Chapter 220: Sea of Dead Silence

(Today’s course is fully booked, so this update is a bit short. Expect bonus chapters tomorrow and the day after!)

Beating its wings, the Perfectionist hovered in silence above the ruins of the Royal City—a wasteland carved out by the shockwaves of its clash with the God of Fear—showing no signs of anything amiss.

But soon, the anomaly manifested.

After the colossal shadow of the God of Fear was obliterated by the Perfectionist, its power did not disperse. Instead, it remained, blanketing the ground in the form of a black, translucent domain.

Now, those dark fields began to converge toward the Perfectionist. As this energy gathered around it, the black hues overlapped, deepening into an absolute, lightless sphere that gradually engulfed the Perfectionist.

Yet, the Perfectionist remained motionless. The white light naturally radiating from its body was suppressed, and the entity of fear—the very essence of the God of Fear—permeated the space around it.

The seeds of dread, sprouting from the deepest recesses of the Perfectionist’s soul, began to flourish under the saturation of this power, extending their roots into every corner of its will.

An emotion named fear spread through its soul. The Perfectionist’s soul, powerful yet excessively pure, was stained black and eroded as the terror took hold.

Shadows appeared across the Perfectionist’s form—at the corners of its eyes, behind its ears, and within the gaps of its wings—manifestations of the power born from fear.

The God of Fear could draw strength from the terror within a soul, and the fear birthed from the Perfectionist’s unimaginably vast soul naturally provided the deity with immense power. Using this fear as a medium, the God of Fear established a connection with the Perfectionist’s soul.

Or rather, it was more than a connection. Without a doubt, just moments ago, the God of Fear’s physical form in the material world, and even its consciousness, had been pulverized into dust by the sheer, overwhelming force of the Perfectionist.

Now, the remnants of the God of Fear, which had autonomously gathered around the Perfectionist to saturate its soul and cultivate the emotion of dread, were doing something else entirely. They were using the growing fear within the Perfectionist’s soul as a seed, utilizing the Perfectionist’s divine, powerful corpse as a vessel to gestate a new God of Fear.

As long as fear persists, the god remains immortal. This is the nature of the God of Fear. Until the fear within the soul is utterly extinguished, this deity cannot be destroyed; it is not that it cannot be killed, but that it will be reborn in terror, time and time again, without end.

The shadows upon the body grew denser. Behind the Perfectionist, a translucent phantom began to emerge: a malformed head covered in countless eyes, twisted and withered limbs, and a bloated, discordant torso—the colossal shadow of the God of Fear had surfaced once more.

Nourished by the fear within the Perfectionist’s nascent soul, a new God of Fear was born upon it.

The giant shadow behind the Perfectionist began to move. It draped its arms over the shoulders of the divine corpse, its deformed legs clamping around the waist and abdomen, before bringing its massive, eye-studded head close to the Perfectionist’s own.

Black, thread-like tendrils extended from the God of Fear’s countless eyes, touching the flawless body of the Perfectionist. They probed into the ears, the mouth, the nostrils, and even the gaps between the eyelids, injecting its power into the essentially ownerless divine vessel.

The Perfectionist showed no intention of resisting with its power. Once the emotion of fear took root in the deepest part of its soul, the master of this divine corpse was, in a sense, no longer the Perfectionist.

The figure of the God of Fear clinging to the divine corpse behind the Perfectionist began to fade—not because its power had vanished, but because the God of Fear had finally found a suitable vessel.

The Perfectionist—or rather, the divine corpse—closed its eyes. After a brief pause, it opened them again. This time, the emotion in its pupils was no longer mere indifference, but an indescribable, unfathomable depth, dark and impenetrable, where no light could be glimpsed.

The surrounding "Divine Kingdom" domain began to contract inward. All the power that had previously expanded to extend the God of Fear’s influence and harvest terror as sustenance now returned, converging and pouring into that divine vessel.

The area around the Royal City square, previously shrouded in darkness, was suddenly cleared. The God of Fear’s domain of power had vanished, but this was hardly cause for celebration.

All the power of the God of Fear had concentrated within that divine vessel. This shell, containing vast power and needing only an operator to unleash it, was now possessed by the God of Fear. Its reason for gathering all its power was simple: to achieve total dominion over this body.

The form remained unchanged; the posture and appearance of the divine corpse were still perfect and flawless, so beautiful that one could not detect the danger within. But the entity now commanding this body had shifted from the Perfectionist to the God of Fear.

"This is fucking catastrophic."

Wang Yu bared his teeth, a curse slipping from his lips. The contingency plan left behind by the Kingdom had been dismantled just like that?

"They basically handed over the vessel on a silver platter. Not only did they get wiped out, but they also ended up buffing the God of Fear—isn't that just a bit too pathetic?"

The God of Fear destroyed, the Perfectionist eroded, the rebirth of the God of Fear upon the Perfectionist’s soul, and the changing of the vessel’s master—all of this had transpired right before Wang Yu’s eyes as he observed the battlefield.

He felt a strange sense of familiarity, mixed with helplessness. Back in the Mist Forest, that fragment of the God of Fear had constantly reborn itself through Avia’s fear, only being destroyed when Wang Yu—a guy who "felt no fear"—stepped in after she lost consciousness.

But now, Wang Yu could do nothing. It was true that he felt no fear, but the terror in the souls of the Royal City’s residents and the fear birthed from the Perfectionist’s consciousness had already made this newborn God of Fear powerful beyond measure. If Wang Yu went over there, he would be dead in the blink of an eye.

His expression shifted as he noticed several objects rapidly approaching from the sky.

"Whoosh..." A searing fireball streaked across the horizon, arcing in a parabolic trajectory toward the God of Fear floating in the air. It was an attack from the magic arrays of the Stevenson Magic Academy.

At the same time, a barrage of Reality Stabilization Spears rained down from the sky. These precious, high-cost alchemical products, primarily used to counter the Void, were being treated like cheap alchemical bombs, transported by sky islands and airships to be used as mere disposable ordnance for bombardment.

In the gaps between the buildings and streets of the Royal City, the figures of the Night’s Edge and the Royal Guards began to appear.

"I suppose that’s true. At least this thing has a physical form now. Compared to before, when you couldn't even hit it and no attack had any effect, this is, in a way, the kind of bad news that counts as good news."

Wang Yu shook his head and leaped from the top of the clock tower. As always, no matter how dire the situation, the guy maintained a hellish level of optimism.

"Nothing for me to do here now. I’ll go find Avia. This is all I can manage; at my current strength, I can’t get involved in the rest. Evacuating as soon as possible is the wise choice."

Running through the yet-undamaged buildings of the Royal City, Wang Yu accelerated toward the Shadow of the Royal City. If the Perfectionist couldn't handle the God of Fear, what could he possibly do? Taking the girl and running was the only correct answer.

...

"Let me out. I don't know what you're trying to hide from me, but you should realize by now that there's no point in concealment. It’s obvious—you, the Royal Family, have completely lost control."

Ziegler said coldly, staring at Rudolph, who stood before him. Rudolph looked slightly nervous, but the excitement of witnessing the birth of something new still dominated his expression.

"...You're right. The Institute’s calculations have veered off course. If you can do something, then go do it. The Royal Family’s schemes have trapped them in their own pit. If we can hold out until Father Fang returns, maybe the Royal City can be saved. If not, I suspect it’s already too late to run."

Rudolph remained silent for two seconds before unlocking the room without further ado.

Ziegler smashed the door to pieces with a single punch and charged out. He had to confirm Noel’s status, and he had to do something.

...

Edward was currently at the Night’s Edge headquarters on the surface of the Royal City. Standing on a high observation deck, he watched everything unfolding in the center of the city, his face darkening while his expression grew complex.

"That crazy woman was actually telling the truth. The Seer of the Leith family—did she really see this moment back then?"

The "angel" that had erupted from underground triggered a deep-seated memory in Edward’s mind—a conversation he’d had with Ponia Leith, the mastermind behind the demon invasion incident.

"The Lord of Fear shall eventually descend, and even the angels of the abyss cannot stop it. Therefore, a variable is needed."

Edward muttered the prophecy. Everything happening in the square now seemed to suggest that the woman they had dismissed as a lunatic had been right all along.

"Damn it..."

He punched the wall beside him, venting the frustration in his heart.

...

"Rumble!"

In the square, magical bombardments rained from the sky, and Reality Stabilization Spears continued to fall and detonate. Every offensive means available to the Royal City was unleashed without reservation upon the divine vessel of the God of Fear. The light of explosions and thick smoke directly obscured the figure of the god.

"Fire! Don't stop!"

The commander’s roar echoed, directed at both the members of the Night’s Edge and the Royal Guards. Every soldier who reached the perimeter of the square was doing everything in their power to attack the God of Fear in the center.

Enchanted arrows fired from alchemical crossbows tore through the air, falling like a torrential rain under the sheer weight of numbers.

The long-range attacks of various official knights and grand knights, along with the spells of the accompanying mages, poured out without a moment’s pause.

They didn't know how powerful the God of Fear was at this moment; all they could do was attack at any cost, exhausting their greatest strength to defend their city and their lives.

The attacks coming from all directions completely shrouded the center of the square. No one dared to stop, and no one could say if they had truly wounded this deity.

Undeniably, the combined might of the Royal City’s major factions and its diverse inhabitants was staggering—even a Legend caught in the middle might not survive. But for the God of Fear, having obtained the power within the divine vessel, it was far from enough.

"..."

The God of Fear, covered by countless attacks, let them strike its body. It raised the arm of the divine vessel—a limb like a work of art—and opened its palm. A black sphere appeared within it, and then, it clenched its fist.

In an instant, the previously retracted "Divine Kingdom" domain expanded at an incredible speed with the God of Fear as its center, encompassing everything in the vicinity and spreading outward to cover the entire Royal City.

Wang Yu, who was running; the Night’s Edge and Royal Guards, who were still attacking; Edward, watching from high above; Charles, who had just escaped from the void rift at the Marquis’s mansion; Ziegler, who had just confirmed his sister was safe; and Avia, protected by the power of the Lady of the Night, along with the other believers—all were instantly engulfed by the God of Fear’s domain.

Half the Royal City was swallowed by the black, hemispherical field in the blink of an eye.

"Splash..."

A faint, ethereal sound of ocean waves resonated. As a member of the Night’s Edge opened his eyes, he realized everything around him had changed. He was falling downward from a sea surface that shimmered with a faint, ghostly light.

Below, save for an endless abyss of darkness, there was nothing; yet, for reasons unknown, as he gazed into the depths, a boundless terror began to fester within his heart.

Struggling with all his might, he reached toward the shimmering surface far above, but an invisible force seized him, dragging him down into the void below.

His mouth agape in a soundless scream of panic, he found his iron will powerless to stem the rising tide of dread; he would not fall, would not descend into that lightless deep, yet a primordial fear had already claimed him.

There was nothing below—no monsters, no shadows—only the prospect of an infinite descent, a cage of eternal solitude; his consciousness could not shatter, and this ceaseless, repetitive plummet would become the very cradle of absolute horror.

The Sea of Dead Silence.