Chapter 116: Divine Realm Collision

A Madman’s Guide to Traveling the World

Coincidences happened one after another, and days passed by one by one.

Samuel, who had been lured into Liant Town, never appeared again.

Finally, the King of the Kingdom of Liastan's patience ran out completely.

After waiting for Samuel once more with no result, he chose to make some preparations and then descend personally.

Not sending people, not guiding, but descending himself.

With such an obvious protagonist's halo, if he didn't come in person, Samuel would really develop well by the time he arrived.

Although he didn't know the term "protagonist's halo," the fate of this world had its biases.

Even if he could walk against the current on the river of fate, he couldn't stop others from being pushed along by the waves.

Celt, lying on the flat sky, felt the gravity on his body growing heavier and heavier, unable to help but let out an "Oh hoh hoh hoh" sound.

At the same time, he also tried to get the Travel Guide to suck him in, just like when he stuffed Sereia into it, hoping to crawl out from the other end of the Travel Guide through the connection between the books.

But it failed.

He knew very well that the Travel Guide had responded, but it couldn't take effect.

He moved his fingers, pressing them against the book page.

Yet the Travel Guide still couldn't suck him in.

His intuition reacted, and following it, he turned his head to look at the flat sky beneath him, seeing faintly emerging one by one golden scales among the white clouds.

Celt didn't know why, but he naturally understood what these scales symbolized.

They symbolized balance, justice, price, and reward.

All of this was completely open. As long as you saw them, you could understand their meaning, without worrying about being exploited by information asymmetry.

Guided by his intuition, Celt quickly found the one he wanted to see among the faintly visible scales.

It was a golden scale that wasn't stable, with one side slightly raised and the other slightly lowered.

The moment his gaze fell on the scale, the absolutely open information directly appeared in Celt's mind, making him understand what was placed on both ends of the scale.

On the slightly raised side was placed his action of "letting the carriage driver and Sereia go just now."

This was the reward.

And as the price, it was the fact that he was now "trapped here, unable to leave."

This wasn't particularly fair, but what trapped him wasn't just this contract, but also the inherent binding force of the proto-Divine Realm Celt was currently in.

His earlier premonition of Kolimon's approach allowed Celt to react in advance and let the carriage driver go—that action was actually arranged by Kolimon!

All so that Celt would now be subjected to more constraints.

Turning his head back, he looked up at Kolimon above.

Celt opened his mouth in disbelief and cursed loudly.

"You fucking beast! That was your subject! Why do I have to pay the price for letting him go?"

His intuition reacted, and following it, he turned his head to look at the flat sky beneath him, seeing faintly emerging one by one golden scales among the white clouds.

That was Celt's own act of kindness, nothing to do with him.

Besides, even without pulling the carriage driver into it, Celt's action of sending Sereia away was enough for Kolimon to determine the price.

This was his proto-Divine Realm. Wasn't the "exchange rate" for the price up to him?

A few seconds later, he opened his mouth, and his voice echoed through the space, layered, majestic, and grand, making people want to submit just by hearing it.

"There's no need for you to stall for time, nor should you hope that Avalon will come to help you."

"Now, you can seek help from your main body."

His target from the very beginning was never an ordinary clone, but Samuel himself.

A golden longsword appeared in King Kolimon's hand, pointed remotely at Celt.

Suddenly, Celt felt enormous pressure.

This wasn't the same as the gravity currently weighing on his body; it was pressure on a psychological level.

He felt his heart sinking, continuously falling, as if cast into the abyss, never to find peace.

At this moment, it was enough to instantly break anyone whose will wasn't firm enough.

It rendered resistance impossible, and the only answer was submission.

…………

On the other side, the Perpetual Arboretum.

Ethen·Avalon stood at the edge of his proto-Divine Realm, his gaze passing over the straight boundary line in front of him, looking at the other side.

His proto-Divine Realm was roughly a not-so-perfect circle. It originally didn't have such a straight edge line.

But now, this situation had arisen.

Because his proto-Divine Realm was being squeezed, like two elastic balls pressed together, the curved edges slowly being flattened.

For Law Inscribers, this situation had a rather official term.

It was called "Divine Realm Collision."

A proto-Divine Realm was still a Divine Realm. Law Inscribers wouldn't refuse to polish their own halos a bit.

They could also call themselves gods and refer to themselves with "Him."

Ethen stood at the edge of his proto-Divine Realm, casting his gaze across the boundary line.

Less than a kilometer behind him was the "Arboretum," the center of his proto-Divine Realm.

And less than a kilometer in front of him was the center of another Divine Realm.

It looked like a dilapidated ancient city, with collapsed houses and walls everywhere, and yellow sand swirling through the air. Just as Ethen's proto-Divine Realm was filled with numerous trees, the opposing Divine Realm was filled with armor stands.

They were scattered everywhere, posed in various stances, like a group of knights petrified in an instant.

In the center of the ancient city was an open-air courtyard.

Several statues in heavy knight armor surrounded a throne in the courtyard.

Those heavy armors weren't luxurious, but they flowed with radiance.

Some had their greatswords thrust into the ground, both hands on the pommel; some held long spears with both hands, resting them on their shoulders; some held a bow in one hand and drew the string with the other; some held a huge round shield with both hands; some carried axes; some held hammers...

These statues surrounded the massive throne in the center, on which sat a knight also clad in heavy armor.

Compared to the surrounding heavy armor, the armor on this knight was more plain, even looking a bit rusty, but it appeared exceptionally heavy. Apart from a somewhat tattered cape behind him, there were no decorations.

Only the helmet on his head looked like a fusion of a crown and a helmet, and through the gaps in the helmet, no face was visible.

He sat on the massive throne, one hand gripping the hilt of an exaggeratedly large greatsword, the sword thrust into the ground.

His other hand propped up his head, tilting his entire body slightly, facing Ethen's direction.

But this wasn't the center of his proto-Divine Realm.

The center was above his head, hanging high in the sky, several thousand meters up.

Above his head, at the very center of the entire proto-Divine Realm, hung a massive, sharp, luxurious golden greatsword.

This was the leader of the Sacred Law Knights.

The strongest Sacred Law Knight, and also the first Sacred Law Knight.

The Law Inscriber, Orovic·Damocles.

Ethen's gaze was calm. He raised his right hand, extended it, and crossed the boundary line.

Shhh!

His target from the very beginning was never an ordinary clone, but Samuel himself.

The cut was smooth and flat, perfectly parallel to the edge line of the proto-Divine Realm.

Not only that, but a layer of special spirituality had attached itself to his wound, preventing it from healing.

He calmly withdrew his hand, looking at the cut as if he felt no pain at all.

One second, two seconds.

Suddenly, new sprouts began to grow from his wound.

The special spirituality on the wound still remained, but new shoots, flowers, and vines began to sprout from his hand.

They intertwined with each other, quickly forming the shape of an arm and growing into a new hand.

As soon as these plants grew, they instantly died.

Some were severed, some turned to ash, some aged instantly, some withered rapidly.

The plants grew at a steady pace, not changing at all.

But the speed at which the plants died was slowing down.

Soon, the plant arm slowly took shape.

The moment the plant arm formed, bones, flesh, and skin rapidly climbed onto it, turning this plant arm back into a complete hand.

The spirituality that could suppress regeneration was clearly still there, not driven away, yet Ethen had still completed the regeneration of his hand.

That spirituality still clung to his hand like a parasite stuck to bone.

His hand constantly appeared with numerous wounds, which quickly healed.

But the rate at which wounds appeared also slowed down, bit by bit, until it fell behind the speed of his recovery.

He didn't reject this judgment; he simply spent a few seconds adapting to it.

Now, this judgment would persist for a long time, becoming a part of Ethen's "Heaven." Until it wore itself out.

But it couldn't harm Ethen anymore, because after being completely adapted to, the speed at which it damaged Ethen couldn't even keep up with the speed of his cells' self-recovery.

Survival of the fittest. Life will find a way.

Soon, Ethen once again cast his gaze towards the boundary line of the Divine Realm in front of him.

"How long do you need to hold me off?" he asked softly, his voice mixed with a chorus of countless voices.

But his voice was gentle, like a spring breeze. Despite being a jumble of so many voices, it wasn't off-putting. On the contrary, it made people want to get lost in it just by hearing it.

From behind the opposing knight's visor came a low voice.

"Half an hour."

His voice was deep but not hoarse, yet it inexplicably made people think of a greatsword hanging high above their heads, instilling fear at the mere sound, discouraging any unclean thoughts.

Ethen nodded lightly, saying nothing more.

Then, he smiled, raised his hand, touched the garland on his head, and took a step forward, crossing the line.

Whoosh!

His body instantly shattered into pieces, blown back by the wind into his own Perpetual Arboretum.

But his body quickly began to regenerate, starting from a tiny bit that remained there, directly reforming at the spot where it had just shattered, inside the opposing proto-Divine Realm.

Bones, flesh, skin.

Then the regeneration speed grew faster and faster, faster and faster.

Even his clothes recovered together.

At first, this judgment could turn him to ash in an instant, but gradually, Ethen began to maintain his bones within the judgment, then later his flesh, his skin...

He walked step by step towards Orovic, his pace slow, bearing enormous resistance.

Until the previous scene happened again.

He adapted to the judgment that permeated every inch of the opposing proto-Divine Realm.

His steps became steady, no longer hindered.

Seeing Ethen cross the forbidden boundary, Orovic silently rose slowly from his throne.

With one hand, he exerted force and pulled the greatsword from the ground.

The ground split, and time froze at this moment.

The greatsword above his head fell, cutting through the air, landing on his head, and thrusting straight in, merging with him.

The sword in his hand swung out simultaneously in this frozen moment.

Time resumed its flow, the holy judgment descended, and a massive sword aura blossomed, instantly splitting both proto-Divine Realms—including his own courtyard and Ethen's Perpetual Arboretum—in two.

Ethen himself was not spared.

Before Ethen could recover and adapt, Orovic had already torn through time and space, instantly arriving before Ethen.

Time and space were meaningless to him.

Therefore, he stood right there, from the very beginning, always standing there.

At some unknown moment, he had switched from holding the sword with one hand to gripping it with both, swinging it forward.

Ethen's body, already split in two, was now diagonally cleaved into four pieces.

This wound appeared at every single moment of Ethen's life.

From the moment he was born to the moment he died.

If Ethen were not also a Law Inscriber, then he would have never existed from the very beginning.

At this moment, the two proto-Divine Realms completely merged.

The crumbling walls, armor stands, dirt, and trees were all jumbled together.

Except for the two Divine Realm cores.

That is, Ethen's Arboretum and Orovic's magnificent greatsword.

This symbolized that the Divine Realm Collision had officially entered its most critical phase of integration.

The two Law Inscribers, while locked in combat, also had to erode and pollute each other's proto-Divine Realms. Whoever could occupy a larger area would have a greater chance of winning, forcing the other to act according to their own rules, suppressing the enemy and strengthening themselves.

And if one could erode the other's Divine Realm core, it would almost completely declare their victory.

…………

PS:

I've always heard that my book lacks highlights, climaxes, and satisfying moments.

I wanted to ask everyone if this kind of plot counts as a small climax.

If it does, I'll write more similar scenes in the coming days. If it doesn't, I'll try to find something else.