Chapter 211: Fearing the Brother is Bad, Yet Fearing the Brother is Too Good

When Dormammu retreated, time resumed its flow.

The black clouds between heaven and earth faded, leaving only corpses strewn across the field; three thousand Undead Legion filled every inch of the Resurrection Plaza.

A peal of thunder rolled across the sky, and the three-headed dog landed on the ground, its four feet shaking up billowing dust and sand; all three heads held high toward the heavens. The battle between Dormammu and the Ancient One had shattered the pride in the three-headed dog's heart. Born during the era of post-apocalyptic revival, it had been the strongest in the world the moment it descended; nothing could be more frustrating to it than this undisputed defeat.

Looking at the three-headed dog that had suddenly appeared before him, Frank, though he had no memory of the temporal anomaly, inexplicably understood something in his heart: a battle had occurred in a time known to no one, dissipating into the cracks of the past.

He turned his head to look at the players behind him. Having experienced this war, all the players were either lying on the ground or leaning against broken walls and ruins, their faces still wearing a dazed expression; in the midst of the massive war, there was not a single cheer.

"We... won!" Frank raised his hands and shouted toward the sky.

Won?

The players looked at each other. Everything that had happened made them feel that this was not a game, but a real, tangible war. When Frank shouted of victory, everyone finally realized that this hard-won victory had truly arrived.

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"Won! We won!"

Shouts rose up one after another, deafening; the cheering resounded through heaven and earth. Many players tore off their iron armor and began to run wildly.

The three-headed dog slowly turned its head, the flame of civilization gathering on its forehead; the world consciousness looked back together at the cheering crowd behind it.

Frank and the three-headed dog locked eyes, and he seemed to be able to see the illusory world consciousness upon the three-headed dog. He raised his hand again, "We won, this time, and the future as well!"

The three-headed dog looked back at the sky and let out a long howl.

Awoo!

Scorching flames followed this long howl, rising straight from the earth to the sky, burning the dim heavens into a patch of red clouds. A rain of fire followed, and as it fell, the fire rain gathered into clusters of flames that smashed onto the earth, striking the ground for dozens of kilometers around.

This was the first step in this world's revival.

The Ancient One stood with her hands behind her back, watching the cheering crowd. She tapped her fingers against the back of her hand, her figure gradually fading. Deeply hiding her merit and fame, it was time for her to return to her own world to continue her own construction.

Although the Dark Souls world was gradually recovering, their ability to resist risks was truly too poor. Not to mention Dormammu, even this Undead Legion could force this world to the brink of destruction; every crisis touched upon life and death, with no ability to resist risks whatsoever.

This was what the Ancient One did not want to see on Earth. Ever since the Lamp Genie appeared, the Ancient One had been thinking about what she could do and what she should do.

Pull out all the alien wedges on Earth single-handedly? Stop all crises before they were born?

None of this was difficult, at least not for the Ancient One, provided the Lamp Genie did not intervene. But she could not do so. Now, Earth was both reality and a game; every time she took direct action, it would raise the difficulty of the subsequent game by more than one level.

Therefore, after careful consideration, the Ancient One thought of a perfect strategy: to strengthen the foundation, turning everything she was now into the foundation of this planet and this civilization. At the very least, it would give them one more chance to fail and start over. This would not drastically change the current situation on Earth, but all changes would gradually manifest in the future.

The war was over. As the winning side, the Dark Souls world still had many follow-up matters to deal with, such as burning the soldiers of the Undead Legion lying on the ground in the Bonfire, repairing the broken city walls to prevent potential future crises, and exploring the new scenes opened up by the flames to push the footprint of civilization forward a bit.

However, the joys and sorrows of people are not shared. As a loser, Baron Strucker was now facing a situation even more dangerous than when the Ancient One and Dormammu were fighting just now. At least back then, he had Dormammu's protection, and the Ancient One's main target was not him, but now it was different.

On Earth, at the Secret Prayer Church base, Woody watched as all the church members connected to the game corrupted and aged at the same time; the fury in his heart had risen to the extreme.

A large portion of these people were loyal believers, and some were even veterans who had joined from the very first day the Secret Prayer Church was established. They were outstanding in both loyalty and ability, and now they had all died at once—dead as could be.

Woody raised his hand, and a shadow curled up a piece of flesh and blood from the ground into his palm.

*Snap! * As the flesh fell, it exploded into ash directly in his palm. This flesh and blood looked as if it had spent hundreds of years in time; it had completely lost everything it was supposed to have.

In his rage, the surrounding shadows quickly gathered into his hand. Woody stepped forward, dragged Baron Strucker directly out of the specialized gaming pod, tore off the Helmet on his head, and smashed a fist down.

The Dark Ring floated up slightly, deflecting Woody's fist. However, after losing the vast majority of its energy, the Dark Ring was no longer enough to protect Baron Strucker multiple times; the faint light on it dissipated and fell onto Baron Strucker.

Woody suppressed his anger and lifted Baron Strucker up. Throughout the whole process, Baron Strucker was like a dead man, without the slightest reaction.

"Don't pretend. I can feel the vitality in your body. Tell me, what have you done!" As Woody spoke, the surrounding shadows coiled around Baron Strucker, ready to tear him limb from limb at any moment.

Baron Strucker stared blankly at Woody, not saying a word.

"Then go to hell." Woody reached out and tore the Dark Ring from Baron Strucker's body, and the surrounding shadows began to tear at Baron Strucker's body.

Just as he was about to tear him apart, the shadows suddenly stopped. Woody looked down at the Dark Ring in his hand; he seemed to have just heard the voice of the Lord. Although the voice was completely indecipherable, intermittent like a whisper, this made it seem even more like the Lord's instruction.

Woody put Baron Strucker down, holding the Dark Ring in his hand. After silently reciting the doctrine, he respectfully wrapped the Dark Ring up. Although he could not understand what Dormammu wanted to say, he could figure out the intention to spare Strucker once.

"Someone, take him to the infirmary. Useless trash, you've ruined my Lord's great undertaking!" Woody summoned two believers to come and carry the Baron Strucker, who was like a dead man, away.

Now, the offense Baron Strucker had committed in Woody's eyes had changed from unauthorized mobilization of members for a high-risk operation to failing to complete the Oracle issued by the Lord. However, the Lord's mercy had given Baron Strucker a chance, and Woody would not go against the Lord's will.

After Baron Strucker was carried away, the sliver of power Dormammu had projected into the Dark Ring calmed down.

No matter what, Baron Strucker was a believer in the right person; Dormammu naturally had to protect him. Otherwise, protect Woody, this Pope who believed in a "fake Dormammu"?

In fact, Dormammu had originally wanted to issue the order more clearly, or simply use Woody's body to sneak into Earth, but he could not do it. Being able to project a bit of power over now was only a situation that arose after the battle with the Ancient One.

Dormammu himself had not yet figured out why a tiny crack had appeared in Earth's incredibly solid barrier, even though he had clearly done nothing.

In the Himalayas, after returning from the Dark Souls world, the Ancient One stood with her hands behind her back and circled the tower under construction twice. After waiting a little longer, this tower could officially be put into use; by then, the whole world would change because of it.

Just as the Ancient One was inspecting, a ripple came from afar. Looking up in that direction, Johnson was standing on the edge of a cliff, holding an empty bottle in his hand; the bottle had once held the form of a Faceless.

Closing his eyes, Johnson felt the Spirituality within his body surging rapidly. The other type of thinking born under the influence of the Strange Talk rules in the Strange Tale World was quickly digested, becoming his nourishment.

"Faceless... so that's what it means."

Johnson opened his eyes and looked down at his palms. Under his gaze, his palms changed bit by bit; the size, thickness, and even fingerprints could be altered.

This was the power of the Faceless: to be able to change one's own body to a certain extent. Through this ability, Johnson could turn into another person who was not too different from himself.

"Why would this sequence grant me this ability?" Johnson said softly. There was no one around; he was asking himself.

Having walked this sequence for so long, Johnson had always had this question. The ability granted by each promotion seemed to be providing help for the next promotion, but he did not know the pattern behind it.

Analysis could only be conducted on the basis of hindsight. For example, the prerequisite for a Magician is a Clown; without the physical enhancements provided by the Clown, suddenly becoming a Magician, one would likely be unable to use even those granted abilities.

"Perhaps, it is to let you see yourself more clearly." The Ancient One's voice suddenly appeared from the side.

Johnson was startled, and the sharp playing cards even cut his hand.

Even now, Johnson still had not truly grasped the key spirit of this sequence. If he had truly grasped it, what should be in Johnson's hand right now would not be playing cards, but a snap—a snap capable of performing a Flame Jump.

"Master Ancient One, I don't quite understand what you mean." Johnson put away the playing cards and asked the Ancient One.

"Although I cannot see through your power, nor am I a pioneer on this path of yours, the feeling it gives me is just that. It is telling its user to always understand who they are." The Ancient One helped Johnson analyze.

The Ancient One's many years of experience were not accumulated in vain. As the most excellent mage on Earth, by drawing inferences from one instance to another, she could still feel some of the special characteristics hidden under the power of the Diviner Sequence.

"So... may I ask, what should I do?" Johnson continued to ask. With a big shot who could give advice in front of him, not asking would be a waste of resources.

"To use a more popular term, it's like changing a mask," the Ancient One said to Johnson. "Live with another identity, savor that identity, but in the process, do not forget that it is just a mask that can be taken off at any time."

Johnson blinked his eyes and looked at his own palms; judging by the implication, was he supposed to return to the Strange Tale World for a period of time?

After all, the existence of the Johnson Strange Talk in that place was, in a sense, a persona, but having been away for so long, it was hard to say what that Strange Talk had developed into.

"It seems you already have some ideas; if you need my help, you can come find me at any time." The Ancient One turned and left.

The Ancient One was quite willing to provide help to people like Johnson; after all, they were all a part of Earth's future strength.

Johnson stood where he was, still deep in thought, when his phone rang; it was a call from Frank.

"I found the path! I found the way to move forward!" Frank's words were filled with undisguised excitement.

"Congratulations, I also just advanced to a Faceless," Johnson replied with a smile.

"Double the joy. By the way, I might need to organize my insights from this period; you should contact Audasxin and see when would be a good time to go there next," Frank continued.

"Alright, I'll get back to you in a bit."

After Johnson hung up the phone, he patted his face; he felt a lot of pressure now.

For so long, Johnson had envied Frank, who had gained immense power upon changing classes and leaped to become the strongest combatant, while he had been chasing with all his might for so long and still hadn't caught up.

To speak of some base thoughts, when Johnson learned that Frank could no longer progress, he had actually felt a sense of relief in his heart; after all, thinking about his brother moving too fast and leaving him far behind, that feeling was still quite unpleasant.

What do you call this? This is fearing that your brother isn't doing well, yet also fearing that your brother is doing too well.

But now that Frank had found the path, Johnson, while happy, was also telling himself that he had to redouble his efforts and absolutely could not fall behind.

After adjusting his mindset, Johnson dialed the number left for Audasxin and chatted about heading to the Strange Tale World again.

Audasxin indicated that there would be no plans to go there in the short term; she intended to stay in the Harry Potter World for a few months to comprehensively organize her own power.

Coming out this time, having been struck by the Ancient One and educated by the three-headed dog, Audasxin deeply felt that she was still too weak.

She planned to go back to study ancient magic and, while she was at it, learn from Dumbledore to see how Dumbledore and the others managed to exert power beyond their own limits while in relatively weak states.

After editing this information and sending it to Frank, Johnson inexplicably discovered that he might have to head out alone this time.

Except for the initial period when he was controlled by Kingpin and the Hand, Johnson had never been truly alone.

Even at his worst, he was a teacher at Hogwarts; although there were no particularly familiar people around, there were colleagues and friends, so it didn't count as being alone.

If Johnson were to change worlds now, that would truly be a case of having no kin or acquaintances.

"I should head to that world alone..." Johnson performed a divination that was reserved but not yet carried out, but while divining, he held the dial of the Pocket Watch and didn't let the dial swing at all.

"Perhaps this is fate."

Putting the dial away, Johnson walked toward the Ancient One's monastery.