RoleplayNovel Chapter 8 Hello, Skyline
Chapter 8 Hello, Skyline
Chen Mo's heart skipped a beat.
He gripped the sword hilt tightly and listened intently.
At first, I couldn't hear anything. The only sounds were the rushing of the river, the crackling of the campfire, and the wind.
Then he heard it.
There was movement in the grass.
It wasn't the wind—something was moving. The footsteps were light but hurried, and there was more than one.
Three directions: left, right, and directly in front.
Chen Mo's pupils suddenly contracted.
In the darkness, several pairs of eyes reflected the light of the campfire, glowing faintly.
Wolf.
Three wolves emerged from the darkness, their backs arched, teeth bared, and low growls rumbling in their throats. Their fur was grayish-brown, appearing rough and dirty in the firelight. The one in front was the largest, with high shoulder blades, drool dripping from its mouth, and its eyes fixed intently on Chen Mo.
Chen Mo's mind went blank for a moment.
This is not a game.
This isn't one of those NPC wolves on the screen, made up of a few textures and looping animations. This is a living, breathing, hungry beast that will kill him.
He could smell their stench. He could see the outline of their ribs rising and falling beneath their fur. He could hear the low growls coming from their throats, like stones rubbing against each other.
His heart felt like it was being gripped by a giant hand, pounding so hard it felt like it was about to explode.
Hold.
Benjamin did not hesitate.
He opened the spellbook, his finger tracing a page, his lips moving rapidly. An orange-red fireball materialized in his palm, whistling as it flew towards the wolf on his left—
boom.
A burst of fire erupted, and a wave of heat swept over them. The wolf didn't even have time to howl before it was engulfed by the fireball, its body flying through the air and crashing into a pine tree. The smell of burnt fur immediately filled the air. It twitched twice and then lay still.
The wolf on the right was startled by the sound of the fireball exploding and instinctively took two steps back, but hunger and instinct quickly overcame its fear. It growled, arched its back, and prepared to pounce.
Benjamin didn't have time to launch a second fireball.
He didn't have a staff—but he did have a spellbook so thick it could be used as a brick.
The old man picked up the large book with both hands and, like swinging a warhammer, hurled it at the wolf.
Fuck you!
A muffled thud.
The sound reminded Chen Mo of watching people smash cow bones with wooden mallets in the market when he was a child—a dull, cracking sound of heavy blows.
The copper corner of the spellbook struck the wolf squarely on the forehead.
The wolf let out a short, mournful howl, its body tumbled in the air, crashed to the ground, its limbs twitched a few times, and then lay still. A section of its skull was dented, and blood flowed from its nostrils, gleaming a dark red in the firelight.
Benjamin was panting heavily, his hands still gripping the book, poised to throw it. His white hair was disheveled in the firelight, and his grey robe was stained with wolf blood; he looked nothing like a learned scholar—more like a veteran just off the battlefield.
"There's one more!" he roared.
Chen Mo didn't hear it.
His entire attention was focused on the largest wolf directly in front of him.
The wolf did not run away.
When the fireball exploded, it only squinted for a moment; when its companion was crushed to death by the book, it didn't even turn its head. Its eyes remained fixed on Chen Mo, its amber pupils reflecting the campfire's light—cold, focused, and devoid of any fear.
Chen Mo's legs were trembling. He could feel his breathing becoming more and more rapid, and it felt like a heavy stone was pressing on his chest.
He tried to draw his sword, but his fingers suddenly became stiff and wouldn't obey him. He tried to step back, but his feet felt like they were nailed to the ground.
The wolf didn't wait for Chen Mo; it moved.
It didn't leap high and open its blood-red maw as Chen Mo had imagined—it simply took graceful steps forward. It seemed slow, but in reality, it was incredibly fast, each step perfectly timed with Chen Mo's heartbeat.
Chen Mo's heart skipped a beat, and his field of vision began to narrow—
Taking a deep breath, Chen Mo suddenly closed his eyes.
A moment can be very short or very long. Chen Mo didn't think about that much; he only had one thought left at that moment.
He must live!
Although coming to this messed-up world was not his choice.
But he can choose to face it all.
If he breaks down in front of the first wolf, how will he face the necromancer in the cave? How will he face this damned world?
Chen Mo opened his eyes.
The fear lingers. My hands are still trembling. My heart is still pounding.
But he gripped the hilt of his sword tightly.
The wolf sensed his change, its ears perked up, and its growl deepened. It slammed its hind legs into the ground, its entire body lunging towards Chen Mo's face like a gray arrow.
In that instant, time seemed to slow down.
Chen Mo saw the wolf's mouth open, revealing two rows of yellowed fangs. He saw the claws on its front paws curved like small knives. He saw the grayish-white fur on its belly gleam in the firelight.
He turned to the side.
The body started moving on its own. Perhaps it was the result of the enhanced vitality after the upgrade, perhaps it was the remaining fighting instinct of this body, or perhaps it was because the body finally took control after the fear reached its peak.
The wolf brushed past his ear, bringing with it a stench.
He brandished his sword.
A perfectly timed draw slash.
In reality, he had no time to adjust his posture; he simply instinctively swung the sword from his waist like a stick.
The sword blade struck the wolf's side.
There were no flashy combat effects like in games, no slow motion, no screen shake. There was only a dull thud, the sensation of the blade slicing through fur and muscle traveled along the hilt to the palm, followed by the feeling of scalding liquid splashing onto the hand.
The wolf let out a sharp howl, lost its balance, and fell to the ground. But it did not die—the blade had not struck a vital spot, but had only cut a gash, from which blood gushed out, gleaming a dark red in the firelight.
It struggled to its feet, baring its teeth, still trying to fight back.
Chen Mo did not give it a chance.
He rushed forward, gripped the sword with both hands, and thrust it down with all his might.
The blade pierced the wolf's neck, went through its throat, and embedded itself in the soil.
The wolf's body convulsed violently, then slowly went limp. Its eyes remained open, the amber pupils reflecting the light of the campfire, but that light was gradually dying down.
Finally, it stopped moving.
Chen Mo knelt on the ground, his hands still gripping the sword hilt, panting heavily.
The stench of blood filled his nostrils, a warm, rusty smell. His hands were covered in blood—wolf blood, sticky and dripping from between his fingers. The sensation made his stomach churn; he almost vomited.
But he held back.
He looked at his hands.
Hands stained with blood. Not those pixelated red textures from a game, but real, warm blood, smelling of rust.
He killed a wolf.
In the game, he had slain countless wolves. He hacked at them with swords, shot them with arrows, and blasted them with magic—never hesitating, never fearing. Because it was just a game, just data, just some code that refreshed, respawned, and never truly existed.
But this is not a game.
This wolf is real. Its blood is warm. There used to be light in its eyes, but now that light is gone.
Chen Mo knelt there, looking at his hands, and suddenly didn't know what to think.
"There shouldn't be any danger now," Benjamin's voice came from behind.
Chen Mo nodded.
He slowly stood up and pulled the sword from the wolf's carcass. The blood on the blade gleamed dark red in the firelight. He wiped it with the wolf's fur and sheathed it again.
Then he looked up.
Two moons hung side by side in the sky.
One large and one small. One gold and one silver.
The larger moon is golden, like a gold coin hanging in the night sky, its light warm and deep. The smaller moon is silver, hanging coldly beside the golden moon, like a silent tear.
Chen Mo agreed to them.
Mather and Sekunda.
Two satellites of Nirn. He looked up at them countless times in the game, but it was always just "looking" at them—a few textures, a bit of atmosphere, he never gave them a second glance.
At that moment, the real moonlight fell upon him.
Silver and gold intertwined, cool and bright. They illuminated his blood-stained hands, the three wolf carcasses on the ground, Benjamin's gray hair, and the blood-stained spellbook.
Chen Mo stood by the campfire, under the twin moons, in the wilderness of Skyrim Province.
He is still alive.
The fear was still there, but it was no longer the overwhelming weight that crushed him—it was the ground beneath his feet. He stood on it, feeling its solidity.
He took a deep breath.
The air on the horizon was cold and clear, carrying a mixture of pine needles, campfire, and the stench of blood. The smell was unpleasant, but it belonged to this world. It belonged to the world he stood in at that moment.
"Hello, Skyline."
He said softly.
The sound was very soft and was carried away by the wind.
Above, Mather and Sequinda silently shone upon the earth.