I'm Trapped in the Block

Deciphering the entire language system wasn’t a difficult task for the Master of Right Words. He had already studied many languages, so it didn’t take him long.

The most difficult part was that the pronunciation of certain words didn’t follow the established rules.

This would require a great deal of study, and the Master of Right Words didn’t believe he could ever fully grasp all the obscure pronunciations.

So he approached the Core again and asked, "How would you rate my progress? How much more do I have to go?"

The Master of Right Words had only wanted to get a sense of his progress—how many more words he needed to learn to meet the Core’s "correction" standard.

But the Core instead shot a beam of light at the Master of Right Words, scanning him for a long while before delivering a completely unexpected message: "Correction complete."

’Correction complete?’

’So I didn’t need to master the entire vocabulary after all. As long as I reached a certain level, it would count as a pass.’

This was a pleasant surprise for the Master of Right Words. He quickly followed up, "My correction is complete. You can let me out now, right?"

But the Core’s next words plunged him back into despair.

"The Black Tower will only open when all humans within it have completed their correction."

Hearing this, the Master of Right Words understood that his own achievement was merely a partial success.

This made him despair even more. ’For everyone to complete the correction... how long would that take?’

He thought of those ignorant robed people and sighed in resignation.

The Master of Right Words began a conversation with the Core. Now that he had learned the distorted language, he was able to quickly grasp the Core’s criteria for judging "correction complete."

The Core’s requirements weren’t high. It didn’t demand a large vocabulary; it was more concerned with the precision of pronunciation. The power of the resulting phantom needed to be pushed to its absolute limit. 𝕗𝕣𝐞𝐞𝘄𝐞𝚋𝚗𝗼𝘃𝗲𝗹.𝚌𝕠𝚖

From the Core’s perspective, the vocabulary of the distorted people in the Black Tower was already sufficient. The problem was their pronunciation, which was so substandard that most of them couldn’t even summon a phantom.

This distorted language was a manifestation of power. Simply speaking a word would generate force. However, because the robed people’s pronunciation was so incredibly imprecise, they could actually use the language for conversation.

These conversations only served to make their pronunciation even worse, corrupting everyone’s accent.

The Master of Right Words understood this as well. Once his own pronunciation was corrected, he could no longer speak this language casually. If he could still hold a conversation, it meant his pronunciation was fundamentally wrong.

That was why, when communicating with the robed people, he had to deliberately distort his own pronunciation to avoid summoning a phantom.

"Language is power, not a means of communication," the Core stated mechanically, clarifying its position.

To communicate is to lose power. To maintain power is to forbid communication.

The two are mutually exclusive.

At this, the Master of Right Words seemed to begin to understand the Core’s purpose. It wanted to transform humanity into a race that wielded the power of language.

"Why are you ’correcting’ humanity?" the Master of Right Words asked, bewildered.

"Because you have gone astray, wasting a powerful gift," the Core replied flatly, its voice devoid of any inflection.

"Weren’t you the one who led humanity astray? Didn’t you create this distortion?" the Master of Right Words pressed, more confused than ever.

Hearing the Master of Right Words’ question, the Core fell silent. It began to pulse with a Purple light, fading in and out like a breath, as if deep in thought.

The Master of Right Words was stunned. This was the first time he had ever seen the Core hesitate. It had always answered his questions instantly, just like a machine.

The Purple light grew steadily brighter. The Core once again shot out a beam of light, scanning the Master of Right Words’ body relentlessly.

After the scan, the Core paused again. A moment later, it returned to its normal state, and the faint, mechanical voice sounded once more:

"You... have forgotten?"

...

Humans did not always have language.

Back then, they communicated only through strange cries, facial expressions, and hand gestures.

They bared their teeth when angry, laughed when happy, cried when sad, and wailed when injured.

When prey was spotted, the human leader would give a wave of his hand, and his companions would swarm forward, weapons raised, shouting to express their battle lust.

Simple and crude.

One day, a very dear friend came to the Core. She said she wanted to grant humanity a power, for they were far too weak.

And so, she came to the Core, seeking to borrow the power of language.

The power of language required no great physical strength, nor did it demand rigorous training. One merely needed to speak to summon a powerful phantom, which made it perfectly suited for the frail human race.

"Your power is as if it were tailor-made for them. Don’t you want to see what it could become in their hands?" the friend coaxed, trying to persuade the Core to bestow the power of language upon humanity.

The Core cared little for humanity’s development, nor did it mind its power being learned by others. All it knew was that it was fond of this friend.

Very, very fond.

The Core also knew that this friend adored humanity, to the point of obsession.

And so, it agreed to her request. It came to Earth and bestowed its power of language upon the humans, who were still in their infancy.

The humans of that era regarded the Core as a deity, and its power of language as a divine gift.

The Core was indifferent to this. All it knew was that, because of this, its friend began to visit much more frequently.

"Look! They’re using the power to hunt! And they made those weapons themselves. Why don’t they just use the power to conjure up cooked food? They’re so silly."

"And they’re using the power to move stone blocks! It looks like they’re trying to build a tower. But why don’t they just create the blocks from scratch? How adorable!"

The friend watched these naive human endeavors with delight, and the Core watched her with delight.

"Don’t you think they’re adorable?"

"Adorable."

"Wonderful! Finally, someone who thinks the same way I do! In the entire abyss, you’re the only one who understands me."

Hearing the friend’s praise, the Core felt a joy it had never known before.

The humans placed the prey from their hunts upon a triangular tower of stacked stones, performing a naive ritual for the Core.

The little humans meticulously arranged various objects in neat rows, wearing ornate clothing and performing clumsy motions.

"Praise the god!"

The Core felt nothing.

But the friend exclaimed how "adorable" it was, and even wanted to rush over and pinch the little humans, though she ultimately restrained her excitement.

The Core didn’t see the point in any of it. It just gave noncommittal replies to its friend’s questions, constantly agreeing with her opinions.

It didn’t care about the humans at all, and had no opinion whatsoever on their foolish, naive antics.

"Look at them. Even in death, they must be placed inside a tower, and then they build new towers. Humans place great importance on rituals. It’s a sign of their reverence for nature, and their respect for their ancestors."

"Humans may be weak, but they are always striving to survive. And they’re using your power of language quite well. It’s wonderful."

"You think they’re amazing too, right?" the friend asked the Core.

"Yes, amazing."