Secret World: I Became a God Through Lies

Chapter 578 The Hunting Capital
Sometimes, monsters are just more honest than humans.

—From *The Hunter's Notes: Anonymous*

The sky cracked open, and beams of light fell from the void, like the fingers of God, piercing through the night and the red mist.

The entire city was illuminated with a low hum, and the ruins of Manhattan shimmered in the blood-red moonlight.

The streets were deserted, but the neon lights were still on, and the billboards displayed long-rotten smiles.

The wind carried the smell of gasoline and blood.

Rex and Ian stood side by side at the center of the tenth pillar of light. The light refracted from the dust beneath their feet, the air shattered into fragmented data, and the world began to load.

[Copy loading complete.]

[Number: Hunting Capital]

[Ten players are in position.]

[Regional synchronization: Manhattan.]

[Environment Simulation: Perpetual Night, Red Moon Illumination 6.7.]

[Task issued:]

【Rule 1】In this instance, there are disguised monsters in the city. Hunt them to earn points.

[Rule 2] +50 points for each monster killed.

【Rule 3】Accidentally killing an ordinary person -100 points.

[Rule 4] Killing another player will allow you to take all of their points.

【Rule 5】Instance time limit: 120 minutes.

[Rule Six] The top two teams in the final standings will be allowed to leave.

[Rule Seven] Other players... may become new monsters.

[The hunt begins.]

The voice was mechanical and emotionless, as if it were proclaiming a final judgment.

Rex raised his head, a fragment of the Siren of Destiny embedded in his right eye, his gray pupil slightly contracted, reflecting nine beams of light.

Players appeared one after another, some wearing black combat armor and carrying heavy warhammers. With each step they took, the ground trembled slightly.
Some were draped in red robes, their blood-red whips snaking like living creatures; others were entirely silver-white, their mechanical prosthetic joints gleaming with blue light.

Some people wore masks and muttered incantations under their breath.

The energy in the air pricked the skin like needles, and their aura of stellar calamity collided, rubbed, and intertwined in the pillar of light, like a silent thunderstorm.

No one spoke; ten pairs of eyes met in the air as everyone calculated, assessed, and speculated—who would be the next enemy?

A gust of wind swept through the street, swirling up discarded newspapers that hovered around their feet.

At that moment, Rex smelled a familiar scent—gun oil, gunpowder, blood, and a premonition of fate.

"Heh." Ian Mephisto whistled softly, his golden hair ruffled by the wind, and he looked at everything with a hint of pleasure in his expression.

"The wind tells me that someone will be unlucky today."

Rex replied calmly, "Fate was already written; it's just that you like to place your bets in advance."

Ian smiled and tilted his head, his tone light: "And you? Did you see the wind direction, or did you see the ending?"

Rex cocked the sniper rifle, his grey eyes deep and calm.

"The wind has no direction, and so does fate. The difference is—the wind is free, but I am not."

Ian's smile deepened, his golden eyes gleaming under the red moon.

"Then leave it to me. I'll control the wind, and you'll shoot down fate. Together, we'll fool the world once."

The two looked at each other and smiled, their smiles containing a tacit understanding, but also a hint of loneliness that only the hunter could comprehend.

[Countdown: 10—9—8—] The system's voice echoed in the air, and all the city lights went out at the same instant.
Only the red moon remained hanging in the sky, illuminating ten blurry figures.

[3-2-1-Instance Start.]

As the wind rose, dust was blown up, and the players simultaneously transformed into light and shadow, disappearing into pillars of light and heading in different directions of the city.

The sounds of footsteps, the clanging of metal, and suppressed breathing echoed from between the buildings in the darkness.

Rex looked up and saw the blood-red moon stretching across the skyscrapers like an eye looking down at its prey.

He whispered, "Manhattan... has become a hunting ground again."

Ian stretched and stepped lightly onto the street, a faint smile playing on his lips: "Then let's go hunting, watchers of fate."

Rex raised his sniper rifle, the lens reflecting the light of the crimson moon. "Hunter on duty."

The red mist swallowed their figures, and the streetlights flickered a few times before going out completely.

This dead city has finally ushered in its own "game" once again.

The Manhattan nightscape resembled a rotting skin; streetlights flickered, neon lights twitched in the wind, and the smiles of women on advertising screens flashed repeatedly, like a dream trapped in a loop.

The street reflected light like a blood film, mirroring the shattered sky and the shadows of the ruins.

The air was thick, filled with the smells of gasoline, tar, rust, and a faint, sweet, fishy odor.

Countless "people" walk on the street, heads down, talking, smiling, drinking coffee, making phone calls—everything seems ordinary, yet they are unnaturally repeating the same actions.

A man stood on a street corner smoking, the ash falling on his hand but he didn't react, he just mechanically looked up and continued to smoke.

The taxi driver next to me gripped the steering wheel, the red light came on but he didn't step on the brakes, and the passenger still had a stiff smile on his face.

The wind blew between them, stirring up a thin layer of dander—not ash, but human skin.

Rex stood on the ruins of the Empire State Building, the wind howling through the broken floors, accompanied by the clanging of shattering glass.

He knelt beside the ruins, rapidly assembling a sniper rifle with both hands. The rifle was a custom-made old-style Barrett, with a sea-blue lens embedded in the muzzle. The lens slowly rotated, reflecting the cold glow of the moonlight.

Ian's voice came through the earpiece, carrying the sound of wind and laughter: "See that? Fifth Avenue, that woman's smile, it's just too perfect."

Rex looked up, gazing through his glasses at the other end of the city. The wind rustled through the streetlights, casting flickering shadows.
He saw her—a woman in business attire, talking to the shop owner in front of the newsstand, her smile flawless.

“Her smile is too perfect,” Rex repeated softly, “which means she’s not human.”

He adjusted his aim and lightly touched the trigger with his fingertip. "Three seconds, two—one."

Bang-!
The bullet whizzed through the air and instantly pierced the woman's forehead.

Her smile remained on her face until her skull split open, and what flowed out of her body was not blood, but a writhing black liquid.

The liquid snaked across the ground, but was hit by a second bullet and exploded into mist.

The "crowds" on the street continued to walk mechanically, as if nothing had happened.

Rex put away his sniper scope and said calmly, "Target confirmed: Disguised as a sniper."

Ian's lighthearted laughter came through the earphones, his tone lazy yet tinged with sarcasm: "What a romantic date."

Ian stood in the middle of the street, his trench coat billowing in the night wind.

He walked forward step by step, his footsteps echoing in the empty street, and whispered to the wind, "Wind, tell me, where are they?"

The air currents shifted, and each gust of wind carried a different scent—blood, scorching, decay, and fear.

Ian smiled slightly, his voice low: "So this is where it is." He raised his hand, and a gust of wind swept past like a blade.

The "barista" on the street corner suddenly convulsed, his face collapsed, and his skin wrinkled and twisted into a wet lizard face.

"excuse me."

He flipped his hands, and two silver pistols flashed in the wind.

Two muffled thuds followed, the wind whipped up the bullet's tail flames, and the monster's head exploded, splattering black blood onto the coffee shop's doors and windows.

The NPCs on the street continued to walk around, talk, smile, and order coffee as usual, completely ignoring the scene, as if "fear" had never been written into their code.

“Left alleyway.” Rex’s voice came through the earpiece, calm and crisp. “There’s a group of people walking too in perfect unison.”

Ian looked in the direction of the sound and saw five “men” raising their feet at the same time in the dimly lit street corner. Their steps were perfectly synchronized, and the angle of their shoulder movements was precise to the millimeter. They were not breathing.

"Terrible dance moves."

Ian scoffed under his breath, crouching down and tapping the ground with his fingers. A breeze flowed from his fingertips, quickly spreading along the ground and enveloping the group of "men." At the same time, the soft crack of a sniper rifle echoed in the distance.

Five bullets hit their targets almost simultaneously, tearing the air apart and causing five bodies to explode at the same time. Black blood splattered onto the walls, evaporated into smoke, and dissipated in the wind.

“Cleared.” Rex reported coldly.

Ian looked up, whistled, and smiled: "The way you shoot is just like you're going to church."

“That’s my way of praying,” Rex replied calmly, his tone as steady as iron. “Praying that this game will end soon.”

“Or should we win sooner?” Ian asked with a smile. Rex didn’t answer; only the howling wind responded for him.

The city fell silent again, neon lights flickering with broken light and shadow.

In the distance, only half of the skyscrapers remain, and the crimson moon hangs on the edge of the fault line, like the eye of a hunter watching over its prey. The wind sweeps through the ruins, stirring up dust and whispers.

“The wind says,” Ian whispered, his laughter light and cool, “it smells blood.”

“Then let it smell a bit more,” Rex replied coldly, loading the bullet in one fluid motion. The two split up, one taking the high ground, the other stealthily moving through the streets.

The glint of the sniper scope flashed, the wind swirled up scraps of paper from the street corner, and a new round of hunting quietly began.

The whispers of the wind and the roar of bullets intertwined in the night, becoming the only rhythm of this dead city.

While hunting monsters, they were also trying to determine whether they were still human.

A loud crash came from afar, like the bones of the city being snapped in two.

A rapid, urgent whisper came through Ian's earpiece, no longer the usual low murmur, but a chaotic cacophony of screams. He stopped, his brow furrowing, his gaze fixed on the end of Seventh Avenue.

The air began to distort, the red mist was lifted, and light reflected like liquid. Then, a strange rune appeared in the air—

The symbol, woven from bones and blood, shimmered with a heart-pounding pulse.

“Looks like a mutated beast king.” Rex’s voice came through the communicator, deep and calm. “That guy has made his move.”

Boom! The earth shook violently, and the entire glass facade of the skyscraper collapsed, with fragments cascading into the street like a waterfall.

The totem roared with a thunderous boom, and a piercing bone-crunching sound echoed in the air. Runes burned and blood-red light surged, as if some ancient life was awakening.

The shadows on the street corner began to squirm, and countless grotesque monsters emerged from the ground, from cracks in the walls, and from under the feet of the crowd.

They come in all shapes and sizes; some have tattered wings, some have the mouths of two-headed dogs, and many more are twisted humanoid shapes.

His skin cracked, his bones turned outward, and a ghostly green flame burned in his eye sockets.

The "ordinary people" on the street finally broke down; they screamed, ran away, and pushed each other, and chaos spread.

Some were tackled and torn to pieces, while others fell into traffic and were smashed to pieces.

Gasoline spilled, and flames from the explosion engulfed the entire street.

Streetlights shattered one after another, wires sparked in the wind, and the entire city was plunged into chaos in just a few seconds.

“It’s all so chaotic,” Ian muttered, the wind swirling around him, carrying the smell of blood and gunpowder. “I saw him.”

Rex adjusted his sniper scope, his gaze locking onto the street corner. Beneath the crimson glow of the totem, a man slowly emerged—Vyrant Silver.

He was a burly man with broad shoulders, his bare upper body covered in strange tattoos and animal bone spikes. With each step he took, the floor tiles beneath his feet cracked into a spiderweb pattern.

Behind them, the mutated horde of beasts surged like a tidal wave, their roars shaking the night sky. They ran, tore, and devoured through the ruins, turning everything that lived into minced meat and ashes in their wake.

Rex's pupils contracted slightly, and he said coldly, "That's not hunting, that's slaughter."

Vilant stretched and chuckled, his voice low and metallic.

“A hunting game, huh? The game says the last two people will survive.” He looked up at the burning street, a crazy grin spreading across his face.

"Then if I just kill everyone else, I'll win for sure?"

Before he finished speaking, his skin began to crack, his muscles bulged, his veins popped out, and his bones twisted under his skin.

The cracking sound of bones reforming was like the drumbeats of hell.

Its arms swelled into sharp, beastly claws, its spine split open with barbs growing out, and its eyes gleamed with the light of a wild beast.

He suddenly looked up and let out a deafening roar that tore through the night sky.

The streetlights shattered at the roar, sparks flew and electricity crackled, plunging the entire Seventh Avenue into complete darkness.

“The wind tells me,” Ian murmured, his gaze turning slightly cold, “that this guy isn’t planning on keeping anyone here.”

He drew his sword, and the Whispering Wind Domain instantly unfolded, an invisible current sweeping across the entire street, every grain of dust whispering in the wind.

Rex, with his gun atop the ruins of the Empire State Building, caught Ian's report through the wind whispers: "Wind speed 3.7, target distance 612 meters."

“Corrected,” he replied in a low voice, his finger lightly tapping the trigger.

——Bang!

The bullet, trailing a streak of light, tore through the air and struck the charging, mutated behemoth with pinpoint accuracy. Its head exploded, and its body crashed to the ground, sending up a wave of blood.

"Hit." Ian smiled, his tone tinged with the excitement of battle. "Beautiful."

The wind suddenly burst forth beneath his feet, lifting him high into the air, his trench coat fluttering like a black sail.

Ian flipped in mid-air, his dual pistols roaring as bullets rained down, piercing through hordes of lizardmen.

The wind whipped up a bloody mist, tearing it into tattered red flags.

Vilant looked up, his gaze sharp, his smile ferocious, his fangs gleaming in the firelight.

“Not bad.” He spoke in a deep voice, like thunder: “Then you might as well die first.”

He took a step, and the ground beneath his feet instantly collapsed. His figure became a blur, and his speed far exceeded that of ordinary people. He covered dozens of meters in an instant.

The wind whispered in Ian's ear: "Above—!"

Ian reacted instinctively, a wall of wind exploding beside him, and the giant beast's claws grazed his neck, tearing through the air.

The shockwave knocked him over, and his body rolled several times on the ground. He braced himself with his hands, felt a sweet taste in his throat, and coughed up blood.

Vilant landed heavily, shattering the floor tiles and sending dust billowing up. He looked down, grinned, and said with a smile, "How many times can the wind save you?"

Rex locked onto his target from his vantage point, the sniper scope's eye level steadily aimed at Virant's chest, where intense energy fluctuations were emanating.

"Fate always pays its dues," he murmured, pulling the trigger and the bullet streaking through the air like a meteor.

However, Virant suddenly raised his hand, and a monster blocked his way. The bullet pierced through, blood splattered, but he was unharmed. He simply smiled, a low, beastly roar. "Fate? I am fate."

He roared and charged at Ian, his arm completely transformed into a beast, his five fingers turning into sharp blades that reflected the light of the red moon.

The wind howled, lightning ripped across the sky, and thunder roared.

Ian activated his Whispering Domain once more, and a gale swirled around the two of them, with shattered billboards flying through the storm.

Rex reloaded his gun, and all that remained in his scope was a chaotic storm.

The wind suddenly stopped.

The street was torn apart in an instant, and the monster horde surged toward the center.

Ian fired both guns simultaneously, the wind ring transforming into sharp blades; Virant roared and swung down his beast claws, causing the ground to collapse, with rubble and flames erupting at the same time.

Blood and dust, wind and fire, intertwined in the night to create a symphony of destruction.

The beast tide roared, and the storm spun.

Rex's sniper scope gleamed, reflecting the intense clash between Ian and Virant.

The crimson moon hangs high in the sky, and the moment its light refracts into the mirror, it seems as if time itself stands still.

“In this instance,” Rex murmured.

"Monsters are just more honest than humans."

"The hunter walks in the winds of fate."

Every step felt like walking into my own grave.

And at the moment the game begins,
We've all died once already.

— Rex Hawke
(End of this chapter)