The manager of the test zone poured himself a glass of water and pushed up his glasses.
The two people on the light screen finally started fighting, and he couldnât tell what it was like in his heartâ Not out of sympathy or guilt for the two people on the battlefield, but more like worry; worried that Randy Panther was losing.
Randy Panther, Sanchoâs Gray Fox. As an assassin, his combat skills were absolutely first-class, but in the final analysis, his magic power reserves werenât particularly outstanding. Among the materials processed by the Withered Castle, this assassin was barely considered a first-class product, as there was still a considerable gap from the top.
Oliver Random was different. After his power had been strangely doubled several times, he had perfectly reached the upper limit of surface creaturesâŠ
And he was a true fighting genius.
When magic from both sides was sealed and his own state was in poor condition, his offensive became fiercer. Ramonâs swordsmanship was no longer regular but was like a beast that finally obeyed its hunting instincts. His moves were unrestrained and extremely natural and beautiful.
A born warrior.
Now he could understand the look on the face of the combat zone manager after he applied for it. It was as if he had seen the enemy who killed his father. If Ramonâs willpower was a little more fragile, he would never have been able to grab such a perfect material.
Now was the critical juncture. The manager wearing glasses swallowed water in small sips. If Ramon killed Sanchoâs Gray Fox, then he would immediately be transferred to the mobile barracks for training and slip away from the palm of his hand. After all, once a stubborn stone crack, it would become extremely easy to overcome. This was the specialty of the mobile barracks. 300,00 wasnât expensive at all. If Ramon could really be transferred, heâll be raised into an excellent death row fighter. He would assuredly become a rare weapon worth thousands.
Recently, Alban had been in chaos. If the guys in the combat zone trained him and sold him back, they would fetch a price of 30 million or even higher.
âŠShort-sighted idiots who dare not take risks. The manager pushed up his glasses to the bridge of his nose again.
People in the combat zone only saw the benefits of stability. They had always lacked foresight. Yes, Oliver Ramon did have a fairly high risk of dying in the flesh-and-blood furnace, just like the previous 1,326 people, but he was also the best sample in history. They had two choicesâ choose 30 million gold coins with a 100% success rate or choose a priceless treasure with a 1% success rate.
After all, no one could price a god-level weapon of destruction.
The experiment of the flesh-and-blood furnace had been going on for a long time, and this was the first time he had the opportunity to embark on this great and noble path of exploration. His predecessors carefully selected thousands of people in its long history, but none had succeeded, but they had never doubted the correctness of this path.
After all, their basis was clear. All surface life had an upper limit on its ability, an unnatural ceiling.
For the vast majority of life, vitality was perfectly proportional to the strength of mental and magic power, but once the magic exceeded a certain limit, the growth rate will flatten, infinitely approaching a definite value. At first, they thought it was the limit of the biological bodyâs ability to withstand magic, but when the limits of humans and dragons were exactly the same, this matter became subtleâ It was like something added a simple and brutal power ceiling on all creatures.
So what would happen if it breaks?
The flesh-and-blood furnace needed to be maintained by living creatures, and they had never lacked living materials.
For thousands of years, the furnace had melted countless lives, and the power in it should be enough to create an impactâ As long as the ânuclearâ they throw down had the qualification to surpass the power ceiling. In theory, then people who were regarded as ânuclearâ may be able to break away from the current restricted magic system and show their true biological potential.
There was only one problem left.
Not many creatures came close to the power ceiling, but it was definitely not an issue of a once-in-a-thousand-year encounter. The problem was controllability. Once they were stripped out of the current magic system, and their speculation happened to be correct, they would create a real monster, an artificial god who was not limited by the law. The Gatekeepers didnât intend to dedicate themselves to their ideals and leave the surface in a state of troubleâ They must ensure that this creation was absolutely controllable.
Thus, the answer was also simple. They needed to destroy the will of the ânuclearâ. While he or she was stripped out of the magic system, the spirit of that life would be completely annihilated, turning into an ultimate weapon that wasnât bound by laws and obediently obeys all order.
That is the true âtranscendence of truthâ, the true progress and glory of mankind.
They had prepared everything. Relatively upright people were the easiest to destroy but finding a guy with a strong enough spirit was more difficult than finding a creature close to the power ceiling. Among the more than thousands of people in front of them, there were hundreds of them who had forcibly increased their strength through experimental means, but none of them succeeded in holding on the last moment.
Not surprising. The management of the test area squeezed his cup tightly and thought dejectedly. After all, they set up a magic array to amplify negative emotions, and all the previous ânuclearâ collapsed too early, without exception. Those stupid people who didnât know how to adapt; either they couldnât face the real desperate situation in the furnace and ended their lives, or they had a nervous breakdown before the impact of power was completed, and completely gave up on themselves, eventually becoming a part of the flesh-and-blood furnace.
Come on, the manager looked at the black figure on the light screen. Come and let me see your persistence.
Oliverâs head was a little dizzy. His sword was faster than his thoughts. His blood seemed to turn into boiling metal. It seemed that another person dominated his body, and his speed didnât slow down due to injury, but was getting faster.
He didnât think about death, he didnât think about pain; only the blade that cut through the air in his eyes. A strange sense of pleasure climbed on Oliverâs nerves. Time was slowing down, and the other partyâs movements were dropping. The bone sword pierce Randyâs muscles, and the next moment the disgusting touch reached his palms. Oliver was so numb that he couldnât feel anything. His limited consciousness was constantly repeating broken simple sentences.
To defeat. You must defeat your opponent.
Randy felt chills for the first time.
When he met this somewhat brainless young man, he only regarded him as a first-class adventurer with good skills. It may be because his opponentâs behavior was too upright, and he just defends and avoids in battle. He didnât know the degree of seriousness of his opponents.
Now he would rather not know.
Randy never thought he would lose. He was in much better shape than his opponent. Targeted killing was also his specialty, but the other party seemed to have lost the feeling of pain. His movements were frighteningly flexible, like a ghost. The shield in his hand became heavier, and there were more wounds appearing on his body, while his opponent became more comfortable, and his attack was as elusive as a phantom.
The sight without any emotion stuck to him, cold and focused. Oliver Ramon was analyzing his attack pattern at an alarming speed, absorbing it and turning it into his own advantage.
As time passed, Randy couldnât even land a hit. The weird knight opposite of him seemed to have endless strength, and the cursed pale sword couldnât be shaken off. The confident hunter finally became the hunted.
Monster.
As soon as this thought crossed the assassinâs mind, his heavy shield was kicked away, and his wrist made a crisp cracking sound. The opponentâs heavy metal boot kicked Randyâs stomach and cause the tall assassinâs eyes to turn black. He couldnât maintain his balance and fell to the ground and couldnât move for over half a minute.
The tip of the Rest in Peace was held against the assassinâs throat. The sharp white bones pierce the skin on Randyâs neck and beads of red blood rolled down the skin, leaving a dazzling blood mark. Randy tried to struggle a few times, but Oliverâs knees pressed against his chest. His shield fell in the distance, his wrist was sprained, and his sturdy body was covered in wounds. Those sword wounds turned outwards, and warm blood continued to penetrate into the dark black land.
But Randy didnât give up.
He stretched out his hand and tried to punch Oliverâs head but was easily blocked by his opponent. The assassin exhausted his last strength and attacked again and again, but the result became more desperate. After several revolts, Randy let out a very light sigh and those eyes finally dimmed. He turned his head sideways and his murderous aura gradually dissipated.
Oliver knew what Randy was trying to do, or rather, looking for.
He recognized the sadness. There was no fear in the eyes of his enemy. Randy was unexpectedly calm, but he looked a little sad. The steel-gray eyes finally stopped looking at the tip of the sword but turned into the direction of something empty.
Mora should be waiting close by for Randy, Oliver thought groggily. What was she thinking at this moment?
But Nemo was also waiting for him.
He was about to use the sword born from blessing to take the lives of others for his own selfish desire. Under the Rest in Peace, was there going to be a soul that wouldnât be able to rest for the very first time?
He had no choice. Oliver gasped for breath. There was plenty of air, but his lungs felt as if they were pierce by his ribs, which made breathing extremely painful. As long as his wrist gently exerted force, pushing the Rest in Peace downwardsâŠ
No. Did he really have no choice?
He once believed that he would die. Not so long ago, the Black Chapter test in the Border Forest was the moment he faced Pandorater. The person he loved was faced with the same choice at that time, to reasonably save his own life, or to take that stepâŠ
[If I donât try it, Iâll have nightmares for the rest of my life. Oliver, you and Ann take those people away. Iâll lead it away. If it doesnât succeedâ]
The person he fell in love with was truly gentle.
The bone sword pierce hard but the blade was buried in the soil on the side of Randyâs head. The assassinâs eyes widened subconsciously.
âIf it werenât for Nemo, I guess I would have done it a long time ago.â Oliver gave the other party an extremely weak smile. ââŠItâs really hard to persist.â
Kill the person who have protected themselves and pass on the pain of losing a loved one. He may never be able to truly return to Nemo. He would be imprisoned at this moment for the rest of his life, and he could no longer hold Nemoâs hand.
âIf I really kill you, Iâll probably have nightmares for the rest of my life. Why is my opponent you?â
The young man laughed sadly under the pale skeleton helmet.
ââŠAnd why am I here?â
Abandoning everything for the sake of a lover, betraying everything, and being an enemy of the whole world sounded desperate but romantic. âMaybe Randy and Mora can really do it,â Oliver thought. His own depravity may be understood by his own kind, but as a true superior demon, Nemoâs enmity would only invite chaos and undissolved fear.
Once that step is taken, the person he loved would not have the chance to turn back. This he knew very well.
He must not be the one who shook Nemo.
How he once wished that he could be the chain of the other party. To prevent him from getting out of control and falling off a cliff. Then he could proudly block all doubts on him, and they could continue to live under the sun together.
He wanted to be a better person for each other. HoweverâŠ
âAfter you escape from here, go find Nemo Light of Tumbleweed,â Oliver murmured. He loosened his grip on the assassin. His voice was hoarse with a slight tremor. âTell him everything that happened here.â
If all this can leave some meaning, there was indeed something he could do. It was very cruel, but if the other person would suffer as much as he did at this moment because of his own departure, then he still had the chance to become a yoke.
âŠBecome a yoke that imprison Nemo under the sun.
âTell him that I didnât give up on my principle for him and I hope heâll not do the same.â
âTell him that heâll always find the most suitable solution, and Iâll always believe in him.â
âTell him, I love him from the bottom of my heartâŠâ
ââŠNo, tell him, Iâm sorry.â
He was always slower when facing difficulties, Nemo. Every time, he needed someone to rush in front of him first before he could summon the courage to follow.
This time, it was his turn to take the first step.
âI admit defeat.â Oliver straightened his back and lowered his gaze.
Randy knew he should take the opportunity to take his opponentâs life, but he didnât move. He quietly raised his upper body and looked at his fierce and unreasonable enemy. The circles of his eyes behind the terrifying bone helmet were slightly red, but the young man was still smiling.
The assassinâs throat bobbed. He wanted to answer, âI willâ, but the bloody soil instantly rose like a wave, completely obscuring his sight, and when they returned to the ground again a few seconds laterâŠ
The black figure had completely disappeared.
The light screen was bright and dark in the room that wasnât bright. The manager of the test zone finally put the cup that had been emptied in his hand and breathed a long sigh of relief.
Well done. Ramon didnât give up in the end. Fate was still on their side.
If Oliver Ramon could deal with âtrue despairâ, they might really be able to succeed this time. After all, the most desperate thing wasnât forcing them to break their principles, nor adhering to said principles, but to abandon hope and end everything.
After thousands of years of experimentation and observation, they were more familiar with human nature than anyone elseâŠ
True despair exists after a moment of courage, when youâre ready to face death. The warriors embraced their last attachment to the world and were ready to give their lives to stand firm.
Then they would find, they couldnât rest in peace.
The author has something to sayïŒ
Countdown to reunion: 2â! (ïŒÏïŒ)
Kinky Thoughts:
I bawled this chapter. Nemoâs coming Ollie!
Yes, these chapters are one of the most painful to translate.