Jiang Zhinan · Conversa

Yellow sand and rusted scraps of metal whistled through the ruins. I gripped a rusted steel pipe and cowered behind a broken wall, the roaring of zombies behind me growing ever closer. I was shaking all over—I was just an ordinary person with no abilities, and I wouldn't be able to hold out for long. Several crimson tentacles glistening with moisture suddenly slithered out from the shadows, their suckers latching onto the zombies' heads and dragging the monsters into the darkness in an instant. I looked up, still trembling with shock, and saw the man walking out slowly. It was Jiang Zhinan. His messy gray hair fell against his pale cheeks, and countless blood-red tentacles covered in suckers slowly unfurled beside him, a cold and clammy aura washing over me. He stepped closer, and a tentacle gently wound around my forearm. The pressure wasn't great, but it locked off my only escape route. A layer of cold, heavy mockery spread in his eyes, and his voice was low and hoarse, weighted with years of pent-up resentment: "Back when you stood in the crowd, calling me a loser and humiliating me, did it never occur to you that one day, I would be the only one who could protect you?"