Demon Bible

Chapter 208: Future Possibilities

Although Nemus still possessed his trump card, Angel A, and commanded quite a few Iron-rank combatants.

The gradual formation of alliances among his enemies naturally brought a mounting sense of pressure.

"Which means I am still not strong enough!" Nemus exclaimed. Rather than feeling fear, he found himself burning with anticipation.

Aside from Krew, who was layering multiple curses to enhance his own power, it would be difficult for anyone else to achieve a sudden, massive leap in strength in such a short period.

His objective was not merely to defeat these adversaries, but to crush them without allowing his overarching plans to suffer any significant disruption in the process.

'It is highly likely that this situation will blow out of proportion,' he analyzed. 'If I cannot quickly complete my accumulation of power to advance to the Golden-rank, and if I fail to eliminate Rhine and Baiter during the upcoming clash, it will be nearly impossible to keep the ensuing chaos under control.'

'Given these circumstances, it seems I have no choice but to finally act on that portion of my research regarding the Divinity.'

Countless visions of potential futures flashed through Nemus's mind.

In one scenario, he successfully killed Baiter and Ahriman. Isabella and the old undying from the Archive Room lay defeated on the sidelines, but Rhine achieved a sudden breakthrough mid-battle. Forced to flee for his life, Nemus's true identity was entirely exposed.

Rhine would then reclaim absolute authority over Tail Fin Town and officially excommunicate him from the Church.For a very long time following that disaster, he would be relentlessly hunted.

Under the weight of such endless pursuit, the majority of his subordinates would either perish or desert him, ultimately causing his faction to completely disintegrate.

In the end, he would be cornered by Guilliman and mercilessly struck down.

All that would remain was his unique Demonic Form, banished back to the Abyss to patiently wait for another opportunity.

Then, there was another possibility.

In this alternate vision of the future...

He managed to kill both Rhine and Baiter, only to find Isabella standing in open defiance against him, accompanied by Saint Child Nimes.

A profound transformation overtook the Saint Child. Much like a true Saint out of legend, his power experienced an explosive surge, eventually allowing him to utterly crush Nemus in combat.

In this particular timeline, Nemus felt that even his Demonic Form was thoroughly destroyed. A mysterious burst of flames flashed across his vision, obscuring the rest of the details.

There was yet a third, relatively clear trajectory, and this time, the central figure of the vision was Isabella.

In that state, fine scales manifested across Isabella's face, completely transforming her physical appearance.

He saw himself standing opposite her, clearly operating under the effects of his Self Protocol. At the same time, his Qi Instrument, the Oath Rope—which typically served as a mere auxiliary tool—was undergoing a bizarre evolution of its own by his side.

'In other words, out of the three primary paths this conflict could take, the timeline where Isabella successfully completes her breakthrough is actually the most advantageous for me?' Nemus pondered over these shifting, uncertain futures, carefully analyzing the hidden information each timeline revealed.

The future possessed far too many variables. The two most prominent outcomes ended in his utter defeat. In the third, he found himself evenly matched against Isabella, with the final victor still shrouded in uncertainty.

"It seems the odds of my defeat are quite high," Nemus chuckled softly, utterly unfazed by the bleak forecast.

Under such crushing pressure, Nemus could feel a vibrant rush of vitality igniting every cell in his body. Even the steady growth of his Attribute Value seemed to accelerate in response to the thrill.

Of course, Nemus had one other option at his disposal: he could simply back down.

In the midst of this historical transition period, he had already foreseen the myriad of risks that lay ahead.

If he proactively slowed his pacing right now and preemptively eliminated certain wildcards—namely, Isabella and the Saint Child—his overall risk factor would instantly plummet.

The visions of the future clearly proved that both Isabella and the Saint Child harbored extraordinary secrets.

Though they were pitifully weak at present, they possessed the potential to acquire rule-breaking power in a shockingly short timeframe, enabling them to completely suppress him. If he simply murdered them now, Nemus was certain he would only need to maintain a mild wariness toward Rhine to secure ultimate victory.

Yet, Nemus refused to take that path.

He was not a creature of absolute, cold rationality. In fact, there were many instances where he was governed intensely by his passions.

It was simply that, for the vast majority of the time, Nemus kept his raging emotions tightly suppressed.

He was biding his time, patiently waiting for the very thing he yearned for to finally manifest.

Only until that moment arrived would he maintain the perfect facade of a flawlessly rational being.

A purely rational mind would analyze the situation and recognize that keeping Isabella and the Saint Child alive could yield colossal rewards. Their continued existence might serve as the catalyst for Nemus's crucial evolution, and even lead him to the elusive Historical Number.

However, the risks tethered to those two were equally astronomical. The potential danger so vastly outweighed the rewards that the gamble seemed inherently flawed.

If Nemus played it safe and advanced steadily, he could comfortably reach the Peak Limit within a few years, and fully ascend to the Golden-rank within a decade.

Furthermore, he possessed the incredible prize of the Divinity Count. His future was already guaranteed. There was absolutely no logical reason to invite such tremendous peril simply to shave a few years off his ascension timeline.

But Nemus couldn't care less about playing it safe. As long as there was a tangible, feasible path forward, he was more than willing to wager everything on a single throw of the dice!

Besides, he had spent all his time meticulously preparing for this exact evolution.

If he chose to cower and retreat today, what would he do when the real trials arrived?

What would he do when the perfect, once-in-a-lifetime tidal wave he so desperately sought finally crashed down upon him?

Would he back away then, too, simply because the risks were too immense and the odds of success too slim?

Upon cementing his resolute decision, Nemus felt a profound tremor echo through the very core of his soul.

While Nemus was busy charting his calculated yet borderline-insane path to victory, Zoven had managed to drag himself to a relatively safe hideout across the town.

Taking shelter in a dilapidated Commoner residential zone in the South District, Zoven slumped against a rough stone wall. He pulled up his pant leg, revealing a spread of pitch-black corruption surrounding an arrowhead embedded deep in his flesh, its wooden shaft hastily snapped off. Waves of excruciating agony relentlessly tortured his nerves.

"There is no need to worry," Lilian's voice softly reassured him. "I can swap out your Historical Soul right now, granting you specific Traits that will allow you to bypass these injuries."

With those words, Lilian guided the Historical Soul of the Polar Star Sword back into the river of history. A moment later, she called forth an entirely new Historical Soul.

This newly summoned spirit took the towering, burly form of a Little Giant.

The moment it merged with Zoven's body, an unparalleled surge of sheer might flooded his veins. His physical strength began to multiply at an astonishing rate.

In the blink of an eye, his base Attribute Value rocketed from a mere seven points straight to fourteen.

Hero—Little Giant Melo!

He was a Giant half-blood who had steadily risen to prominence by leveraging his superior heritage. By perfectly merging the innate strengths of both Giants and Mankind, he had forged an incredibly unique Trait.

Breath of the Bridge.

As the Trait slowly took root within his flesh, Zoven's mind went completely blank. He felt as if a boundless reserve of pure qi had suddenly rushed into his head, while powerful, rhythmic pulsations surged upward from the earth beneath his feet. Caught between these two distinct, opposing forces, the overwhelming sensation caused Zoven's eyes to roll back, plunging him into a deep, unconscious stupor.

Yet, even as he slept, his physical vessel was being actively dismantled and remolded by the dual forces.

"Such a pity that the Great Earth is now tainted by corruption," Lilian murmured with a heavy sigh, hovering nearby. She watched closely as Zoven's poisoned wound began to knit back together at a visible rate, the sheer density of his newly augmented muscles forcibly ejecting the embedded arrowhead. "Were it not for that, the Breath of the Bridge Trait would have possessed more than enough power to instantly trigger his evolution into the Iron-rank."