. The water around her trembled gently, as if brushed by a thought.

"If she touched you, even briefly... then she knows you. She knows how you breathe. How you doubt. Where you’ll crack."

Then she opened her eyes.

"And one day, she’ll strike. Not to kill you. No. To make you become."

Silence returned. Thicker than ever.

Dylan, fists clenched, breath ragged, couldn’t tear his eyes from the black orbs.

He murmured, without realizing:

"Become... what?"

Ondine smiled. A thin, sad rictus. As if she’d known the answer all along.

"Her vessel."

"What do you mean, her vessel?" asked Maggie, frowning. She stared at Ondine, lost in a conversation she couldn’t follow. Then, struck by sudden awareness, she softened: "If... if I may ask?"

The Rivernyx didn’t react immediately. Just one slow flutter of her wilted fins. Her gaze drifted toward Maggie like fog, then returned to Dylan.

"The young human spoke of a girl," she finally said. Her voice floated in the air like silt rising. "But creatures like that don’t choose a host based on appearance. It’s about resonance. Inner space."

She tilted her head, her hair’s shadow brushing the water’s surface.

"Her power..." she let the word linger, like it had a bitter taste, "is likely too overwhelming for a juvenile body. The shell resists. It fights back. And then, the mind... cracks."

A pause. Heavy. Almost reverent.

"She’s looking for somewhere to settle. Something vaster. More... inhabited."

Her eyes slowly drifted to Maggie, then Dylan.

"Maybe she sensed in him a more fertile ground. Younger than me. Stronger than you. Not broken yet... but already cracked."

Dylan fought a wave of nausea.

Maggie stared at the creature, mouth slightly open. A cold shiver ran down her spine.

"But why him?" she whispered.

The Rivernyx smiled. A barely visible rictus, buried beneath her swampy face.

"Because he saw her. Or maybe... maybe she saw some strange potential in this young human’s body. I wouldn’t know — my thoughts aren’t as twisted as those unholy things." freёnovelkiss.com

Dylan took a sharp breath. His throat burned. He locked eyes with the Rivernyx, desperate.

"There’s... there’s no way to get rid of her? To stop this? To force her out?"

Silence dropped again, broken only by a skimming ghost-dragonfly.

Ondine stared. Long. Too long. As if the question itself was a mistake.

Then she spoke.

"No."

One word. Sharp. Final.

"Those entities don’t leave. They’re not exorcised. They don’t quit. They take."

She drifted forward again, just a touch, but her shape darkened.

"There’s only one way to stop the bond from growing. To break the tie."

A pause. Then, calmly:

"She must be killed."

The word fell like a stone into a bottomless well.

Maggie gagged. Dylan froze. As if his brain hadn’t yet registered.

Ondine continued:

"At the full moon, she’ll grow stronger. Her powers will surge. But she’ll also be... more vulnerable."

She lifted a clawed, webbed hand. Traced a slow circle in the air. An invisible moon.

"You have until then. After that, she won’t just be inside you. She will be you."

Dylan’s world tilted. His heartbeat slammed in his ears.

"So we... we have to kill her before that?" he stammered.

Ondine nodded slowly.

"Yes. But for that..."

She stared at him, grave. The water shivered around her.

"You must remember — you’re dealing with a fourth-rank creature."

Maggie’s eyes widened.

"A creature of that rank... But that’s—"

"—beyond your reach, for now," Ondine cut in. No mockery. Just truth.

She looked at each of them.

"You are weak. Young. And you still don’t understand what it means to bargain with the mud of the world."

She leaned in, just slightly. Her face, suddenly more human. And sadder.

"Then you must become stronger. Faster than you ever thought possible. Or simply accept your fate."