Round Fifteen: Forty-Seven Helps You

“The tunnel battle is over; it’s time for aerial attacks now.”
Forty-Seven flapped his wings to shake off the gray stones clinging to him, circling through the thin shadows like raven feathers.
Although they surely hadn’t traveled as far as they thought, they had still moved quite a distance. Now, the two of them and the dragon were on the far side of the towering peak at the island’s center—its icy, dark cliffs rising steeply into the sky, also obscured by the mist of the Star Realm. But unlike the other side of the peak, this cliff was covered with crisscrossing rock ridges, oddly shaped cracks, and bottomless holes, resembling a mess of haphazardly piled cheese.
The ground was the same. Forty-Seven looked down at the rugged, barren terrain below—filled with valleys, deep gullies, and uneven rock formations. Twisted, sharp black stone pillars sprouted from the soil, reaching skyward like giant fingers; long, wound-like fissures on the surface connected to small volcanic craters that emitted wisps of smoke, occasionally erupting and spewing large amounts of filthy, boiling gas. Some unknown oily liquids seeped from the rock’s depressions and cracks, flowing like rivers until they gathered into semi-solid, dark purple pools below, their stench even reaching Moriel in the air… Everything before them was completely different from what they had seen when they arrived—this half of the island looked as if it suffered from severe skin disease, covered in wounds, ugly, and disgusting.
“Look at this mess—was it already attacked?” Forty-Seven said disdainfully.
“Be serious, will you? We…” Moriel grabbed his dorsal fin, trying to orient themselves. After scanning the surroundings for a moment, her gaze suddenly fixed: “Let’s go greet our ‘employer.’ Fly along this river below; the Gith are over there.”
By a large lake of purple liquid—almost the biggest one—stinking streams of pus-like fluid flowed in from all directions, making the water here almost turbulent. Various machines of unknown purpose were installed on the barren land around the lake. Gith craftsmen, wearing bulky one-piece protective suits, waded through the waist-deep water, struggling to pull in many cables at least as thick as arms. Due to the high density of the water, the cables could even float for a while before slowly sinking, along with the dim glow emanating from within them.
The work went on in an orderly manner until the dragon descended from the sky, bringing a powerful gust of wind that disrupted everything. The glue-like water began to churn restlessly, and waves knocked several Gith over into the lake. They struggled to get up, quickly wiping the mud and water from their goggles and checking their protective suits for any damage that might allow the purple, stinking liquid to seep in.

Forty-seven landed in the middle of the Githians’ construction site, crushing an oval device nearly two people tall. Its thick, sturdy outer shell shattered like an eggshell under the spikes on the dragon’s belly side, and the liquid that flowed out resembled egg white, though its color was the same eerie purple as that of the lake water—likely the result of preliminary purification of the lake’s liquid. As it splashed around, it emitted a greasy, colorful glow; compared to the raw material, the nauseating stench had been greatly reduced.

“Ahah, you really seem like a bunch of dedicated environmentalists.” Forty-seven raised its front claw to examine the unknown liquid on its tip, then swung it down sharply—the ground trembled as its claws sliced through the air, and the flying dust was mixed with crackling, wave-like electric currents. Even a slight contact could paralyze a person. This disrupted the Githian warriors who were slowly closing in to surround them and also damaged many of their mechanical devices.

“Stop! You rude, despicable—” Urad, the Githian commander who had assigned them this task, rushed at Forty-seven amidst lightning and dust. His elaborate full-body armor still retained flickering sparks of electricity, which collided with the magical energy inherent in the armor, neutralizing it.

Forty-seven looked down at him darkly, its burning red eyes emitting a dangerous aura, forcing Urad to swallow the rest of his insults. Out of racial instinct and long-held pride, the Githian did not back down. His lipless mouth tightened into a line; if not observed closely, it might be mistaken for a wrinkle or scar. He stared back at Forty-seven with his yellowish, cloudy eyes, also glowing fiercely from anger and humiliation.

“Control your tongue, noseless disfigured one.” Forty-seven moved closer, its massive dragon head exuding pressure, its scythe-like teeth interlocked in its mouth, filled with crackling electricity, capable of crushing Urad into pieces in one bite. “If you don’t give me an explanation I’m satisfied with today, you’ll never be able to build your beautiful new world here.”

Urad stared intently at Forty-seven, his lips twitching. His hands, hanging at his sides, clenched and unclenched unnaturally. It seemed several times he was about to draw his silver greatsword from his back and turn against them, but in the end, he took a few deep breaths to calm himself and turned his gaze to Moriel on the dragon’s back.

“Moriel? Hmm, Mage Moriel.” Urad said in a hoarse voice. “What do you mean by this? How is the task I assigned you progressing? You and your followers are committing serious acts of provocation against us… Have you forgotten your own behavior when you got lost in the Star Realms and came to our people’s doorstep begging for shelter?”

Moriel had taken the opportunity while Forty-seven and Urad were locked in a stare to briefly observe the construction site and roughly guess what the Githians were doing.

“I’m sorry to hear you think so, Commander Urad.” Feeling tricked, Morriel believed that 47 wouldn’t let this matter go easily—and as the former Queen of Ser City, who had ruled nearly the entire Red Robe Mage Council in her dreams, she wasn’t willing to let these Githians who used her as a pawn off so easily: “It seems we have different views on this matter. But it doesn’t matter. I’m not used to accepting favors, even those self-righteous ‘favors’ from others.”
She turned and pointed to the distant peaks hidden in the thick mist: “When we came this way, we found an area where time flows normally. Additionally, I can tell you that this island is home to some powerful creatures, and they’re not as ‘generous and hospitable’ as the honorable Githians… I suppose that counts as a decent reward, right?”
“Hmph. Maybe.” Urad let out a breathy snort. “That’s not an excuse for your ignorance and disrespect, but I’ll forgive it for now. Go ahead, female mage—go wherever you want. Our agreement is over. My people will stay here for a long time, maybe months, maybe years. You won’t want to stay long-term.”
“Oh? That’s really unfortunate.” Morriel smiled faintly. “I indeed can’t stay here for so long. But before leaving, may I ask a few questions? Since you and your people have decided to mine for ‘Divine Blood’ on this island, does that mean you already know enough about it? And since this ‘Divine Blood’ was clearly secreted in large quantities because of us and other adventurers disturbing the Isle of Godly Corpse… with so many dead and so much blood shed, shouldn’t you Githians say something about it?”
Urad’s gaze sharpened. All the Githians present tensed their nerves and muscles, and the atmosphere shifted from mild tension to restlessness, though it still seemed unchanged on the surface.
Morriel keenly detected the supernatural fluctuations as the Githian commander sent mental commands to his subordinates. She stroked 47’s back scales, her fingers moving gently in places Urad couldn’t see, preparing for defense—the Githians were almost all skilled warriors with varying degrees of psychic abilities. She hadn’t forgotten the power Urad had shown when he shattered the mental essence of that talkative wretch with “mental crushing.”

“This has nothing to do with you, female mage.” Urad stood motionless before 47, his tall and thin frame resembling a small stone pillar on the island as well: “I have no need nor desire to explain the true purpose of this mission to you lot of interstellar passersby, especially someone like you—a primary-matter creature. Arrogant, conceited, ignorant, thinking you understand everything when in fact you’re utterly foolish. One day, you’ll lose your life. If lucky, your corpse might rot in some corner of the multiverse… What, just because you possess the power to stir up chaos in the primary-matter world, do you think you can confront a Gith tribe? Don’t forget—the interstellar realms belong to us Gith. We’ve lived here for millions of years. Last warning—leave. Forget about some ‘divine corpse’ or ‘divine blood.’ You can’t just guess at them based on a few ancient scrolls you’ve read.”
47 moved his jaw, producing a crisp sound of steel grinding together.
“Yeah, I guess that thing on your back was obtained through some dirty tricks as well,” he sneered. “Did you forge it? Of course. But do you understand how it works?… Ha, looking at your dumb, wide-eyed expression, it’s clear you don’t. Read more books. Even the mages of Agus are wiser than you bunch who’ve ‘lived for millions of years’—truly, you’ve lived long enough to become as worthless as dogs.”
Urad finally couldn’t hold back and pulled out the silver blade from his back with a clanging sound. As soon as he entered combat mode, the silver, glowing blade began to flow and shimmer, its serrated edge constantly changing shape, with faint vortices appearing on the blade and disappearing unpredictably. The entire fluid sword seemed to stretch and change like a living thing, reflecting Urad’s grotesque, twisted face.
“Metallic reptile! This will be the last foolish act of your life!” he roared. “Don’t think you’re so great. Many dragons like you are merely tools for my tribe to use…”
Urad’s earthy-gray complexion turned pale. He suddenly realized that for the first time since obtaining his own silver blade, he couldn’t control it as he wished. The blade vibrated wildly in his hands, and he even had to grip it tightly with both hands to prevent it from flying away—Urad wasn’t the only one; other Gith warriors wielding silver blades were also shocked to find their silver swords unresponsive, as if controlled by some invisible force, trapped under 47’s mocking blood-red gaze.
“No wonder you’re interested in the Gith’s silver blades,” Morriel was the first to notice. “Did they also use ‘Divine Armament’ technology?”
“That’s possible,” 47 narrowed his eyes, though the intense resonance only intensified. “To confirm it, we need to get a few finished products… It’s a piece of cake. By the way, did you say these stinky waters appeared because of our mess on the island?”

“That’s right. I think it’s precisely to get it that the Gith are driving us to this island,” replied Moriel. “According to records, ‘Divine Blood’ is an energy essence secreted by the corpses of certain gods who have vanished in the star realms. It possesses extremely powerful effects. The more active the corpse, the more of this substance may be released. It’s usually heavily polluted and highly toxic, and can only be separated through complex and precise procedures…”

Forty-Seven’s eyes flickered, clearly thinking of some wicked idea. “Finish what you’ve started!” he shouted loudly, his voice resonant and firm. “Since all you lot are trying so hard to do is get this corpse to spit out more of that stinking liquid, I’ll do you a favor—”

The dragon flapped its wings, and the turbine engines roared excitedly, providing powerful thrust to lift Forty-Seven into the sky. “I’ll help you drill a beautiful oil well!”

Urad recovered from his shock at having his weapons suppressed. Watching Forty-Seven soar upward with his abdominal scales standing out like swords, he suddenly realized what he intended to do.

“Stop him!” The Gith commander didn’t even bother using the mental connection with his soldiers. He simply unleashed the spiritual energy stored within him along with his hoarse, strange Gith language. “Attack!”

But it was already too late.

Moriel didn’t even put much effort into blocking the Gith’s arrows and spells. Amidst the thunderstorm created by Forty-Seven, it was difficult for anything to approach them; even standing upright and seeing clearly became challenging. As he flew upward, he reformed himself, instantly transforming into a steel giant dozens of feet tall. All his engines were at full power, and his massive mechanical muscles roared beneath his ferocious, spiky armor. The dark cannons on his arms were aimed at the ground…

Moriel and Kayro, perched on his shoulders, felt their bodies jolt as if they might be thrown off. A small, sun-like ball of white-hot light flickered in the barrel of the cannon for a moment before turning into a column of blazing flames that plunged into the purple blood lake.

The high-temperature energy beam instantly boiled the entire lake. The air trembled under the immense pressure and fled rapidly. Purple-black toxic clouds rose to fill the vacuum left behind, mercilessly engulfing everything on the lake’s surface. Even some Gith who had already reached the shore but were still near the lake were not spared; they burned up like wires before even having time to scream.

This was just the beginning. The energy beam didn’t dissipate but continued to intensify. Forty-Seven in the sky also seemed to lose balance due to the recoil, seemingly staying aloft only because of the force of the cannon fire. The column of light pierced through the lakebed and continued to plunge deeper, causing the entire island to tremble under the destructive energy.

“Cough… What have you done?” Moriel coughed as he looked down at the hellish scene below. The Gith were running around, shouting angrily at the sky but powerless to do anything. Thick smoke and scorching toxic gases were spewing from the deep hole created by Forty-Seven in the center of the lake, and the situation was worsening rapidly. Even the remaining water couldn’t fill it back in. Massive columns of smoke rose in all directions, accompanied by a series of thunderous tearing sounds, as if some angry god underground was breathing heavily—The Island of Divine Corpses had been completely awakened.

Forty-seven was quite satisfied with everything he had created. “Peaceful use of atomic energy can generate electricity; go too far and it becomes a nuclear bomb.” He saw countless shadows surging from afar, filled with rage at everything, and said, “We can’t let those two in the labyrinth not know who the real culprit is disturbing them… Besides, I like nuclear bombs.” “Oh no, you’re the culprit!” Kayro said, wrinkling his nose.