Chapter 276: One-Tenth!

“So it’s like the Professor’s draconic vessel… That ‘organ’ must be where the World-Eater has stored decades’ worth of life force. Destroy that, and this so-called immortal worm will lose its fangs.”

Through the Perfect Fractal lens, Wang Yu’s gaze settled on a peculiar “bubble” drifting along the outer carapace of the World-Eater’s titanic form.

Within it surged a torrent of viridescent energy—the very source of the World-Eater’s endless regeneration. If it were destroyed, the beast would be crippled, stripped of over ninety percent of its power.

And perhaps…

Perhaps something unexpected might come of it, too.

Wang Yu cast his senses upward toward the void above. A singular object floated there, gold and crimson, unfurled despite the still air.

It was his curio, the Banner of Triumph.

“No point hesitating. Let’s go.” He flexed his legs, muscles coiled with latent power. “The Chariot’s force alone won’t be enough to tear open the link between that organ and the beast itself. When the moment comes, I’ll need your help.”

He crouched low and prepared to charge. With the Wishing Coin elixir coursing through him, he wasn’t afraid to take this bet.

Moments earlier, if he had been asked to use his final trump card for the elves, he would’ve refused. The chance of success was too low, and it might have been wasted for nothing. But now, to shatter the devils’ loathsome schemes once and for all—he could afford a moment of recklessness.

“Alright,” came the calm voice beside him. “I’ll open a Gate of Phases the moment you reach the spatial barrier. Use the collision to sever the connection between the organ and the World-Eater. And—be careful.”

“You too. Stay safe.”

At her words, Wang Yu sprang forth, his body exploding with the might of a fledgling grand knight. His form blurred into a streak of motion flashing through the broken skyline of Liaheim as he leapt from ruined rooftop to splintered tower.

He needed to find the right moment in which to act: one that would allow him to make a move without being obliterated by the collateral shockwaves of the ongoing battle between Iron King Bogul and the World-Eater.

He scanned his surroundings. Sieg was retreating toward the city’s edge with Tobey the dwarf. Wang Yu adjusted the Perfect Fractal lens and used himself as a relay to broadcast Avia’s spell to Sieg across the battlefield.

Mid-run, Sieg stumbled ever so slightly. Sensing the sudden surge of foreign magic, his instincts flared. An arcane glow flickered across the engraved circuits on his body, and faint dragon-scales shimmered into view.

But he quickly realized that the source of the magic came from Wang Yu, who was gesturing urgently at him from afar.

[This is Avia’s new support-type spell: Perfect Fractal. Professor—look at the World-Eater. That orbiting bubble is its reservoir of life force, an organ much like the space you use to house your draconic form. I’m going to cut it loose.]

Sieg blinked, then smiled faintly as the text formed across the lens.

“As expected of you two… Wang Yu, Avia, you always find a way to surprise me.”

Scholar that he was, Sieg immediately grasped the plan. And from the vast data streaming into the lens, he saw firsthand the power of Avia’s new spell.

[Once I sever the organ—]

The message continued scrolling. Wang Yu was explaining what help he’d need afterward—but Sieg was already moving.

“Where are you going, Sieg?!”

Tobey, confused, shouted after him, “We’re supposed to be retreating!”

“One more push!” Sieg called back, magic circuits flaring across his body. A violet arc crackled. Gravity magic fused with knightly might.

In human form, Sieg vaulted high, landing atop a ruined spire at the same height as Wang Yu. Together, they raced once more toward the twin titans locked in battle.

The headless Iron King Bogul moved first. Panels retracted from his shoulder armor, revealing honeycombed clusters of alchemical launchers. With a thunderous hiss, they ignited.

A volley of explosive alchemy bombs shot skyward, shrieking through the air. Designed for two-stage acceleration—once on ascent, once on target—they rose in a storm of fire.

Dozens of black streaks arced above the battlefield. At their apex, the second ignition flared. An iron downpour trailing orange-red fire hurtled earthward—directly toward the World-Eater’s vast, undulating body.

A symphony of explosions erupted around the beast. Accuracy wasn’t necessary—the target was immense, and the number of bombs overwhelming.

Fire and shockwaves fed into one another, the devastation carved deep into the cratered ground already scorched by earlier exchanges.

Then, something formless shattered. The rain of blasts obliterated the illusionary wooden bulwark the World-Eater had conjured through the Blighted Warspike, breaking its protective shell.

A third of the bombs struck home. Where they hit, its body ruptured with gaping cavities. Flesh and shrapnel splattered in all directions.

The Iron King’s control core certainly didn’t expect this barrage, far weaker than its Final Requiem, to be fatal. No, this was a feint. A distraction to draw out the beast’s regenerative faculties and attention.

The Iron King’s arm rose. A bracelet-like mechanism unfolded from his wrist, revealing racks of enormous iron spears.

Now that the World-Eater’s shield was down, the Iron King unleashed them en masse.

The iron spears shot forth, each one transforming mid-flight. Bladed heads split open, revealing cruel, barbed hooks—like harpoons.

Designed to pierce and lodge within giant foes, they would snag flesh, tear it with every motion, and restrict the beast’s movement.

Though such weapons meant little to a beast with no sense of pain and absurd regenerative capacity, they could still stall it for a moment.

As the explosions died down, the harpoons arrived, streaking through flame, invisible to the World-Eater’s blinded senses. They tore through flesh, impaling deep into its colossal body.

One after another, the harpoons slammed into the earth, anchoring themselves into the exposed bedrock below and pinning the beast down.

A hideous grinding noise followed. Given the World-Eater’s monstrous regeneration and body, the harpoons barely did any damage.

But when the World-Eater tried to move, to retreat and gather strength for another corrupted attack, its vast body didn’t budge.

The harpoons had fused with its healing flesh, pinning beast to rock. It was immobilized for the briefest of moments.

Seizing the moment, the Iron King surged forward. Twin iron arms clamped around the World-Eater’s midsection. Jets flared from every vent along his back; his reactor redirected half its output to propulsion.

Crimson fire roared behind him. The impossible thrust drove both giants upward, tearing them from the grip of gravity. They rose up into the air.

“What in the—what is it doing?!”

Tobey stared, slack-jawed, as the mechanical titan lifted the World-Eater skyward.

“That’s not… the thrusters weren’t meant for flight!”

He blinked. A theory struck him—and froze him cold. Could the Iron King’s control core had evolved beyond what they had expected?

It had to have reached a certain conclusion: on land, the World-Eater, able to burrow into the corrupted earth, was unkillable. But in the sky, where it couldn’t burrow into hiding…

Still ascending, the Iron King’s chest lit up once more. A brilliant sphere began to form—another Final Requiem.

At this range, it would wound the Iron King himself. But he would survive, and the World-Eater would not.

“…That iron hulk’s ‘intelligence’ surpasses expectations. If we ever have the chance, we have to investigate what those dwarves have created,” murmured a devil within the void, his grin fading to a furrowed frown. “These machines… may yet become a threat to us.”

“Yes. For now, we need that stupid worm alive.”

The other devil nodded, eyes fixed on the scene outside. It raised a hand toward the World-Eater and silently transmitted a command.

The body of the World-Eater, clutched tightly in the Iron King’s grip, suddenly began to writhe and convulse. Deep beneath its wriggling flesh, a section of its rotting mass exploded open, revealing a gaping wound. Life force surged toward the rupture, and new flesh began to grow and spread rapidly outward from it.

Grotesquely, a second worm-head emerged from the wound. As it took shape, its flesh catalyzed by overflowing life-force, a smaller replica of the monstrous World-Eater budded from its original body. Though only about a third of the original’s size, it was unmistakably the same creature reborn.

With a wet, tearing sound, the new worm detached itself, breaking free and leaping away into the distance.

Above, the original body of the World-Eater was consumed in a blinding pillar of light, vanishing along with Iron King Bogul in a dazzling eruption. The shockwave rolled across the skies, descending upon Liaheim like a divine hammerblow.

“Damn it. Even that didn’t kill it? This is bad… The Iron King’s energy might be spent. And taking that blast head-on—he won’t be walking away unscathed.”

Tobey stared at the falling form of the World-Eater with a grim expression.

The Iron King plummeted from the sky, its entire metal frame glowing red-hot from within. This time, it was unmistakably wounded.

A vast portion of its chest had been torn apart by the blast. Molten plating clung in warped sheets, fused together. Both arms, scorched and ruptured near the epicenter of the explosion, were gouged with immense cracks. Within them, the Iron King’s intricate machinery and magic circuits lay in ruin.

The core reactor in its chest sputtered weakly, its once-brilliant glow dimming. The Iron King’s energy reserves, taxed by repeated overloads and the twin Final Requiems, had finally run dry.

The World-Eater coiled its body, its newly formed head swaying as it stared at the crippled Iron King. Its writhing movements seemed almost mocking—but given its dull intellect, it was likely just preparing to strike.

[Its body’s smaller. That “organ” can’t move as freely now. Avia—this is it. This is the moment I’ve been waiting for.]

[I’ve locked in the coordinates. The moment you reach it, I’ll open a Gate of Phases at that position!]

From atop the ruins surrounding the spot where the smaller World-Eater had landed, a figure sprang into motion, charging forward and leaping down toward the massive creature now wholly focused on the battered Iron King.

It was Wang Yu.

A flash of violet lightning crackled across him midair, accelerating his descent—Sieg’s assistance, sparing Wang Yu the risk of missing his mark as the World-Eater writhed.

He sprinted across the creature’s armored back, eyes locked on a glowing, translucent bubble—a sphere flitting across the surface of the World-Eater’s hide, tethered to it by an invisible thread.

That thread connecting the bubble to the World-Eater was Wang Yu’s true target.

The creature’s limbs lashed out, but Wang Yu was undeterred. He vaulted over a sweeping blow, landed midair, and drew his starsteel blade. A flurry of silver arcs followed as he cleaved through limb after limb. Dozens of severed segments crashed to the earth.

He drove a powerful kick into the creature’s carapace, shattering the hardened shell beneath his heel. His figure vanished. An instant later, he reappeared, propelled forward by the Chariot until he was within reach of the bubble.

His hand clenched at the air. The power of the Chariot surged outward. A spectral hand formed, grasping the invisible thread linking the bubble and the World-Eater.

The bubble froze in place, unable to flee. Wang Yu pulled, attempting to tear the thread apart with brute force—but to his dismay, even now, he lacked the raw strength to sever it.

He took a deep breath. If he couldn’t do it, he’d leave it to someone stronger.

At the moment Wang Yu seized the bubble, an ethereal doorway tore open beside him—Avia’s dimensional spell, the Gate of Phases.

Another spectral hand forged of the Chariot reached out, grasping the edge of the gate like the hilt of a cleaver. With a motion like hacking wood, it swung the gate itself at the invisible thread.

A shrill, frictionless screech rang out—then, silence. The thread had been severed. With his Chariot, Wang Yu had somehow managed to use the Gate of Phases as a weapon.

The link between the World-Eater and its infinite supply of life force had been split. The monster froze in place.

But things weren’t over yet. Wang Yu turned to the now-isolated bubble. His fingers poised like a blade, he struck.

He emptied his mind, leaving himself unguarded and trusting that Avia, who held the Wishing Coin in hand, would be able to defend him. All his will, all his power, was focused on that single strike.

Extrasensory Convergence activated. Empowered by the Gate of Phases, his fingers pierced the bubble’s spatial barrier.

The illusory bubble burst as Wang Yu rammed the gate-fragment through it. Life force exploded outward, spilling into the world. In that moment, the bubble—a repository of decades of hoarded life—was destroyed.

High above, in the void, the golden-red Banner of Triumph blazed to life.

It had detected a kill. A tenth of the slain being’s vitality would be transferred to Wang Yu.

But this wasn’t a person. It was a bubble full of life force. How would the system gauge it? As it turned out, if the target were a special case, everything would be transferred to Wang Yu.

Just as killing a knight or magician gave Wang Yu the average life force for someone of their rank, regardless of how much life force they possessed as individuals, the same would happen here.

And this bubble was unique. The average amount of life force it possessed was exactly how much it did possess.

And thus, Wang Yu was now about to receive one-tenth of the total life force the World-Eater had amassed over decades.

And a tenth of that near-infinite supply might as well be infinite itself.

Source: Webnovel.com, updated by NovelKeep