Famine 118: Abyss Encampment

The vanguard sent to gather information happened to be Wang Jianguo. At the first stroke of his pen, he drew in a sharp breath.
For elite players, this kind of abnormality that “grows from within” was the most terrifying. Far harder to deal with than a merely powerful, external threat.
Especially for someone like Wang Jianguo, who specialized in external martial arts.

No matter how strong you were, could you tear open your own flesh?

The only way was to keep in step with the anomaly and search for its counter. If you failed, death awaited you.

“Our brother—although he had some quirks—was a rare, intellectually inclined puzzle-solver. He was always prudent and self-restrained, yet he fell there…”

Qiu Hong shook his head.

“In any case, after that, we never attempted to descend into the Abyss again.”

“If you do go down, you could try to find him. His surname is Shen, and he wears glasses. Even though his rope broke, he might not be dead yet.” Though he said this, it was clear Qiu Hong held little hope.

“Absolutely,” Wang Jianguo replied, feeling a pang as he left.

In the minds of ordinary players, the Abyss was the very portal to hell.
If anyone were to send an expedition below, they would have to be far stronger than even a half-step Chosen One.

As the team leader, Anderson brought up another matter: “How to reach the bottom of the Abyss is itself a crucial problem.”
“If you rely on climbing rope to rappel the cliff, your very life is bound to the rope—it’s far too dangerous.”

“My phase ability allows me to ‘fly’ by repeatedly teleporting. It’s functional for a few minutes of combat, but maintaining this to support a team over a long descent… I doubt I could sustain it.”

It wasn’t just Anderson.
Among all current players, true “flight” was an extremely rare ability—whether by tool or enhancement. Anderson’s capacity to offer fleeting, pseudo-flight to others was already exceptional.

Much like warmth-resistance, it seemed the Main God intentionally controlled the appearance rate of flight abilities: not only were they rare, but every instance came with harsh limitations—massive energy costs or extreme time limits.

Simply put, ordinary players could not be sent into the Abyss.

They needed people with immense power, flight capabilities, resistance to internal injury, some night vision, and means to handle the darkness…
Such candidates…

Si Zhiyan fell into thoughtful silence.

Bang!

In the lounge belowground, Nidhogg kicked open the frosty drink shop’s door and lounged raucously on the waiting-room sofa.

“So, boss, what’s up? Need me?”

Si Zhiyan sized him up—Nidhogg had just returned from the water park, droplets still clinging to his hair, clad only in swim trunks showing off his taut, bronzed muscles, water running down his abs. He paid it no mind, shaking himself like a beast, tossing his head back, and—with no restraint—grabbed a tart from the table and devoured it.

A beast at ease—a happy, hungry dragon.

Si Zhiyan, who had witnessed Nidhogg’s focus at crucial moments, nonetheless couldn’t help but worry.

Is this guy really reliable?

Even as Si Zhiyan paused in doubt, Nidhogg had stuffed all seven tarts into his mouth.

Forget it.
Si Zhiyan rubbed his brow and sighed, head drooping.

Like a pet owner looking at his heavyweight housecat, he muttered to himself,
“At least he eats, so he has to earn his keep somehow.”

With cheeks stuffed, Nidhogg paused chewing, his vertical pupils narrowing in faint disgruntlement: “?”

…

A few days later, Nidhogg and Shi He stood before the Abyss.

It wasn’t until you truly stood at its rim that you felt its horror. The earth simply snapped off as if torn apart, endless darkness spreading outward like an ocean, vanishing into infinity.

Step back a dozen paces, and you were in blistering lava lands—but here, a chill wind cut through.

Shi He couldn’t help but edge back half a step; then forced himself still, hairs standing on end.

His danger sense—one he had trained—screamed at him here.

It felt as though if he so much as turned around, something would crawl silently up from the Abyss and onto his back.

No one lingered within several hundred meters. Not a single player in sight.

Could the Lava Folk really survive in such a place? Shi He frowned in doubt.

At this, Shi He touched the “Living Radar” on his belt.

He’d exchanged for this tool before departure.
If any lifeform—apart from his teammates—came within twenty meters, it would sound the alarm. One “beep” per living being—anomalies included.

Now, the darkness was utterly still.

“One last check…”

He glanced at the logs in his wristwatch:
“We’re the vanguard. If we encounter any anomalies, avoidance is the first priority. Our aim is to reach the cliff base and, if possible, search for survivors or intelligence—then relay that information back to the farm… Right, bro?”

“Bro?”

Lifting his eyes, he saw—

Nidhogg already stood at the very edge, half a foot over the abyss itself.
He seemed utterly unfazed—muscles relaxed, smiling as if on a sightseeing tour. He gazed into the Abyss with a gentle, inscrutable look, lost in thought.

Shi He frowned slightly. “Bro, be careful.”
“I know you’re strong, but no one remains unbeaten in the Famine Game.”

The youth bit his lip, let out a long breath, and finished his thought softly, almost pleading:
“…Don’t suddenly disappear and leave me alone.”

Nidhogg answered calmly, “Relax. I know what I’m doing.”

“Look here.”
He tapped the edge with his boot.
“Boss said… Step one: get to the bottom, right?”

Shi He crouched at the brink, peering down. “Yes.”

Nidhogg replied without expression, “Can’t be done.”

Shi He blinked, and before he could respond, Nidhogg swung his boot and kicked a fist-sized red stone into the Abyss, raising a finger: “Sh. Listen.”

…

Ten seconds. Thirty. A minute… ten minutes passed. All around, silence; only the wind keened through the gorge.

“Report back to the boss—there’s no bottom here. However many thousands or tens of thousands of meters, if anything ever landed, I would’ve heard it. But there’s nothing.”
Nidhogg stretched lazily, voice cool:

“The Abyss… is the Abyss.”

This was pure void.

If anything lived here, it lived suspended in midair.
Maybe clinging to the wall, maybe floating on the wind—those were the only possibilities.

Si Zhiyan’s reply came quickly: [Understood. Proceed, and stay alert.]

Shi He ate a molten lava chocolate cake, letting its fiery glow surround him.
He offered the cake to Nidhogg, who waved it off, snapping his fingers—fire flared to life around him.

Shi He drew a deep breath, nodded.

Dragon wings and rare flight artifacts unfurled simultaneously. Together, they stepped into the Abyss.

The instant they left solid ground, everything changed. As they lowered themselves deeper, the cliff’s edge and its faint glow receded above.

The thick darkness closed round them like a tide.

Soon, open eyes and closed eyes became indistinguishable.

Shi He clung to the wall, not daring to let go of Nidhogg, descending strictly by the cliff’s face.
Venturing too far, they’d lose all sense of direction.

Their twin glows were feeble in the Abyss—mere fireflies clinging to each other.

Time slid past as they kept flying downward…

They must have descended several hundred meters by now.

All around remained pitch black, who could tell what lurked beyond?

The Living Radar ran as always; Shi He cranked the volume to the maximum, but it never sounded.
No life. No anomaly.

Only the jagged rocks of the wall.
Shi He had no idea where to search, so he kept a sharp eye on every inch, scanning downward.

At last, as the last effects of the first cake wore off, he finally glimpsed something bright.

In the firelight, a patch of color showed on a ledge.

Shi He ate a second cake and, with Nidhogg in tow, flew over.

Up close, both men stared, startled.

It was an orange tent.

Set atop a broad ledge—about ten square meters—was a makeshift tent.

The Radar stayed silent. The place was deserted.

They landed on the platform.

Shi He lifted the tent-flap, stepping inside.

Everything within was neatly arranged, evidence of someone organized and tidy. In the corner, a battered scrap of cloth—once a sleeping bag. Next to it, a folding chair, two tubes of nutrient gel, and a folding table.

In the center, the campfire had long gone cold. Nearby lay half of a climbing rope.

Shi He crouched and picked up the rope’s frayed end: “Here’s the end. TEFLON waterproof finish, UIAA-certified… There’s no mistake; this rope was exchanged from the Main God’s store. Its owner lowered themselves from above.”

“Wait… There it is, the Seiyukai’s logo,”
Nidhogg noted,
“That red-haired woman said their society had a ‘Shen’—a half-step Chosen One—who descended into the Abyss. He must have been attacked, which snapped the rope and kept him from climbing back out.”

Shi He added, “But someone at that level almost certainly had gear for softening a fall. After all those missions, even if the rope broke, it shouldn’t have killed him instantly.”

“He couldn’t fly, so couldn’t ascend—but he slowed himself somehow and landed here. Then…”

Shi He looked at the tent: “He wound up trapped.”

The tent and supplies were all that remained.

Nidhogg spread his hands: “And? So, where is he?”
“The supplies are perfectly in order—obviously, there was no fight. So, where did he go?”

Shi He bowed his head in thought, then spoke slowly: “If he could fly, he’d have left and we’d know. If not, there was only one fate…”

“He fell into the Abyss.”

Shi He’s eyes shifted, scrutinizing the tent until something caught his gaze.

In the tent’s corner sat a full set of clothing.

Underwear, shirt, protective gear, bulletproof vest, socks, shoes. And half a bloodstained rope.
These were folded meticulously, each layer in perfect order.

At the very top, a pair of glasses, placed carefully and upright.

A vivid image seemed to appear before his eyes.

At the end, this orderly soul had removed his clothes, piece by piece—from armor to street clothes, to underwear, to socks and shoes—folding them neatly, setting them down. He had even removed his glasses, placing them squarely at the pinnacle.

Then he had stepped out, faced the Abyss, and leapt.

“But why?” Shi He tilted his head.

“He survived this long, clearly had a strong will to live. He still had food left. Why…”

Why end it himself?

Something must have been pursuing him relentlessly, enough to drive him to choose death.

That thing—it wasn’t hunger.

“What exactly happened?”

Nidhogg rifled through the desk.

There, a pile of paper and pens.

Luckily, the man had a habit of keeping a diary.

Much had been blown away by the Abyss winds, but the old ashes had pinned a few pages down.

Nidhogg picked them up. The first page bore just one line:

[I’m so tired. I just want to sleep.]

Shi He leaned over, Nidhogg raising an eyebrow as he turned the next page.

The handwriting was elegant—the author a man of learning. But with each sheet, the script grew messier, more desperate, the lines collapsing into scrawls until finally, it was nearly unintelligible.

[It’s been ten days. Still have some nutrient gel. I just want to sleep.]

[My head’s going to explode, it hurts so much, my eye sockets are splitting. I just want to sleep, just want to sleep. So tired. So tired.]

[I cut up my sleeping bag. Every time I climb in, I want to sleep so badly I could pass out—it’s torture.]

[He’s inside me, he also urges me to sleep. I mustn’t. But I’m so tired—whenever my eyelids drop, I see Orange. Orange and her unborn child left me long ago. These seven years, I’ve wanted only one thing: for her to visit me in my dreams. But now that I see her, I’m terrified—because it’s a dream. I fight to wake up, but my eyelids… too heavy, they just close on their own. Thankfully, thankfully, I managed to stay awake for another hour and ten minutes.]

[My eyelids are disobedient, always so heavy. I used a needle to sew the skin of my eyelids to my forehead. It helped.]

[He’s inside [-illegible-]. He said I could rest now. I refuse. He said, no need to [-illegible-] anymore. Refuse. He looks like Orange, but he isn’t. He shouldn’t pretend to be her, shouldn’t tempt me—that’s his worst choice. Orange is gone. Gone for good. I know that. For her last [-illegible-], I’ll hold on longer.]

[Don’t sleep. If anyone finds this diary, remember: Don’t sleep, don’t sleep, don’t [-illegible-]. If you absolutely must rest, take a nap, but never exceed [-illegible-] hours.]

[Miss Orange so much. Orange, Orange.]

[It’s been so long since I [-illegible-] with Orange. I loved her, I miss her. We [-illegible-]. [-illegible-]. She drove me away in tears. When I woke, an hour and fifty-three minutes had passed. I was sweating cold, almost [-illegible-].]

The content grew more fragmented, the hair on one’s neck rising with each line.

Nidhogg flipped until only one sheet remained.

On the last page, all the chaos was gone. Sanity seemed to descend again; the script tidy, the hand steady. A single sentence:

—I slept well.

“…” Shi He’s breathing caught.

Nidhogg frowned. “He…”

At that instant, the firelight around Nidhogg flickered twice—
—and, with a hiss, went out.

Darkness swallowed them.

BEEP BEEP BEEP BEEP BEEP BEEP BEEP BEEP BEEP BEEP BEEP BEEP BEEP BEEP BEEP BEEP BEEP BEEP BEEP—!!!!!!

A split second later, Shi He’s Living Radar shrieked, blaring with a deafening alarm.