Chapter 627: That Was Not Really Me |
"Could you also foresee that this would be your own finishing move?!"
In that instant, his face contorted into a hideous, blood-red snarl. Using the Leviathan's last remaining will and the Leviathan's own root-level immense body, he brazenly flipped open that rust-stained book toward Lynn.
Just like before, when Lynn had used that book in a desperate gamble against the God of All Machines and instantly killed thousands of mechanical consciousnesses.
At that moment,
with the turning of the pages,
a blinding blood-red light spread throughout the entire First Chamber in an instant.
The red light reflected off Lynn's calm cheek and off the hollow gazes of those five Death-Omen Tier puppets. This was absolute annihilation aimed at consciousness, a book of extinction targeting all beings beneath the Root.
But at the exact instant the pages opened, hidden in that radiant glow, no one noticed one small thing.
Lynn's mouth curled up just a fraction.
A terrifying instant-death ripple spread from the First Chamber through the entire Leviathan.
Alice suddenly turned her head, her face draining pale. As the downward buoyancy pulled her, she spun and stared in the direction of the First Chamber.
"Brother!!"
She cried out.
Because at the same moment the wave arrived, she discovered that her connection with Brother had been abruptly severed!
And the white streams of light crazily spreading across the Leviathan—at that moment they began to recede like a tide.
Even Silver Fantasy stopped dead in her tracks and sharply looked back.
That powerful, heart-stopping ripple
made her immediately recall the cataclysmic method he had once used against her Father.
Was he the one using it?!
Or...
At this moment, even the God of All Machines and Sir Aiwen outside the Leviathan instantly turned their gazes toward the Leviathan falling from the black mist. The God of All Machines' expression shifted as he sensed the instant-death curse's fluctuation.
Although it was clearly not as terrifying as the last time he experienced it,
it still meant one thing.
That book, which should not exist in this world, had been opened again!
"He used that curse?!"
The God of All Machines suddenly looked toward Sir Aiwen beside him.
Sir Aiwen lifted his head, his expression grave, and said,
"No. That book was lost by him long ago."
...
Leviathan.
First Chamber.
"Hahahahaha!!"
Tearing, savage laughter echoed as the rust-stained book slowly fell to the ground. Deep blood-red ash reappeared on its surface, and the paper gradually cracked as if it could collapse into dust at any moment.
Before him, the five Death-Omen Tier puppets lay on the ground with hollow eyes wide open.
And before him, Lynn—pressing against the wall—stood as rigid as a statue, eyes emitting a faint mist, like the stench that rises when a brain is melted.
He was dead.
Bound at the center, Doctor 315 laughed hideously, blood flowing from his eyes.
Yet at this moment he felt an indescribable delight.
He had sacrificed every remaining will inside the Leviathan, but he had not died. Though badly wounded, the root-level soul vessel shielded his spirit from the instant-death curse's destructive effect.
"You didn't expect this, did you!"
The black chains on his body slowly peeled away. He tore at the bindings step by step, moving forward. The white light screens throughout the First Chamber receded like a roaring tide.
And all of this told him one thing.
That Night Doctor was dead!
"You planned and schemed a thousand ways, but you must have never imagined you would die by the very move you once used!"
His eyes were bloodshot, yet he could not hide his ecstasy and madness.
"But you did almost pull it off. You nearly completed the two tasks the Roots gave you. Your methods and cunning really left me in awe!"
"But you forgot one thing—this is the Dark World, and you are not a god. Even a god cannot be omniscient or omnipotent. You, a mere human, dare to control everything?!"
He had not wanted to use it.
Because the book's curse was too terrifying—almost beyond the scope of ordinary curses.
If the book had not been used once before, its curse would have been far more potent. Even with a root-level soul vessel's protection, escape might have been impossible.
But everything had ended.
That Night Doctor was dead. This farce should end now!
He tore at the weakening binding chains with a sneer. His arm slowly coalesced into a razor-like bone blade. Step by step he moved to Lynn's corpse, eyes crazed, as if ready to vent all the schemes and humiliation he'd endured.
"I will leave nothing of your bones!"
In a flash,
he raised the bone blade and struck down toward Lynn's skull.
Sluuurp—
With a massive penetration sound.
A blood-streaked line appeared across Lynn's hollow cheek, blood slowly seeping out. Half of Lynn's skull neatly tilted and slid off his neck, then thudded heavily onto the floor.
The bloody off-white brain steamed and bubbled.
But as Doctor 315 raised the blade a second time, something eerie happened. The face, which had half of its skull severed, suddenly showed a faint smile.
Smack—
That hand shot up and grabbed Doctor 315's bloodied bone blade that was about to fall.
"Ah, desecrating a corpse like this is rather impolite, wouldn't you say, Doctor?"
Instantly,
Doctor 315's expression changed violently.
His consciousness exploded like thunder; he stared at Lynn's broken, half-beheaded face in shock and horror, at the faint smile on that face.
The shock made him almost instinctively step back two paces.
"What is happening?!"
"This is impossible! It can't be!!"
He wasn't dead?!
No! That's impossible! That was an instant-death curse! He watched with his own eyes as Lynn was struck by that book's curse—how could he still be alive?!
"How can you still be alive?!"
He shouted at Lynn, trembling, and his body collapsed backward onto the floor as if he had seen a ghost.
Lynn stared at the half-skull, still wearing that faint smile, then slowly rubbed his right eye socket where the Cursed Eye was cracked and said,
"Of course that's because..."
Far away in the Leviathan, inside a vessel in the Puppet Factory,
a hand clicked and tore open the transparent container. From rolling slime a wet face with a mysterious smile slowly emerged.
"That was not really me."