Chapter 949: Burn the Root to Ashes [Bonus 14]
Arthur’s remaining hand shot upward, clamping onto the tip of Duskhand’s spear, trying to halt its descent, every muscle in his arm screaming under the strain.
With only one hand, he couldn’t use all his strength, but he still fought back as much as he could, forcing all the strength in the arm into the desperate grip, activating every strength-amplification ability he had as he pushed against the force of the descending spear.
Duskhand pressed down with both hands, grey light crackling and burning around the spear, each push piercing the weapon further into Arthur’s chest.
A sizzling sound filled the air, and the smell of burnt flesh filled Arthur’s nose as the grey light around the spear seared his palm.
His skin peeled, and his flesh underneath burned and blackened under the power of creation, his bones beginning to soften and melt under the radiant energy.
Arthur’s hand trembled violently as he drew out all the power he could from his Pseudo-Origin Core within his soul, destructive energy flooding out of his body in furious waves, coursing up his arm as he strained against the ashen-grey brilliance of creation spilling from Duskhand’s spear.
But even as he poured every ounce of his strength into the resistance, the spear slowly edged forward, grinding into his sternum, carving through muscle and bone, inch by agonising inch.
The light of creation burned his chest like acid had been poured on it, and as silver blood gurgled from his mouth, Duskhand began to speak.
"Why are you resisting?" he asked, tone filled with apparent confusion.
"As a welder of the Law of Destruction, Creation is your weakness, isn’t it?
It’s only natural that you succumb. There is nothing you can do against the power you are vulnerable to, is there?"
With every question, Duskhand increased the force of the spear, slicing through Arthur’s fingers, weakening his already faltering grip.
The spear continued its descent, inching closer to his heart with every passing second.
"Worry not," Duskhand continued, his tone calm yet cold.
"No one would fault you for dying to creation. They would pity you for being so mismatched against your weakness.
Don’t expend any more effort resisting. It’s your natural counter. Just give in, like you always have, and let it take your life."
"Shut...UP!!!" Arthur screamed, unleashing an intense burst of destructive energy, pushing back the spear slightly, forcing a momentary retreat in the grey light of creation.
But the power of creation had already melted so much of his bones that he could no longer grip the spear properly.
Cracks spiderwebbed across his bones, and as they shattered under the pressure, the spear descended again, piercing straight into his heart.
"gyk!"
Arthur’s body convulsed as the spear pierced his chest, his destruction energy erupting uncontrollably, struggling against the overwhelming grey light of creation.
His destruction instinctively fought back against the creation that sought to consume him, his soul filled with unbearable pain and heat.
At the sight of this resistance, Duskhand’s cold gaze on him narrowed.
"You resist," he said calmly. "But with such a weak will, your resistance amounts to nothing."
He immediately pulled back the spear, the grey light at its tip morphing into the shape of a blazing four-pointed star.
Without hesitation, he stabbed it down again, this time aimed at Arthur’s face.
The brilliance exploded across his vision, blinding him completely, his thoughts and senses cut off as the light swallowed him whole.
◇ ◇ ◇
|You are in the presence of an Aspect of the Concept of Destruction. Your Pseudo-Authority of Destruction has temporarily been neutralised.|
|You are in the presence of an Aspect of the Concept of Time. Your Pseudo-Authority of Time has temporarily been neutralised.|
Those two lines of text filled Arthur’s vision as the ambient cosmic energy flowed into his body, entering his soul and coiling around the Pseudo-Origin cores within him.
The energy suppressed their power, preventing them from emerging and manifesting in the physical world.
His time acceleration, fueled by his Pseudo-Authority, was disabled, his movements slowing as the world around him crawled.
He staggered, reeling from the agony of cosmic energy violently entering his soul, and then a shadow appeared on the ground before him.
Arthur reacted purely on instinct, barely managing to raise his right arm in time, angling the sword diagonally to shield his chest and face.
And just as he did—
**BAMM!!!
’Something’ hit him with overwhelming force.
Arthur couldn’t even register how he had been attacked. All he knew was that in the next moment, his body was sent flying through the air.
Ashen grey flames seared his skin, his flesh charred, and pain shot to his brain as fractures splintered through his bones.
His body slammed into the ground, tumbling violently. But before he could even stop, a hand gripped his neck, lifting him only to smash him back into the ground with crushing force.
The impact cratered the earth, sending deep fissures rippling out for miles and shockwaves blasting outward in all directions.
A foot slammed down on Arthur’s chest, cracking his ribs and sending fragments of bone piercing into his lungs.
Another foot followed immediately, crushing Arthur’s left wrist, the sickening sound of breaking bone was drowned out by the ground beneath, which was crumbling even further.
Barely a second later, a palm formed into a knifehand thrust downward toward his forehead, grey light coursing through it as it cut through space.
Just before the hand wreathed in the light of creation could reach his forehead, his right hand shot up and seized the attacker’s wrist, forcing it aside and redirecting the strike into the ground beside him.
The creation energy detonated on impact, the blast scorching the left side of his face, tearing through skin and nearly blinding his left eye as his vision dimmed from the burn.
Even so, he refused to release his grip, holding firm to prevent the arm from being withdrawn as he glared up at the figure standing over him.
The figure had piercing eyes that shone with iridescent light, and long black hair tied in a ponytail at the base of their head.
It was a face he knew, etched clearly into his memory, but Arthur was certain the presence behind those features did not belong to the person he remembered.
"Oh," the man said, his voice matching the face Arthur knew so well. "You recovered instantly this time. And there seems to be a little fire in your eyes."
His eyes met Arthur’s, both now glowing with the crimson light of destruction. The faint smile on his face slowly vanished as he added,
"But it’s still far from enough to burn away that cowardly mentality of yours."
With that, he wrenched his hand free from Arthur’s grasp.
At the same moment, Arthur groaned and forced cosmic energy through his body, channelling it down his left arm, pinned beneath the man’s right foot, and into Lostvayne, clutched in that hand, forcibly activating Lostvayne’s Weapon Authority.
|Soul-Devouring Oblivion!|
A violent eruption of destructive energy burst outward, blasting the man backwards, but he flipped through the air and landed smoothly on his feet, immediately charging forward again.
Lostvayne flew into Arthur’s right hand, and he caught the weapon firmly, sending power coursing into the blade as he swung it downward.
|First Concretization: Aspect Manifestation. Extreme Nothingness: Chaos.|
A crimson-silver radiance exploded from the blade as it descended to meet the incoming fist, glowing with grey light.
The collision produced a blinding flash that consumed everything in sight, cracks racing through the surrounding space as the reality around them fractured like shattered glass.
Arthur’s vision blurred for a moment, and when focus returned, he found himself in the middle of the ruined throne hall of the castle on Floor 6.
Harlamagne sat atop the throne in front of him, his left elbow resting on the armrest, his chin supported by his palm.
"Hm. I suppose your timing is the only thing that impresses me so far. You broke out faster than I expected," he said, his voice impassive.
Arthur tried to lunge forward, but the instant he attempted to move, unbearable pain tore through both his body and soul.
His left wrist shattered, his chest split open, and he fell to his knees as the bones in his legs fractured.
Blood poured from his mouth along with fragments of bone, and his right shoulder exploded, his arm dropping to the ground into the pool of his own blood.
Every injury he had sustained within ’Pure Fiction’ manifested on his physical body in reality, leaving him in a state where continued combat was absolutely impossible.
"I suppose the fervour with which you fought back is a step toward progress," Harlamagne continued. "However, that logic of hard counters remains deeply embedded within your subconscious."
Raising a single finger, the ash dragon pointed at Arthur, a grey light gathering at his fingertip as he s
"Burn that root to ashes with your destruction. Rid yourself of your self-imposed limits and vulnerabilities.
Fail to do so, and you will never leave this tower."
With those words, he flicked his finger, unleashing a wide beam of grey light that filled Arthur’s vision and engulfed his body completely.
◇ ◇ ◇
Arthur woke with a violent start.
He quickly scanned his surroundings and realised he was inside a stone chamber with a temple-like architecture, his body half-submerged in a pool of liquefied cosmic energy.
He glanced down at himself and then around the room until his eyes landed on Risha, who was on all fours a short distance away, breathing heavily as though she had just endured something unbearable.
The memories of the last few minutes, hours, days, or however long it had truly been, flooded back into his mind all at once.
He did not know how much time had passed, but he understood clearly what had happened and how they had ended up here.
They had reached Floor 6 of the tower, where they were confronted by a dragon that embodied their greatest weaknesses.
When the dragon introduced himself, he cast something called Pure Fiction upon them, forcing Arthur to relive a distorted version of his own memories in which his life was ended by creation again and again.
He had eventually broken free after realising that something was wrong. However, the injuries he suffered within that fabricated reality manifested upon his real body, leaving him incapable of fighting and reduced to nothing more than a sitting duck for the ash dragon to finish off.
In short, they were defeated on Floor 6.
Arthur slowly lifted his head and saw a pair of familiar double doors ahead of him.
"Fuck," he muttered under his breath.
The Tower was created based on roguelike games, and in roguelikes, defeat meant starting over from the very beginning.
Arthur and Risha were back on Floor 1.
