Round Sixteen: Casual Victims

The Rock Island, which had lain dormant in the void of the star realms for nearly endless ages, began to unleash its immense power. For a god—once a ruler of the multiverse who ultimately ended up trapped in the star realms, reduced to debris adrift in vacuum, with all his followers and servants dead or scattered—this was undoubtedly the worst possible fate. But that didn’t mean he would truly become nothing but a rock; even an ordinary rock, once large enough and dislodged, would carry an unstoppable force.

What the Gith now faced was nothing short of godly force akin to an avalanche. The natural environment on the island, created by the remnants of divine energy, was changing rapidly—gravity became wildly unstable, broken rock pillars, stones, and foul, dark-purple “divine blood” flowed everywhere, and from time to time, objects were flung in any direction at astonishing speeds as if kicked violently. Air rushed to escape, and scorching dust whipped up storms, forming columns that twisted like giant snakes searching for prey. The sky trembled just like the ground, with colorful explosions bursting from the swirling clouds, engulfing all those who dared to offend or trample upon its sacred form in chaos and terror.

The sound of the wind through the flying ash gradually faded. It wasn’t because the storm weakened, but because it was drowned out by the rumbling noise from shifting rocks, blending into another kind of harsh, noisy clamor that soon triggered violent earthquakes across the island. Swarms of scorching dust rose and fell in spirals. The faith millions, tens of millions, even hundreds of millions of followers had once devoted to the god transformed into relentless primal energy, surging from every stone, drop of filthy water, and gust of wind, shaking even the vast star realms.

Urad watched all this with hatred, powerless. He knew this massive corpse of a god was entering an unprecedented state of activity, and its unconscious actions had already brought disasters beyond even the Gith’s ability to handle. Since discovering the corpse, they had carefully explored it, analyzed it, and tried to exploit it. They understood that a star realm island formed from a god meant unimaginable wealth and danger—which was why, while attempting to extract the energy emanating from the corpse, they also tried to lure those foolish wretches who relied on them to come to the island and create confusion.

But now that inferior bastard showing off in the sky has ruined everything. When they decided to “take in” the female mage and her companions, they did consider the trouble a powerful spellcaster and “a dragon” might cause, but in the end they still chose to include them in the ranks of expendable soldiers for the expedition, as the Gith wanted to reap as much profit as possible with as little involvement as possible. They already had enough strength to avoid uncontrollable chain reactions when harvesting energy, but as for those “guardians” that had long resided on the divine corpses—although in reality they were doing the same desecration as the Gith—well, you can’t let others sleep soundly in your own bed; if you want to snatch food from the tiger’s mouth, you need a sturdy shield.

Only this time, the shield they found was too big and too heavy, too heavy for them to bear. Urad never expected “that dragon” to be so extraordinary and audacious that they would be utterly unable to respond in time. Reality collapsed; the frozen thoughts of the divine corpses dissolved and evaporated, turning into waves of psychic energy that surged toward him and the other Gith again and again. Rocks flew at them, so intense that they couldn’t even open their eyes without taking defensive measures, and in the storm of divine power, both magic and psychic energy were extremely fragile—even the magic web seemed on the verge of collapsing, like a spider web in a storm.

The ground beneath their feet kept shaking, so much so that even the Gith’s large, strong flippers couldn’t grip it firmly. In the distant dust, some dark shapes were rising and approaching, like the haze thrown up when the island shook again, but Urad knew they were something far darker and more dangerous.

“Abandon the island! Retreat!” he roared in frustration, his psychic command piercing through the howling wind and reaching his subordinates’ minds.

Forty-Seven, watching this spectacle from above, found it quite entertaining.

“I really don’t believe these wretched faces can hold out longer than me.” From his vantage point, the swarm of shadowy monsters emerging from the void was packed tightly together, rushing forward in all sorts of shapes—some with one mouth, some with two, three, four, or even eight legs. The only constant was their terrifyingly sharp teeth and claws. They let out discordant hisses like the wind, forming a living carpet of blades that rolled toward the Gith, tightening the encirclement and aiming to crush them.

“Ugh, it’s those two dream pupae causing trouble again.” Kairo grabbed Forty-Seven’s shoulder plate and looked into the distance. Though the endless waves of shadows covered the entire island like rising tide, in her eyes, it was because two serpent-like monsters were stirring up chaos in the black tide: “I get it! They live on this island like parasites, absorbing its energy to survive and grow. If they detect outsiders on the island, they create illusions or kill them in other ways to maintain their monopoly—right, Sister Moriel?”

“What’s right or wrong? You’re not submitting this to National Geographic…” Forty-seven was still examining the area with his still-smoking weapon, looking for a spot worth another shot, but Moriel had already acted first, raising his hand to fire a fireball at the dark clouds gathering behind them. After a brief yet intense explosion, a dark creature with three wings tumbled out of the flames, its burning carcass spinning downward as it scattered many feather-like sparks like fireworks.

The female mage calmly straightened her hair, which had been blown-> messy, disheveled, tangled, or unkempt by the wind by the wind. “Ignore these matters. Let the Gith be troubled by them. Can’t you transform into a flying form? This is too dangerous as it is.”

The Gith abandoned all their machinery and equipment and fled in panic. Yet their military skills during this time were truly remarkable. To establish a foothold in the Star Realm, one needed solid abilities. Without orders from their leaders, the Gith warriors closest to the monster tide automatically took on the task of covering retreat—after just a short period of chaos, they divided into several fighting groups that covered each other’s backs as they fought against the shadow monsters. With their swords flashing, they managed to hold their ground for a while. The Gith archers, mages, and sorcerers also attacked several times or cast one or two spells before fleeing, trying to buy time for their comrades to slow down the monster horde.

But all these efforts were ultimately futile. Especially when some invisible force lurked within the sandstorms and minions, sweeping across the devastated islands, the Gith’s defenses began to crumble.

One warrior, with his earth-gray long face set in determination, was slashing fiercely, his yellow eyes wide open. His silver blade moved as if alive, slashing at the dark monsters swarming at him, constantly changing shape as it left behind faint, pale trails. Almost every strike managed to cut something off the enemy, as if the silver double-edged sword had its own will, always favoring actions that could sever its prey in one blow.

A breeze blew. A real breeze—unusually so compared to the storm still howling around them, as strange as a little white rabbit biting a carrot suddenly appearing in a lion pride. Yet it was this breeze that caused the Gith warriors, who had been fearless despite their wounds, to suddenly weaken. Their backs bent, and their strong muscles seemed to shrink and weaken, as if an invisible demon hidden in the wind had instantly drained all their energy, leaving them quickly swallowed by the monsters.

Time. The power of time. There is no true concept of time in the Star Realm, so among the Gith who have lived here for ages, many are not in their prime as their appearance might suggest. Yet these individuals often form the backbone of the Gith army. They typically end their interdimensional travels and adventures at the peak of their lives, returning to their castles in the Star Realm to hone their skills. They do not lose their agility or strength over time, thus gaining the respect of their peers and carving out a path to succeed in their harsh and ruthless militaristic society.

Unfortunately, the Star Realm is a spiritual domain—not a fantasy world where one can achieve immortality. One can escape temporarily, perhaps “forever,” as long as they don’t face reality head-on like now. Time has caught up with them. The energy of the God Corpse has somehow maintained an area where time flows normally, but amidst the chaos, it has turned into a volatile vortex. No force can stop this, so the Gith can only keep escaping.

After paying a heavy price, the surviving Gith finally withdrew from the island’s influence and leaped into the void. Like silver fish diving into the sea, they quickly disappeared from Forty-Seven’s sight.

“Maybe you should wait here. I’ll go clean up the battlefield and bring back some loot,” said Forty-Seven, now in dragon form, circling above the storm clouds covering the island, still thinking about the Gith’s silver blades.

“What a bad habit to learn from the Gith—making money off death…” Morriel retorted as usual. Before she could say more, she glanced at the still faintly visible island peak, whose edges were already blurring, then looked down at the island’s drifting trajectory.

“We need to return to the Gith’s floating castle and bring out that interdimensional merchant, Jacob,” she said. “We promised to travel with him, and we really need his experience in traversing dimensions… This island won’t give up. It’s tracking the Gith—now they’re in big trouble.”

Forty-Seven turned and flew away, his body once again emitting a sun-like, brilliant light. The island behind him seemed to follow slowly and clumsily, but in reality, its speed wasn’t much slower than Forty-Seven’s. As it drifted, it continuously emitted air currents, fluids, and fragments, which, after spreading over a certain distance, were drawn back together by gravity, forming a mass that spun as it moved, gradually turning into an ever-larger dark vortex resembling a nebula.

By the time it reached the Gith’s stronghold in the Star Realm, almost right behind Forty-Seven, this monstrous entity had become a super nightmare filled with tremors, storms, screams, and all sorts of incredible horrors. The Dream Pupae guided the God Corpse and its energy toward the Gith fortress. They had to find a way to release this massive divine force, which had gone berserk due to Forty-Seven’s destructive attacks. Otherwise, it would explode, scattering into a chaotic cloud where nothing could survive—perhaps taking thousands or even millions of years to cool down again.

“That’s impossible!” Urad, still in shock, shouted from the watchtower on the city wall. The silver void glowing in all directions was gradually being filled by ink-like blackness spreading through the water. Terrifying wails that pierced ears and brains came from every side. The first wave of falling monsters, forming a meteor shower, had descended from the dark clouds onto the castle, engaging in fierce battles with its defenders—and it seemed their reinforcements kept coming.

“Seal all paths leading to the main city! Activate all psychic shields!” Reason regained control of his thoughts. Realizing that the impossible was becoming reality, Urad quickly issued orders: “Lure those damned shadow monsters to the vassal city. At the same time, send workers to cut off the connection between the vassal city and the main fortress. That should buy us some time!”

Alarms blared throughout the vassal city as well. It was as different from the main city as a slum was from a palace—the only structure with decent durability, the city walls, was useless against the death demons descending from the sky. The crude and chaotic buildings inside offered no cover at all. Since those shadow monsters were essentially manifestations of the dreams born from the corpse god’s instincts, they had no stable form beyond reflecting the god’s dark and terrifying essence. Thus, they could penetrate through even the narrowest and most twisted passages, then reshape themselves to attack. Complex obstacles only made it harder for those under attack to resist or escape.

“Those Gith hybrid bastards destroyed the paths and sealed the gates!” Moriel had just landed and steadied herself when she heard people running around in panic and cursing. Indeed, the female mage could see thick smoke rising from the area connected to the fortress, as if an avalanche were occurring. Huge, heavy stone slabs were shifting, further protecting the Gith castle while isolating the outer walkways, platforms, and vassal buildings, discarding them like trash.

In such a time when everyone was busy surviving under the onslaught from above, Dragon Forty-Seven wasn’t so noticeable anymore.

“Up there!” Moriel looked up toward the residence of the plane merchant. Since it was on higher ground, the dark clouds pressing down were already close enough to touch the rooftops. One after another, shadow monsters fell from the swirling, roaring clouds, running and leaping in the wind to attack anything in their path.

Forty-Seven glanced around. It seemed the Gith had once again mercilessly used these people who relied on them to survive in the plane world as cannon fodder. It was understandable, but it wasn’t the style Forty-Seven preferred—at least not for anyone other than himself.

“Can you handle it? I have some things to do,” he said to Moriel, lowering his head as his steel wings began to unfold.

“What?” Moriel was stunned for a moment. After scanning the surroundings, she guessed his intention: “Don’t go too far, and don’t keep me waiting too long.”

The dragon took off, clearing a wide path ahead for them to run through before turning in another direction. Moriel, along with Kayro, flew toward Jacob’s home.

The stone house was completely sealed off. Several four-legged creatures, resembling large dogs with skin peeled off and mouths split all the way to their ribs, were scratching and biting around the house, tearing off chunks of stone with each strike and leaving deep scratches. Moriel ended their futile efforts with a series of lightning strikes, followed by a rain of ice needles that pinned their convulsing, grotesque bodies to the ground.

Without time to pay attention to Kayro’s growing magical powers, Moriel kept watch for any monsters that might notice them as she headed toward the stone house. Had Jacob already escaped or died?

A magic portal, emitting constantly changing colors of light, suddenly appeared beside her. Planar merchant Jacob emerged from the portal, his blue face showing a mix of shock and joy. His spider-like long fingers moved back and forth incessantly. “I am truly grateful, respected mage lady. You really came to save me—you didn’t forget this defenseless merchant… Hm? Where’s your mighty steel warrior?”

“There’s no need to worry about that guy. It seems like you don’t need our help after all,” Moriel said, looking at the still-glowing portal behind Jacob. “You can use the ‘Portal’ to leave at any time. Are you staying to test my sincerity?”

“How could I think such a thing…” Jacob flashed his signature smile, typical of all excellent merchants. “Haven’t we already reached an agreement? I need your help, and I can do my part to assist you as well… As a merchant, one must keep to agreements as much as possible. To make a long story short, let’s leave this troubled place first!”

A thunderous explosion echoed. The three turned just in time to see a massive cloud of roaring fire rising above the walls of the Githian fortress. Debris flew everywhere, and a black storm of divine power seemed to find an outlet, rushing toward the city and invading it. Instead of remaining outside, it at least gave the inhabitants of the vassal cities a slight chance to breathe and escape.

“Not bad… It’s not too bad,” Kayro said, trying to comfort Moriel, whose expression showed disappointment.