The Role of Blood

“Stop playing dead, old man.” Ji Ning nudged the middle-aged man lying on the ground.

In less than a heartbeat, the unconscious man sprang to his feet with a movement no ordinary person could manage. He opened his eyes and reached his right hand toward the boy who had just spoken.

Ji Ning did not flinch. The hand stopped an inch from him. The entire subterranean cavern echoed with the thunderous pounding of the man’s heart. His face twisted, and at last, powerless, he let his hand fall.

“What was that?”

“A little device designed especially for hearts.”

“Why not kill me?”

“No matter how depraved the accused may be, they deserve a chance to defend themselves. I find it troublesome, but procedural justice is what preserves our last shred of reason.” Ji Ning noticed a chair in the cave, only slightly dusted. Unceremoniously, he sat down.

“Is there anything you want to say? Murderer?” Ji Ning gestured toward the silent remains—skeletal figures glowing faintly, like lanterns in darkness.

“I didn’t kill these children.” The man coughed, spitting out a mouthful of blood-tinged matter. “They volunteered.”

Only then did Ji Ning realize that some of the skeletons were much smaller than those of adults. “Why?”

“To live.” The man coughed harshly again. “No matter what, only after they joined the Light of the Abyss did they truly live as human beings in this world. Only recently did they sacrifice themselves to confront an organization called the SCP Foundation.”

“How long have you been a member? Are you alone here? Where are your companions?” Ji Ning frowned. He’d assumed this man was a lone operator, not part of a group. Did the Foundation really leave loose ends? Weren’t they always thorough, wiping out every trace?

Sacrifice? A group of children as offerings? The pure souls of children always seemed to be hard currency for evil gods, those filthy, shadowy entities. That was how it always was: the sugarcoating of faith hid something rotten inside. The Foundation might be ruthless, but their actions were never in question.

They left nothing behind, destroyed all roots—but even so, they hadn't erased Ji Ning’s brother’s memories of him.

“A unit calling themselves a Mobile Task Force killed them. The entire city's cult was consumed by flames. I am the last Oracle.” The man’s coughing ceased, his expression calm, with a faint trace of humanity. Perhaps he knew his end was near.

“Why keep them here? For some sacrificial ritual?” Ji Ning picked up a lamp, adjusting its light as he tried to glimpse the edges of the skeletons in the darkness. The lamp was not bright enough: beyond the reach of its beam, shapes flickered in the black.

“No, it was they who attracted the god’s gaze. The Prophet was guided here and found them.”

“What about their parents? Didn’t they realize their children’s graves were empty?” Ji Ning thought, perhaps these poor children were made to appear victims of a collective accident—a drowning on an outing, a car crash. No one dared lift the veil between reality and the supernatural. Even the bloodiest cults kept up appearances, for once ordinary people noticed, supernatural agencies dedicated to maintaining order would eradicate them—a war with no quarter given, which no group wanted.

“Their parents didn’t attend their funerals, or, rather, they never even attended their lives.” The man slowly sat down, feeling something clutching his heart.

“Why?” Ji Ning paused.

“They were orphans,” the man answered after a long silence, unexpectedly.

“What do you do?” Ji Ning asked.

“I’m a high school teacher. I teach physics.” Ji Ning noticed a fleeting awkwardness on the man’s face as he spoke of his profession.

“Do you expect me to believe that?” Ji Ning stared coldly. A teacher? That was the best joke he’d heard all day. Did this man think showing up at school and pretending to teach a few lessons entitled him to the title?

“I don’t expect you to believe me.”

“And the others?” Ji Ning pointed at the larger skeletons.

“They were the Mobile Task Force members.”

Ji Ning shot to his feet in disbelief, gesturing at the skeletons again. “These people died at your hands?”

“No one is immune to death.” The man lifted his head, his gaze calm, as if looking through Ji Ning to some far-off darkness.

Ji Ning felt a pang of emptiness. He remembered the chimes at Deer Academy, the helplessness of living and dying washing over him again. He could no longer recall Karl’s face, only his name.

Graduates of Deer Academy were almost all reserves for the SCP Foundation or the GOC. Everything they learned was for dealing with the supernatural. Ji Ning knew some of his seniors were here.

Humanity had not yet reached the stars, but civilization moved forward, supported by individual sacrifice. In this world that should have been plunged in darkness, the lights never went out.

Staring into the darkness at the skeletons, Ji Ning finally understood: one function of blood is to pay the price for belief.

He now knew why the professors said there was no need for a hall of honor at Deer Academy. Every graduate was the school’s honor.

“You called yourself the Oracle?” Ji Ning’s tone was icy; he’d already decided this man would not leave alive.

“We followed its will, obeyed its edicts.” The man’s face was growing pale from blood loss; he felt it was time to die.

In the end, everyone dies. He knew that well. Looking back on his life, his only regret was not being ruthless enough.

If you choose to be a villain, mercy only leads to this end. Those who commit atrocities should imagine the act already done, should treat the future as irretrievable as the past.

“All right, one last question.”

“Do you truly believe in your god, or do you think you’ve done nothing wrong?” Ji Ning stood, staring at the man slumped on the ground.

“I don’t know. I only know it gave us revelation, made us different. Like those children—they were never loved or cared for, but here, at least someone told them what to do. People live in a daze, sometimes in youth, sometimes a whole life. The world is never kind. Rather than groping blindly in the dark, we chose to follow that voice.”

“So that’s it? An excuse for choosing depravity?” Ji Ning clenched his fists but didn’t move further.

“Perhaps. But it’s meaningless now, isn’t it?” The man wiped the blood from his mouth and calmly waited for his heart to shatter, for death to arrive like an old friend appearing unexpectedly.

“You’re right.” Ji Ning shook his head and pulled out his phone. They couldn’t be far from the surface; he still had two bars of signal.

“Hello? Sylvia? Yes, I’ve run into some trouble. Could you help me contact the local supernatural authorities? I’ve encountered a cult called the Light of the Abyss. I’m sending my location…”

Following the illuminated path through the underground tunnels, Ji Ning found his way out. He emerged with difficulty to find himself in a desolate cemetery. Barely ten minutes later, a man in a white chef’s jacket, riding a small electric scooter, arrived. Oil stains still marked his clothes, as if he’d just wiped his hands after cooking and dashed out, shouting to his boss that he was off to buy soy sauce. On his way, he’d stopped to deal with what he saw as a matter of life and death.

“You must be Ji Ning?”

“Yes. And you are?”

“Just call me Brother Qiang.” The man’s answer was simple.

“This is the place you mentioned?” He glanced around, eyes settling on the hole Ji Ning had climbed from. Ji Ning sensed he’d already confirmed it—his gaze wasn’t on the hole, but slightly lower, as if he could see through the earth to the altar ringed with skeletons.

“Yes.” Ji Ning was curious; he’d always wondered how these people dealt with supernatural incidents.

After a few questions, the man began handling the city’s last altar left behind by the Light of the Abyss.

He pressed his hand to the grave Ji Ning had just crawled from, closed his eyes, and then stood. It was all so quick and easy. Ji Ning, still dizzy from the sensation of weightlessness, was about to ask what he’d done when he caught sight of the deep cracks on the ground. The tunnel, large enough for two people, was now completely filled with earth, no gap left—as if nothing had ever happened there.

True skill is unassuming, true sound is silent. The truly strong don’t need grand gestures; their work is as simple as frying rice—just tell them what’s egg and what’s rice. No need for the melodrama of children, risking life and limb to defeat some ultimate villain. He’d light the stove, and the fried rice would be done.

“Finally, thank you for what you’ve done for this city.” The man nodded at Ji Ning and turned to leave.

“Wait.” Ji Ning called after him. “Brother Qiang, since you’re responsible for the city’s supernatural affairs, you must know about most of the incidents here, right?”

“Yes.”

“Professor Sylvia should have mentioned that I’m here for my final exam. I need to find the Light of the Abyss’s Authority Ring. Can you sense it?”

“Isn’t that considered outside assistance?” The man smiled, but didn’t refuse. He closed his eyes, then waved Ji Ning over. “Open your map app.”

Following his directions, Ji Ning marked the location on his map and let out a long breath. At last, he wouldn’t have to search blindly through the city.

“Thanks, old friend.”

The man seemed surprised at being called that, but waved it off.

“That thing shouldn’t pose any more danger. The Light of the Abyss is all but wiped out. You can write in your report that you found their last remnants. Even without the ring, I’m sure Sylvia will give you an A.”

Ji Ning opened his mouth, but said nothing.

“The ring is in the hands of an ordinary person?” The man guessed almost instantly.

“That’s right.” Ji Ning nodded.

“A pretty girl?” The man grinned with the lecherous humor of a middle-aged man.

Ji Ning’s heart skipped a beat. Did this guy have abilities like SCP-CN-655, able to peer into his thoughts?

“No need to look so shocked. I was young once, too.” The man laughed again, turned, and waved. “Go on. At your age, chasing after a beautiful girl is more important than saving the world.”

The figure receded toward the setting sun. Ji Ning lifted his eyes to the burning horizon, flames licking the sky. The untended cemetery was silent, a peculiar tranquility as though nothing had ever disturbed it. He didn’t linger; he turned and left.

The forgotten dead vanished into the earth, while he went to seek someone not yet lost to memory.

Where are you?