There was a smile on Cyclamen's lips, but the smile seemed to be painted on, stiff and deliberate.

He slowly raised the parchment in his hand. The paper was an unnatural yellowish-brown color, and the edges were slightly curled, as if it had been soaked in some sticky liquid.

"The academy still values ​​you very much."

His voice was brisk, yet it carried a strange echo, as if it came from far away, or as if there was another voice hidden deep in his throat.

Blore's eyes were drawn involuntarily to the scroll—the words on it twisted and squirmed, like a living thing, sometimes contracting, sometimes expanding.

They were not in any known language, yet they were inexplicably reminiscent of some ancient spell that should not be recited.

Even more bizarre was the pattern engraved at the bottom of the paper: a temple with a strange style, tilted columns and twisted eaves, as if violating the geometric laws of reality.

It was clearly a spring-themed task list, but the black and white lines exuded a solemn and murderous aura, like some kind of dormant malice.

"The only two new tasks were given to you one each."

Xiankelai's tone rose subtly, as if he was expecting something. "How about a competition between our two teams?"

Ma Tuan suddenly felt his throat tighten.

He stared at the paper, vaguely aware of a gaze - not from the cyclamen, but from the paper itself.

The words seemed to be wriggling, and something was slowly emerging in the shadow of the temple, like countless tiny eyes staring at him through the paper.

There was a slight humming sound that vibrated, and the sound that should have been crisp sounded dull and distorted, as if it was being dragged downward by something.

Cyclamen's smile deepened, almost reaching his ears—and Blore finally realized that something was not quite right about this competition...

"No..." Nan Song's voice was so low that it was almost drowned out by the low humming sound coming from deep in the dark clouds.

Above the sky, the surging dark cloud was no longer just a cloud - it twisted and squirmed, gradually condensing into a giant fish tail, and a dark light that did not belong to this world flickered between the gaps between the scales.

Above the fish's tail, a solid scepter made of pure shadow slowly emerged. Inlaid on the top of the scepter was a huge, slowly rotating eyeball, with its pupils contracted, staring coldly at all the arrangements in the academy.

It has no intention of retreating.

On the contrary, the dark clouds rolled even more violently, and countless crows burst out from the depths of the clouds. The crows circled, and their hoarse cries formed a distorted hymn.

What is even more creepy is that among the dark clouds, countless tiny, wriggling tentacles vaguely emerge. They are extremely small and almost imperceptible, but they really exist, like the extension of some indescribable thing, gently fiddling with the boundaries of reality.

The college didn't hesitate.

The "God-killing" weapon was activated.

The roar of machinery shook the heavens and the earth, gears meshed, runes flowed, and the entire academy was instantly covered with a layer of golden gauze, like the afterglow of the setting sun pouring down - but that light was not warm, but carried a kind of scarlet murderous intent, like a blade coated with a thin layer of blood, sharp and deadly.

The dean looked at the weapon with almost tenderness, his eyes flickering with relief and even more so with an almost fanatical pride.

She whispered softly, "The Fire Weapons Department... perhaps after this battle, they will truly become famous."

But the sacrifice remains indifferent.

There was no ferocious struggle, no sign of retreat, and not even a trace of emotional fluctuation.

It just watched all this quietly, as if human struggle was nothing but the futile efforts of ants.

Then--

Thousands of stars suddenly burned.

Chains burst out from the void, like a giant silver python entwining the heaven and earth. Each link is engraved with ancient prohibitions. They tear through the clouds, trying to restrain the indescribable existence.

The dark clouds retaliated madly.

The raging fire and the creeping darkness fought in the sky. The blazing white flames and the sticky shadows devoured each other. The space twisted and collapsed in their confrontation, as if the whole world was on the verge of collapse at this moment.

And the golden veil of the academy is still shining.

It was like a sacrifice, but also like a gamble - a gamble on whether human firearms could truly kill gods.

Thousands of stars are burning, and chains build the world.

The dark clouds retaliated madly, and the raging fire and the creeping darkness were caught in the deepest duel.

Bai Di's pupils suddenly contracted.

No—none of this is right.

Cyclamen's seemingly nonchalant procrastination and her gentle and charming smile now all became distorted and terrifying.

His skin began to soften, right before the four of them's eyes.

Like a wax figure roasted by high temperature, the cheek muscles slowly slid down, revealing the wriggling, translucent gelatinous tissue underneath.

There was still a smile on his lips, but his entire face had melted and deformed, like a crude puppet casually fabricated by some higher-dimensional being.

"No! It's you—!"

Ma Tuan's voice suddenly rose, and memories came back like a tide, but the only remaining eye of Cyclamen - or rather, the thing in Cyclamen's skin - still looked down at them with contempt, and a cold starlight that did not belong to human flickered in the depths of its pupil.

"Don't hurt..."

Ma Tuan hasn't finished speaking yet.

The worn parchment suddenly twitched violently, the paper squirming and dissolving like a living thing, the ink twisting into countless tiny black blood vessels, pulsating deep within the pulp.

The next second, the paper completely liquefied, and a strange blue and black fish leaped out of the melted pulp—

Its scales are translucent, and underneath each one lies a tiny, wriggling eyeball.

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