The Nameless Extra: I Proofread This World-Chapter 97: Beware of the Night (2)

The words seemed to linger in the air long after Shima had spoken them. One by one, the others turned toward her. The fire cast their faces in shallow relief, pale against the encroaching dark.
And so, with the weight of their stares and the absence of any protest, Shima continued:
“The first story I heard from the seniors was that one of the Ancient Gods died here… two thousand years ago, in what they call the Godless Century. They say the sky never wept for it, and the earth never took the body in. It just stayed. And whatever was left of it kept bleeding into the land, until the nights here stopped belonging to the sun. Therefore, for every night that stain rises, spreading over the island...”
Shima’s gaze stayed on the fire, her voice steady but carrying something heavier than mere campfire talk.
Yerin shifted slightly, her eyes still on the fire.
“I’ve heard the same. But the way I heard it, the god that died here didn’t just vanish. Its name was taken… eaten by the one who killed it. That’s why it’s gone from every book, every tale, and every prayer. No one remembers Him now, and no one ever will.”
She paused, the reflection of the embers flickering in her gaze.
“But… if that’s true, it doesn’t add up. A being like that, strong enough to shape the world, dies here, and yet its power only stains one island? Doesn’t make sense for something of that scale to die so small.”
Arlok’s grin caught a sliver of firelight, his tone dry.
“So what, you want His death to smother the whole world instead?”
Yerin gave him a brief look, more tired than offended.
“No. I’m just saying… the story’s too neat. I don’t buy all of it.”
From his place against the wall, Ruvian listened in silence.
‘Tales about dead gods are easy to tell and easier to believe when you aren't the one standing where they supposedly fell. But, in this case, I can't really validate which is true or false… only the author knows this better than I am. But maybe… it could be related to
her
, I suppose?’
People like to think history explains the present. But most of what they call history? Just shadows. Long, crooked shadows, cast by things no one alive has ever actually seen. Ruvian kept silent, letting the words pass around the fire without adding his own.
There was pleasure in listening to tales like these that straddled the line between truth and invention. Every once in a while, it was worth hearing how others tried to make sense of the dark… especially when the dark never bothered to explain itself.
Shima’s voice carried on, unhurried.
“The other story says it wasn’t a god at all, but a Calamity-rank Voidspawn that made its lair here centuries ago. One of those things… could shape its surroundings with nothing but the weight of its will, bending the land and air until they were no longer their own. They say when it finally died, whatever it had twisted never untwisted, and that’s why the island drowns in darkness every night.”
The tale has been stolen; if detected on Amazon, the violation.
Shima gave a short, dismissive shake of her head, the corner of her mouth tightening.
“Oh well, that one never made sense to me. Those things—if they were ever real—haven’t been seen in centuries. And if they do exist, no one can kill them.”
Horren shifted where he sat, his voice carrying a restless edge.
“Except the Seven Virtuous Paragons.”
Shima paused, then let out a dry cough, as if the words tasted old.
“Yeah… except for them.”
Ruvian felt a faint spark of recognition at the name—something half-buried in the pages of the novel he had read. Curiosity tugged at him, heavier than caution, and before he could weigh the wisdom of it, the question left his mouth.
“Who were they?”
The silence that followed was sharp enough to notice. All four of them turned to look at him, as if he’d just admitted he didn’t know the sun rose in the east.
Arlok was the first to break it, his grin crooked and unbelieving.
“Are you fucking serious?”
The word cut through Ruvian’s mind before he could stop it. Had he just asked about something everyone in this world was supposed to know?
‘Ah, weird. Does everyone know about it? So, why did OG Ruvian have no memory of it? Don't tell me he wasn't exposed to this kind of thing?’
Yerin’s expression softened slightly, though her voice carried foreboding and reverence.
“The Seven Virtuous Paragons… they were the ones who stood when no one else could. It was during the Godless Century—after the death of an Ancient God, when the world turned on itself. At that time, the Voidspawn grew mad, as if something in them had broken free, and they poured into the lands in numbers no one could count. Cities burned. Kingdoms vanished. And humanity… came close to an ending.”
Arlok’s gaze stayed fixed on the fire. Then, he spoke, it was slow, almost as if he was walking back through the memory himself, though he had never lived it.
“The old folks used to say that during that age… you could count the dead easier than the living. Whole bloodlines ended in a single night. One week, you’d have a neighbour, you’d see him in the fields, hear his kids laughing, and the next, his house would still be standing, but it’d be empty.”
“The Voidspawn tore through cities like the walls were paper, and anything they didn’t destroy, they let it be.”
“People disappeared into the dark, and sometimes… they came back. But they weren’t people anymore. Back then, the only reason you lasted another day was because someone else died in your place.”
‘Huh? He still hasn’t explained about the Seven Virtuous people. But… asking would bring me more trouble. I think I heard about them before, but only on the surface. The author never goes beyond that.’
Shima let him speak; her eyes brightened up as if she, too, could see the age he described. But when his words began to fade into the quiet, she drew in a slow breath and straightened slightly.
“And the thing that caused it… ties into the third story, I heard.”
She didn’t turn toward him, but it felt as if the words were aimed directly at Ruvian.
“They say this island isn’t just cursed. It’s a prison. The place where the Seven Virtuous Paragons chose to lock away something… not a god, and not a beast, but an Entity that could also command the Voidspawn.”
Her gaze flickered briefly toward the slit of sky above, as though testing the dark for a reaction. Then, her voice slowed, the space between words stretching like the last breath before a scream.
“And worse still… it’s the same Entity that killed the Ancient Gods. They are not in any written script or in our education syllabus.”
The silence that followed was thick and unbroken. Even the darkness beyond their walls had pressed in closer, as if it had been listening… and was pleased to hear itself named.
“And they are known as Defiler—Seekers of the Oblivion.”
The words settled in the air like ash, light enough to drift but heavy enough to choke.
Ruvian felt the faint stir of unease beneath the surface of his thoughts, a small fracture in his usual composure. If what she said was not mere superstition, if this island truly held the prison of such a thing, then every plan he had would grow teeth he could not see.
He turned the idea over slowly.
‘No… it couldn’t be. The author wouldn’t lock one of those here… I hope the author doesn't fuck me up.’
‘If the author’s word holds, then it would be a huge power-up for me. But if it's something different from what I expected…’
Then, things would turn worse.
'Let's hope not. This island is not a prison for those beings.’
At least, that’s what he told himself.
But the thought remained, like a shadow cast where no light should be.
PP= 4300
ME= 510