Edwin stood where he was. He could clearly sense the human collective subconscious sea churning in that invisible dimension.
These were not natural fluctuations. Someone was deliberately guiding them.
Waves rose from countless nodes, eventually building into a raging tide.
Adam had somehow planted a virus in this system.
"It seems I've won this time."
Adam spoke calmly at the sight.
Edwin said nothing, merely staring at Adam's compassionate face.
This was precisely why he disliked these people.
They stood above everyone else, treating tens or hundreds of thousands of lives as glass marbles on a chessboard. After idly moving a few around, they thought they had grasped the truth.
They always wore clean clothes, trampling other people's flesh and blood while smiling as they announced that the tide of the age had risen—and that they would ride it to a divine throne.
It was fucking nauseating.
Edwin released his grip.
Ince Zangwill collapsed like a tattered sack with its bones pulled out. His forehead struck the splinter-covered floor with a dull thud.
"You think you've already won?"
Edwin flexed his wrist, took a handkerchief from his coat pocket, and leisurely wiped the cold sweat from his fingers.
"The tide of the age has already risen."
Adam looked toward distant Tingen City, where the firelight had already reddened half the night sky.
"Amon is dismantling this system from within. The workers' anger will spiral completely out of control.
This wave will begin in Tingen and sweep across the entire world.
And here, I will become a True God."
He turned to look at Edwin.
"Even as this system's creator, you can no longer change anything.
Accept reality, Edwin."
Edwin casually tossed the used handkerchief onto Ince Zangwill's face.
"Not necessarily."
He turned and walked over to the battered wooden table.