Chapter 318: The Eternal Price

Hoffa was stunned when he saw little Barty crouching between two plants.

He had always assumed that little Barty had lost his mind after being exposed to the cold winds of Helheim, which led to his coma. He never expected that his soul had also been dragged into the underworld—arriving even earlier than himself.

"Bach... Mr. Bach,"

Little Barty rubbed his hands together and grinned. "We... hic... we meet again."

Not only was he giggling foolishly, but several empty liquor bottles were scattered around him. His face was flushed red, clearly indicating he had drunk too much.

"You can talk now?"

Hoffa waved his hand in front of little Barty's face, trying to assess his mental state. Just days ago, this guy had been lying delirious in Flash's arms, babbling nonsense.

"Haven't I hic always been able to talk?"

Little Barty looked puzzled at Hoffa before suddenly becoming ecstatic. "Mr. Bach, are you here to save me?"

"I suppose you could say that," Hoffa thought for a moment before agreeing insincerely. Denying it would seem distant, and admitting it wouldn't do any harm.

"Hic You're too kind! No one has ever been this kind to me!"

Drunken little Barty let out a loud hiccup and suddenly burst into tears. "When that person told me, I didn't believe it. Who would save someone like me? But you actually came… sob sob…"

He squatted on the ground, wiping away tears, crying inexplicably.

"You managed to cross the Bridge of Past in Helheim?" Hoffa looked at him suspiciously. He didn't believe little Barty had the mental strength to withstand the bridge's cruel, chilling winds.

"The Bridge of what hic?"

Little Barty lifted his tear-streaked face. "I just woke up and was brought here. That person told me to wait for you, but hic… I drank too much."

"So, you're the one who threw the rock?"

Hoffa raised the stone in his hand.

"Yes, that was me. My apologies, Mr. Bach… I was drunk, my aim was off," little Barty mumbled drunkenly.

Hoffa tossed the stone aside and kicked away the empty bottles at Barty's feet. "Who told you to wait for me?"

"I… I don't know. I haven't seen them many times..."

Little Barty shook his head dizzily, and as he did, his face suddenly fell off.

Yes, his entire face melted away like wax, dripping to the ground, turning into a swarm of wriggling worms. Hoffa was utterly shocked.

He stared, dumbfounded, at little Barty, who now had only half a head. In the space where his face had been, countless worms wriggled like the stitches on a ragdoll, revealing the transparent soul beneath.

From the marketplace, a ghost leaning behind a tavern cursed, "Don't fall apart here! As if there aren't enough damn worms already!"

With that, the ghost flew into the tavern, grabbed a broom, and brought it to life. The broom immediately began sweeping furiously across the ground. As it passed little Barty, it struck his leg hard. "Get back to the lower levels!"

Little Barty's body crumpled like a worn-out sack. His leg split open from the impact, and more worms spilled out, making Hoffa's scalp tingle.

"Time's up. No more drinking," little Barty muttered, exasperated.

"What the hell is going on with you?" Hoffa asked.

"This body is fake, a construct someone made for me. It barely lets me experience the sensations of the living. Without it, I wouldn't even be able to hold a rock."

Little Barty sighed. As the false body disintegrated, his intoxication faded. He lifted his bottle and tilted it over his head.

The liquor passed straight through his transparent spectral form, dripping into his body made of wriggling worms, then leaked out from his tattered throat—completely ineffective. He sighed and tossed the bottle away.

That was when Hoffa realized the difference between himself and little Barty. His own spirit was condensed enough to interact with objects like bottles and stones, whereas most of the ghosts floating around had no physical substance at all.

A shiver ran down his spine. "How long have you been here?"

A hint of confusion crossed little Barty's ghostly face. He counted on his fingers, mumbling for a while but failing to give a definite answer. Eventually, he scratched his head. "I never really counted. Feels like only a few days, but everything here seems so familiar, like I've been here forever. Mr. Bach, do you feel that way too?"

"I don't."

Hoffa's response was blunt.

Little Barty looked at him expectantly. "The one who gave me this body said that if I find you, you can take me back to the world of the living. Is that true? Can you really take me back?"

"Who exactly told you that?" Hoffa was puzzled.

"Just tell me—is it true or not?!" Little Barty stared at him desperately.

"...It should be true... probably."

Hoffa was uncertain.

Little Barty continued staring intently.

"Fine! It's true. I will take you out of here!" Hoffa waved impatiently. "But first, tell me who sent you to find me!"

"You'll know if you follow me!"

With confirmation, little Barty became energized. The remaining worms on his face trembled with excitement.

"Come on, Mr. Bach!"

Excitedly, he led Hoffa through the hollow body of the giant. As they ran, worms kept falling from his body, making for a nauseating sight.

Hoffa followed, frowning. He had no idea how long little Barty had been here, but he certainly seemed familiar with the place.

They ascended staircases resembling blood vessels, leaped over bubble-like structures shaped like platelets, and continued downward until they stopped in front of a tunnel resembling a massive intestine.

It was impossible to tell how large the entrance was—it was round, ancient-looking, and tattered, with holes and craters covering its surface. Strange, enormous worms crawled slowly through these holes.

"What are those?" Hoffa asked, feeling uneasy as he watched the creatures burrow in and out of the intestinal walls.

"I don't know. They're the only living things here."

Little Barty lifted his hand. It turned into a cluster of worms and fell to the ground. "They neither die nor decay."

Just then, an elevator emerged from the intestinal tunnel and stopped in front of them.

Ding!

The doors slid open, and a swarm of people rushed out. They were completely naked, their bodies intact, their faces filled with exhilaration and anticipation.

"So, how are you planning to die today?"

"The usual—drinking myself to death. Wonder how long this body will last this time. What about you?"

"I'm skipping the drinking. I thought of something new."

"Oh? What is it?"

"I'm going to take an acid bath."

"Pfft, been there, done that. Just pain and nothing else."

"Ah, but here's my twist—I'll wait until the very peak of pleasure… then jump straight into the acid pool."

Inside the elevator, a few people were engaged in a sensational conversation, laughing and joking as they walked further away. Hoffa stared in disbelief at their retreating figures. He could sense that these people weren't joking—they were speaking with absolute seriousness.

"Let's go, Mr. Bach," Little Barty said as he stepped into the elevator, his expression indifferent, as if he had seen it all before.

"What were they talking about?" Hoffa asked as he followed him in.

"Nothing important. Just casual chatter."

Little Barty pressed the lowest button on the elevator panel.

Whoosh! A rapid freefall began, even faster than Earth's gravitational pull. Not only was it faster, but the elevator also twisted and turned as if navigating through intestines.

Hoffa thought that if he still had a physical body, he would have already vomited from the centrifugal force. Fortunately, he had no body to worry about.

As the descent continued, the elevator suddenly shifted to horizontal movement.

The wind rushing through the intestinal crevices blew across Little Barty's body. Gradually, his body disintegrated into a mass of wriggling worms, which were then scattered by the wind into the abyssal mist, revealing his transparent, spectral form.

While speeding forward, Hoffa glimpsed another elevator traveling in the opposite direction. Inside sat another version of himself. But before he could react, the vision flickered and vanished. Startled, he crouched at the front of the rickety elevator, staring out into the mist.

Yet, it was merely an illusion. Outside the intestines, there was no second elevator—only massive, pancreas-like floating islands and towering, alveolus-like trees adorned with pink spheres.

"Mr. Bach, don't look around. There are too many strange things here," Little Barty said. "When I first arrived, I was terrified. But after spending some time here, I realized that if you stop thinking and ignore everything, it actually doesn't feel too bad."

"If it's not so bad, why do you want to go back?" Hoffa retorted.

"You'll find out soon enough."

As he spoke, the light gradually dimmed with their descent. The celestial phenomenon of the sun and moon shining together was obscured by mist and other organ-like structures. The elevator's speed also slowed down.

They arrived at what seemed to be the giant's bladder or pancreas. Compared to the bustling brightness of the upper body, this place was dark and eerie. The buildings leaned at odd angles, appearing blackened and decayed, making it impossible to discern their original shapes.

Ding-dong. The elevator reached the bottom.

As soon as the doors opened—

Bang!!

Half of a worm-infested head slammed onto the ground beside Hoffa, making him jump in shock.

On either side of the road, several men were furiously brawling in the dirt, their faces bruised and battered, limbs flying. Yet, they seemed utterly oblivious to their injuries, fighting tirelessly.

The ground was riddled with rotting pits, filled with worms of all shapes and sizes. Their heads emerged from the earth, swaying aimlessly like grass or shrubs.

As they moved forward, more and more people were engaged in these violent skirmishes. Some had been brutally slaughtered, their bodies cleaved apart. They lay sprawled among the crumbling buildings and writhing masses of worms—some missing limbs, others missing heads—yet still reveling in their ceaseless struggle.

"What are they doing? Do they hold some deep grudges against each other?" Hoffa asked.

"No, there's no conflict here," Little Barty replied.

"Then why are they fighting?"

"Because having a body is only temporary for them."

Little Barty's voice carried a trace of sorrow. "Time here has no end. Death doesn't exist. Change doesn't exist. Sensation doesn't exist. There's no taste, no touch, no pain, no smell—nothing at all. The only way people here can experience anything close to being alive is by having a body."

Nothing at all…

Hoffa pressed his lips together. For some reason, he suddenly recalled the mimic creature that Grindelwald had summoned into the real world. It, too, had been composed of countless wriggling worms. The moment it landed, it had been overwhelmed with uncontrollable excitement, even going so far as to eat dirt.

Is this the price of eternity?

He gazed at the frenzied fighters, a deep unease settling over him.

As they continued forward, the atmosphere grew increasingly surreal and grotesque.

On the shadowy pancreas island, the scenes became even more bizarre—a group of men gathered together, pleasuring themselves; a horde of women sprawled in the mud, eating dirt; children, reduced to only half their bodies, laughing as they tapped and pounded the ground with their remaining limbs.

Their eyes were hollow, devoid of anything but an infinite emptiness. It seemed only through the most extreme forms of stimulation could they feel a flicker of existence.

By the time they reached the lowest level of the pancreas, the brawling spirits had mostly disappeared. The ground was littered with half-human, half-worm remnants, discarded like broken toys. Slowly, these remnants reverted to their worm-like forms.

It was a wasteland of ruin, resembling a junkyard.

Enormous stone golems lumbered through the wreckage, using stone troughs to scoop up the lifeless remains and worms. Then, carrying the filled troughs, they silently passed through a massive iron door embedded in the ground.

"The person who sent me to find you is inside," Little Barty said, pointing at the door.

Hoffa didn't respond. At that moment, an intense premonition surged within him—a mixture of unease and excitement. His footsteps quickened, his breathing grew heavier.

Following the stone golems carrying their loads, one iron door after another opened before him. They entered a long, dimly lit underground corridor with an impossibly high ceiling. On the right side, a row of torches burned, emitting an eerie orange glow.

The anticipation and dread swelled within him, nearly overwhelming him. Across unknown planes of existence, he could feel his heart pounding wildly, convulsing with an unbearable intensity.

He stumbled forward in a desperate sprint.

The stone golems disappeared behind the deepest iron door of the corridor.

Hoffa rushed forward, but a towering, three-meter-tall suit of metal armor clanked into view, blocking his path.

"Hey, who are you? The Priestess's workplace is off-limits! Don't just barge in!" A metallic voice echoed from within the hollow helmet.

Little Barty looked confused. "Huh? Didn't that lady tell me to bring him here?"

"She told you to bring him here, but she never said he could see her. The Priestess is busy—she doesn't have time for just anyone! Now, scram!"

Before the metal guardian could finish, Hoffa had already bolted forward. It shouted anxiously behind him, "Hey! What's wrong with you!?"

Hoffa could no longer hear them. Since arriving, the overwhelming premonition had consumed him entirely. He knew exactly what awaited him ahead. He just knew.

That feeling pushed him to keep running, gasping for breath.

A massive iron door loomed before him, drawing closer and closer. Without hesitation, he hurled himself against it, forcing it open.

Boom.

The sight before him made his whole body freeze in place.

In the dimly lit underground chamber, faded, dust-covered carpets stretched across the floor. Once lavish and vibrant, they had lost their luster, though the golden embroidery still faintly shimmered through the decay.

On the carpet—

A transparent, silver-haired girl stood with her back to him.

She hovered in midair, facing a colossal cauldron twice the height of an average person, slowly moving her hands. Beside her, a massive stone golem mimicked her motions, stirring the cauldron with a stone rod.

(End of Chapter)

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