Chapter 233 The Path to Supreme Godhood (1)

——Blood, broken limbs, screams, pleas for mercy, and bloody shadows.

The hall was empty, not a single person in sight.

Hundreds of billions of images flashed by, beasts leaping from the shadows, tragedy after tragedy unfolding, the tragedy never ceasing. Occasionally, a brave man stepped forward and slew the beast. The image was frozen, fixed in a small, bright spot, like a morning star in the dark night.

Burning Embers and Curse Thunder had just awakened. Limb Spider prepared for the coming battle. Night Walker rested his dagger on his knees, meditating. Lightning flashed through the window, illuminating the empty hall.

"Waklo!" he called out habitually, "Come over and write a battle plan..."

Wacklo is not here.

The rotten dust is gone. The false light is gone. The cold ape is gone. The new fallen soul is gone. The warm harrier is gone.

There was no one in the hall.

"...Olek?" He yawned. "Play chess?"

"Get lost. I just finished a fight with some junk mech."

"It's amazing that you survived again."

"I live long because I know my limits," the great devil said. "Unlike you."

"Indeed...indeed..." Vansalar chuckled, "Good night."

He cut off the communication. The final battle was still some time away, but there was nothing left for him to do. Or rather, he had been doing nothing for a long time.

Then Vansalar fell silent. He leaned back against the cold throne, relaxing for the first time in a long time. He planned to sleep for a while, a nap. Return to the lively days of the past.

Close your eyes.

·

"Hold on, Vansalar!!!"

A huge wave crashed down, sinking his vision to the bottom of the sea. Many eyes opened in the sea, and a hand reached out from the surface. He grabbed his friend's arm tightly. The fisherman's child was indeed a better swimmer than he was. Karlsod pulled him up and threw him on the deck like a dead fish.

"Cough! Cough!" Vansalar coughed violently. "This water is so damn hard to drink."

"You're such a terrible swimmer!" Karlsod shouted from the bow. "You look like a frozen dead fish!"

"Have you seen my little finger?"

"What?" Karlsode turned around, "No!"

"I didn't see it either, because it was frozen!" Vansalar yelled. "Damn it! Two of us idiots who aren't even Transformers dared to go out to sea just because of your damn dream!"

The small fishing boat was swaying in the strong wind, rising and falling with the changing waves. The sails were already riddled with holes. Karlsod was trying to sew the holes in the canvas, but with little success. He threw the stolen sewing box into the sea and sat at the bow of the boat, rain running down the edges of his broken glasses.

"If you had stayed ashore, you would now be Recruit 88754." Karlsode raised his lip. "Recruit 88754, you will be assigned to War Zone 376 on the Imperial Frontier. You will receive basic training and standard equipment during the transfer. May the Emperor bless you."

He imitated the recruiting officer's tone so perfectly that even in such a dire situation, Vansalar couldn't help but laugh.

"I'm not opposed to being a soldier. Last night I was imagining myself blowing the devil's head off. But now we can only feed the devil."

"Don't give me that. You hate that stupid recruiting officer." Karlsode curled his lips. "If you ask me, I absolutely won't go. What I decide to do is up to me."

"Your choice is to commit suicide by feeding the fish."

"Hey, I really dreamed it!" Karlsod shouted. "I can't describe it to you, but you'll understand it once you see it!"

Vansalar turned over, looked at the gray sky and laughed: "Yes! You dreamed of the original spirit, and the great shadow summoned you to come to the audience! Hahahaha, we are really crazy, Carl!"

A hole was finally formed in the bottom of the fishing boat, and the sea water covered Fansalar's back. The huge waves that rose again contained countless demonic eyes.

It was a crazy day. The fishermen's children said they had dreamt of being guided by the original spirit, so they stole the recruiting officer's sailboat and went out to sea to find out. No surprise, they would be buried at the bottom of the sea. Perhaps in a few decades, they would become ghost stories circulated in the seaside village, a laughing stock for future generations.

However, Karlsod didn't laugh. He still stubbornly manipulated the pitiful sail, as if he could really overcome the huge waves with the wind. He shouted to the waves, "Perhaps I am indeed crazy. I want to believe that this world not only has war and malice, but also hope, love, and courage!"

"Okay, let's go crazy together." Fansalar stood up. "Go ahead, buddy. God bless the brave!"

Together, he and Karthod pulled the sail and sang the folk songs of the seaside. The wave finally crashed, covering the sky like the zenith of the sea. The young men's songs were like murmurs before the entire world shook. Vansalar opened his eyes wide, determined to bravely face the end.

However, at this time, the zenith of the sea receded, and the moonlight emerged from behind the dark clouds. The boat surpassed the waves, rising higher and higher until it surpassed the height of the huge waves.

An indescribable giant rose from the sea, lifting the boat above the waves. It was an impossibly large jellyfish, its umbrella-like body like a gray land.

"Look! Vansalar!!" Karlsod cheered and shouted, "What did I say!!"

Vansalar murmured to himself, "God blesses the brave."

"The world does not favor courage," said the jellyfish. "It is fate that has chosen you."

Only much later did they learn that this incomparable jellyfish was called Misfortune. But the young people at the time knew nothing of it. They believed it was a deity incarnate, a messenger of good fortune. Misfortune carried them to the center of the Sea of ​​Illusion. There, the current swirled into a vortex, like the intertwined destinies of all beings.

They saw shadows.

Just as Karthod had said, he knew it the moment he saw it. It was the Shadow—the artist. The trickster. The clown. The painter. The opposite of the djinn. The twin of light. The original spirit that created the world.

That is the great Divine Shadow Oracle.

“Order and civilization have their own meaning, but long-term unchangingness will lead to solidification. If the mind stagnates, the world will tend to be monotonous.”

They heard His voice.

"Change and emotion have their meaning. The heart of a mortal can also ascend to the divine."

They saw a new path. It was the mind, the emotions, the elements and the individual.

That is the path to supreme deity.

·

"Look! Vansalar!" Karlsod raised his hand excitedly, "Do you see it? Do you see it?"

A stream of water emerged from his palm, and the water happily turned into floating light, and then turned into a transparent flame and merged into his body.

Fansalar looked at it intently for a while and said, "Maybe it's not an illusion."

"How could this be an illusion? This is incredible elemental magic!" Karlsode trembled with excitement. The quiet, bespectacled young man had become an artist, enchanted by the magic. "I'm truly impressed by you. How can you be so calm? This is the power bestowed upon you by the Primordial Spirit!"

Vansalar put his hands on his brother's shoulders and hit him on the head three times. The blacksmith's son's head was indeed harder than the fisherman's son's. Carl rolled on the ground.

"Listen to me, Carl." He tapped his forehead. "First, Shadow has been talking to you the whole time, and I only heard two sentences. Second, this... might be a superpower He tailored for you. I can't learn it."

"You're just talking nonsense. This is the great way passed down by the original spirit."

"I don't understand, man," Vansalar said patiently, "You don't use a generator or a mental battery, so how do you glow?"

“Be attentive!”

Vansalar nodded repeatedly. "What about electromagnetism? What about thermodynamics? The edifice of imperial physics is about to collapse."

"Let Imperial Physics eat the Emperor's shit." Karlsod said sternly, "Now listen to me, close your eyes, meditate, mobilize your emotions..."

“Psychological suggestion and pseudoscience…”

“Be brave and positive, and imagine the most beautiful pictures…”

"All I can think of right now is grilled squid. I'm super hungry." Vansalar argued. Actually, he wasn't that hungry, but he had exhausted his patience after trying again and again.

Karlsod pushed his glasses hard, knowing that his friend had come up with a bad idea.

"Vansalar, remember when we were ten years old?" Karthod said briskly, "a lucky wild boar was possessed by a demon and rushed into the village like a chariot."

"Hey, don't talk about this."

It had been years, but now it felt like yesterday. He still remembered that beast, covered in eyes, like a demon from hell, each one brimming with hunger and greed. The boar's tusks were like knives. He hid behind his mother... he was trembling with fear...

"It first ran over your blacksmith shop and gnawed on your father's hammer like it was a snack." Karlsode turned a deaf ear to him. "Then what did it do? I remember, your mother was making porridge, and it smelled something and poked its head into the house... Were you there at the time? I can't remember clearly, were you there?"

"I'm here." Vansalar said coldly.

"Oh, sorry, I just remember that your mother was injured. What happened next? Why was your mother safe in the end..."

"Because I was there," Vansalar roared. "I ran to the next door, got my gun, and shot it dead!"

The sound of gunfire and blood filled his mind, and he grabbed Carl by the collar. His roar turned into a raging fire, his eyes gleamed, and a shadow leaped up from behind him, like a black scimitar.

Karthod laughed. Vansalar looked at his burning hands with a mixture of surprise and delight.

"I did," he said. "Why?"

"Because you haven't summoned your emotions until this moment," Karthod said. "Vansalar, you are the bravest person I have ever met. It is because you can overcome your fear that you have the courage that I admire. Remember the feeling of this moment, maintain it, and keep going."

Vansalar raised his hand, thinking of the fear he had felt back then, and a murky shadow emerged from his hand. He thought of the feeling he had when he picked up the gun, and a warm light emerged from the shadow.

Karlsode clasped his hands together to shield the faint light.

"You see, this is magic," he said. "Braveheart is your magic."

(End of this chapter)