Rise of the Lustful Evil Monarch (Re)-Chapter 491: Multitude Of Hands Pulls Him Into The Unknown
Third Person’s POV
The headache struck again, and it was sharper than before as he tried to remember who he was and how he ended up in this situation.
He tried to grasp at fragments of his memory, look for some faces or names in his memory, but to his horror, he could find nothing.
He felt as if he had no name, no past, and no sense of self.
Amid the splitting headache and the endless sensation of falling through the dark, Ethan’s thoughts slowly dissolved into confusion and quiet despair.
The darkness felt infinite as it pressed against his body and senses from all sides.
With every passing moment, his awareness grew duller, and his mind slipped further into disillusionment.
Then, suddenly, a wet splash echoed faintly around him.
The impact jolted his body, and the sharp shock of it made his muddled thoughts clear just enough for him to register a new sensation, with it being an overwhelming, burning thirst that started to claw at his throat.
Instinctively, he tried to find water to quench that burning thirst.
His hands started to move blindly through the darkness, and his fingers suddenly brushed against something cold and slick.
A moment later, realisation struck him, and a small surge of relief followed as he realised that he had fallen into a pool.
Slowly, he also started to see his surroundings and even though it was still very dim and dark, he became dimly aware of his surroundings.
With his newfound eyesight, he found that the pool’s surface was very smooth and was totally dark in colour, like liquid shadow.
But despite his weight, he did not sink.
Instead, his body strangely floated, as though the water itself refused to let him drown.
Above him, he saw jagged black rocks hanging by being suspended like massive stalactites with their sharp edges barely visible against the darkness.
The cavern seemed to stretch endlessly in all directions, its walls swallowed by shadow, making it impossible to tell where it truly began or ended.
The air was damp and heavy and carried a faint, stale smell that clung to his lungs.
It was then he realised he was inside a vast, gloomy cave, one that felt ancient and lifeless, with the black pool forming its silent, oppressive heart.
But he did not have the luxury to dwell on it, as the thirst consuming him was unreal and far stronger than anything he had ever felt before.
It demanded his full attention and drowned out every other thought.
Without hesitation, he cupped his hands and scooped the dark water toward his lips.
He drank, or at least, he tried to, but to his confusion and growing unease, no matter how many times he brought the water to his mouth, his throat remained dry.
The liquid simply slipped through his grasp, leaving behind only the sensation of cold on his skin.
Again and again, he tried, though slowly, desperation was creeping into his movements.
Slowly, a small but unsettling feeling of dismay began to bloom in his chest that was inevitably followed closely by a creeping fear.
Those emotions sank deep and darkened his already fragile state of mind even further.
His breathing grew uneven as panic started to take hold and tightened its grip around his thoughts but before he could react or think clearly, something cold wrapped around his arm.
The sudden contact sent a jolt of terror through him.
He turned sharply with his heart pounding like a loud drum, only to see a thin, decaying hand emerging from the black water.
Its skin was dark and shrivelled, was stretched tightly over its dark bone, and carried a foul, rotting stench that made his stomach churn.
The hand clenched his arm with unnatural strength and began to pull him downward.
The force was simply immense.
Ethan struggled instinctively as his body reacted before his mind could catch up, but the pull did not weaken.
As he fought to stay afloat, another sensation made his blood run cold.
It was a second hand, carrying the same slimy, bony texture and just as icy, wrapped itself tightly around his ankle.
The combined grip dragged him lower, with the foul chilly black water rapidly closing in around his body.
Finally, panic fully overwhelmed him then and he started to thrash wildly, struggling like an ordinary man caught in a nightmare.
There was no surge of power and no hidden strength inside his body rising to his aid.
He felt no magic and no superhuman force within him but only fear and exhaustion, and in that moment, he was simply a helpless person fighting against the dark.
Worse still, his mind felt empty as he did not even know who he was.
There were no memories to cling to, no recollection of abilities or strength he might once have possessed.
And without even the knowledge of himself, there was no hope of remembering any power that could save him.
He continued to struggle, but his movements grew weaker and more desperate with every passing second.
And to add to his rising horror, more decayed and rotting hands began to appear around him.
One after another, they emerged silently from the black water, as if something had sensed prey at last—prey that had wandered into their rotten and barren realm after countless unknown aeons of emptiness.
The water around him rippled unnaturally as those hands surfaced, each one of them being thin, twisted, and slick with decay.
Within a mere span of four or five seconds, nearly twenty to thirty rotten hands had latched onto him.
They gripped various parts of his body with slimy, unyielding palms and their bony black fingers digging into his skin through the filthy black water.
The cold pressure of their grasp sent waves of dread through him as they pulled him downward with relentless force, their strength far exceeding what their withered forms should have possessed.
Ethan thrashed and struggled wildly, his limbs flailing in blind panic, but there was no end in sight to his resistance.
