Chapter 392: Collapse of the Tide, World Astounded

"If I were to smash the tentacles this giant octopus has hooked into the junction between reality and the Void, it would plummet into the bottomless depths of the Void. At the same time, we would be able to escape this realm, which exists solely because of this abyssal creature, right?"

Wang Yu asked Noelle. He had to confirm that his actions would truly aid their current predicament, and Noelle, having communicated with that nameless dream deity, was far more informed than he was.

"Yes, that old gentleman said that the Tidal Barrier and this entire space exist only because of this giant octopus. It is its grip on the junction of the material world and the Void that caused the Tidal Barrier to manifest, turning this region into an oceanic abyss from which there is no return."

The red dragon girl nodded in confirmation. As long as Wang Yu knocked the octopus into the depths of the Void, the realm sustained by its presence would inevitably collapse, and the power that held them captive would cease to exist.

"Speaking of which, where did that dream deity go? Ever since the professor used himself as a reaction furnace to create mana and fuse the two realms, you haven't seen him, have you?"

"Logically speaking, the division of the two realms was an instinctive defense mechanism the octopus used against that dream deity. Now that the fusion is complete, the deity should have been able to return to his own shell."

Having received a definitive answer from Noelle, Wang Yu spun the hammer in his hand, ready to act, but a sudden thought made him look toward the distant Void.

There, the shell of the dream deity remained motionless. A lullaby played mechanically from the deity's constantly opening and closing mouth, but there was no sign of consciousness taking over to animate the form.

Shaking her head to indicate she was just as confused, Noelle responded to the question.

"Perhaps he no longer wishes to exist. He didn't even leave a name, likely to prevent faith in dreams from being directed toward him. After all, his former believers have all turned into reflections; even if those existences could still provide faith, a lie is still a lie."

Analyzing the deity's motives based on her own knowledge and experiences, Wang Yu stopped dwelling on the matter. Since the deity had made this choice, he would borrow the power remaining in that shell.

"You stay here. Nothing should be able to breach the boundaries of this doorway's influence to harm you. I'm going to knock this octopus down."

Reaching out with a phantom grasp, he used the upgraded Chariot Force to pull the dream deity's shell toward him. At this moment, the Chariot Force was capable of channeling even more of the deity's power from the ownerless vessel.

Void energy surged and churned, transforming into lift that carried Wang Yu toward the space above, where his target awaited.

"It’s a bit disrespectful, I know, but you’d surely be happy to see this giant octopus fall into the Void for good, wouldn't you?"

Glancing at the deity's shell trailing behind him, Wang Yu offered an apologetic smile and muttered to himself.

The tentacle was not far from the location of his door. He arrived quickly, staring at the limb that pierced the void—in truth, the junction between the material world and the Void. He raised his hammer, a faint golden light coating the head of the simple, yet impossibly heavy weapon.

After talking to Noelle, he was certain that smashing the tentacle would not "wake" the abyssal creature; the octopus was currently trapped in a recursive loop, much like a program stuck in an infinite cycle.

For instance, if a mage cast a hypnotic spell on themselves, programmed to periodically refresh a long-duration hypnotic spell and a sleep spell, the moment the first spell took hold, the mage would be trapped in an infinite loop. That was exactly the state of this octopus.

A mage might have to consider external factors—running out of mana, being killed, or dying of old age—but this abyssal creature, powerful to the extreme, neither needed nor could consider such things.

Once it began, it was nearly impossible for any entity strong enough to snap it out of it. The lullaby that had stretched on for untold years had no real purpose.

"Well then, goodbye, you wretched thing."

He whispered, and the hammer fell. The golden head struck the exact point where the tentacle pierced the junction. An invisible ripple spread out, followed by a brief pause, and then a web of cracks appeared, spreading and widening until the entire tentacle began to shake violently.

With Wang Yu's strength, harming such an abyssal creature would be a fool's errand. The true force behind knocking it into the Void was the newly acquired power, which possessed the properties of a golden body.

Wang Yu couldn't define exactly what it was, but he had grasped its effect: no external matter could influence this golden layer. By using the hammer as a guide to channel this essence onto the surface of the tentacle, the octopus would find nothing left to grip.

"Whoa, that’s a massive hole."

The cracks appeared because the space previously filled by the tentacle was now exposed; as the tentacle slid away, a gargantuan pit emerged.

At the edges of the pit, fissures spread, seemingly forming tears in the Void. However, these cracks quickly shattered into fragments, which flew out and filled the void of the pit in an instant.

"Click, crack, boom, snap..."

In the silent Void, the sound of something breaking echoed. It seemed a chain reaction had begun. The sound of things shattering, slipping, and the entire mass descending began to rise, reaching Wang Yu's ears.

He knew the collapse had begun. The octopus had struggled to anchor itself to the boundary of the material world and the Void; once Wang Yu pulled out one of its anchors, the entire structure lost its stability.

The boundary, no longer able to bear the "weight" of the octopus, collapsed, and the abyssal creature began its inevitable, endless fall into the bottomless Void below.

The body of the octopus, larger than any mountain, descended at a steady speed. The form that had existed like a backdrop behind the Void was dragged down, and under the gaze of Wang Yu and the others, it sank.

The sheer presence of it was indescribable, like watching the sky and its clouds suddenly freeze, then be slowly pulled away, leaving behind a pitch-black, hollow void.

The color of the Void was fading. When the octopus held sway, the background had been a deep, murky green. The space occupied by Wang Yu's door had been colorless and transparent. As the creature and its power fell away, the deep green vanished from sight.

"Ah, I wonder what's really at the bottom of the Void. Does it just keep falling forever? Where will that octopus end up?"

Looking down into the endless abyss and the octopus disappearing from view, Wang Yu felt a sense of wonder. To this day, he still didn't know the true nature of the Void, and his curiosity was piqued.

But it was just a passing thought. If the wizards and scholars of the ages hadn't figured it out, how could he? His attention shifted to the changes occurring within the Void.

As the deep green faded, the color of the Void was refilled with a magnificent, deep purple—as brilliant as the stars, carrying an unspeakable, deathly silence and a dangerous, untouchable quality. This was the color the world believed the Void should have.

"It’s back to normal, then..."

...

Meanwhile, a massive transformation was taking place in the Endless Sea. A fleet of alchemical ships was sailing toward the gap in the Tidal Barrier.

The scale of the fleet was immense, but even more striking was the aerial fortress flying above them—the Sky Mechanical City. Many had forgotten the true purpose of this fortress, a relic of a war-torn era.

A sanctuary for research and a hall for scholars—these were later titles. Its true function remained that of a terrifying war machine. After generations of upgrades and breakthroughs in alchemical technology, its power was far greater than it had been in the past.

"We are about to enter the region of the Tidal Barrier. The Merfolk have arrived to receive us. Have the fleet coordinate with them. Outer city alchemical machinery and armaments on standby, ready to repel any abyssal spawn."

The order, issued by Astartes, echoed through every corner of the Sky Mechanical City. The aerial fortress looked empty, with only a few heavily armed transcendents above the Great Knight rank active. Most scholars and civilians had already evacuated.

The city's true function was that of a war machine; when war began, all other functions were set aside.

The scholars and residents had either chosen to leave the city before it ascended or had retreated into a special habitable plane developed long ago, known as the "Sanctuary," to wait out the crisis.

Many residents and scholars chose to return to their homelands to observe and wait, as they couldn't confirm if the news about the abyssal creature was true, and many hadn't returned home in years.

Others chose to stay in the Sanctuary plane, waiting for the event to pass so they could return to their work. Those who remained, having neither left nor entered the Sanctuary, acted as mercenaries.

They provided additional support to the Sky Mechanical City, operating weapons and preventing creatures from boarding the city to cause internal sabotage. Regardless of whether a battle occurred, they would receive a generous reward.

"Handover ready. The fleet has made contact with the Merfolk. Once we enter the waters beyond the Tidal Barrier, we can—confirm, wait, uh, what is that... Hmm? Ah! How is this possible? Damn it, am I hallucinating? Impossible, how could—how could the Tidal Barrier... collapse?!"

The commander of the fleet, a member of the Truth Oversight Committee now serving on the Central Council, was responsible for exchanging information with the Merfolk via the Nightfall Church's channels.

He had just sent a report to the Sky Mechanical City, but halfway through, his calm tone shifted into a stuttering, horrified disbelief as his worldview shattered.

The collapse was easy to understand. Right before their eyes, the wall that had stood for countless years—a magnificent, towering structure of seawater reaching over ten thousand meters into the sky—began to fall.

Starting from the very top, the structure separated, turning into a deluge of water that pressed downward. Then, the entire wall began to fall as one, accelerating with every passing second.

"Boom!"

Because of its staggering scale, the weight of the seawater—stretching over ten thousand meters—was unfathomable. Even the sound of the water crushing the air was a thunderous roar that pierced the eardrums and hearts of every living creature nearby, spreading a suffocating dread into their very consciousness.

Compared to this wall, they were insignificant. The colossal, eternal Tidal Barrier that had surrounded the continent for so long was collapsing. The visual impact, the auditory shock, the sheer weight of the information...

Everything crashed into their minds at once, leaving those who had come to face the abyssal threat reeling in confusion.

"Evacuate!"

By the time someone reacted and relayed the desperate message to the entire fleet, the sheer volume of water from the ten-thousand-meter-high barrier would create a wave of unprecedented and unimaginable proportions upon impact.

The entire fleet would be mercilessly swallowed. No magic could protect these fragile ships, as thin as paper, or their crew, as fleeting as ash, in the face of such raw, natural power.

Every alchemical galleon veered sharply in the opposite direction, straining every timber to flee a sea that had turned lethally treacherous, though the crews knew full well that no vessel could outrun the cataclysmic impact of a ten-thousand-meter wall of water; yet, the primal instinct for survival had set the ships in motion long before their reason had surrendered to despair.

It was only after some tens of seconds of frantic flight that they realized, with a dawning sense of confusion, that the atmosphere remained unnervingly still, devoid of the anticipated roar of crushing waves or the violent fury of a collapsing abyss.

One sailor chanced a glance backward, frozen in disbelief as he observed that the rampart of the tide did not seem to be striking the surface of the ocean at all; the water was cascading downward into a vast, gaping void beneath the Endless Sea, a bottomless maw that swallowed the deluge, sparing the surrounding waters from the pulverizing force of the impact.

Minutes later, the fleet drifted to a halt upon the eerily tranquil expanse, the souls aboard standing on their decks, hearts still hammering against the silence as the tidal barrier dissolved into nothingness, revealing the world beyond—the forbidden reaches of the Endless Sea—laid bare before their eyes with a suddenness that was as jarring as it was sublime.

On that day, the people of the continent looked toward the horizon and witnessed the collapse of the wall that had stood as an eternal, static backdrop to their existence, and the entire world trembled in awe.