by Feng Yue
The land was covered with countless dust, which seemed to be looking up at the vault of heaven and praying for the disaster to come to an end. But the light of salvation continued to shine above the vault of heaven as the mighty power of God’s punishment remained within Eden. The light-filled sky looked so beautiful and grand. It was as if a single drop of light was capable of destroying the entire earth.
The mortal world screamed in despair as they had nowhere to hide. Their eyes were filled with hopelessness as they looked at the sky and prayed for a swift ending to all these. Or perhaps, the end had already come. As for the war, the war continued. Make no mistake, it was a war.
A single person was facing all of Asgard and the entire Sacred City at war. No, if someone was that confoundingly powerful, should he still be considered as a human?
Everyone who was watching the battle had the same doubt in their minds. Is this a power that human bones can support? A power that human muscles can push? A power that the human will can control? Or is he… a God?
The crown of light descended from Eden and between the wings of light and shadow, Charles stood above the vault of heaven. He stretched out his hands in anticipation of the incoming attacks, curses, and illusions from all directions, yet also remaining unmoved.
With a quiet sigh, saint Liszt closed his eyes. The power, which had been constrained by the human body all this while, suddenly exploded. “May my sacrifice be worth something…”
In that instant, the ultimate element of transformation, which was the fruit of destruction that humans had been building for centuries, finally appeared. It was like a giant ax and it had crushed all physical matter. Amidst the chaos of elements, a figure of light appeared. It rose from ordinary objects and up into the domain of God. It was the final “Mazeppa.”
Annihilation blackhole spun like the stars and struck Charles continuously. The cave of annihilation, which could easily destroy an entire city, landed in Charles’ hands. It broke like an illusion, one after another.
Before the terrifying impact could truly explode, it was completely contained within the projection of Eden. No matter how many powerful and violent torrents of fire there were, they were still unable to achieve a breakthrough.
“Chopin, how long do you intend to just sit by and do nothing?” Mendelssohn stared furiously at his companion but all he saw was a bittersweet smile.
“Actually, from the beginning until now, I have been trying to break through the defense of his mind.” Chopin laughed self-deprecatingly as blood began to ooze out from the organs of his five senses. “But only now did I realize that he has no defenses whatsoever. All my attacks have been only been devoured by him…”
It was not that there was no way of breaking through, but that there was no response whatsoever. It was like trying to give suggestions to a rock. There was no such thing as ‘consciousness’ in the enemy’s body, only an ocean of light that was so deep and wide that almost drowned him.
Was this really the consciousness of a human? It was as if he was facing the terrible silhouette of Hyakume again. All he could see was a bottomless pit of darkness and an emptiness that was not human. Could a monster like that possess a human personality?
“I’m sorry.” Chopin replied hoarsely, “There’s nothing more that I can do.”
The ear-piercing sound of the breaking of scepter could be heard from his body, leaving Mendelssohn completely stunned. In the blink of an eye, the glow of Mazeppa had died. Liszt, who was completely burnt by now, fell from the clouds and the ashes disappeared into the endless light.
But with his sacrifice, not only did the projection of the Holy Caldron not dissipate, it began to gaze even more. The color of blood swayed in the caldron and brand-new elements rose from within, one after another. Above the vault of heaven, stars began to fall as the light from the Sacred City descended onto the lands of Asgard. Within ten minutes, the first batch of reinforcements from Sacred City had arrived. They represented the hope of clinching victory, but at the same time, everyone that as watching the battle could not help but shiver in fear.
Six saints! It was another six saints! Egor, Gluck, Rossini…
Those foreign holy names appeared from the elements. Shortly after, the relics, that had been sealed by the Sacred City due to the third legislative amendment of various countries, appeared in their hands. Amongst them were artifacts that were comparable to Gate of Heaven, and there were even three items that were newly-casted weapons…
Those were weapons that were not cast in order to spread the glory and truth of God. They were cast against the truth and for the purpose of destruction, massacre, and annihilation. Their existence alone shook the entire mortal world.
The cruel shine of the blade was reflected onto the musicians that were standing behind Paganini, leaving them crippled with fear. It was as if a moment of carelessness was all it would take to melt them completely. Yes, melt. They would melt under the light of judgment and would be put through cleansing as if they were mud.
The instant that they appeared, all the saints attacked the same time without any hesitation or mercy for the commoners. They did not care if the entire Golden Palace would be embroiled in the attack!
In the blink of an eye, Charles was pushed into the core of Eden so much so that the domain of Eden was almost broken. The light of destruction, which had been sealed in Eden, poured out like a storm in all directions.
The expression on Charles’ face changed. He paid no attention to the relics that were coming towards him. Instead, he forcefully expanded Eden’s projection, as if he was trying his best to hang onto a horse carriage that was out of control. He was finally hurt by the blade of the sword. A terrible wound appeared on his arm but there was no blood. It was as if there was no longer such a thing as blood in this body anymore. He had no choice but to dodge the attacks of the saints. He could see that they were prepared to go all out just to destroy him.
“Are you all trying to destroy Asgard!” He gritted his teeth as he stared at his enemy. But the saints did not say a word. They only continued to attack without any reservations. They did not care about their own lives or the lives of others. They no longer cared if they were destroying the good along with the bad. All they cared about was destroying this false God in front of them.
“Is that so? I understand now…” Realization finally dawned on Charles and the expression on his face became cold. “In that case, it doesn’t matter even if you are killed by me, right?”
In that instant, a chill ran down the spine of Mendelssohn, “Why is that the Sancta Sedes still refuses to step in even at this stage?” He began to mutter in panic, “If we had ‘Destiny’.”
Indeed, with the movement of “Destiny,” surely even the false God would be no match for it? Chopin took a glance at him and countered, “What if ‘Destiny’ fails to kill him?”
Mendelssohn kept quiet. He did not consider the possibility. If the last resort of Sacred City, “Destiny,” failed to kill him, what else could they do?
…
Not everyone possessed the courage to face this battle that was beyond human imaginations. When the first batch of Sacred City’s reinforcements came, the scepter musicians behind Paganini began to turn pale.
“Are we not retreating?” Someone finally mustered the courage to ask, “We will only get in the way of Lord Charles by staying here right?”
Paganini did not look back. He was fully focused on the battlefield. “No, we must stay.” He remained unmoved. “There is a purpose in us staying behind.”
“Are we supposed to applaud and cheer on the son of God?” Someone shook his head bitterly. “Other than that, what is the use of us staying behind?”
“Witness,” Paganini muttered quietly as he continued to stare at the battlefield intensely. “All we have to do is to bear witness.”
They had to stay behind. They had to witness everything. They had to witness the outcome of this battle. Would mankind triumph over God, or would G
od destroy mankind?
Regardless if the battle concluded with a victory or a loss, what awaited mankind would not be a perfect ending. If God was able to destroy mankind, then what was the purpose of mankind’s struggles for the past thousands of years? If mankind triumphed over God, then what were all the prayers and devotion for?
Therefore, what would the outcome be? Paganini waited with bated breath.
…
There were earth-shattering surges coming from the Golden Palace. Ye Qingxuan could see burning beams of light rising from a distance away but he had no time to investigate further. In the instant that the armor of divinity appeared, he had already been surrounded and attacked by the four saints. He had no chance to support Mary in her catastrophe transformation.
Leviathan versus Odin. The ruler of the ocean against the king of thunder and Ye Qingxuan was in no position to interfere at all. He had to focus on dealing with the four saints in front of him. If not for the net of aether, which helped him to suppress the enemy, he would have been completely defeated if he had many any mistakes.
The four saints seemed to be used to working with each other as there were no gaps or discrepancies in their movements. One would support, one would restrain, one would attack, and one had not made any moves thus far except to search for any weak spots that Ye Qingxuan might reveal. There was a chilly aura about this last one that left Ye Qingxuan feeling very uneasy.
Ye Qingxuan did not expect the four saints to be able to put their pride and ego aside and attack him altogether at once. At the same time, he did not expect that their powers were much weaker than what he had expected. The pressure that all four of them were giving him only exceeded that of Wagner slightly, but not by too much. He could not figure out the reason behind this. If each of the four of them had been at the same level as Wagner, Ye Qingxuan would have no choice but to flee for his life.
Although he had expected such unconventional saints to possess weaknesses, he did not expect their weaknesses to be so obvious. Just what exactly was the Sacred City thinking?
738 Mistake
Under attack from four people, Ye Qingxuan did not know why, but the cold was getting more and more piercing.
The pressure that the Saint, who had never gotten involved before, was putting on him was getting greater and greater. He felt prickles down his back, making it difficult for him to focus on responding to them.
Waves of aether swept out one after another between the five of them. First attack then counter, defend and move. All kinds of movements and music theory were tangled together in one place, forming a chaotic network. A little bit of carelessness could have disastrous results.
Facing this kind of war of attrition, where he had to both pay attention to the overall situation as well as focus on every detail made Ye Qingxuan more and more uneasy. They had wanted to drag him here to separate him from the incarnation of Leviathan so as to destroy them both.
This place was not the Anglo Kingdom.
The longer the delay, the more terrible the Asgardian counterattack became. He needed to solve this problem quickly.
So… Ye Qingxuan delayed, and suddenly, all his defenses were removed. Without any regard for the Saints surrounding him, he turned around and lept dozens of meters.
He closed in on Mahler!
In that instant, he saw the Saint’s eyes go wide. He lifted the New Testament sword and aimed it for Mahler’s heart, unconcerned about the other Saint’s in full force behind him. The blade cut through layer after layer of defense and collided with his robes that were clearly holy objects. Violent turbulence burst forth with an ear-piercing sound. A narrow slit was torn in the holy vestments. The blade pierced through, igniting his blood and sticking out his back.
At the same time, Verdi, Puccini, and Telemann attacked Ye Qingxuan from behind together. His body was shocked, and he felt his Scepter shaking violently and the Heaven Ladder was nearly severed.
He had traded a wound for a life.
One down!
Ye Qingxuan did not have to worry about Mahler anymore. He had no time to wipe the blood from his face as he turned to face the enemies who pressed him hard, but he stopped suddenly.
The New Testament Sword stayed in place.
He couldn’t pull it out…
He turned in shock to see Mahler’s indifferent face, as well as the blazing aether glowing in his eyes.
At that moment, Mahler awakened the inheritance of the Holy Name.
Das Lied von der Erde! The rich melody rang out from his body, wrapping itself around the New Testament Sword layer by layer. All of Mahler’s music theory turned into an abstinence lock. It was a 1,600 layer path of commandment. From inside and out he used himself as a seal to shackle the New Testament Sword!
This was not a last minute decision, it was more like…
It was premeditated!
Ye Qingxuan’s eyes widened, and then he sensed the three violent waves of aether behind him.
The inheritance of the holy name!
Verdi, Pucci, and Telemann set of their holy name inheritances at the same time!
Without regard for Ye Qingxuan’s hurried counterattack, Verdi stepped forward and placed his palm on Ye Qingxuan’s forehead. In a flash, it seemed as if Ye Qingxuan had been stripped from his own body. After a short period of dizziness and weightlessness, everything before his eyes was distorted. A huge phantom engulfed him and dragged him into its belly.
Numerous bright images flashed before his eyes.
A soft, cheerful song rang out, and a warm wind blew from a fireplace. A crystal chandelier illuminated the magnificent hall as the band carefully played the dance music and countless figures danced to it.
Ye Qingxuan looked around dumbfoundedly and saw that everyone was wearing a pure white mask that looked to be both laughing and crying. They grabbed at him, pulled at him, inviting him to join in this joyous masquerade.
Illusions…
He was surrounded by illusions, and they were pulling him into a world of nothingness.
It was like at that moment he had been split up into multiple individuals. He was Ye Qingxuan fighting a battle; he was Armand, one who was infatuated with glamorous courtesans; he was Nebuchadnezzar II, the tyrannical emperor; he was Rigaretto, a hunchbacked court jester, he was Carlos, Prince in spite of himself…
He was a civilian… He was a beggar… He was a mother… He was a son of a concubine…
He seemed to be shuttled through countless lives in an instant, but he knew it was an illusion. He could still see himself fighting in Asgard. He could see Puccini coming towards him.
He wanted to fight back, but he couldn’t figure out which one was him, which one could fight back, or of his 100,000 selves, which one was where.
The prince pulled out his sword to kill the emperor and was taken prisoner; the jester assassinated the duke and was beheaded in public; the emperor went mad and was murdered by his guards…
Countless selves, countless defeats, and the mocking laughter of countless people assailed him.
Just before him, Verdi staggered to the ground, burned to ashes by this illusion that required all his body and all his spirit.
Puccini drew closer and placed his hand on Ye Qingxuan’s chest. Music theory extended through his heart into the projection of the Net of Aether. He was a Saint of the Sacred City, but his music theory was completely different from that of the West. It was more like the Bloodline of the Dragon!
A… Deva!? Ye Qingxuan raised his head with difficulty and saw his golden hair fade in the raging music theory and become pale white. His dark green eyes burned up in the fire and became black as coal.
The inheritance of the Saint forcibly corrected his bloodlines, and next, his core music theory let loose…
Turandot!
The power of the Saint was forcibly transformed into the talent of the Ye family bloodline.
Countless streams of silver light became lines of thought that were carried by the Net of
Aether. It was the Heaven Ladder! Bypassing Ye Qingxuan, Puccini forcibly resonated with the Net of Aether, opening up a gate to the core of the catastrophe. Finally, Telemann stepped forth and, burning the power of Puccini, weaved the music theory in his hands into a movement.
A way of deciphering!
Ye Qingxuan felt his whole body go cold.
The music theory that flowed from Telemann’s hands came from the same source as his own. No, his way of deciphering had absolutely no differences from his own!
The intervals, structures, techniques, and even the ideas were in all in Ye Qingxuan’s style—very pronounced. If it hadn’t been Ye Qingxuan distinguishing them, anyone else would have thought that he was the one who had created them!
Telemann was copying his music theory.
No, at this point it wasn’t even copying, it was blatant plagiarism!
Numerous movements flowed through the interface that Puccini had opened and into the Net of Aether. Once they entered, instruments of harmonious melody wildly duplicated them, spread them out, and transmitted them…
It was like a worm that had penetrated into the stomach, or a virus that had spread into a lesion. Numerous movements changed rapidly, and music theory alternated wildly. In a flash, red lights were flashing on half the instruments of harmonious melody and they stopped responding.
They had probably shut down as they overheated from being overworked.
Finally, the movements responded to the same call and gathered at the core of the Net of Aether. Complicated music theory was drawn out of the movements and organized itself. It was like worker ants working hard to gather materials from all over the place.
A force completely different from those cumbersome movements emerged from within. The elements responded and descended from the realm of aether, outlining the core of the inheritance of the Saint and the true name of the movement.
The Final Judgement.
Even this piece of music was a complete copy of The Day of God’s Fury!
