Chapter 81: Torch |
As the man lowered his hand, the city began to collapse rapidly.
The ground buckled upward, fractured, and from the fissures spewed not soil, but thick, scorching magma, releasing a pungent sulfur smell and searing waves of heat.
Then, an earthquake centered on the municipal square erupted.
Some houses collapsed under the quake, others were struck by silver-white lightning, some exploded in flames, and others were destroyed by tornadoes.
The air was filled with a scorching, viscous liquid reeking of sulfur and burnt flesh. The sky was stained an unhealthy red by thick smoke and flying magma. Amidst the rolling clouds, serpentine lightning bolts continued unceasingly, tearing apart the tottering heavens and plunging down like silver-white spears.
Irina's body vanished, but she had voluntarily left just before the attack landed.
As one of the organizers of this ritual, she possessed certain privileges.
At the very least, she could ensure her own direct withdrawal from it.
Watching Irina disappear like that, the middle-aged man's molten-lava-colored eyes shifted slightly. His gaze swept across the scorched earth where Irina had stood before vanishing, but he gave no reaction.
His goal had been clear from start to finish: to strip Irina of her current identity within the ritual.
His objective was merely to force Irina out of this ritual, nothing more. Whether she died here or withdrew voluntarily at the last moment made no difference to him.
He also wasn't worried about future retaliation.
After all, he was going to die here today anyway.
He descended from the sky, crashing heavily to the ground like a small meteorite, landing precisely where Irina had been standing.
He had no ability to fly; the only reason he had floated in the air was due to being carried by the violent winds.
The ground here was relatively intact, merely covered in a thin layer of ash.
There, lying on the ground, was a slightly yellowed piece of parchment.
Landing amidst the ruins, the man bent down, picked up the parchment, and brought it before his face.
[Liant Town Living Rules]
[Watch closely…]
[…]
[14. It is forbidden to harm Enforcement Team members.]
The condescending tone of the text hit him right in the face.
The content written on this parchment was identical to what was posted on the notice board in the square.
After a brief moment of thought, he injected spirituality into it and concentrated his will.
Using spirituality as a pen, new rules immediately appeared on the parchment.
[15. It is forbidden to show genuine smiles within the town.]
[16. It is forbidden to produce genuine laughter within the town.]
[17. It is forbidden to feel genuine joy within the town.]
[18. It is forbidden to seek pleasure or derive happiness from any entertainment that does not conform to public perception.]
These rules didn't conform to any place's laws, nor did they align with public perception. Theoretically, even if they were established, the "punishment" incurred by committing this "crime" would be negligible.
However, it couldn't withstand his sheer volume of applications.
Piled up again and again, the target would eventually be weakened to the point of being easily killable by this snowballing "punishment."
He was a scholar from the "Fate Rectification School."
Though calling himself a scholar, he didn't possess a single Law Mark of [Ultimate Wisdom].
In contrast, Law Marks of [Calamity] took up half his skill slots.
But that was fine. As long as he could beat everyone into intellectual disabilities, then comparatively speaking, he would still be the high-IQ academic type.
He had appeared here because another scholar from the school had discovered something important.
Something had gone wrong with this ritual.
An element that shouldn't exist had infiltrated it.
In the future foretold by the school, there should be no existence of such a person.
So he had come.
The path of fate was long and winding, full of thorns and forks in the road. To ensure the extension of the only "correct" path, some sacrifices were necessary.
For a better future, he would do everything in his power to burn and destroy the unstable factors.
Just as cutting off withered leaves allows a tree to grow better.
Once, ten times, a hundred times.
He firmly believed his actions were right.
No, he had never been wrong.
After adding the four rules, the man relaxed his fingers, letting the parchment slip from his grasp and drift away with the wind. Carried by the gusts, it flew into the sky, mingling with ashes and sparks, passing through thick smoke, soaring over collapsed houses. No one knew where it would end up.
The wind didn't stop, the fire didn't die. The many "natural disasters" within this "fake Liant Town" had not yet ceased; they continued to persist.
Then, he took a step forward.
The violent winds once again swept him up into the air, hurling him skyward.
This allowed him to overlook the entire city below.
The final scene of the fake Liant Town reflected in his molten-lava-colored pupils.
This false city was now dilapidated, twisting and collapsing amidst the flames. Houses had fallen, leaving pockmarked craters from explosions. Tornadoes laced with fire swept through the city, while lightning continuously struck from above and magma spewed from below.
Countless buildings were set ablaze, and beneath his feet were scorched, pale ruins and broken walls.
This sight was grand, chaotic, filled with a destructive beauty, yet it stirred not a single ripple within his heart.
He wasn't a madman who reveled in destruction. He did these things only because they needed to be done.
His mission was nearly complete. This prison, constructed with immense power, along with everything that had happened inside it, would soon dissolve into nothingness.
Drip.
A drop of "rain" fell from the sky, landing and corroding holes into the ground.
That wasn't water; it was molten iron.
Then came the second drop, the third, the tenth, the hundredth.
Blazing hot molten iron rained down like a downpour, igniting flower-like flames across the city.
The scholar's molten-lava-colored eyes seemed to melt.
A droplet resembling magma traced a path down the side of his face, falling toward the shattered town below.
It might have been a tear, but it could also have been rain.
The surface of the droplet was smooth as a mirror.
This droplet reflected the entire city below—tornadoes, magma, lightning—all these scenes of disaster, interspersed among the ruined buildings, were reflected on the surface of that droplet, spinning as it descended.
It fell into the town, into the ruins.
The ground rippled like water, and the droplet sank straight through, passing right through.
In an instant, heaven and earth were turned upside down.
Drip.
It fell onto the scholar's raised right hand.
At some point, the scholar had already appeared above the real Liant Town. That droplet fell from the sky, landing in his palm.
Then it violently exploded, burst into flames, quickly expanded, and turned into a ball of fire.
He raised his right hand high, holding it aloft like a torch lighting the way forward.
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