Apocalypse Forecast

Chapter 480 - 418 Redemption Hand_1

Huai Shi: "..."

Yuan Yuan: "..."

Yuan Zhao: "..."

In the awkward silence, Yuan Zhao looked around as if awakening from a dream, not knowing what had happened.

"What's wrong?" he asked blankly, looking at Huai Shi. "Why am I tied up? Why does my face hurt so much? Did someone hit me? And why is everyone staring at me?"

"Well... it's a long story."

Huai Shi awkwardly diverted his gaze, then stealthily kicked the broken figurine he had hidden behind himself further away. "You were just corrupted by the Rotting Dream, and, well, everyone tried everything to save you."

"...I remember now."

Yuan Zhao's face turned ashen. "It was like a nightmare. I dreamed of a pitch-black woman climbing out of the sea, like a ghost, and crawling into the Group Star."

At that moment, a chill rose in Huai Shi's heart.

He heard Yuan Zhao whisper in terror, "She seems to be right beside me..."

Sharp, shattering sounds rang out, one after another, accompanied by sudden, piercing screams.

In an instant, countless light bulbs exploded, and darkness descended. But in that flash, a grotesque shadow was rapidly outlined on the distorted wall behind Yuan Zhao.

Simply gazing upon it was enough to sting Huai Shi's eyes.

The mere appearance of an Afterimage caused countless passengers to emit the most fearful, frenzied wails.

The twisted silhouette squirmed on the wall, fleeting, sketching a mangled, distorted figure as if it were about to burst through the wall.

The writhing limbs were just a hair's breadth from the pale-faced Yuan Zhao.

Just a little closer, and It would have inhabited Yuan Zhao's body...

But now, as Yuan Zhao awoke, the pendant hanging on his chest—the Half Tiger Talisman—suddenly emitted a majestic roar. A cold phantom leaped out from within, carrying the scent of blood and gunpowder.

Like a Divine Dragon soaring across the Sky Dome, it emanated a bone-chilling majesty.

The one-armed, white-haired old man rode a decrepit horse. He wore no armor; his right arm, exposed outside his torn sleeve, shone with an iron-like luster as he wielded a Halberd.

When his eyes lifted, divine light flashed like lightning.

With the roar of the Tiger Talisman, the Halberd in his hand chopped down, sweeping across, drawing a line.

This line became the Sky Gorge.

A freezing aura seeped from the Halberd's blade, fiercely colliding head-on with the eerie palm, not only repelling the limb but also leaving a gruesome wound upon it.

On Yuan Zhao's arm, a wisp of darkness suddenly surged, shrieking as it dissipated.

With this one strike, Yuan Zhao's connection to the Rotten Dream was forcefully severed!

On the wall, the distorted shadow quickly vanished, shifting to other locations.

Before his own Afterimage faded, the elder atop the warhorse looked back, instructing Yuan Zhao, "Still lacking experience, what's there to panic about? Listen to your cousin; your Uncle Six is already en route to find you—Xiaoyuan, take this."

He tossed the hefty Halberd effortlessly across vast distances, and it landed in Xiaoyuan's hands.

The pattern of Yi Zi instantly spread from the Halberd, covering her hands, bestowing the might of the Stigmata Relic upon her.

In the final moment, he glanced back at Huai Shi and cracked a smile. "Little Brag is quite good. Come visit us later, and bring your horse..."

The old horse carried him away, and they quickly dissipated.

Only now did Huai Shi catch his breath. In a hushed tone, he asked Yuan Zhao, "Who was that just now?"

"My Great-Uncle."

Yuan Zhao wiped the cold sweat from his face. "Eh? Why does my face hurt so much?"

"Perhaps you did it while having the nightmare?"

Huai Shi glanced at the faint red mark on his face, thought for a moment, then said seriously, "At that time, you seemed crazy, smashing your own figurine on the ground and stepping on it, all while slapping yourself and crying, saying, 'None of my cousins have this, only I do. Now that an angel-like Brother Huai Shi has arrived, he doesn't have one either. It must not be a good thing...'"

"Huai Shi, are you jerking me around?" Yuan Zhao's eyes grew skeptical.

"I'm trying to spare your feelings with a little white lie, and you don't believe me?"

Huai Shi gaped at him in astonishment. "Otherwise, it might be that you went mad and were thoroughly beaten by your cousin. Even after I broke your figurine, you were still crying and calling out for your 'wife,' screaming for your other cousin to save you in front of her!"

He asked, "Which one do you want to believe?"

"..."

After suffering a social death as 'The Little Lord of the Dung Fork' once more, Yuan Zhao was left stupefied.

He gave up thinking.

Watching his little brother sink into silence, Huai Shi nodded with satisfaction, pulled off The Sorrow of Index and put it away safely, then nodded to Xiaoyuan as he said his goodbyes.

"You're leaving so soon?"

Xiaoyuan looked confused, not knowing where he was off to next.

"After all, there's still work to be done... If it's not finished, I have to work overtime, right?"

Huai Shi glanced around, leaned in a bit closer, and lowered his voice. "You didn't record that part just now, right? The one about... how great your 'wife' is..."

Xiaoyuan instinctively glanced at her pocket, then abruptly shook her head. Whether she truly hadn't recorded it was uncertain.

Huai Shi always felt that if it were leaked, his career as an idol would certainly meet its demise, but he'd never placed much value on it, so it wouldn't be much of a loss even if it did. But to have it posted online would be too embarrassing, so he had to ask one more time.

After getting Xiaoyuan's assurance, he breathed a sigh of relief, waved goodbye, and turned to leave.

Besides, a detachment of the Casting Iron Army would remain to maintain order. They possessed weapons that made even Huai Shi uneasy, so it wasn't likely they'd be defenseless if trouble arose.

But now, he was becoming increasingly worried about Ai Qing.

Shouldn't that woman be swaggering out to give orders by now? Where had she run off to? Surely nothing serious had happened... Not even a text, nor a response to his calls. Was she so eager to be his beast of burden in her next life that she couldn't even spare him a glance in this one?

Suppressing a faint anxiety and displeasure, he sprinted down the corridor.

Once more, he heard a roar from above.

The entire Group Star suddenly shook violently.

Before Huai Shi could react, the dome above shattered, and a severely damaged Sublimator smashed down, landing right in front of his feet.

Huai Shi nearly stepped on his horse-like face.

"Holy crap, it's you?" He looked down, staring in astonishment at Tony before him.

Behind the horse-like face, a spurt of blood gushed out.

Tony coughed violently and sighed helplessly, "It's a long story..."

「Two minutes earlier, on the upper levels of Group Star, violent shaking continued to spread.」

The Evil Dragon roared, and crimson flames swept across, instantly dissolving the teetering carriages into a viscous liquid. Even more menacing was Andrea, gracefully wielding the laws of thermodynamics.

Once the knowledge of Scholars is converted by the tool known as the Stigma, the destructive power unleashed is beyond ordinary imagination.

Even Sublimators would struggle to reach it.

But at that moment, as countless bat-like shadows surged with a loud boom, the flames were extinguished in an instant.

Morando's power surged again!

The phantom vortex of the Rotting Dream suddenly appeared. A shadow slowly reached out, wrapping around Morando like a viscous, writhing limb, continuously pouring the Disaster Miracle from the Rotting Dream into him.

Then the second, and the third... Morando's power soared once more.

But his expression was filled with anger, with not a hint of joy!

This phenomenon could only mean one thing: the substitute he had prepared had failed! The Rotten Dream Queen's power had now chosen him. Perhaps, in the short term, it seemed like there was no problem, but in reality, this was no Blessing from the Rotting Dream. Rather... it was the final generosity before usurpation. Soon, as the nightmare within him grew, his Soul would rapidly dissolve in the very depths of the Rotting Dream into the most basic Source Substance. After incorporating the power of the Rotten Dream Queen, he would be reforged. At that time, he might still have Morando's shell and Morando's Soul, but he would likely no longer be the Morando of now. Rather, he would be a temporary vessel for the Rotten Dream Queen, an earthly incarnation of the Ruler.

With human reason and common sense, one cannot comprehend the deepest depths of the Abyss, nor fathom the Rulers who reside high above. Likewise, the chaotic existence of the Rulers would not deign to comprehend humans, who are as insignificant as dust. They themselves are symbols, phenomena, the very essence condensed from the Abyss. And when this essence begins to descend, to fall, attempting to enter the narrow world of mankind, it must undergo a reduction in dimension and transform, appearing in human form.

By then, Morando's body will become the temporary shell of the Rotten Dream Queen. And his Soul will become the narrow vessel for the Rotten Dream Queen's manifestation upon her descent into this mortal world. Morando's will would become a tool for the Rotten Dream Queen to express Her desires, a Chinese Room in the philosophical domain, a black-box translator, tasked with conveying the words and wishes of the Superior to the mortal world. A mere consumable.

But isn't this precisely the role of a High Priest? Sacrificing everything for one's God is only natural, and for any High Priest, it is the highest honor. Only, Morando had other ideas... For this, he had even been willing to collaborate with Golden Dawn, plotting betrayal, casting aside his dying God. But now, this Curse, masquerading as a Blessing, once again coiled around him, causing his limbs to rapidly mutate.

Just as he began to panic, from between the collapsing carriages, an elegant silhouette leisurely emerged.

His cane tapped the ground.

Matthes tipped his formal hat, observing his pathetic state.

"Need a hand?" He raised his palm. "Just a tiny... insignificant price..."

Morando's expression twisted for a moment.

He stared at the outstretched hand.

A hand of redemption.

He gritted his teeth and grasped it.

In that moment, Matthes' lips curled up slightly, revealing a smile. "Deal!"

A horrifying shriek erupted, tearing through the air.

At that instant, Morando roared. A terrifying blast of air erupted from him, spreading out, as countless sharp tendrils sprouted from his mutated flesh, frantically clawing at everything around, tearing anything that dared come close to shreds.

He disintegrated in an instant, and just as swiftly reassembled.

Reborn.

Above his forehead, a rune of a closed eye slowly emerged.

And a massive nightmare burst forth from his split back, transforming into a thick, dark fountain, a black torrent convulsing wildly on the ground.

The Rotting Dream.

Having lost its last foothold, the God Core from the Ruler could no longer maintain an appearance comprehensible to mortals. It began to swell rapidly, turning into a raging fog of darkness, spreading and wreaking havoc across Group Star.

She descended here. But there was no longer any Believer to worship Her, nor was there any Dreamland that could contain Her presence.

The displaced Rotting Dream wandered in agony across Group Star, spiraling into madness.