Reincarnated In a Cthulhu World And Everyone Is Obsessed With Me - Chapter 45

Chapter 45: Lies – There is only a thin line between genius and madness.

He was Limbo. Or rather, they were all Limbo.

Xia Mingyu managed to distinguish the passing of time by relying on his internal biological clock.

On the first day, Xia Mingyu killed the first Limbo and proceeded to finish the steak and red wine he had brought—this was Limbo No. 1.

The man he had seen at the arena (Limbo No. 0) complained with his usual flair while diligently cleaning up the scene, then blew Xia a kiss goodbye.

That night, Xia Mingyu killed Limbo No. 2, whom he considered the most mentally unstable thus far. The man knelt before Xia, begging for affection while cursing his own unworthiness, weeping with such intensity it was exhausting.

Xia Mingyu sat through the entire monologue without saying a word. To be honest, the emotional depth and delivery were top-tier. Finally, Limbo No. 2 grabbed Xia’s ankle beneath his velvet dress, trembling. “Please, just look at me…”

Xia Mingyu replied calmly, “I’m blind.”

Limbo No. 2 was devastated. To end the farce, Xia Mingyu had no choice but to act.

…

Limbo No. 3 was a woman. She seemed less interested in Xia, visiting only out of curiosity.

“I’ll tell Limbo to come clean this up,” she said in a low, husky voice. She clicked her tongue in dissatisfaction. “You’ve made a mess of my pearls.”

“Aren’t you Limbo?” Xia asked.

The woman laughed playfully. “I am.”

So, Limbo No. 3 could hold a normal conversation. Xia Mingyu asked, “Is Limbo an extremist cult?” It would make sense—fanatical belief, mysterious powers, and all followers using a single name to represent a collective consciousness.

“That’s quite rude,” she replied. “But I can tell you—it isn’t.”

…

Limbo No. 0 returned.

He hummed a tune as he tidied up the room and approached Xia. “Beauty, I need to change your bandages. Let’s not make it bloody this time, okay?”

The black velvet dress had a silver zipper running down the spine, the pull shaped like a delicate butterfly. Xia swept his hair forward, revealing the soaked red bandages beneath. The sight of his sharp shoulder blades and the horrific wounds was a tragic, staggering beauty—like the Venus de Milo.

The S-class constitution was terrifying; the puncture wounds were already beginning to knit together.

Limbo unwrapped the gauze. “Why didn’t you destroy Selena’s whip earlier?”

Xia Mingyu remained silent. His memory of the arena was a blurred haze. Why? He only knew that at that moment, he had been desperately “thirsty” for blood. Blood meant wounds, wounds meant pain, and pain meant life.

Limbo unfastened the pearl belt, slipped off the old dress, and replaced it with a new one—crimson.

A blood-colored beauty. The tassels sparkled like starlight; the skirt flowed like light-years. Xia stood up, the texture of his skin more refined than the velvet beneath his feet.

He smiled faintly. “Am I beautiful?” His voice was as soft as shifting sands, with a slight, sexy rasp.

A soul-stealing ghost, Limbo thought involuntarily.

Xia Mingyu walked toward Limbo, his chains clinking, until his face was inches away. His breath smelled of fresh, warm blood. “Since you like it so much, go ahead and dress this shell up however you please, okay?”

Only then did Limbo realize Xia was different from what he had imagined. Xia wasn’t just cold; he was a master of utilizing his own beauty. He analyzed the value of his “shell” like an external tool, detached and calculating.

It was a madness born of extreme lucidity.

Limbo’s breath hitched. Xia laughed softly. “Your heart rate is accelerating.”

Limbo No. 0 fled.

…

Limbo No. 4 arrived with a full sketching kit. He was polite and possessed a scholarly air. “Sir, may I draw a portrait of you?”

“Must I stay still?” Xia asked.

“As you wish.”

The only sound in the room was charcoal scratching against paper. To break the silence, Limbo No. 4 said, “I occasionally teach drawing in the Northern Ruin. Not many are interested, but I find satisfaction in the communication.”

“You don’t communicate with people often?” Xia caught the keyword.

Limbo No. 4 smiled. “Are you testing me, or trying to understand me?” He paused. “Though, they are essentially the same thing.”

“I am introverted,” Limbo continued. “People called me a freak before the apocalypse. They say all artists are madmen.”

“And you?”

“If having a fanatical love is madness, then I am.”

“Why did you choose me?” Xia asked the question he truly cared about.

Limbo No. 4 stopped his charcoal and sighed. “Because… you are an avatar of God. No… you are a god. Sir, even you do not understand your own preciousness.”

He flipped to a new page. “I will tell you anything you want to know. It is my highest respect.”

Xia got straight to the point. “How long do you intend to keep me here?”

“Keep you? No. It’s dangerous for you out there. Do you think Gustav would stand against Sea Amber for you? The suppressor is for your own safety; your mental landscape is a ruin. And as for being locked up… you did kill two Limbo bodies. But don’t feel guilty; they were just empty shells.”

Limbo continued, “There has only ever been one Limbo, sir.”

“An ability?” Xia asked. “Transmigration of souls?”

“No, I am not a Sentinel or a Guide.”

“Are you a monster?”

The pencil paused. “A monster? Perhaps. But like you, I was once human. I have simply broken the limits of the human body to reach the truth of art.”

When Limbo spoke of how he broke those limits, the words became a vacuum of static in Xia’s ears—a mental pollution rejection.

“Do you prefer men or women?” Limbo asked. “I can appear as whatever gender you like next time.”

“Neither,” Xia said flatly. “Preferably, don’t appear at all.”

Limbo shifted topics. “Have you seen monsters mating? They aren’t distinguished by gender. Gender is a lie invented by humans. Why should one gender be a ‘rib’ of another? Monsters are both male and female simultaneously. That is true equality.”

“So your videos…?”

“Just playing with a camera,” Limbo said. “The union of man and monster fits the public’s thirst for the bizarre. I love this disaster of an apocalypse. Because of it, my tiny soul caught a glimpse of the truth hidden behind the universe.”

Limbo put down his pencil, looking a bit lonely. “I love lies, and so do people. Lies are sweet.”

If Xia Mingyu could see, he would realize the drawing wasn’t a sketch of his face, but of the indestructible beauty he radiated. It was grotesque yet orderly—an “Art” Limbo had traded his humanity to the “True Lord” to obtain.