AWB Chapter 255 [Empire] is like a thorn, deeply piercing my pride.
Chapter 255 [Empire] is like a thorn, deeply piercing my pride.
“The growth of a plant is sometimes not just its choice, but also yours.”
My role?
His words gave me a sudden jolt. I looked down at the seedling, its leaves trembling slightly. I pursed my lips, but ultimately said nothing.
"My role?"
My heart suddenly stabbed, as if I'd been exposed to some unbearable truth. Could it be that he meant... that I was the one feeding it with my own "me"?
I stared at the young plant, its drab green color appearing even colder under the light, like a pair of mocking eyes. It stood quietly, its tiny leaves trembling silently, as if challenging me, or perhaps waiting for me to give it more "nutrients" to keep it growing.
Feed it? Would I really do that?
But every time it took something from me, did I really resist?
No, it seems not. I would even be attracted by its strange pulsation, unconsciously falling into that state, feeling myself being hollowed out bit by bit, but doing nothing.
"Did it 'grow' thanks to me?" I asked unconsciously, my voice trembling slightly, but filled with uncontrollable anger and fear. "Then how long will it need me to feed it? Will it drain me dry?"
The teacher didn't answer immediately, but just looked at me with his deep eyes, his expression complicated, but he didn't deny my guess. His silence made me feel more uneasy than any answer.
I clenched my fists and felt a chill in my heart.
Actually, I know.
I know exactly what its nourishment is.
It draws from me something invisible and intangible—my spirit, my emotions, even some deeper essence—and these are the foundations on which it grows.
But why am I bursting out with such emotions at this moment?
I didn't want to face the uncomfortable truth. I didn't understand why I was erupting in such emotion at that moment. It was like I had been struck by a sudden wave of anger, grievance, and unease, all swirling together and making it impossible for me to calm down.
But I clearly understand that in the beginning, it was me who took the initiative to connect to it.
Its emergence wasn't accidental; it was my own initiative. Back then, I was filled with curiosity and anticipation. I tried more than once. I failed. And again.
It was my active connection that awakened it from its silence and gave it the first bit of strength to grow.
At the beginning, it was really me who took the initiative.
But I didn't expect that this connection would become a one-way street. The bond that was established in that instant entangled me tightly and has never been broken since then.
"I took the initiative."
This sentence lingered in my mind like a needle, pricking me repeatedly and reminding me of my choice.
And now, as it grows bigger and stronger, I suddenly lose control of my emotions, feeling like I'm being drained and dominated by it. But weren't these consequences predetermined?
"I made the initial choice myself." I murmured softly, as if talking to myself, or confiding in it, "I was the one who started it."
I still had no interest in the rest of the class. The teacher's explanation became background noise, mixed with the sounds of the computer operating and the projector turning pages. It drifted meaninglessly into my ears, then was automatically filtered out by my mind. My entire attention was focused on the seedling in front of me.
I stared at it, the smoky green tiles swaying in my vision, stinging my eyes, yet within me was a suppressed, inexplicable emotion. In a sense, I truly was "longing"—not only did I want to see through it, but I even wanted to pierce it with my gaze, to uncover its secrets.
It still stood quietly on my desk, its gleaming green light like an invisible poisonous fog, enveloping me and nearly suffocating me. I stared at it with undisguised disgust, as if I could pierce through every leaf. But it remained silent as always, its leaves trembling slightly, as if mocking my powerlessness.
The rage of helplessness burned like a slowly smoldering flame in my chest, and my gaze pierced it like a knife, almost wanting to find some vulnerable spot in it and poke it hard, causing it to shatter like a piece of broken glass.
But it won't.
Its leaves trembled slightly, the tiny movement barely perceptible, but to me it felt like a challenge. I felt a surge of irritation, and my fingers tapped the tabletop a few times, a chaotic rhythm. But it remained standing there, radiating its cold green light, as if completely unconcerned with my emotions.
My fingers unconsciously clenched against the tabletop, my fingertips turning white, my nails practically digging into the wood. But no matter how I stared, no matter how disgusted or angry I felt, it remained there, unharmed, accepting my gaze and my emotions—perhaps even using these "nutrients" to grow.
I wanted to throw it off the table, or stomp on it so it was out of my sight, but I knew I wouldn't do that.
Whether it is this strange connection or the "key" to the cyan magic book that I need.
This feels a bit like trying to get the skin of a tiger.
I could only continue to stare at it, using those meaningless angry eyes to try to dispel the anxiety and irritability in my heart.
I really do regret it.
For a long time, relying on the contract ability I brought with me before crossing over, I always thought that I could thrive in this world. No matter what kind of creature it is, as long as I establish a contract, I can control it.
It was almost like that before.
I was so confident that I was almost blind. I felt that no matter what kind of strange life I faced, as long as it fell into my hands, I would be able to control it.
No matter whether it is a strange beast or a plant, as long as I have control over it, I can tame it and even completely control it.
But now, the existence of this seedling is like a thorn, deeply piercing my pride.
Each time it grows, it seems to declare its uniqueness and uncontrollability to me. The nutrients it devours are my spirit, my time, and even my faith. Only now am I truly beginning to realize that this world is truly different from what I've experienced before. There are truly more rules here than I understand, more dangers I've never encountered.
I have to admit that this is really a world I don’t understand.
And I seem to have underestimated its depth.
Underestimated the wisdom and power of the creatures in this world.