The Hero Turned Into A Potato And The World Fell To Ruin - Chapter 55: The Best Way to Understand a Pokémon Is to Catch One

It was evening. On the stone mound, the group sat around the campfire, the atmosphere heavy with tension.

Calidora was still tending to Osar’s leg wounds. Although the black threads hadn’t penetrated deeply, so many cuts meant it wasn’t any easy task.

Yaine had been examining the dead fibers, trying to figure out what they were but with little success.

Mervant and Girunini were guarding the perimeter, both nervous since the earlier incident. They had asked Osar why he walked into the swamp earlier, and the answer was completely unexpected—he didn’t realize he had done so, only had the thought of gathering firewood nearby.

But… Other than the stone mound, it was swampy all around. Where would he find firewood?

At this point, everyone realized something was very wrong.

The worst part was that Calidora couldn’t find any signs of hypnosis or illusions, nor were there any hallucinogens in the air.

This meant Osar’s mind was influenced by something unknown, causing him to believe he was doing something else.

If it could happen to Osar, it could happen to any one of them. This made it hard for the group to relax.

Liu Ji, on the other hand, was the only one not panicking.

His desert embodiment, a creation of the retired Demon King Myza, was incredibly effective. That was why he was the only one daring enough to squat at the edge of the stone mound.

As for why he was squatting there…

Liu Ji was actually pondering a question.

Though they didn’t know what those black threads were, what if he were to pull one up…

Hmm… No, nevermind. I don’t think I’ll be able to eat it. It’s too disgusting.

But, what if I could pull one up for a closer look?

With that in mind, Liu Ji took a piece of jerky from his pocket and cautiously dipped it into the swamp.

Within seconds, something latched onto the jerky, trying to drag it into the swamp.

“Gotcha,” Liu Ji thought, gripping the jerky with one hand while plunging the other into the swamp, grabbing whatever was pulling and yanking it out. Moments later, a long black thread emerged from the mud.

Liu Ji was thrilled, thinking he could capture it for Yaine to study. But suddenly, the surface of the swamp churned, and dozens of black threads shot out, wrapping around his face.

This abrupt disturbance startled the group. Seeing the threads writhing on Liu Ji’s face, Mervant’s hair stood on end. He drew his sword, about to dash over to help.

However, Girunini stretched out her hand and stopped him.

“Wait, don’t rush, he’s fine!” Girunini blurted out. “Watch the swamp! I sense something there…”

Before she could finish, she witnessed Liu Ji’s form changing. A hand now appeared where his head had been, wrapping the black threads around it. With a loud groan, the mass of threads was yanked upward.

At that moment, everyone saw the swamp’s surface bulge as if something were about to break through.

But then, the threads suddenly snapped, turning into dead fibers. Meanwhile, the other ends retreated into the swamp, disappearing along with the bulge in the mud.

“Huh? Did it escape?” Liu Ji frowned, looking at the half-eaten jerky. He squatted down and decided to try fishing again.

However, no matter how he wriggled the jerky, there was no response from the swamp.

“It’s scared,” Yaine said as she squatted by Liu Ji’s side, picking up the dead fibers. “No wonder I couldn’t analyze it. It’s just magical residue.”

This sentence in incantation was a little long and Liu Ji didn’t understand it fully, so he just looked at Yaine blankly.

Yaine smiled, tapped his forehead lightly, and said, “Good job.”

“Ah, really?” Liu Ji scratched his head sheepishly.

He understood this bit. While he didn’t manage to pull out that thing, it seemed he still helped?

Well… whatever, I don’t know much about these otherworldly monsters. Better leave the professional stuff to the experts.

“Yaine, do you know what’s under there?” Mervant came over and asked.

“No, I don’t.” Yaine shook her head. “I’ve never heard of such a monster, but it doesn’t matter. If we don’t know, we can just study it now.”

Turning her head, she shouted to Osar, “Hey, Big Cat! Want to get some payback?”

“Do you even need to ask?” Osar grinned. “I’ve been waiting for this.”

“Good,” said Yaine, pulling out a long bone from her magical space. “Let’s catch one and study it properly.”

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Black stone walls with beautiful engravings and radiant crystals adorned a silent chapel shrouded in darkness in the depths of the swamp.

A bell tolled.

Devout followers gathered in the chapel, worshiping the sacred statue.

The statue depicted a beautiful deity, with a kindly face. She was garbed in a flowing gown and holding a glowing orb, whose light cast ripples on the inner walls.

“We thank the earth, we thank God, and we thank all things in the world for granting us this wonderful life…”

An elderly priest stood beneath the statue, hunched over in an elegant black robe with gold trim. His hood cast a shadow over his face, revealing only a long beard; a beard as black as ink that reached down to his chest.

In one hand, he held an ancient, leather-bound book, chanting loudly the words from its pages. With the other, he scattered black dust toward the altar.

The followers closed their eyes and raised their heads, accepting this unique blessing in earnest.

After finishing the prayer, the priest set the book down and picked up a golden chalice from the table, descending the altar.

Seeing this, the first follower right at the front drew his sword and raised it high with both hands.

“May God bless you…” the priest said, dipping his fingers into the chalice and smearing green paint onto the follower’s sword.

He moved to the next person and repeated the ritual.

Then the next…

As he reached the sixth person, he suddenly stopped.

He looked up, sensing something.

“Reverend? Did I do something wrong?” the follower, holding his sword, asked nervously, thinking he had made a mistake.

“Ah? Uh, no,” the priest returned to the present, shaking his head slightly. “My child, you did well…”

He dipped his fingers in the chalice and painted the follower’s sword.

Afterward, the ceremony continued as before, but the followers sensed the priest was distracted, often gazing at the dark ceiling as if seeing something there.