Chapter 299 – Colosseum (7): “You Have No Desire”

When the ten-minute countdown ended, every player had finished eating. The bowls—held in hands or left on the floor—vanished along with the spilled drops of blood, as if they had never existed.

The light in the room dimmed inch by inch. Without any lamps, it soon sank into a cage-like darkness.

Qi Si took a torch from his backpack and swept it along the stone wall, starting from the corner.

Scenes that had been blurry now leapt out vivid as fire under the direct beam, ring after ring of color merging into a complete picture.

Simple, rustic lines sketched a mythic imprint. With the world-building Nian Fu had supplied, it could only be a record of Colosseum Games from earlier cycles.

From the Golden Age’s man-vs-beast, to the Silver Age’s beast-vs-man, to the Bronze Age’s man-vs-man… So what form will end the current Heroic Age?

Qi Si, cradling the fox mask, stood before the last blank section of wall.

In its center was set a bronze hook—clearly another place to hang a mask.

Though the sealed room might hold traps, with the Pocket Watch of Fate in hand, even a death-flag would be harmless.

He hung the fox mask on the hook without hesitation.

In an instant, the drab, broken wall bloomed with shifting, abstract tableaux, too surreal to read.

The fox mask hung rock-steady, as though sprouting from the stone itself. Between its orange-red fur, the jet-black eyes stared wide, alive, watching Qi Si.

When Qi Si touched the wall, a torrential river of blood flashed before him—thick old gore mixed with fresh, skeletons and white bones bobbing on its surface.

It resembled the pool beneath the Colosseum’s stone floor, only vaster—calling to mind the deaths of hundreds at once.

A dense stench of iron rolled in like maggots and tentacles, forcing its way into his nostrils; a tsunami of human voices roared around him, shouting, pleading.

Qi Si stared at the fox mask. “What was that?”

The smells and clamor receded, replaced by a low voice: “That is the past—and the present world. The blood of the dead flows into rivers that fill the gods’ feast-cups.”

“I’ve given you an answer; now answer mine.”

【side quest triggered】

【side quest (mandatory): Answer the Sphinx’s riddle】

The cold electronic voice sounded; both people in the room heard it.

Qi Si lifted an eyelid at the system interface text, then glanced at Nian Fu. “Worth doing?”

From Nian Fu’s view, Qi Si had merely fiddled with the wall for a moment before a side quest popped up.

side quests usually hide danger, yet they also mean opportunity and clues; no one passes them up.

—Besides, the Eerie Game offers no “decline” button.

Qi Si’s calm poise made it clear this wasn’t luck but preparation, even choice… As expected of an intelligence-type player.

Nian Fu exhaled softly, stepped to the wall, and regarded the fox mask with unreadable eyes. “It says ‘answer,’ not ‘answer correctly.’ Wrong answers probably carry no penalty.”

Qi Si gave a slight nod and turned back to the wall.

Now the fox mask played Sphinx. At certain angles its fluffy face looked like marble, reflecting cold light—an idol from some ancient Greek temple.

It fixed its eyes on Qi Si, jaws moving: “What is your desire?”

The question came out of nowhere, seemingly answer-proof.

Qi Si lowered his gaze to his hands—pale fingertips free of grime yet seemingly wrapped in blood and black smoke.

“My desire, huh…”

He suddenly recalled the dream after clearing the Red Maple Boarding School instance: a monster wearing his own face had poured dirt on him, saying, “Humans must have desire. What is yours?”

He’d given no answer then, thinking flippantly of “destroying the world,” yet nothing more concrete would come.

“What is your desire?” the Sphinx asked again.

Qi Si smiled, half-mocking: “Maybe to become a god.”

The Sphinx closed its eyes, reopened them, and its head vibrated. “Wrong. That is not your desire. You have no desire.

“I see nothing you crave, nothing that sparks joy in you—only barren emptiness. Within white void I find no answer…”

“Doesn’t ‘becoming a god’ count?” Qi Si tilted his head. “Sounds fun; I’d probably enjoy it.”

“Yet knowing you never can would not pain you unbearably,” the Sphinx said. “Once, a man desired only to live; at death’s door terror drowned him, and I tasted salt-bitter agony.

“Another craved gold and power; after falling to dust he hanged himself, unable to bear poverty and lowliness—cold, choking anguish.

“Those who come here despair at having no control over life and death, rage at being treated like beasts, fume at crude food and shelter… And you? Have you ever felt anger?”

The Sphinx’s half-moon eyes were deep and mystic, as though it truly wanted Qi Si’s answer.

Qi Si studied those eyes, replaying memories where normal logic said he should have been furious.

Bullied by classmates, abused by uncle and aunt, sent to a cult base—he should have raged, yet recalling them now felt oddly flat.

At the time he’d felt nothing, merely concluding that murder and arson to remove the root of trouble was perfectly logical—input a problem, output a solution.

“Never before,” Qi Si mused. “But if someone dangles godhood before me, then yanks it away, I’d be pretty annoyed.”

The Sphinx seemed to accept that, sighing: “That is not anger, because you have no desire.

“A being without desire is terrifying: he knows not what he wants, nor what is good or happy.

“He drifts by instinct and inertia, even onto a dead-end road, never turning back. When he can walk no farther, or life burns out, he simply stops.

“He has no past, no future—like a soulless object, bringing senseless ruin. Are you such a being?”

Having asked, the Sphinx did not wait, but swiveled its gaze to Nian Fu and intoned: “What is your desire?”

After an earful of abstract philosophy, Nian Fu’s head spun; she blurted, “I want an Identity Card I can bind.”

The Sphinx closed its eyes. “Realizing that desire costs three thousand points. Return when you have enough.”

“Huh? You mean once I save up, I’ll get the card?”

Before Nian Fu could ask more, the prompt refreshed: 【side quest completed】.

The heads on the wall shed their cold, hard shells and regained the soft, furry texture of fox masks.

Qi Si took the mask down, turned his back to the wall, and smiled easily. “At least we’ve solved one problem.”

“The gods of past and present slaughter humans at will, channeling human blood into rivers for their own use—drinking, bathing, whatever—they need human blood, and their methods are cruel.”

“So the roles we play walk into this Colosseum knowing they’ll die, because no matter what, things can’t get any worse.”

He roughly described the scene he’d seen after hanging the mask on the wall.

Nian Fu listened carefully and smiled. “Indeed, that explains it, even if we don’t know what our blood does for those animals.”

She paused, gaze settling on the hook in the center of the wall. “I’m wondering what ‘desire’ represents in this instance, and why mine counts while yours doesn’t.”

“Maybe because I’m not human.” Qi Si half-closed his eyes, joking. “Still, I’m curious—why are you so set on getting an Identity Card?”

Only the flashlight cut through the dark, carving out a cramped human refuge in the chaos—small, but better than nothing.

The pale halo blurred into the darkness, its edges softened, painting Nian Fu’s face with patches of light and shadow.

Under the white light, the girl’s smile was dazzling.

“Because I’m sick of being kept in the dark, letting others decide my fate,” she said. “Without an Identity Card, you can’t enter the Final Dungeon.”

“Life or death, the future of the Eerie Game—all of it hinges on the players inside the Final Dungeon. The rest of us can only wait outside with our necks craned, powerless.”

“I hate feeling that my destiny isn’t mine. I have to bind an Identity Card, even the weakest one—at least then I have a seat at the table.”

“I know it’s dangerous, but dying inside the Final Dungeon beats living and dying out here without ever knowing why.”

Qi Si asked, “Will it hurt if you can’t get an Identity Card?”

“Yes,” Nian Fu said. “Once players with cards enter the Final Dungeon, if I’m left outside not knowing what’s happening, I’ll go mad.”

“Is that so?” Qi Si sat on the straw bed, stroking the mask’s fur, noncommittal.

Unfulfilled desire leads to pain—does that make pain the proof of desire?

But why? Why desire when you know it will hurt?

Qi Si couldn’t understand.

Nian Fu smiled carelessly, flopping onto the straw. “I’m turning in. Tomorrow the Colosseum officially starts; let’s hope lack of sleep doesn’t trip us up.”

“Everything will go smoothly.” Qi Si lowered his eyes, switched off the flashlight, and tossed it back into his pack.

Tangible darkness flooded the room again; even with eyes open nothing could be seen, as though floating in the void before creation.

Qi Si closed his eyes and sank his consciousness into the Hall of Thought.

Clad in red, he wandered through mist, brushing aside familiar veils to find only withered vines.

After the Soul Contract was sealed, every golden leaf shriveled and fell; only the blood-red leaf linked to the Crimson High Priest card survived.

It wasn’t control at the Contract level, but faith embedded in the soul; even if the god waned to death, he remained a god.

When no one else believed, the lone follower still clung to his deity—like a poison.

—Like being poisoned.

Qi Si reached the end of the Hall of Thought and reached for the final blood-red leaf.

Lin Chen’s worried voice rang out: “Brother Qi, how is it? Did something happen? I’ve been watching Chang Xu’s stream, but this time he didn’t turn it on…”

“Yes, something happened. Chang Xu wants to kill me, and I plan to kill him too.” Qi Si recounted everything since entering the instance in a casual tone.

After hearing it, Lin Chen grew more anxious. “What’s going on? Why? Brother Qi, what should I do? I’ll go to the Jiuzhou Guild right now!”

“Useless.” Qi Si sighed. “The instance has begun; they can’t enter, and players inside can’t leave. All we can do is end this game as fast as possible.”

“Rather than waste time getting pushed around by Jiuzhou, you have greater value. Stay in touch and give me answers when I need them.”

“Jiuzhou’s people went too far; after this instance I’ll demand an explanation.” Lin Chen calmed slightly, voice cold. “Brother Qi, I’m at the guild base, just renewed three days’ stay—tell me whatever you need.”

Qi Si gave a soft “Mm” and said, “Look up ‘Sphinx’ for me.”

Lin Chen quickly sent back what he found: “The Sphinx is a human-headed, snake-tailed evil, a punishment sent by the gods.”

“Legend says Hera dispatched the Sphinx to perch on cliffs near Thebes, posing a riddle to every passer-by: What creature walks on four legs in the morning, two at noon, and three in the evening?”

“The answer is man. Those who failed were devoured, until young Oedipus answered correctly and the Sphinx leapt to its death.”

“The Sphinx is said to symbolize wisdom and knowledge; its riddle, on a deeper level, stands for ‘fear and temptation’—in other words, real life.”

Fear and temptation, huh?

Without desire, there’s no temptation and no fear of hope dashed.

Only with desire does fear arise, along with every other emotion—what makes a human, in the usual sense.

Qi Si suddenly asked, “Lin Chen, what’s your desire?”

“Desire? You mean wish?” Lin Chen was stunned, unable to see how this related to the crisis.

But he answered honestly, “I want to survive and give my parents a good life.”

It was the wish he’d always held; no doubt about it.

Qi Si lowered his eyes. “I understand.”

He withdrew from the Hall of Thought and returned to the pitch-black room.

The straw beneath him was lumpy, moisture from the damp floor seeping through to chill his skin.

Qi Si slept uncomfortably, yet felt no negative emotion.

He sorted through recent events in his mind and faintly sensed a hidden discord.

Ask a desire, then tell the player the points needed to fulfill it—doesn’t that mirror the Eerie Game’s wish-granting mechanism?

Many players enter the Eerie Game driven by fierce desire.

Someone like him, without desire, can only become a player by accident… Questions previously ignored now surfaced, and Qi Si narrowed his eyes.