Episode 181

The fact that the blessing had a limited number of uses caught me off guard, but it wasn’t surprising. Time manipulation—whether regression, reversing the natural order, or retrograde—was something I had never encountered in blessings, magic, or sorcery. In other words, it was generally impossible.

“I didn’t send you back to the past simply to help you grow. Whether you believe it or not, regression is a hassle for me too.”

Even my master, Bai Luguang, who believed nothing in the world was impossible, called it a hassle.

Could it be that Senior Sister Tian had been giving me advice in her own way?

I suddenly recalled the image of Senior Sister Tian sitting atop the rocky peak of Spirit Mountain. She sat as if in meditation, waving her iron fan, speaking to me in her distinctive raspy voice. “Not yet. Now isn’t the time to use it.”

Strangely, I laughed.

Honestly, I wasn’t even sure what state I was in. If I had to name it, maybe fear—fear of some overwhelming force I couldn’t resist. That, and anger. Anger that this being was trying to seize control of my body without my permission.

Can fear and anger coexist? I kept wondering as I methodically crushed the Deathberry dolls.

Now that I understood the situation better, I finally grasped a bit about the logic behind the demon king’s actions, which had always puzzled me.

That bastard wasn’t trying to kill me outright. He wanted to corner me into using regression.

Death isn’t a trigger for my regression. If it did, the demon king wouldn’t have bothered with all the pointless antics on the third floor. He would have just killed me outright.

Of course, I wouldn’t have gone down without a fight, but at the very least, he would have shown far more killing intent than this.

It was the same now. The Deathberry army surrounded us on all sides, overwhelming in number, but I didn’t feel they aimed to kill me with all their might. Instead, it felt like they were slowly tightening the noose, forcing their prey to surrender.

I was stubborn by nature. The harder someone tried to force me, the more fiercely I resisted, like a defiant child. It didn’t matter if the opponent was a demon king, god, transcendent, or absolute. What mattered was that the opponent was trying to use me to create a situation that benefited himself.

I’m furious. Maybe after enduring countless hardships, I would have no choice but to use regression. No matter when, I would fail, regret it, and go back in time once again.

Right now, I wasn’t going to give in. I wasn’t going to turn back time. I would defeat the demon king, here and now.

I pondered this as I punched a Deathberry’s chin. Time was running out.

The Blood Moon Demon King doesn’t know me well yet.

So, when would Luan Badniker feel the urge to turn back time? It was a race against the clock. Would Deathberry uncover my true nature first, or would my side find a way to win before that happened?

I had no clear answer, but I believed I had a chance. That hope came from Senior Sister Tian. She trusted that I could survive this crisis, which was why she had rung the bell and ordered my retreat.

I went through the process of observation, interpretation, and contemplation. Facing the incoming enemies was no simple task. In the first place, this type of scheming was never really my strong suit. But what kind of person only did what they’re good at?

I pushed my mind until it felt like steam was about to burst from my head.

First of all, there was my eyesight—eyes that could see through the darkness and look into the enemy. It deserved a grand name. Fiery Golden Eyes, perhaps?

I focused my Fiery Golden Eyes on the Deathberry army, chasing the strange sensation that nagged at me. I also listened carefully. To me, hearing was an aid to vision. Unlike vision, which was obstructed by terrain and had a limited range, hearing could extend in every direction. In most situations, it was a means for tracking what happened outside my direct line of sight.

Smell and taste weren’t helpful right now, so that left touch.As I shattered Deathberry copies one after another, I concentrated on the way each felt, searching for differences among these seemingly identical dolls.

To be honest, they all felt the same. Their reactions and durability varied little, if at all.

By the way, their numbers don’t seem to have decreased.

I’d destroyed quite a few by now, but the numbers remained the same.

Then I remembered what Seren had said. Enemies that regenerated and multiplied were indeed utterly annoying.

Should I try cutting the threads? Of course, the best way to stop a puppet was to kill the puppeteer. However, smashing the moon in the sky wasn’t an option.

In the end, I settled for the next best thing and cut the threads connected to all the Deathberry copies.

I drew the Seven Sins Sword and roughly channeled internal energy into its blade. Its rustic edge wasn’t made for slicing, but those threads looked sturdy enough to treat like wire. That made this better than using the Yin-Yang Dao.

I dodged a Deathberry’s nails and slashed at the thread attached to the back of its neck.

A harsh snap echoed, and pain flared through my wrist as if I’d struck steel.

The moment the thread severed, the Deathberry copy collapsed weakly and stopped moving without a single twitch.

So this really is the best method. I tightened my grip on the sword and started to slice the threads at random.

After I cut around twenty threads, the Seven Sins Sword bounced off one. A spike of pain jolted through my wrist, and I almost lost my grip on the hilt.

What the heck? I couldn’t even scratch the thread, much less cut it. I had swung my sword with the same force as before, and I still had plenty of internal energy and mental focus. It wasn’t a matter of failed control.

This thread is insanely tough. Which means the doll it’s attached to has to be something special. I felt a conviction that went beyond doubt.

Which one was it?

I scanned the battlefield and found it. This Deathberry looked similar in appearance, size, and behavior to the others, but it had one clear difference. This is the only one that has reverse pupils.

It resembled the first one I had smashed. The other Deathberry copies had normal eyes. I hadn’t noticed before because of the darkness, but now I was certain.

That one had to be the main body, or at least what I assumed to be the core.

If I attacked again, could I cut it for sure? What if I poured all my internal energy into a single, decisive slash?

I wasn’t sure. Using the purple flames would help, but even that offered no guarantee. The durability of that thread was that high.

I also couldn’t help glancing in the direction of Charon and Seren. They were relatively trustworthy, but I didn’t know if they’d remain friendly once they learned I was a church member.

What was the worst case? Using the purple flames and still failing to cut the thread. I had to sever it in one strike.

Wait. A brilliant idea struck me. There was a way to cut the thread without the purple flames.

I reached inside my coat with my free hand. The fabric was warm from my body heat, but I still felt the cold metal against my fingertips.

This is it. A divine relic. Not just a tool, but the one thing that could sever that cursed thread no matter how strong it was.

Suddenly, a loud vibration shook the entire building, rattling the ground beneath me. I almost lost my balance.

“What the heck?”

“Why all of a sudden—”

Charon and Seren staggered more violently than I did, but their voices showed they still had energy.

Charon turned sharply toward the window. “Wait. Don’t tell me that is—”

I followed his gaze. Now, this is really fucked up.

***

The situation inside Building 12 had deteriorated beyond recovery. Just as Luan had seen from the third floor, panic had spread like wildfire. In the end, Alderson’s barrier gave way. Thankfully, it had not shattered completely—some of it still held.

“The second floor is reaching its limit!”

“Damn it, fall back to the third floor! Evacuate the students first!”

“Yes, sir!”

The building had four floors in total. At first, the barrier had shielded them all, but that was no longer the case. With half the barrier down, the dolls had breached the defenses. Retreating upward was the only option: from the first floor to the second, and now from the second to the third.

Dammit. Barter bit his lip. If this continued, they would be doomed anyway.If the front line continued to be pushed onto the roof, there would be nowhere left to run.

Could I have handled it better? Barter was referring to the students, not the dolls. After all, it was their mental breakdown that had sparked this crisis. If the students had been forced into submission or even knocked unconscious, the situation would have been more manageable.

No, probably not. HHe had initially resented the students’ weak spirits, but it was understandable. This was one of the most common side effects of the miasma-tainted ground: the contagion of madness.

Hadenaihar, the Blood Moon Demon King, was also the God of Madness. It was only natural that the minds of untrained, unprotected students would break down. To be honest, Barter could feel his own mind slipping.

“Captain! I don’t see the prince!” Marco called out urgently before whispering incoherently, “Requesting permission to break formation!”

“Denied! Hold your ground!” Barter ordered sharply.

“But…!”

“What do you think will happen if you leave now?” Marco flinched at Barter’s roar. “The front line is collapsing! The dolls are breaking through! What if they reach the dean and kill him? Everyone in this building will die anyway!”

There were two staircases leading to the third floor. At one of them, Hector and the hero disciples somehow held their ground, but the overall situation looked grim. They were heavily outnumbered.

Barter spoke firmly, “I know you are a close confidant of the Third Prince. But you are also a member of the Special Forces, Marco Angela. Follow orders.”

“I understand.”

Even after Marco agreed, Barter kept a wary eye on him. The madness simmering beneath Marco’s calm exterior could erupt at any moment. He could raise his sword against the others in a misguided attempt to protect the prince.

Barter had to stay vigilant not only against the dolls but also toward his current allies and even his own crumbling mental state. Because of this, he found it hard to blame anyone for what happened immediately afterward.

“I-I’m getting out of here! Move!” shouted a student from the rear. He shoved past one of the Special Forces members and hurled himself into the horde of dolls.

“What? H-hey! Stop!”

“Ah, ahhh! I’m freee…!” the student cried, his voice wild with joy. Then a long spear pierced his throat.

Perhaps it was a mercy that the student had lost his mind. He died without pain, his face still frozen in bliss.

“Damn it.” Barter forced himself to look away. He knew this building was doomed. Sooner or later, everyone inside would die.

How much time has passed? Once the battle erupted, Barter lost all sense of it. Maybe less than an hour, or perhaps twelve.

Who could tell in a nightmare like this?

Alderson Marbour could. The Purple Archmage stood on the rooftop, struggling to suppress the storm of mana raging inside him.

Twelve hours have passed, Aldersonthought.

Many had already fallen. Though some souls lingered, their minds had suffered irreversible damage. He doubted any student who had survived such a deadly battle could fully recover. No one who returned from a land tainted by miasma had stayed sane.

Alderson had always regarded the academy’s students as family. It was a cliché he never voiced, but it was true. That made the weight in his heart even heavier.

Things were bad now, but the true nightmare was only just beginning.

“D-Dean Alderson, t-this…” Arin’s voice trembled.

Alderson stared ahead with a calm expression.

Legend said the White Knights rode pegasi, but even Alderson could not craft artificial horses for the armored troops. Still, unwilling to abandon the dream of flight, he had given wings to every armored soldier.

Alderson watched the knights clad in holy white armor, untouched by the crimson light. They looked majestic, like something born of myth.

At first glance, the armored troops spread their wings beneath the red moon, resembling an army of heaven—saviors sent to shatter the status quo.

They were meant to bring salvation. Now, they brought the opposite. They advanced as harbingers of death, breaking through the defense lines.

“Ahh…” Arin reflexively reached into her pocket and squeezed something.

Alderson, who was facing despair, asked, “You’ve been holding that thing for a while. What is it?”

“A-a coin. Luan gave it to me.”

“A coin?”

Alderson examined it. He prided himself on having the broadest knowledge among the Archmages, but he had never seen this coin before.

“He said it’s a trump card. For the very, very end…”

“Why?”

“According to Luan…” Arin glanced at Alderson. “If it is used, the White Knights could be wiped out.”

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