Chapter 109: Broken (Requesting Monthly Votes)

Thud, thud!

Beside Lu Mi’s ears, the sound of his own heartbeat rose, and deep within his memory, certain images seemed to be slowly, painfully dragged forth.

This gave him the agony of a skull about to split, and he fiercely resisted, unwilling to continue.

Outside the stained glass, he saw the ritual had begun; Ryan Cos no longer hesitated, tossed the “Tanago Straw Man” to Lyra, gestured for her to use this sealed artifact against the parish priest, and raised the “Dawn Sword” himself.

Under the glow of those golden flames, Lyra and Valentine circled to the other stained glass panel, separated from Ryan by only a single semi-protruding cylindrical wall.

They did this to avoid the damage from the “Storm of Light” and to preserve their own mobility; given the “defensive capacity” the Saint Sis Church had just demonstrated, they believed some barrier between them would be sufficient—after all, Ryan would also strive to control the direction of his attack.

Lyra hugged the “Tanago Straw Man” from behind, pressed it against the stained glass depicting Saint Sis’s missionary scene, aligned her gaze toward the altar, and fixed it on the parish priest, Guillaume Béne.

On the other side, Ryan gripped the hilt with both hands and plunged the “Dawn Sword” into the windowsill.

The two-handed greatsword, entirely formed of pure light, immediately shattered into countless sharp fragments and patches of radiant light, becoming a hurricane.

The “hurricane” instantly expanded and slammed into the stained glass ahead.

With a crackling sound, the entire church trembled slightly; the glass surface fractured into one fine crack after another, as if covered in countless spiderwebs.

Yet it still stood firm, refusing to “make way.”

Seeing this, Ryan caused tiny glimmers of dawn to rise around him, coalescing into a massive axe requiring two hands to wield.

He could not use the “Storm of Light” again in the short term; he had to switch weapons.

With the protection of the protruding wall, Lyra and Valentine successfully avoided the residual waves of the “Storm of Light”; at this moment, the “Tanago Straw Man’s” gaze settled upon the parish priest, and the eyeballs embedded in its brown-green straw surface reflected the figure clad in a white robe edged with golden thread.

Suddenly, Lyra saw a faint glow—silver-white with black—rise around the altar where Guillaume Béne stood.

With a pop, the “Tanago Straw Man’s” eyeballs burst, dripping crimson tears.

The parish priest glanced this way, then withdrew his gaze.

Only when two sheep “voluntarily” walked onto the altar did he speak, his expression calm yet fervent, reciting the next incantation:

“You are the eternal cycle, the destined fate, the cause, the result, and the process!”

Instantly, the two candles representing the deity upon the altar stretched their light, swelling to the size of human heads.

Inside the church, a mournful wind howled; each villager seemed to have turned to stone, yet on exposed skin—their faces, backs of hands—tiny silver-white and black growths slowly bulged out, one after another.

The previously confined silver-black glow rapidly spread in all directions, engulfing the entire church.

The spherical dome, covered in murals, became transparent; high above, the cloud layers parted, and the crimson moon deepened further, nearing blood-red.

The stars upon the black velvet curtain, no longer obscured, ignited one by one, reaching brightness nearly equal to the sun.

In an instant, night became day; the villagers finally moved, murmuring in sleep-talking tones:

“The constellations have changed…”

“Good fortune has arrived…”

Thud, thud, thud—Ryan, Lyra, and Valentine, who had heard nothing but witnessed this scene, collapsed simultaneously to the ground, rolling, wailing, screaming, as if enduring immense agony.

Ryan’s skin turned slate-blue; Lyra’s face seemed crawling with countless maggots, tiny buds about to sprout; Valentine glowed like the sun, from within outward, top to bottom.

They were mere steps away from losing control.

The “Tanago Straw Man” was thrown aside, trembling violently as it lay there.

Lu Mi felt his chest burn abnormally hot, and again, that terrifying voice—seeming to come from infinite distance yet right beside him—echoed in his ears.

Invisible steel spikes pierced his skull, churning inside; the pain made blood vessels bulge across his skin, and silver-white and black circular patches flickered faintly beneath his flesh.

An invisible force enveloped him, lifting him from the altar.

The ropes binding him and the cloth gagging his mouth turned to dust, drifting into the air.

Aurora was likewise lifted by this invisible force, floating above the altar, facing Lu Mi directly.

Within Lu Mi’s bloodshot eyes appeared his sister’s loose golden hair, hollow pale-blue eyes, saintly yet expressionless face, and simple yet eerie white robe.

He jerked his head back sharply, feeling again the familiar sensation and déjà vu from deep within his memory—the accompanying pain no weaker than that of the murmurs.

The surrounding scenes were “cut apart,” overlapping and appearing simultaneously in Lu Mi’s mind:

The parish priest’s solemn, fervent expression;

The black-robed figure stepping toward the altar;

The shepherd Pierre Béry prostrating himself upon the ground;

The transparent dome of the church;

The crimson moon and constellations high above;

The villagers’ blank faces, awaiting good fortune;

Aurora’s face, subtly twisted, as if also feeling pain…

Lu Mi’s mind grew hazy; he felt his body being slowly torn apart by the invisible force, the silver-black hue spreading increasingly across his skin.

He could not escape his current bindings, unable to mount any effective resistance.

“Ah!”

Lu Mi could not help but scream as his chest was slowly pried open; silver-white and black light poured forth, striking Aurora.

Hearing this cry of agony, Aurora’s eyeballs shifted slightly.

Within her hollow gaze appeared Lu Mi’s bulging veins, twisted expression, and face veiled in silver and darkness.

After a brief stillness, she instinctively, mechanically extended her hands and shoved Lu Mi hard—away from danger.

Sister… Lu Mi stared blankly as Aurora pushed him beyond the altar’s boundary.

Instantly, the terrifying voice in his ears vanished; the invisible restraints on his body disappeared; the burning sensation across his entire body lessened.

Yet the pain in his head remained unchanged; the images deep in his memory had been forcibly dragged out partially.

It was as if someone were using a hook to slowly pull his brain out through his skull.

Aurora’s silver-black pale-blue eyes, hollow gaze, expressionless face, and the firm, decisive motion of pushing him away flashed simultaneously in Lu Mi’s mind—nearly identical to what he had just seen, except the background differed slightly, lacking the black-robed figure.

This exaggerated déjà vu made Lu Mi instinctively wonder if something similar had happened before; it caused him to scream in agony once more.

Thud! He crashed heavily to the ground, freed from the altar.

Ignoring the searing pain in his head and his hazy mind, Lu Mi leapt up and lunged toward his sister, determined to drag Aurora away from the altar.

A figure blocked his path—the black-robed man wearing his own face punched him in the right cheek, sending him sprawling.

Lu Mi did not despair; with courage born of facing death for survival, he rolled up again and charged toward the black-robed man ahead.

Thwack!

The black-robed man swung another punch; Lu Mi instinctively dodged.

He froze for a second, then twisted his face into a grotesque grin and growled:

“You’re so fucking weak?”

“Just as weak as me!”

Lu Mi forgot the parish priest, forgot the shepherd Pierre Béry, and lunged directly at the black-robed man.

The black-robed man sidestepped, raised his right leg, and swept it in a kicking, tripping motion toward Lu Mi’s calf; Lu Mi did not dodge, instead using the “Dancer’s” terrifying flexibility to forcibly twist his body halfway, extending his arm to embrace his enemy.

Thud! Tripped, he dragged the black-robed man down with him.

The black-robed man swiftly raised his right hand, clamping Lu Mi’s throat, then drove his knee upward, slamming hard into Lu Mi’s groin.

Lu Mi did not evade; his eyes turned blood-red as he raked his right fingers toward his opponent’s eyes.

“Ah!”

The black-robed man screamed as Lu Mi tore out both eyeballs with his bare hands; blood spattered everywhere, while Lu Mi instinctively curled into a ball—the pain in his lower body nearly knocked him unconscious.

He struggled to lift himself again, grinning savagely at the writhing black-robed man:

“Come on! Let’s die together!”

“You coward! You weakling!”

He lunged again, wrapping his arms around the man’s neck.

At that moment, Pierre Béry, fighting his inner terror, painfully rose, seized his axe, and rushed to Lu Mi’s side.

Thwack!

His axe came down hard—but was blocked by a faint gray mist that had somehow spread, failing to harm Lu Mi.

Pierre Béry tried two other abilities, but neither could pierce the gray mist’s protection.

Seeing this, the parish priest Guillaume Béne no longer hesitated, recited the next prayer:

“I beseech you,

“I beg you to grant your grace,

“I beg you to bestow upon me…”

Before he finished, new changes erupted around him:

The constellations high above slowly shifted, altering their original positions.

The entire village of Kordu shook violently; every house, every inch of soil, drew closer to the church.

The villagers silently disintegrated into individual organs—eyeballs, mouths, noses, hearts, fingers, pure flesh…

Of these, a small fraction reassembled into new human forms—some normal, some chaotic, some missing parts, others with extra limbs.

The vast majority flew toward the altar, toward Aurora.

Aurora’s body cracked open, then shattered into countless pieces of flesh.

Seeing this, Lu Mi was overcome with utter despair.

Yet he did not give up; he gripped the black-robed man’s head and twisted with all his strength, snapping his neck with a crack as the man’s eyes widened in terror.

Lu Mi rose to his feet and rushed desperately toward his sister.

But an invisible barrier surrounded Aurora, halting him.

Boom!

A muffled rumble rose from beneath the ground; the church began to rise, and trees, soil, and giant boulders outside the village, along with houses, furniture, and miscellaneous items inside, all flew toward it.

Most of the villagers’ organs entered the altar, merging with Aurora’s flesh and blood, twisting and writhing into a giant.

The giant stood four or five meters tall, sporting three heads and six arms, its entire body stitched together from chunks of flesh and fragments of organs; cracks riddled its surface, oozing yellowish pus.

The central head, filled with agony and remorse, struggled to turn toward Lu Mi.

Slowly, transparent, blood-colored tears slid from the corners of its eyes.

Seeing this, Lu Mi’s mind went deafeningly loud, as if an axe had split him vertically in two.

His vision began to sway; he “saw” the church shattered into fragments, “saw” the slowly rising crimson “mountain,” “saw” thorny “walls” twisted from rows of houses, “saw” rings upon rings of ruins encircling the “mountain,” “saw” all the monsters forced to flee this region…

This… Lu Mi’s head throbbed again with intense pain.

As he watched countless tiny beams of light fly from the giant and the surrounding monsters into his chest, he realized memories buried deep within him had been dragged fully to the surface—identical to what he now saw.

This… Lu Mi suddenly had a guess, and his headache worsened.

Suddenly, everything before his eyes turned profoundly illusory, cracking visibly like shattered glass.

This is—Lu Mi finally remembered something.

Then he saw the black-robed man dissolve into pitch-black, filthy liquid and fly to his front, flowing into his left chest.

“Ah!”

Lu Mi screamed in agony as every scene around him shattered completely.

He snapped his eyes open to find himself lying beneath the crimson “mountain”; the gloom that had seemed like nightfall had nearly vanished.

Lu Mi instinctively rolled over and sat up, leaning forward, bracing his hands on the ground, scanning his surroundings.

He saw the twisted thorny “walls,” the barren land devoid of a single blade of grass, the “dream ruins” on the other side, and Ryan Cos, Lyra, and Valentine lying near the edge of a nearby room.

They slept soundly.

Lu Mi suddenly buried his head, grabbed his hair with both hands, and whispered in pain:

“Is reality a dream, and the dream reality?”

“Is this now the past, and the past now?”

“Aurora… can Aurora not be saved?”

“No.” A woman’s voice echoed through the ruins.

Lu Mi looked up blankly, his vision blurred, and saw the mysterious lady standing before him.

She wore the same orange-yellow dress she’d first appeared in, walking steadily closer:

“That’s why, in your dream, you were desperate enough to seek transcendental power regardless of consequence;”

“That’s why you disregarded the lives of others—even your own—only wanting to swiftly resolve the cycle representing the concept of ‘problem’;”

“That’s why you couldn’t control your instincts, saying and doing inappropriate things in certain situations…”

Lu Mi stared at the mysterious lady, noticing again that strange, indescribable emotion in her eyes.

And this time, he finally understood it.

It was pity.

ps: Big chapter—please vote for monthly tickets~

(End of Chapter)