Chapter 219: White Paper is Easily Stained, Terror Lingers

(Extra update, extra update, an extra update today. Tomorrow is full of classes, so the normal update might be sparse, but the day after tomorrow is Saturday and I am off, so I will update even more.)

"Sizzle, sizzle, sizzle!"

It was the sound of water droplets hitting white-hot steel. Upon the massive wound that had cleaved the giant shadow of the God of Fear in two, specks of white light began to swirl and converge, gradually covering the enormous gash in its entirety.

Then, the second wave of the attack bloomed. The blinding white light upon the wound began to diffuse outward, rapidly corroding and decomposing the giant shadow of the God of Fear.

One could see the black substance that comprised the God of Fear’s form becoming riddled with pits and craters under the erosion of that white radiance.

The God of Fear writhed in a series of grotesque and twisted motions, summoning the power from the surrounding divine realm back to itself, transforming it into black mist that gathered toward its own body.

The black mist, born of the God of Fear’s power, collided with and neutralized the residual white radiance of the Perfected One’s power lingering on its form; black smoke billowed, and white light flickered.

"Flap, flap..." The sound of wings beating—the sound emitted by the pristine white wings behind the Perfected One. Though these holy wings had been used many times before, they had never made a sound. Now, however, the noise of their beating resonated clearly, piercing through the air in all directions.

The God of Fear was merely struggling against the residual force of the Perfected One’s terrifying strike that had split it from the shoulder down, while the Perfected One had already begun its next move.

Feathers detached from the base of the holy wings, transforming into a sky full of flying plumage that hovered behind the Perfected One. They shifted their orientation, aiming their tips at the giant shadow of the God of Fear below, which remained severed at the shoulder.

Once the feathers had departed, the wings revealed their true form: a pair of pure, light-based structures consisting only of frames. Light expanded and contracted upon them, shifting between dazzling brilliance and gentle softness.

They were pure energy aggregates, containing an unfathomable magnitude of power, yet it was certain that the heaven-cleaving sword the Perfected One had just swung was merely a fraction of its strength.

With an indifferent gaze cast toward the God of Fear below and... the shattered, chaotic central plaza of the Royal City and the Shadow of the Royal City with a gaping hole in its dome, the Perfected One made a light, waving motion downward.

"Whoosh, whoosh, whoosh, whoosh!" The light feathers behind it transformed into countless fine streams of radiance, darting downward at high speed. Dense and shimmering with pure energy, they covered the God of Fear’s domain below, colliding with everything in their path after a mere instant.

Each feather contained power no less than the magic converted from the mana vortex of a formal mage, and now, with over ten thousand such feathers, a rainstorm of light descended upon the heart of the Royal City.

"Boom, boom, boom, boom...!"

With almost no interval, the sound of chain explosions, merged into a single line, resounded throughout the Royal City.

The moment those feathers collided with the God of Fear’s power, its body, the city’s architecture, the ground, and the stones, all the energy within them erupted.

The light feathers transformed into light bursts, exploding into rings of radiance that compressed their destructive power to the extreme within a fixed range.

Everything they touched was annihilated. Whether it was the God of Fear’s manifested power or the existing stones and buildings, all were reduced to basic particles within the rings of light that followed the explosions, thoroughly swallowed and destroyed.

"This guy doesn't care about the residents of the Royal City at all. How could anything survive within the range of those light feathers? It’s fortunate that the area beneath the plaza is where the abyss of the Royal City’s Shadow originally lay, otherwise, Avia would be in trouble."

Clinging to the top of a clock tower far enough from the battlefield of the Perfected One and the God of Fear, Wang Yu frowned as he watched the rain of light feathers descending from the sky, destroying everything below.

"That’s right. One can tell from the creature’s demeanor that this so-called 'perfect' existence likely doesn't care about human life at all.

"After all, the malice that composed it before the reversal was directed at humans, and after the reversal, has it become completely indifferent? In the end, this guy just wants to finish off that God of Fear, the representative of ugliness, and that is all..."

The dense light feathers razed the Royal City’s architecture to the ground. The thick rock layer, pitted and cracked, which separated the surface of the Royal City from the Shadow of the Royal City, suffered massive fissures under this irregular, destructive bombardment, with some areas being pierced through after continuous hits.

The dome of the underground world of the Royal City’s Shadow shook incessantly in the aftermath of the light feather bombardment, and massive boulders fell from the ceiling, crashing toward the underground city below.

"Ah, ah, my god..."

"Please listen to my prayer!"

Below, the gang members who had been influenced by the mental power radiated by the Perfected One ignored the deadly boulders falling from above, simply kneeling on the ground in "pious" prayer.

The boulders, mixed with dirt and dust, fell in chaotic disarray, crashing into the complex and dense architecture of the underground city.

The gang members who did not dodge received no special treatment in this disaster caused by the Perfected One, despite their so-called pious faith.

Some were struck directly, turning into a puddle of flesh stuck to the ground, while others were pierced by flying shards of stone that exploded upon impact, leaving them to gasp their last breaths on the ground. Of course, there were lucky ones who avoided this disaster, but this was only the beginning.

The underground city of the Royal City’s Shadow was a chaotic place with a certain "steampunk" style. A vast number of pipes crisscrossed the city, which was built upon underground hills, transporting alchemical fuels and liquid materials to various alchemical workshops.

This meant that boilers and flammable, explosive liquids and gases were extremely common in this city. The disorderly rules of the city also dictated that no one would build any protective measures for a city born in chaos; if someone died due to a facility failure, they simply considered themselves unlucky.

But now, an indiscriminate, large-scale strike had descended upon this city. Boulders fell without pattern into every corner of the underground city.

They destroyed pipes, causing the liquids inside to spray everywhere. Some flammable liquids immediately ignited upon the sparks generated by the collision of rocks and metal, spreading along the spray.

The boilers found in every alchemical workshop became fixed alchemical bombs at this moment. The falling boulders easily smashed the flimsy roofs of the workshops, crushing everything inside, and the explosion of the boilers turned the workshop owners and their life’s work into ashes.

Of course, the greatest destruction came from the warehouses. Before the war with Seovintan, the Shadow of the Royal City had transported a massive quantity of alchemical bombs of varying quality to the surface, leveraging its advantage of high volume.

The royal family and the nobility had selected a few "passable" bombs for purchase, leaving behind about forty percent—the ones that were too poor to even look at.

These bombs were stored in several large warehouses in the Shadow of the Royal City, waiting for some fool to reclaim them and break them down for raw materials.

However, the safety measures for these warehouses were naturally as good as non-existent, with no consideration for what would happen if these bombs were activated. Thus, when the boulders crashed down, piercing the iron roofs and striking the massive piles of alchemical bombs inside...

"Boom, boom, boom!" Blinding flames rose from several warehouses in the city, and subsequently, the vast quantity of alchemical bombs inside detonated one another. The expanding shockwave tore the fragile warehouses—built from simple steel and iron plates—to shreds. Twisted supports and metal plates flew everywhere, destroying even more of the city’s architecture.

Although most of these "too poor to look at" alchemical bombs could be called scrap, given the massive base number, enough were detonated to cause violent explosions that echoed throughout the underground city.

This already chaotic city was now as fragile as building blocks stacked by a child, collapsing, being destroyed, and turning into ruins under the aftermath of the Perfected One’s attack.

"Click, click, click, click..."

The earth churned, and soil and rock surged to change their form. A massive hand of earth and stone rose from the ground at the Nightfall Church’s base, spreading its five fingers of rock to support the ceiling above the heads of the Nightfall Church members, shielding them from the boulders falling from above.

"Our position is at the edge of the abyss. Watch out for those falling light feathers! Casters, create defenses as much as possible!"

The girl’s hands were a mix of mana and witchcraft, coordinating with the members of the Nightfall Church to construct defenses to avoid being hit by the attacks falling from above. The Nightfall Church’s base was already close to the boundary of the abyss, so it suffered more from the impact of the attack.

"Hum!" The raised hand of earth and stone suddenly lost a large portion of its volume as some light feathers flew in at an angle from the large hole above the abyss, striking the stone hand at high speed.

"Such powerful strength..."

The girl’s face turned slightly pale. As a caster, she understood better than the amateur Wang Yu just how terrifying the power represented by these light feathers was. The destructive power was merely the surface; the extremely complex structure within was the true source of such annihilation-like destructive attacks.

"This is the strength of a god-level entity. This should only be a part of their body they tossed aside casually. Even just a part of the body, the energy and structure contained within are already equivalent to the power of a fourth-tier spell. The power of an individual human is, after all, too weak in front of these existences."

Avia sensed the rings of light appearing on the giant stone hand and truly felt the immense power of the God of Fear and the Perfected One.

"Clang!" A translucent, emerald-green barrier rose above the Nightfall Church, and green specks of light representing life force circled the surface of a shield that had a texture somewhat similar to bronze.

Water rippled, and streams of water poured out of thin air, setting up a hemispherical shield that covered the Nightfall Church’s base.

All kinds of defenses appeared above the Nightfall Church. Orc shamans, murloc warlocks, elf druids... the non-human races of the Nightfall Church displayed their abilities, providing protection to the followers of the Lady of the Night.

...

Black mist permeated the air, and the figure of the God of Fear became somewhat illusory. The light feather strike from the Perfected One had blasted away much of its power, causing its giant shadow to shrink by several degrees. The divine realm it had expanded around it also contracted, gathering almost entirely near the plaza.

"The God of Fear is no match for her!"

"No problem, the means left by the kingdom can deal with the God of Fear."

"In any case, as long as we can handle the God of Fear first, once the army heading to Alastair returns, there will at least be more options."

Members of the Night’s Blade, the City Guard, and the Royal Guard distributed throughout the Royal City were all watching the battle between the two supreme existences on the Royal City plaza. The result of their battle would likely determine the future direction of the Royal City.

Undoubtedly, the combat power displayed by the Perfected One at this moment was truly crushing the God of Fear. The God of Fear had not even been able to inflict effective damage on the Perfected One so far, while the Perfected One had forced the God of Fear to retract a large amount of its power, forcing it into a passive defense.

"The power left behind by the ancient true gods, even if it is only the residual power in a divine body, is not something that can be resisted by this newborn, pieced together by the Seovintans, which looks like a God of Fear but actually has no faith to support it and must constantly collect fear."

Rudolf stood by the window, using a mana pen to quickly copy notes into his notebook. His eyes were fixed on the Perfected One, who was attacking the God of Fear relentlessly, showing off its immense power. He spoke excitedly, expressing his own views.

Clearly, his words were meant for Sieg, who was standing nearby. Although he knew very well that Sieg no longer considered him a friend, Rudolf, who was unable to contain his joy at seeing such a rare sight, desperately needed someone to vent his thoughts and reflections to.

Sieg said nothing. He had no interest in answering this madman, but he did have his own thoughts.

Having learned some characteristics of the God of Fear, Sieg did not share the optimistic attitude of those who made judgments based on appearances.

The God of Fear was indeed not very strong; this true god had not shown any great miracles in past records, and the Church of the God of Fear was also a very marginal church power.

But its vitality was unimaginably strong. As far as Sieg knew, fragments of the God of Fear—the remnants left behind by this god who had fallen in an unknown manner—existed all over the continent.

Each fragment births a grotesque domain, sowing endless trouble that demands organized vigilance to prevent the unwary from stumbling in and to ensure these realms do not feed upon fear to expand.

Fear germinates within the shadowed minds of sentient beings; as long as fear persists, these fragments endure, and as dread deepens, they absorb it, growing stronger and claiming ever-wider reaches.

Only those devoid of fear can extinguish these shards, yet such beings are mere phantoms; even the berserker rage of an orc is but an overwhelming fury suppressing all other impulses, while the fear buried deep within remains, never truly vanquished.

Moreover, even if such a being existed, it would be of little consequence, for one man’s lack of fear grants him no power to purge it from the hearts of others.

"If the fragments of the God of Fear possess such stubborn resilience, then the divine descent of the God himself cannot be so easily undone."

Deep in Sieg’s eyes flickered a worry he could not brush away; he had witnessed the strength of both the God of Fear and the Perfectionist, and he wondered if even a legend, even in the form of a dragon, could truly stand against them.

...

The God of Fear, having compressed its power once more, kept its myriad eyes fixed upon the Perfectionist in the sky, as countless pitch-black, barbed chains erupted from its form, piercing toward its foe.

Varying in thickness and weaving together, a dense web of black lines shrouded the heavens—all of them attacks unleashed by the God of Fear.

The Perfectionist watched these twisting, proliferating lines in silence, and the instant they reached its side, its form blurred, vanished, and reappeared in a flash of light far beyond their reach.

It had rendered its body into pure energy, then shifted at hyper-speed, warping through space.

The obsidian chains possessed a homing instinct; failing the first strike, they surged like vipers toward the Perfectionist, which had only just shifted away.

Again it flickered, displaying terrifying mobility; the chains, though swift, could not hope to catch the Perfectionist’s shifting silhouette, chasing in vain, only to be shaken off again and again.

Until, as the Perfectionist flashed once more to a distance, its head swept slightly across the surroundings.

A sky-filling web of chains had, unbeknownst, surrounded it on all sides, leaving no path for retreat; the chains swayed, their sharp tips aimed and poised, trembling with anticipation.

"Swish!" With the sound of grinding metal, the dense chains squeezed together, scrambling to strike at the Perfectionist in the center, their jagged, black tips gleaming with a strange and lethal light.

"Clang!" The sky-spanning chains struck their target in unison, their sheer number forming a sphere around the Perfectionist, who was hit by countless attacks at once.

Yet, it was futile; cracks appeared along the lengths of the chains, and within a swirling mist of white light, the tightly bound mass disintegrated.

The shattered chains revealed the Perfectionist, who had shielded its body with its massive, holy wings, deflecting every blow; under the radiance of its white light, the surrounding chains were utterly annihilated.

The Perfectionist lowered its head, gazing expressionlessly at the God of Fear below, devoid of emotion, yet radiating an invisible, palpable intent to kill.

Sensing an inexplicable threat, the God of Fear raised its deformed, colossal arms, and a fresh tide of chains surged skyward.

It was a spectacular sight, yet it betrayed the God of Fear’s singular, monotonous method—a crude application of power for corrosive destruction, varied in form but identical in essence.

Folding its wings and then snapping them wide, the Perfectionist glowed, spinning and accelerating in a heartbeat until it was indistinguishable from a sphere of light.

Then, it plunged, diving straight into the tide of black chains, hurtling toward the colossal shadow without a moment’s hesitation.

To the Perfectionist, those oncoming chains were no more than water from a showerhead; they offered no resistance, shattered along its path until it reached the very face of the God of Fear.

"Puff..." Without a sound, a phantom impact echoed; a slender, luminous arm pierced the chest of the God’s deformed body, and its movements froze.

The Perfectionist stared blankly at the God of Fear, whom it had impaled with its right hand, pouring endless power into the deity’s core.

Light erupted from the God’s body, already cleaved from the shoulder, and before it could react, a blinding white radiance eclipsed all else; when the light faded, only the Perfectionist remained, its holy wings beating in the sky.

"Is it over?"

In the distance, Wang Yu, who had closed his eyes against the brilliance, opened them to see only the Perfectionist left in the sky, and he muttered in surprise.

The God of Fear had vanished entirely beneath the Perfectionist’s assault; that massive shadow was gone, leaving only the domain of power that still shrouded the plaza, appearing strangely translucent under the Perfectionist’s white light.

"No... that 'Divine Kingdom' hasn't dissipated. If the God of Fear had perished, those things should have vanished too. Something is wrong; there is definitely a problem."

Watching the lingering domain, his suspicions sharpened; Wang Yu had once cleared a fragment of the God of Fear, and when the shard faded, the anomalies of the Mist Forest had vanished with it—but not this time.

Others shared Wang Yu’s dread; Sieg’s face had turned ghastly, for he too had witnessed the destruction of the shadow and the domain that remained.

"A blank page is easily stained. That divine vessel is the source of power, but it requires a driver—not necessarily the will from the abyss, but anyone capable will do."

A terrible thought spread through Sieg’s mind; the God of Fear was not strong, but its capacity for corruption...

The Perfectionist hovered within the lingering domain, motionless, its indifferent expression suddenly flickering.

The will currently piloting the divine vessel was a reflection of the foul, chaotic entity from the abyss, rendering it holy and powerful, yet it also meant it was like a newborn—a blank page, pure, and therefore all the more easily corrupted.

Its initial flawlessness stemmed from its purity, but any sentient thing will learn, and in learning, emotions are born.

And now, in the constant clash with the God of Fear, surrounded by the power of dread, a tiny black speck had formed in the deepest reaches of the Perfectionist’s white consciousness.

The germination of fear.