Chapter 938: Anathema (12)
A stabbing pain, as if needles were piercing her eyes.
A sensation so dulled she couldn’t even tell if her eyes were open.
Peshia coughed up a clot of blood rising in her throat and bowed her head low.
“Puh, guh-hak…!!!!”
“Sir Grisbern. You are awake.”
“…Old man.”
Krod Azlan, covered in blood, was supporting Peshia as he walked.
Peshia, who had been staring blankly at him, blood dripping from her mouth, asked.
“How did the fight end?”
“As discussed with the Tower Lord beforehand, we are heading out of Etanoc.”
The Guileless, clad in tattered robes, replied softly.
“Our role ended the moment the distinction between vanguard and rearguard became meaningless.”
His slightly bowed face looked so exhausted, as if he might collapse at any moment.
“The Tower Lord will handle the rest himself.”
“….”
The initial plan was to use the two of them as the vanguard to establish the front line, then overwhelm Anathema with unlimited firepower from the rearguard.
But things went awry when Anathema unleashed Apostle Spellcraft under the Pontiff’s protection, and Lennok encountered the Director.
Anathema, having analyzed the pattern of the spell bombardment and noticed Lennok’s absence, had used that brief moment to overwhelm the two vanguards, leaving them critically wounded.
His intellect, capable of analyzing pouring magic even while fighting two Level 8 martial artists. His judgment, immediately increasing the tempo of attack and defense to forcibly crush the two vanguards the moment he sensed something amiss.
The only reason Krod and Peshia, who were not in top condition, could hold out against Anathema, an exceptional warrior even in life, was because the spell bombardment had restricted Anathema’s movements by dominating the area.
However, the balance tilted when rearguard fire support became meaningless, and the two spearmen, enduring until Lennok arrived, suffered fatal injuries, pushing them to a point where fighting was impossible.
At that point, Lennok judged that continuing to fight Anathema by dividing vanguard and rearguard was meaningless. He asked them to restrain Anathema one last time, then immediately extracted them from the battlefield.
“The moment things came to this, he intended to finish it with his own hands…”
Peshia’s expression twisted as she grasped the situation upon hearing The Guileless’s reply.
“His way of thinking, now as then, is so annoying I want to kill him. I should have knocked him down a peg a long time ago.”
“That doesn’t sound like something Sir Grisbern, who was once defeated by the Tower Lord, should say…”
“Damn it, shut up!”
Peshia snapped, shouting, and slapped away Krod’s arm that was supporting her.
She glared at Krod, who stepped back with a wry smile, grinding her teeth.
“You’re also dragged around like a dog after losing to him.”
“That is why I follow the Tower Lord, is it not? You cannot deny that, as a result, he used us two like tools and extracted the best possible outcome, can you?”
The Guileless slowly wrung the blood from his robe and continued.
“Even though he joined late, having focused on fire support from thousands of meters away, he immediately saw through our condition and even determined the exact timing to drain our remaining power to the very last drop.”
“….”
“Admit it. That wizard, the youngest and most inexperienced among us, was the most outstanding commander on this battlefield.”
“You’re already babbling as if that bastard won. Isn’t it too early to discuss victory?”
Peshia sneered.
“Anathema is a despicable apostate, but his power and technique are exactly as I remember. Even considering he hasn’t fully adapted to the Apostle’s body, I can’t be sure Adamant Thunder will win.”
The attendees gathered at this summit were all clearly older or past their prime compared to the time of the civil war.
But Anathema’s name, having been exiled from reality, is not bound by such the flow of time.
Furthermore, having become the Sixth Apostle by joining hands with the Pontiff, it would not be strange for him to grow even stronger through battle with powerful foes.
“Perhaps. I am not directly observing the specific circumstances myself.”
The Guileless said so, glancing over his shoulder.
“However, I think I know who is trying to put an end to this fight first.”
“…What?”
Paaaat!!!!
At that moment, Peshia realized the sky was glowing with a blue light.
It wasn’t the aftermath of the battle that stung her eyes, but the overwhelming intensity of the light.
It was still before dawn. The sky, which should have been pitch black, was overflowing with blue light.
A deep blue meteor streaking down, piercing through the dark storm clouds.
A meteorite too small to be seen with the naked eye, yet its radiance alone dyed the entire sky a vivid blue.
“Surely…”
Peshia’s entire body stiffened in fear as she turned her gaze skyward.
A beam of light, tearing open the heavens, descended upon the battlefield where she had just risked her life.
She, too, had once witnessed the ultimate art of a great wizard, an overwhelming power that defied any power struggle.
Peshia, her face turning pale, stammered, unable to control her expression.
“That… that thunderbolt from back then…”
“…Do you know that spell?”
“It was the last spell that wizard used on me.”
The magic she couldn’t block even for a single moment, despite having dedicated her entire body, mind, and hierarchy to it.
The light of thunder that had pronounced her end with such absurd ease, even after she had survived countless near-fatalities from the Central Front.
Even now, the thought-lightning that fell from the edge of the sky remains vivid.
How could she possibly explain that magic now, or the thunderous star the wizard had cast?
Peshia, unable to control her trembling shoulders, barely managed to murmur.
“It’s a spell… that turns night into day.”
Piercing through the thick clouds that should have veiled even moonlight, the lightning’s radiance rotated, engulfing and sweeping away everything in its path.
Illuminating every inch of the sky and turning night into day was a tiny cube hovering above the decisive battlefield.
[Lightning Well]
[Lightning Void Eye]
[Lightning Convergence Deviation]
[Electric Resonance: Harmonics]
Pzzzzzzzzzzzzzt!!
Tens of thousands of amplified lightning bolts colored the sky, compressing everything to the extreme.
The concept of lightning, existing only as a beginning and an end, was stretched to its limit and shaped, constructed into tangible matter.
Load and repulsion, resonance and diffusion, compression and shaping.
Adding rotation and fusion, and at the end, mixing in an Authority not originally Lennok’s.
Eight property transformations and a single will harmonized, transforming into the shape of a perfect octahedron.
Crraaccckkkkk!!!
Heat beyond limits. Space burned and twisted just from its existence, sustained by a forced will-thought that should have long since vanished, held in material form.
As the octahedron slowly descended from the void, a bizarre aftermath of space peeling away followed in its wake.
Crack, cra-cra-crack!!!
The moment even one of the hundreds of thousands of controls and calculations maintaining this matter went awry, the lightning forming the octahedron would all twist and burn the world.
It was beyond the realm of skill and knack, or even experience and learning.
It was forcibly drawing out possibilities not permitted to humans, using talent that surpassed all limits.
One of the ultimate pinnacles of Lennok’s unique lightning magic, requiring even Davi’s computational power to conjure.
The Profound Will.
[Myriad Sands Divine Thunder]
Ruuuummmble!!!
[You’re insane, wizard!!!]
Anathema, breathing roughly, scattered terrifying killing intent as he shrieked.
The moment he saw that, Anathema knew all of Lennok’s words were true.
He would die if he took that spell.
It wasn’t merely a level of power that would prevent him from regenerating as an Apostle; it was a force so immense that he would have to prepare for eternal obliteration, even with the Pontiff’s protection.
The Sixth Apostle, glaring as if to tear Lennok apart, could not control his rage and screamed.
[After fighting with all your might, what you aimed for was mere mutual destruction, blowing up the entire battlefield! I misjudged you from the very beginning!!]
It was not a great wizard’s secret art that twisted and killed space as a result. Indeed, if it were, he wouldn’t be this furious.
It was a power that had completely departed from the very concept of hierarchy, by compressing its attributes to the absolute extreme.
Its very mode of existence was, in fact, closer to an Ascendant than anything else currently breathing on this spot.
In a way, it was, quite literally, a technique that forced a breakthrough in power by endlessly pouring in one’s own talent.
This was proof that this hateful wizard’s talent was comparable to, or perhaps even surpassed, that of an Ascendant.
Anathema was furious at the wizard’s decision to choose mutual destruction, despite possessing such talent.
But Lennok merely chuckled upon hearing Anathema’s words.
“How can I call myself a wizard if I die caught in my own spell?”
“What…?”
“This magic was cast to kill you, and only you, here.”
Lennok nodded, looking at the Myriad Sands Divine Thunder cube falling above his head.
“I’ll leave the process to it, but the outcome is solely mine. It’s my role to kill you and put an end to this fight.”
“Nonsense…!!”
Was he claiming to have a means to escape, even after unleashing a strategic weapon capable of annihilating the entire satellite city of Etanoc?
But Anathema, even as he spoke, did not rashly charge at Lennok.
Even if he were to kill Lennok now, the Myriad Sands Divine Thunder’s casting was unlikely to be canceled.
On the contrary, it wouldn’t be strange if the spell, having lost its caster, went berserk, sweeping through Etanoc and engulfing Anathema.
“No matter how powerful a spell, it’s useless if it doesn’t hit…!!”
Anathema quickly completed his judgment and immediately channeled his magic with all his might.
“Then all I need to do is avoid a direct hit!!”
Zone of Fragmentation: Western Wheel
[Earth-Ranked Heavenly Barrier]
Kwooogwagogogogo!!!
Dozens of meters of earth fragments surged around Anathema, transforming into a sky-splitting shield of earth.
They crisscrossed and interlocked, hardening in an instant, forming dozens of layers of barriers.
Each one was created with Apostle Spellcraft, boasting a strength exceeding that of top-tier defensive spellcraft—a continental earth barrier.
This single barrier, which granted near-immunity to most physical attacks, collided with Myriad Sands Divine Thunder.
The Earth-Ranked Heavenly Barrier shattered like grains of sand and collapsed completely.
Craaack, cra-cra-craaack!!!
Between the barriers that formed and evaporated simultaneously, a tiny meteorite quietly descended.
Anathema, unable to believe this surreal destruction and descent, let out an inarticulate shriek.
Immediately after his full-power Apostle Spellcraft was utterly nullified, the backlash from the spell’s destruction struck him relentlessly.
“Ooooooooh?!!!”
Blood gushed from every orifice on the Apostle’s face, streaming down.
As Anathema stumbled and let out a desperate scream, the meteorite flashed above his head, and Lennok watched him with an expressionless face.
The light of Myriad Sands Divine Thunder, so blue it was almost pale, resembled the Pontiff whom he had decided to serve. In that moment, Anathema realized.
He would die.
His seventh life, finally obtained after decades of anguish and patience.
This reborn Anathema was about to vanish without ever truly blossoming.
“No! No!!”
Anathema, finally fully realizing it, turned and began to flee madly.
Covered in blue scales, discarding his tattered earth armor, he screamed wildly with a bizarrely mixed goat-headed face.
“How could I have gained this opportunity, how could I have regained this life!!!”
“That’s right.”
Lennok agreed.
“That’s why I have to kill you here. Otherwise, I wouldn’t be able to call him here.”
“Stop! You can’t kill me here!!!”
Anathema’s body, almost entirely assimilated with the earth, sank below the ground.
Apostle Spellcraft: Full Power Activation
Shrinking Earth Evasion
With only his grotesquely distorted face showing above the ground, Anathema’s body fled the satellite city at incredible speed.
“You can’t kill me!! You can’t kill me, who’s assimilated with the entire satellite city, with human magic…!!!!”
Anathema’s desperate struggle was pathetic, but his judgment and response were not wrong.
Myriad Sands Divine Thunder is a spell whose power is halved if it doesn’t hit the target accurately at close range.
This is because Myriad Sands Divine Thunder amplifies its power by compressing its attributes beyond limits, maximizing its repulsive force.
If Anathema assimilates his entire body with the earth like this, drastically reducing damage, and avoids a direct hit, he might not die.
But Lennok, knowing this, calmly watches Myriad Sands Divine Thunder fall before his eyes.
“I told you. All preparations are complete.”
The octahedron, slowly rotating and falling, is so beautiful that even Lennok is momentarily captivated.
It’s hard to believe it contains the will-thought of lightning he created, yet it’s so transparent, hollow, and distant.
The boundary between life and death. The chilling sense of déjà vu, as if brushing past death, is contained within it.
Though originating from Lennok himself, it is no longer something Lennok has done.
It hasn’t even begun, yet the outcome is already decided.
Determining cause and effect, and adjusting destiny within the spell he himself crafted.
This concept, which he is only now faintly grasping, must surely be a miracle allowed only to Transcendent beings challenging ascension.
Lennok thinks this, taking an old shell casing from his pocket and gripping it.
“I once spoke of what inevitability is.”
Click!!
The trace of the Magic Gunner left behind by the Old World God-Slayer.
He hadn’t explained its purpose, but Lennok knew how to use it.
Because just as Lennok had seen, he would remember too.
The sea of the Second World. The waters overlooked by the Outer God’s eye.
The Magic Gunner’s Authority, refined over a lifetime by abandoning innate talent.
The power of inevitability he held at the last moment at the world’s end—
Crack!
The old shell casing, a gift from the Director, is instantly annihilated by the light of Myriad Sands Divine Thunder.
Its shape completely burnt away, as if it had never been there.
At that moment, lightning sparks leap from Anathema’s brow, which is fully assimilated with the earth.
Crack!
[Lightning Key]
The first magic Lennok implanted in Anathema’s brow upon their encounter.
It has no particular destructive power, but it exists literally as a key to summon lightning, a marker.
A move that ensures the exact location of his true body can be found, even if Anathema assimilates with the entire satellite city’s earth to flee.
“Aaaahhhhh?!!!”
The moment Anathema lets out a shriek, realizing that the light of the Lightning Key on his forehead has literally targeted him.
Creak.
The world twisted.
“….!!!!”
A hallucination where all senses and cognitive abilities before Lennok’s eyes seemed to completely misalign.
Magic and will-thought, life and death. Matter and soul. Cause and effect, and everything else, momentarily lose their way, creaking and going astray.
A sense of déjà vu, as if the very foundation for the world’s existence was being twisted and forcibly swapped.
“Hah hah, hahah…!!!”
Immediately after, Lennok lets out a hollow laugh, realizing the meaning of this phenomenon.
The Old World God-Slayer no longer uses any tools to aim at targets.
Neither the magic gun that was the foundation of his talent, nor his body that doesn’t exist in reality, nor the eyes and hands to hold a gun.
The Director was, quite literally, twisting the world to ‘aim’ the bullet Lennok had created at the target.
Screeching sound…!!!
The clock rotates amidst the landscape of friction-creaking space.
Like two different photographs forcibly cut and pasted together, the Myriad Sands Divine Thunder spell crosses space-time and settles effortlessly above Anathema’s head.
“No!! Don’t do it!!!”
He can’t escape, even fleeing madly assimilated with the ground.
As if the outcome of bullet and target meeting is fixed and unchangeable.
As if the concept of ‘inevitable hit’, which shouldn’t originally exist in reality, has been imprinted on Anathema’s soul at this moment.
The Authority of Inevitability descends upon this place.
“You!!! You tricked me!!! You tricked me!!!!”
Something beyond perception and concept is forcibly aligning the causality between himself and that lightning.
Aiming and shooting, hitting. All those processes are artificially twisted and erased, leaving only the result: ‘hit’.
A miracle that Transcendent beings challenging ascension dare not even dream of,
Allowed only to the One Who Walks Backward, who sees the determined outcome.
Anathema, realizing this fact, screams at the top of his lungs.
“This is impossible!! You didn’t say anything about this!!!”
“….”
Lennok does not reply to Anathema’s words. He simply raises his hand with a conflicted expression.
Anathema, seeing the gesture from afar, throws away even his dignity and unleashes his full power, screaming madly.
“No!!! This can’t be!! I can’t die here-!!!!!”
As Lennok snaps his fingers, the Myriad Sands Divine Thunder cube contacts Anathema’s brow.
It releases the compressed lightning at that spot, dyeing the sky blue.
“Sa-ve me-!!!!!”
[World-Opening Thunderclap]
Fwoosh!!
The lightning imagery that colors the entire sky drives away darkness, turning night into day.
Blue lightning bursts out indiscriminately, connecting sky and ground.
Anathema’s screams, and the scattered corpses of flesh monsters, are swept away and vanish in the radiance of the World-Opening Thunderclap.
Thunderous light rays surged throughout the ruined satellite city’s devastated streets.
Without even a sound, the afterglow of the lightning wrapped around the ruined city, turning everything to ash and dust.
As the wave of lightning surged like a tsunami, sweeping through the entire city, dyeing the ground brighter than the sky.
Kwooong!!!
A tremendous thud echoed from the center of the pillar of light, as a very large presence collapsed.
A grotesque abomination, a fusion of goat and human, an Apostle’s and noble’s body mixed.
The moment Anathema’s body was slammed down, bowed deeply, no longer showing any signs of life.
Lennok realized that the sky-illuminating light had not yet disappeared and looked up.
“….”
Even after the light of Myriad Sands Divine Thunder vanished, night did not return.
The spell that ushered in the dawn ended, and the sun appeared over the horizon.
Amidst the quiet stillness that pressed down on the battlefield as morning arrived, only a faint sigh echoed through the ruins.
“Hmph…”
In the silence, so quiet that the fierce battle that just took place, and even the Apostle’s existence, seemed like a lie.
Click.
Lennok took out a cigarette, lit it, and leaned against a broken rebar.
At Lennok’s feet, silently exhaling smoke, lay only Anathema’s crushed corpse.
Crackling, crackling…!!
Even though his breath had ceased, the lightning rising from his body did not vanish, surging and intertwining to form shapes.
As he watched, the sunlight rising from the edge of the desert slowly widened its angle, illuminating Lennok’s face.
“…Is it over?”
The summit of extreme ability users. The imitation of the Veil. The capture of the Eight Trigrams Formation. The meaning of Anathema’s name.
And even the meaning of inevitability used by the Old World God-Slayer.
There’s much to think about, much to resolve, but nothing is over yet.
Dealing with Anathema, killing him, and using his corpse as a beacon, is only the first step.
There’s still someone he hasn’t met. Someone he needs to inform is still here.
How much time had passed since the battle ended?
As Lennok mused on this in his extremely expanded perception and consciousness, staring blankly at the rising sunlight.
“You’ve waited long enough.”
Flash!
A pale flash struck down before Lennok’s eyes.