Hyper-Dimensional Player

Abandoned temple.

Duncan, emaciated and skeletal, sat in the corner of the dilapidated temple. Suddenly, a small, dirty hand reached out. The owner of the hand was a boy about twelve or thirteen, covered in mud. He glanced at the gaunt Duncan with pitiful eyes and whispered, "Are you hungry? I have something to eat."

A little beggar boy, just fled back from the north, his family all dead, leaving only him. He was called Lai Bao'Er.

Seeing Duncan didn't answer, he took it upon himself to retrieve a half-piece of dirt-colored lump from his tattered clothes, its surface smeared with mud and his own grime. He furtively offered it, saying, "Hurry up and eat before someone else snatches it."

"You look like you're starving."

As he spoke of starvation, there was a hint of sorrow in Lai Bao'Er's voice.

The autumn wind was bleak, the night breeze sharp as a knife.

Chill to the bone.

Duncan slowly turned to look at the half-grown child, raising bony hands, fingers like white bones, covered with dirt under the nails. He took the dirt-colored lump, not knowing what it was, only knowing it could stave off hunger.

In the human realm, renounced status, traversing half a year.

A great murderous intent surged within Duncan, yet he broke into a smile because of that half-piece of dirt-colored lump. It was as if a bony skeleton smiled, his shriveled face wrinkling into a knot. The half-grown child recoiled in fright, staring at him as if he had seen a demon from Purgatory.

"Why give me food?" A hoarse voice echoed.

After three months of silence, Duncan's throat had become parched and raspy.

The boy known as Lai Bao'Er widened his eyes in surprise, "So you can talk after all."

Duncan's raspy voice spoke again, "Why give me food?"

Upon hearing this, Lai Bao'Er rolled his eyes, saying, "Nonsense, you're almost dead from hunger."

"I had a big meal the day before yesterday."

"A couple of days without food is nothing."

The surface of the yellow lump was smeared with mud and grime, having been hidden who-knows-how-long. It seemed like something pressed out of a slop bucket, still showing traces of grease when pried open. It was certainly not leftovers from ordinary families. Lai Bao'Er, being small in stature, could sneak through dog holes and get into the back kitchens of the powerful and wealthy.

It didn't even qualify as cold leftovers; pigs and dogs had left it behind. Lai Bao'Er had sneaked a bit from the trough meant for beasts.

The night fell again with wind and rain.

Duncan reached out and grabbed his arm, and a gust of wind lifted his tattered clothes, revealing a wound on his leg, festering and oozing, a bite from a vicious dog.

A trace of compassion arose.

Duncan held the half-piece of yellow-clay lump in silence, his ghostly eyes, like ghost fire, fixed on the half-grown child before him.

The wind and rain were bleak, penetrating to the marrow.

This ruined temple couldn't shelter from anything; this world was worse than a ruined temple.

Lai Bao'Er shrank to the corner in fear, looking into those eyes like ghostly fire, his expression fearful, cautiously saying, "Are you already dead from hunger? Become the fierce ghost they speak of?"

"If you turn into an evil ghost, don't harm me."

"I even tried to help you."

Duncan held the lump of slop, shaking his head slowly, calmly saying, "I am not an evil ghost, but I am sitting in deadlock."

Vitality exhausted, like a fierce ghost.

Comprehension between life and death is to sit in deadlock; Duncan had already seen through human desires to procreate, and now he sought to see through the desires of life and death.

For the past half year.

He roamed the world, slept on bones in troubled sleep, chest full of killing intent, listening to the cries and wails of the world's common people.

Breaking the barrier of life and death is not so easily achieved.

Duncan, though death accompanied him like the wind, was essentially indestructible in essence. Even if he died, it was merely the death of a human form.

Thus, his barrier of life and death could only be seen through the life and death of all living things.

The half-grown child didn't understand at all, but he was still afraid. Limping, he walked out of the broken temple, not daring to stay. Before leaving, he glanced back at the ghost-like Duncan, gulping nervously, and whispered, "If you're not a ghost, eat something first."

"Don't starve to death."

"Tomorrow, if I steal some food, I'll share a bit with you again."

Kindness!

Great kindness!

This child is fated with me!

Duncan smiled faintly, like a white-bone guardian in a boiling sea of blood, the hint of red in his eerie eyes frightening the half-grown child into staggering steps. Outside, the night was cold with wind and rain. The child found a big tree to hide under, waiting for dawn.

In any case, he dared not return; Duncan's appearance was too frightening, his whole being like a skeleton wrapped in skin, resembling a mummy.

The east rose a red sun.

The setting sun like blood.

The morning glow on the horizon bore a tinge of eerie red, as if signifying ominousness.

Lai Bao'Er shivered awake, soaked with dew, feeling dizzy and weak, and looked down at his leg wound now oozing pus and blood.

The vicious dog had bitten him, and he couldn't treat the injury, only haphazardly bandaging it. The wound began festering after festering for too long.

"If this leg becomes crippled."

"I fear I won't last much longer."

The tender youth smiled ruefully, muttering, "I should have spent the night in that temple after all. Would he really eat me?"

If death comes, so be it.

This world holds no more meaning living, dying just means reuniting with his parents.

His parents still waited for him to come home.

Lai Bao'Er struggled to stand, for he wouldn't easily concede life and death until the end. His life was exchanged by the lives of his parents and siblings; they hoped he could live on, so he would strive to live until the final moment.