121
From a worldly perspective, a successful revolution required timing, military strength, and a sufficiently rotten system. Although monarchy had continued to flourish for over two thousand years, from the beginning of the Fourth Epoch into the Fifth Epoch, Emperor Roselle had already trodden through the blood of the Sauron Royal Family to prove to the world that seemingly eternal things were not truly indestructible.
The sharp words exchanged in a conference room could never match the clash of real blades. The devout believers intended to topple a throne that had lost its gods' support. One moment, the Archbishop of the Church of the Eternal Blazing Sun, the Chief Deacon of the Church of Steam and Machinery, and those great figures who were demigods had still been discussing whether certain provisions in the Intis Empire's newly promulgated code were unreasonable, whether they paid too much attention to humanity and too little respect to the gods. The next, the emperor, tired of their posturing, had torn apart that false peace himself. The negotiations had collapsed! The symphony of destruction sounded its first note. Omens of ruin and discordant undercurrents had finally borne ripe fruit.
Furious sunlight poured down on the world's most exalted palace, and so a god, too, met his twilight.
All of Intis dimmed at that moment, while White Maple Palace shone as though the sun had fallen to earth. Light descended from the heavens, turning into spears and arrows, only for laws to distort their trajectories and send them falling into shadow. The ground rumbled, punctuated by the metallic sounds of machinery and turning gears. Minutes later, flames suddenly erupted in a corner. Gunshots, shouts, and clashing metal rapidly spread an atmosphere of panic.
"Someone's setting fires outside the Hall of State!"
"The inner palace is on fire! Guards! Guards! Someone, hurry! Put out the fire!"
Edward reached out to stop an anxiously running guard and asked him quite naturally, "Aren't you going to join the battle?"
"My lord Earl, what are you talking about?" Genuine fear and confusion appeared on the guard's face. Then his expression became composed and seasoned. Looking at the person before him with eyes that had grown deep and old in an instant, he laughed. "Of course I will, but my best opportunity hasn't arrived yet. Isn't that true of you as well?"
"Dealing with Adam is exhausting. Honestly, he's already accomplished half his objective. I really don't want to help His Majesty anymore."
A devil naturally possessed no virtue of loyalty. Abandoning an old friend who was also his superior took no more than a sentence. He did not even twitch an eyebrow.
Zaratul weighed the truth of those words, secretly speculating how much strength the Abyss Angel had left, and what unimaginable means he had used to defeat a virtual personality provisionally rated at Sequence One in the mental world. He did not answer rashly. Both angels raised their heads, their gazes piercing the clouds and the curtain called the sky, reaching up into the vast Astral World.
Blinding sunlight surrounded the pitch-black throne. Although even time and space had been distorted, occasional rays still pierced the Black Emperor's domain. Torrents of knowledge surged through the Astral World, accompanied by mysteries from the Great Old Ones that left conceptual marks in the sky which would not fully dissipate for a hundred years. All manner of bizarre stellar trajectories appeared overhead. One could easily imagine how mysticism scholars and astronomers of later generations would frown over the records of this day. Rules were rewritten as well, his words becoming this place's new code of law. An existence that had yet to become a true god was ultimately far short of a genuine deity, especially when a gulf of over a thousand years of life separated them.
Roselle had gone to the Astral World. He ought to have known that an "emperor" was most invincible only when standing upon the earth.
It seemed he still retained his reason.
The "Black Emperor," the embodiment of dominion, the maker of laws. The people who submitted to him were the units that composed his body; the cities were his organs. The emperor's majesty flowed through his subjects' flesh and blood. Armies marched along roads just as blood surged through veins, carrying the emperor's renown from his throne to the edges of the earth. Only when everything was bound together by a certain law did the truly unique "Black Emperor" exist! Even if Roselle had not yet truly taken that step, he was certainly not far from it.
The Monarch of Decay contemplated quietly, analyzing the situation from the shadows: Roselle was attempting to escape corruption through a genuine death, but he did not know that the Mother Goddess of Depravity's corruption could never be cleansed by a single fall. Roselle still possessed a human conscience. He had voluntarily left the earth, not wanting his death and battle to spread corruption across it, and the gods were happy to see that.
Members of the Sauron Family rushed in amid the chaos. They had planned this well in advance. The panicked nobles wore dark expressions, their loyalties wavering.
Edward spotted a familiar face among them, but he had no intention of paying it any attention. He was waiting for his target.
Suddenly, he sensed an imperceptible force settle on him. The Monarch of Decay immediately reached out and seized that elusive sensation. Following the fleeting connection, he gazed into the distance and saw a blond priest in white, in a park whose style differed greatly from Intis, writing in a notebook with a serene smile. Then, before the priest could cast him a puzzled look, he withdrew his gaze.
Adam.
Adam again.
Why was it always you?
The Monarch of Decay easily evaded Adam's inspection through his level of existence. He clicked his tongue, unmistakable impatience surfacing in his thoughts and emotions. Then he concealed himself, spiraling down the steps in the void of consciousness into its most hidden depths, which even a Visionary would struggle to perceive. Adam intended to influence the Abyss Angel. To perform as naturally as possible according to the other party's script, the Monarch of Decay decided to condescend to play along.
122
The Black Emperor sat upright upon his throne, his enormous figure like a towering structure connecting heaven and earth. His form was dark and fathomless, disorderly chaos and distorted laws drifting within its shadows. He was not yet a god, but he was unquestionably an emperor. A frenzied torrent of knowledge, eyes that glimpsed reality, and the shadows of order together formed his mythical form. From the clouds far above the dust, he looked down upon his kingdom on earth. His throne stood at the same height as the sun.
Roselle remained calm and composed, calculating how much longer he could hold out. But his goal was not survival-it was death.
The God of Steam and Machinery watched from afar for an opportunity, occasionally providing the Eternal Blazing Sun with a little support and protection. Bornova had already vanished somewhere. Roselle merely glanced toward the Perfect Land and nearly let the corruption within him erupt prematurely because he could not contain his anger.
As he contended with the Eternal Blazing Sun and the God of Steam and Machinery, the angels' battle on the ground began as well.
"The Abyss Angel emerged victorious in the mental battle, but this also caused problems with his mental state. This is reasonable."
"The Holy Light Angel of the Church of the Eternal Blazing Sun descended. They have long-standing grievances and hate one another. Given the requirements of his advancement ritual and his diminished judgment, the devil did not leave immediately, but will hide and seek an opportunity to kill his opponent. This is also reasonable."
"Zaratul can sense the distortion of fate."
The angel from the Church of the Eternal Blazing Sun had already begun fighting Emperor Roselle's surviving saints. Yet, excluding Zaratul himself, the theoretically strongest combatant present had shown no response, having long since stepped into his own domain, that simulated Illusory Abyss. But Zaratul could sense that the other angel had not gone far. He was prowling nearby, utterly indifferent to the saints' losses, merely waiting for an opportunity.
Zaratul frowned and immediately understood something. His clenched right hand opened slightly as he hesitated over whether to use his spirit body threads.
Benjamin Abraham was struggling to hold on. Relying on Sealed Artifacts and Door Opening, he repeatedly traversed the Spirit World to evade fatal attacks, but defeat was not far away. The Holy Light Angel pierced the saint blocking his way with one thrust, then turned his light-filled eyes toward Benjamin. That single glance struck Benjamin like a heavy blow. He convulsed violently and coughed up two mouthfuls of blood. In an instant, he lost even the ability to think, and could only watch helplessly as the angel raised his sword again, preparing to kill him too!
The Holy Light Angel struck again. At that very moment, however, a gale swept toward him from behind. A vast black shadow spread its wings in the wind, bloodstained black-and-red claws lunging straight for the center of his back. Every one of them heard an indescribable roar, savage and uncanny. Uncontrollable hallucinations erupted before their eyes, plunging them instantly into the scenes they feared most!
"Aah!"
Illusory full moon ravings seemed to echo in Benjamin Abraham's ears. He collapsed in agony, clawing frantically at his cheeks.
The Holy Light Angel paused for only half a second. He loudly praised the Sun, and all the sunlight around him seemed to become solid blades, rising to whirl around him and stripping scales, flesh, and bone spurs from the devil like a meat grinder. But such pain meant nothing to a devil consumed by murderous intent. He did not withdraw. Despite his worsening injuries, he forced his bladed claws through his opponent's ribs, his sharp fingertips almost touching the powerfully beating heart.
Failing to reveal his mythical creature form in time had cost the Holy Light Angel the initiative, but he was unafraid. He violently twisted his body, snapping his opponent's wrist bones with a series of cracks. The language of foulness poured out without cease, bringing negative effects such as "death," "chaos," and "fear." The Holy Light Angel blocked most with chants and blessings, but a few still landed on him. His sword light also plowed wounds deep enough to expose bone across the devil's body. The flesh and shattered bone that rained down during their brief clash burned away in golden flames, drifting briefly before falling as a scorching rain of light.
The light of the Sun Pathway was the bane of all evil, ghosts, and filth. The Holy Light Angel swept through the air as lightly as a falcon, severing the bones at the roots of the bat wings and leaving those enormous wings hanging limp. The devil's blood boiled into red vapor, and anything it touched instantly developed demonic traits. Soon, the sword of holy light pierced his chest and pinned him to a building, leaving only its hilt exposed. Dazzling golden flames engulfed the devil's entire body.
"I've caught you, devil."
A cruel smile appeared on the devil's hideous face. "No. I've finally caught you."
The corpse nearest them suddenly opened its eyes! The spirit body threads that had lain hidden all along concealed themselves no longer. They twisted forward, lunging like snakes at the two entangled angels. But just as those black threads were about to touch the Holy Light Angel, they all abruptly changed direction and pounced on Edward! The ends of the spirit body threads pierced the devil's body. Just over ten minutes earlier, this body had already become Zaratul's marionette once. He was highly confident that he could take control of his opponent instantly!
He had chosen to help Adam.
In the foreign park, Adam calmly prepared to write the final period.
The light rapidly faded from the devil's eyes. The claws that had almost crushed the Holy Light Angel's heart froze, then gradually loosened. Meanwhile, the sword of light drove deeper into his vital organs, piercing through his back. Yet at that moment, his throat slowly pronounced a word:
"F... ate!"
A charm! But precisely which kind remained unknown. Zaratul immediately raised his guard. The next instant, all his spirit body threads slipped out of his control, withdrawing from Edward and falling upon the Holy Light Angel even faster. In the blink of an eye, the Holy Light Angel began showing signs of sluggish thought and slow reactions. The situation reversed instantly, putting him at a disadvantage-it was a "Fortune Thief" charm! Made from a Worm of Time, it had swapped their fates!
Before Zaratul could do anything, the devil lunged forward and bit off everything above the Holy Light Angel's waist.
His body had been torn apart, but an angel would not immediately die. The mangled claws therefore caught his falling lower body and shoved it into that mouth as well. Interlocking spear-like teeth slammed shut like a floodgate. Zaratul clearly heard the brittle cracking of bones and a brief scream. That terrifying mouth of an angel-level devil possessed a bite force comparable to a dragon's. In an instant, it reduced the opposing angel's body to pulp mixed with bone fragments and swallowed it.
Adam's writing hand suddenly stopped in midair, as though a writer had lost his inspiration.
Having killed his enemy, the devil abruptly fell backward, gradually shedding all his inhuman traits in midair. By the time he landed, he had returned to his usual human appearance. Edward Vaughan let his shattered body roll twice across the ground. The enormous burn that pierced his abdomen still threatened to spread outward. Suddenly, he sat bolt upright and stared fixedly at Zaratul.
Zaratul instantly vanished.
Edward fell back down-or rather, he was actually the "Monarch of Decay." Adam's influence had indeed caused some confusion in the consciousness called "Edward Vaughan," so at the critical moment, the Monarch of Decay had locked it away and sent it into the depths of his consciousness. He would release it once it returned to normal. Without taking over the body, he could never have pulled off that final reversal. Everything would still have gone as Adam wished.
He lay on his back, covered in blood, watching the sky.
"Ah." He was utterly bored. "Why isn't Roselle dead yet?"
Ever since supporting Roselle's bid to become the Black Emperor, the god hidden beneath a human skin had been waiting to see how the great Consul Gustav would bring about his own destruction. Well, it looks fairly good so far, the Monarch of Decay thought. Though I've never been a subordinate deity, I've served as a subject plenty of times. The most efficient way to destroy a king is to give him everything.
Look, Your Majesty! You wanted to expand your territory, so I offered you victory and silent cities. You wanted greater power, and I fulfilled your wish without hesitation. Money, glory, the resources to wage foreign wars-I gave you everything you wanted. Is it my fault that you finally died miserably, abandoned by everyone? Of course not! Though these were unquestionably a devil's gifts, were you, the human who gladly accepted them, innocent?
Only around two minutes had passed, but the Black Emperor in the Astral World was already showing signs of defeat. The Eternal Blazing Sun, whose momentary lapse had allowed his angel to be devoured, finally displayed violent fury. He no longer steadily wore down Roselle's spirituality, instead unleashing a storm of attacks. The God of Steam and Machinery remained measured, but likewise had no intention of letting Roselle leave alive.
Just then, the moment arrived. Roselle's movements abruptly halted for an instant. His chest split open, revealing a blood-red full moon!
Roselle could no longer suppress the corruption within him. The sunlight had also reached its greatest intensity. Even the clouds on the horizon began to burn, prompting the Monarch of Decay to dig a passage from the Bible out of Edward Vaughan's memories: "... The sun was risen upon the earth... Then the Lord rained upon Sodom and upon Gomorrah brimstone and fire from the Lord out of heaven..."
He could not remember the rest and could not be bothered to think about it. He continued quietly admiring this brilliant, magnificent destruction, watching the flames break through distorted laws and shadows, devour the torrents of knowledge and stellar trajectories, and engulf Roselle. No sound emerged. Flames burning at tens of thousands of degrees raged, violent shock waves swept through the Astral World, and the barriers of space trembled faintly. Even a trace of spirituality escaping would have reduced dozens of kilometers of the material world to charcoal.
That black figure, crowned and armored, also became a silhouette in the flames, then vanished as though scattered by the wind. An emperor's death ought to be solemn and grand like this, evoking murals of fallen gods, or a tower that touched the heavens before crashing down.
The Genie's voice suddenly sounded beside his ear, reminding him to hurry and honor their agreement by taking action. Finding him noisy, the Monarch of Decay hung up.
Ignoring that fragment of the Genie's consciousness raging in the mental world, the Monarch of Decay sat up in his own pool of blood. He was hurrying to see Roselle one last time. He had originally looked forward to Roselle's death, remaining enthusiastic even before the opening act. But after watching it, he immediately felt disinclined to move. He always lacked interest in things about to die.
He found Roselle, not yet fully burned away, in the ruins of a side hall. Roselle bore the concept of "burning" directly from the Sun, far more refined than the fires hunters produced. Fire had already consumed the room and continued spreading into the distance without pause. Roselle lay on the ground. He was not yet dead, and his body was covered with charred marks and red fissures of every size, like changing lunar phases, like blinking eyes. The Mother Goddess of Depravity's corruption refused to let him go, and would pursue him into the grave.
How could a soul steeped in sin rest peacefully! Roselle Gustav, the Moon of Calamity left fatal corruption upon your soul long ago. You seek death wholeheartedly, yet you do not know that you cannot successfully resurrect as you wish.
Perhaps because he made no attempt to conceal himself, Roselle, with one breath still remaining, moved his eyelids and looked toward him-first warily, then suddenly in confusion. Finally, Roselle's eyes filled with profound shock and disbelief.
"You..." Under the corruption's influence, he temporarily recovered his lost memories and recalled that mocking gaze. "It was... you!"
"Yes, it was me." The Monarch of Decay admitted it quite freely. He even bent down and said softly and quickly, "Thank you for all your suspicion and playacting. All right, Roselle. Go die. You won't resurrect successfully."
With that, he completely lost interest in the Black Emperor and rose to leave without even waiting for the beyonder characteristics to emerge (taking them would be useless anyway; Adam had suffered a major loss this time and would certainly come looking for trouble). He straightened, closed his eyes, then opened them again, as though he had slept. A smile returned to his face, and he became "Edward Vaughan" once more.
TBC
*I suddenly discovered that some recommendation votes came from QQ Reading, too. What a discovery, though there aren't any comments over there.
*Decay: You're next, Zaratul!
Zaratul: Damn it... (teleports away)
Decay: ? Hoho, instead of looting during the fire, you're turning tail and running? Then let's put even more distance between us... (collapses)
Before you continue