Chapter 111: Storm of Order

The entire central district was suddenly plunged from daylight into darkness. Residents hiding in their homes anxiously gazed up at the sky. Having just endured a demonic invasion, they shuddered in fear of the new calamity that was unfolding.

Those who were more perceptive, on the other hand, frowned at the strange sight. The darkness in the sky didn’t seem destructive. It merely coalesced, blocking out the light from above. Such a large-scale change in celestial phenomena almost resembled… a divine miracle.

But in Aleisterre, where the primary deity worshiped was the God of Light, there were few who believed in darkness-aligned gods. As such, no one could offer an explanation for what was happening.

The people of the capital glanced at each other in worry. They could only hope that this sudden phenomenon wasn’t a precursor to yet another disaster. The capital had already been through far too much in a single day.

“What’s this?” Even the usually composed Hugin could no longer maintain his calm. First, a massive dragon’s claw had descended from the heavens. Now, there was this oppressive darkness that shrouded the sky and obscured any light. Such rare phenomena were now converging in the capital all at once.

“Could it be the deity worshipped by the Church of Nightfall?” Charles gazed at the sudden darkness, recalling the small statuette of the Lady of the Night that had mysteriously vanished. His thoughts naturally drifted in that direction.

“But… is this really the work of that ‘rather weak’ god Wang Yu mentioned? And if so, what’s the purpose behind this display?”

Charles didn’t know what this meant. He simply hoped that this unexpected variable wouldn’t lead to disaster.

“Hm?” Hugin frowned, then retrieved a crystal communicator from his armor. A flood of urgent requests from the floating island were seeking approval from him, the Nightblades’ highest-ranking officer in the capital.

“A good turn of events, it seems.” Surprised but smiling, Hugin approved all the requests one by one before turning his gaze to the dark sky above.

This veil of darkness blanketed everything above it, obscuring whatever lay beyond. Positioned directly over Sieg, it naturally concealed the enormous dragon claw poised to strike him down.

No one understood the purpose of this darkness better than Sieg. As a key member of the Nightblades stationed in the capital and a highly knowledgeable scholar, the Professor was well-versed in void-related phenomena.

Though the darkness seemed vast and imposing, it required far less energy to sustain than it seemed. Sieg knew that piercing this layer of darkness would require only a small amount of effort.

Yet it was precisely this realization that left Sieg in awe. This thin layer of darkness, imbued with minimal void energy, was effectively blocking the foreign void presence Sieg could no longer sense the massive claw hidden beyond the darkness. He understood that the foreign presence hadn’t withdrawn but had been obscured by the sky itself. Neither he nor it could perceive one another anymore.

The difference, however, was that Sieg knew it was still there, whereas the entity, bound by mechanical, rigid protocols, could no longer detect Sieg’s presence.

The fact that this fragile darkness continued to persist, despite the fact that it was easily dispelled, was proof of its miraculous nature. Minimal expenditure for maximal effect—a true miracle.

“What’s going on with that massive dragon claw?” Wang Yu asked. He was crouching beside Avia, who was focused on maintaining her divine spell.

“It’s stopped moving,” Avia replied, her forehead beaded with sweat. The effort required to sustain a large-scale runic structure like this was a monumental challenge for her.

“Wang Yu, I think your hypothesis was correct. That thing was targeting Sieg. The moment it lost its ability to observe him, it began to withdraw.”

“Excellent. Incredible work, Avia. Just hold on a little longer. Once that thing completely retreats, the reality anchors should come into play. It did manage to crawl out from the Abyssal Depths, which means the spears likely won’t have much effect, but their explosion might. Let’s hope it’s not too resilient.”

Wang Yu glanced at the darkness above, as he made some rough estimates about the airships’ arrival time. The same strategy they had used against Pernia was still applicable here.

However, the airships equipped with Material Stabilization Spears were too fragile to approach the enormous purple void entity. They would most likely be destroyed by its long-range attacks before being able to dispense their payload.

Now, however, the Firmament of Eternal Night that Avia had unleashed created an unprecedented opportunity for the airships. As the Lady of the Night had said, the abilities of a deity in matters associated with its domain frequently defied imagination. The Lady’s dominion over darkness and concealment was overwhelming.

The darkness wasn’t just shielding Sieg from the dragon’s claw, but also cloaking the approaching airships from the void entity.

“It’s retreating, Wang Yu. Can you confirm if the airships are close by?” Avia asked, her full attention on controlling the firmament of darkness. The massive dragon claw had almost entirely withdrawn. This was a prime opportunity to counterattack against Colin.

“I’ve done the math. Given their speed, they should arrive before the claw fully retreats,” Wang Yu replied confidently. Avia had already done her best, and everything likely could proceed as planned.

Previously, only a single airship with a Material Stabilization Spear could be deployed without approval from the highest-ranking officer, even when massive void energy was detected. Such was the limit permitted by the automated system.

But now, with Hugin and Sieg both present as the highest authorities in the capital, they could deploy as many airships as they wanted.

Wang Yu trusted that Captain Hugin would understand the importance of his efforts—and indeed, he had.

“Wang Yu, the entity has almost fully withdrawn. I’m ready to remove the firmament,” Avia informed him. The enormous dragon claw had already disappeared into the vortex of clouds, leaving only the entity’s golden eye behind.

“Understood,” Wang Yu replied, his eyes locked on the darkness above and the red dragon struggling to remain aloft. It was almost time to strike.

As the golden dragon eye fully closed and vanished, Avia dispelled the firmament of darkness. Exhausted, she collapsed to the ground. Wang Yu caught her just in the nick of time.

“Well done, Avia. We’ve done all we can. Now it’s up to Captain Hugin and Sieg,” Wang Yu said, patting Avia’s head with a smile. They had accomplished their part. Everything was now in the hands of those stronger than them.

“Mm,” Avia murmured as she leaned against Wang Yu’s shoulder, too drained to do more. She needed a brief rest—there was still one more adversary she and Wang Yu needed to face together.

The darkness gradually dispersed, along with the vortex of clouds gathered above it. Sieg, flapping his wings with effort, gazed at the sky that had brightened once again. No longer shrouded in darkness or occluded by dark clouds, the sky looked beautiful—if only it weren’t marred by a certain eyesore.

There was a rift torn open in the air where Colin had vanished. It had slashed through space to escape into a spatial fissure, clearly unwilling to gamble its survival against the devastation wrought by that divine power.

A humanoid figure now reappeared, significantly smaller than before and cloaked in purple light. It was level with Sieg, and its featureless visage locked onto him.

No one could decipher Colin’s thoughts at this moment. The steep price he had paid to summon the entity’s gaze had been intended to obliterate Sieg outright. Yet the sudden arrival of that all-encompassing darkness had shielded Sieg, rendering its destructive gaze useless before it withdrew.

This monumental failure was hard to swallow, even for someone as cunning and ancient as Colin. But looking at Sieg now—his wings faltering, his body covered in scars, with blood still flowing from the massive wounds inflicted by the centipede earlier—it was clear to Colin that ultimate victory was still within reach.

“If you hadn’t poured everything into that all-out dragon breath attack, perhaps you might have won. But now, I’ll claim my spoils. Your defiance has been your undoing. Whatever trick you pulled to summon that darkness, it won’t save you now,” Colin taunted.

Even now, Colin hadn’t given up on psychological warfare. For him, victory included crushing his opponent’s spirit. If Sieg hadn’t stubbornly unleashed that desperate dragon breath, Colin’s own weakened state might have left him vulnerable.

But look at this battered dragon now—barely able to fly, his body so battered that no part of it was left intact. What chance did he have to beat Colin?

“Speechless, are we? My time is limited, so I’ll make this quick. You, Sieg, are mine now,” Colin declared coldly, not wasting more words on the broken dragon. His purple form began to split and deform, sending out countless void centipedes to consume Sieg as sustenance.

The moment Colin began to split, the dragon faltered and plummeted toward the ground, his form shrinking mid-fall into the familiar figure of the Professor.

“Ha! Are you unable to maintain your dragon form anymore? How pathetic,” Colin sneered. It was truly ironic—Sieg’s defiance had become his downfall.

“You’re the one who’s out of time, idiot.” To everyone’s surprise, Sieg, now plummeting toward the ground, suddenly spoke for the first time since transforming into a dragon.

With a grin that bordered on madness, Sieg raised his head, flashing a wild smile that completely shattered his usual scholarly demeanor. He raised his middle finger at the sky, another gesture that was equally out of character.

Sieg’s accelerating fall was cushioned by a sudden surge of smoke that dissipated gradually, slowing his descent and allowing him to land gently in the lake below.

Colin was about to learn what Sieg meant. The darkness had fully dispersed, revealing dozens of airships equipped with reality anchors hovering above him. The darkness had shielded their arrival from Colin’s senses.

Only now did Colin notice the fleet above, its hatches opening to release colossal metal pillars engraved with intricate runes.

These reality anchors rained down like a storm—a rain of order.

“Do you really think this will work? Haven’t you learned your lesson from the Abyssal Depths? True void—”

“Override command: All reality anchors within the central district, self-destruct!”

“Override command received. Initiating sequence. Units 23 to 89, detonating.”

Before Colin could finish its mocking words, deafening explosions drowned Colin out entirely.

Reality anchors projected fields of order into their surroundings. Order didn’t imply peace or tranquility, but rather an infusion of matter that suppressed any void-based existence.

Explosions were among the most material phenomena imaginable, saturating their surroundings with light, heat, debris, gas, and shockwaves. The more intricate the construct, the more “orderly” its detonation. Reality anchors, built at absurd costs, were engineered to explode with unparalleled “order.”

The explosions recreated the destructive chaos Wang Yu had unleashed by the slums above the artificial lake 67 times over. The blasts consumed the entire sky, leaving nothing visible but flames and light.

The shockwaves depressed the lake’s surface, triggering waves that swept away the already devastated shores.

Countless shattered fragments of the reality anchors rained down from the sky in a metallic downpour, as if the very heavens were weeping steel.

The skies above the lake district had now been rendered as orderly as they could possibly be. This rain of order was the special ops team’s parting gift to Colin.

Amid this baptism of order, Colin could no longer maintain its form. It was repelled by reality and rejected by the void. Engulfed in the explosions of order, Colin was torn apart, piece by piece, until its very consciousness could no longer endure.

Even if its unique nature allowed for resurrection, the entity known as Colin would be utterly obliterated.

With its final vestiges of power, Colin tore open a spatial rift hidden deep in the Abyssal Depths, fleeing to the last contingency it had left—a forgotten servant buried in obscurity.

The next moment, under the dazzling light of the explosions, Colin’s consciousness ceased to exist.

“Avia, it’s time to go. The moment she appeared, my blood started to boil. She escaped last time, but this time, she won’t,” Wang Yu said, his gaze fixed on a distant point. The target marked with his blood surged with a familiar heat. His voice was edged with murderous intent.

“Understood,” Avia replied, nodding. After a brief rest, she was ready.

“Let’s go.”

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