novelraw Chapter 258 : Ophelia: The Infernal Affairs Angle
Chapter 258 : Ophelia: The Infernal Affairs Angle
Chapter 258: Ophelia: The Infernal Affairs Angle
Emis and Rast stayed for a very long time on the cliff at the back of the mountain.
Only when the stars in the night sky gradually grew sparse did they finally set off down the mountain.
A gentle sound of breathing reached his ears.
Perhaps it was because she found a sense of safety at Rast’s side, that taut string in her heart, stretched for centuries upon centuries, finally loosened. The girl fell into deep sleep in his embrace.
Of course, as the master of the Mental Image World, Emis could have created a luxurious palace out of thin air and directly teleported the two of them into it.
But clearly, compared to the Creator-like ability of wish-fulfillment, “I don’t eat beef”... she was far more reluctant to leave the warmth of this embrace.
“One whole era of waiting, centuries of holding on… it truly has been hard for you.”
Looking at the golden-haired girl who had fallen asleep in his arms, Rast’s gaze also softened.
“So, Xiao Ai…”
“You should sleep well for now.”
He picked up Emis in a princess carry and walked down the winding path.
Through the forested sea, across the clear stream.
Soon, Canaan Town once again came into view.
It was no longer the ruin shrouded in smoke and flames as before. At this moment, the burning town was gradually shedding its scars—
The flames rose into countless orange-red sparks and quietly dispersed, charred beams sprouted fresh buds, collapsed walls rebuilt themselves, ruined houses restored once more…
Rast thus walked among the reborn town.
From the chimney of the bakery nearby came the scent of freshly baked cinnamon bread, as if the Bakery Proprietress might open her doors at any moment to welcome guests.
The so-called “Mental Image World” was, after all, a reflection of its master’s inner landscape.
Originally, the girl whose soul had been corroded by the Judgment Holy Grail, clinging on desperately, had naturally shown a desolate and broken landscape—just like the dilapidated ruin from before.
But now, as the will of the Holy Grail dissipated, as Emis and Rast reunited and poured out their hearts… her soul, her broken inner world, was reshaped—
From ruins, it turned once more into the lively Canaan.
And reborn was not only Emis’s Mental Image World.
As long as he sank into his heart and closed his eyes, Rast could see his own Mental Image World… a crimson wasteland, and upon that wasteland a towering, dazzling High Tower rising into the sky.
This was Rast’s goal over the past two years—to rebuild the High Tower known as the Fool’s Library.
Now, at the moment of reuniting with Emis, that long-slumbering seed finally sprouted again, like new spring growing over a wasteland consumed by wildfire.
This High Tower was no longer the external force, like a cheat, gained without effort. It had been toppled, deconstructed, reshaped…
And in the end, became a true power, born from the depths of Rast’s soul, belonging only to himself.
Inside the Library, aside from the Sequences already liberated and bonded at high levels—such as the War Chariot, Fate, and Death God Sequence Higher Tiers—
There was also the one known as Judgment, which at this moment shone so brilliantly that it eclipsed all others.
At the end of that Higher Sequence, a crystalline card slowly revolved.
Unlike the other cards in the Fool’s Library, its surface was completely transparent, reflecting prismatic hues like crystal.
Those rainbow-like colors were the mark of the one and only card with a bond level maxed out.
“Judgment · Emis”
A Tarot card whose bond was “MAX” the moment it was unlocked, with every step of the Higher Sequence already opened.
“In other words… at this moment, I also possess the full authority and power that Xiao Ai has as the Judgment Angel.”
“It feels like I’m getting closer and closer to gathering all twenty-three Higher Sequences, walking the road to omniscience and omnipotence.”
Feeling the radiant Higher Sequence within the Fool’s Library, Rast could not help but smile.
“I wonder if God Himself will come asking me for copyright fees.”
Withdrawing his mind from the Mental Image World, his steps halted slightly.
Before him appeared the wooden house of Canaan that Emis and Rast once shared. It too had now been rebuilt, restored to how it had existed in Rast’s memory.
Carrying Emis, Rast pushed open the door, gently laid her on the bed in the bedroom, and pulled the blanket over her.
Only after doing all this did he sit at the bedside, gazing at the sleeping girl by the cold moonlight outside the window.
Asleep, Emis looked quiet and docile, like a well-behaved cat. Her pale golden hair spread across the white bed, faintly shimmering.
“You’re always saying you’re just an ordinary village girl…”
“But now, you look more like a real princess.”
Looking at her serene sleeping face, Rast felt his own heart settle, and he let out a long breath.
Erasing the impurities in Emis’s Mental Image World—as the Judgment Angel, incarnation of Order, though the process seemed easy, it had in truth been an immense burden on Rast.
Later, he even split off part of his spiritual origin to help sustain Emis’s fragile soul-flame… the price was irreversible damage to his own soul-flame.
With both factors stacked, he had already reached his limits.
But Rast had long grown used to enduring, used to wearing countless masks to conceal his weakness… so neither the Judgment Angel herself nor Emis had ever noticed.
“But still, though the process was a little twisted, the ending turned out perfect.”
Rast closed his eyes, organizing the gains and losses of this mission.
“I saved Xiao Ai from the Nightworld, and even rebuilt the Fool’s Library. That’s far beyond the original plan.”
What he now needed to do—
Was to lie low with Xiao Ai in the Nightworld, rest and recuperate, restore his depleted spiritual power, and return to his peak.
Then, quietly wait for the right opportunity… to return to reality.
As soon as the thought arose—
The next instant, Rast felt that something long sealed in his heart had been lightly stirred.
From the Spirit Realm, it was as if a faint call reached him.
It crossed the barrier between the Nightworld and reality, connecting Rast to some place in the real world.
He froze slightly, his thoughts flowing like a torrent, searching through the database of his memories.
Moments later, he completed the tracing—he realized the source of that strange calling.
It was something he had done unintentionally, before his long sleep, in the Historical Echoes of the Sixth Era.
At that time, in the technological age of the Sixth Era, Rast had once entered a virtual reality game called Shoreguards’ Ballad.
And in that game’s Deep Blue Port dungeon, he had used trickery and deceit to fool not only the entire cult group but even the Evil God of Deep Blue Port itself.
He lured the Evil God into performing a Descent, projecting a half-body that carried a wisp of its divine will.
And then, Rast had mercilessly dragged that wisp of divine will into a small black room within his Mental Image World—and devoured it completely.
Although Shoreguards’ Ballad was in name just a full-dive virtual reality game…
In truth, as Grey had made her third wish, with the Eternal Night Stele as the medium to open the Nightworld, that game had been the prototype and testing ground for the Nightworld.
Thus, the wisp of the Evil God’s divine will that Rast devoured within the dungeon… was real.
After he devoured it, draining its memories and information about the Age of Gods,
The Evil God’s consciousness was shattered. The leftover fragments of unclaimed divinity, Rast casually sealed away in a corner of his Mental Image World.
He had thought those remnants were only good for passing the time during his long sleep, letting him research the essence of divine power.
But unexpectedly, those remnants of divinity had now stirred—
As if sensing a call from another world, they built a tenuous connection between the Nightworld and reality.
“The Evil God of Deep Blue Port is still shackled on the Threshold of Seraphim.”
“Back then, after I tricked Him and caused Him to lose a half-body, He’s been quiet all these years. Most likely He chose to accept defeat and keep sulking on the Threshold of Seraphim.”
“In other words, the ones calling to this fragment of divinity now…”
“…are the cultists on the Western Continent, abandoned by the Evil God of Deep Blue Port?”
Having deduced this, Rast immediately grew interested.
With careful movements that wouldn’t wake the sleeping girl on the bed, he rose and left the room, closing the door behind him.
Dozens of seconds later, Rast appeared in the upstairs washroom.
“I don’t know why…”
“But it seems, according to the traditions of transmigrator seniors, every time you perform a ritual like this, it has to be in a washroom to be most effective.”
He muttered to himself, then closed his eyes again.
The next moment, his Mental Image World erupted into boiling turmoil.
The once calm spiritual sea surged into towering waves.
Rast unleashed his full spiritual power—
Then, following that fragment of unclaimed divinity of the Evil God of Deep Blue Port, following the faint tether to reality—
He pulled his will out of the Nightworld and into the real world.
But then—
In the washroom, Rast’s eyes flickered.
In his pitch-black pupils, an unusual trace of surprise appeared.
“Ophelia?”
…
Reality, Western Continent, somewhere on the border between the Granwell Empire and the Holy Kingdom of Fran.
Ophelia, through a mechanical bionic doll forged of undying metal, slowly opened her eyes, completing the spiritual connection.
As a true genius in the field of mechanics, as a Mechanist—Ophelia possessed the ability to manufacture multiple mechanical dolls, remotely operating them with her spiritual power across thousands of kilometers.
For instance, right now, though Ophelia herself was still in the Imperial Capital of the Granwell Empire, following her elder sister Shiltina and assisting her in governance—
Through the vast network, she could manipulate this metallic doll far away, controlling it as if it were her own body.
Of course, on the surface, each of these dolls had its own forged identity and background. They were hidden agents Ophelia had planted across the Western Continent, rarely deployed.
At this moment, the reason she activated this doll was because this long-planted dark seed had succeeded in obtaining intelligence—
Intelligence about the cult group and the Gravekeepers, clues of a conspiracy being plotted against the Empire and against Shiltina.
Yet in the process of gathering this intelligence, her agent faced a serious obstruction.
“Damn it! These lofty great sects!”
“Even though it’s an operation against the Granwell Empire, against the Holy Sword Wielder of the Stars—Princess Shiltina, those people still exclude us from their meetings, leaving us only to follow orders!”
“If not for the fact that our Lord stopped answering prayers two years ago, would we of the Iron Cross Clan have fallen so low? To be so despised by the other sects!”
Across from her, a cloaked figure with an iron cross mark branded on his arm spoke in a sinister voice, full of anger and resentment.
His entire body was hidden beneath a black cloak, his face unseen, even his voice concealed by some supernatural power, impossible to tell age or gender.
Naturally, opposite this self-proclaimed Patriarch of the Iron Cross Clan, the mechanical doll that Ophelia controlled looked no better.
This doll, too, wore a black cloak that hid its features. Its cold, mechanical voice rasped, indeterminate between male or female.
“That’s right. Though our Mechanical Sect was founded only a few years ago, it is the one cult most attuned to this ever-changing technological age.”
“Their dismissal of us is nothing but contempt for the power of progress.”
“Flesh is weak. Mechanization is ascension.”
As she spoke, Ophelia had the doll draw a cross over its chest, chanting the creed with devotion.
This was the identity of her agent—the leader of the newly-emerged cult group on the Western Continent, the ‘Sect of Mechanical Flesh.’