Lord of Cosmos

Chapter 202 202: Stardust

Veins throbbed at Noor's temples. "Everything was created from a breath of the Divine Spirit," he countered, his voice edged with biting sharpness. "Every creature possesses a soul pulsing within it—a soul with hopes, dreams, and aspirations. A man either soils this soul with his own hands, as you have done, twisting it into something foul and detestable that is unworthy of the life the Creator bestowed upon it; or he purifies and illuminates it, so the Lord may grant him a light by which to walk among all creations."

Hugo let out a bark of contemptuous laughter. "The words of priests! The same drivel they used to deceive the Franks for ages. They told us all creatures are equal, that all are creations of the Lord and must be respected." He scoffed, waving a dismissive hand. "Yet, they respected only those who embraced the religion of the Zurix, for in their eyes, that alone was the true faith. Anyone following another path was doomed to a world of raging hellfire, where their flesh would burn for countless eons.

"But we eradicated those myths," Hugo continued, a fanatic gleam in his eye. "We learned that stardust is the true architect of everything. We are all but random strokes from the universe's magnificent, chaotic brush. The cosmos exploded in the Big Bang—a burst of brilliant colors—and planets, stars, and suns were formed. Then, stardust took up its wondrous brush and painted every living thing. But an artist's paintings are not all equal, boy. He creates masterful works of art, and he creates ugly, haphazard, tasteless scribbles."

Hugo puffed out his chest, his voice swelling with pride. "We, the Zurix, are the most magnificent painting this artist ever rendered. That is why we rule the universe and vie for its dominion. We possess the greatest civilizations and technologies because the artist chose to gift us an intellect unmatched in the cosmos. By this intellect alone, we govern the universe. That is the truth. We are nothing but the result of a random stroke from an artist's brush. And in this hollow, meaningless world, I have found nothing to give it significance or beauty except art. Art coats this harsh, material world in vibrant colors that delight the soul. Art makes life tolerable. Art alleviates the void we feel within."

Noor let him speak, allowing the General to revel in his own arrogance while he quietly plotted his next move. When Hugo finally paused, Noor's eyes went cold.

"In that case," he said softly, "let me paint you one final masterpiece you will never forget—a tribute to the noble, kind souls you extinguished."

***

Noor conjured a flashbang from his imagination and hurled it. The blinding light seared Hugo's vision, and Noor immediately followed it with a smoke grenade. The area was instantly swallowed by thick smoke, reducing visibility to zero.

Wasting no time, Noor whipped a chain around Hugo's right leg, yanking the General toward him. Simultaneously, he forged a hardened gauntlet over his right hand and delivered a crushing blow that knocked Hugo to the ground.

But upon impact, the General's body dissolved into a puddle of sticky orange goo.

"Did you think you were the only one who could create copies of himself?" Hugo's disembodied voice echoed through the thick smoke. "I adore tactics and strategy."

Noor felt trapped within the haze, completely blind to Hugo's position. Suddenly, a solid, spherical object hurtled toward him. Noor instantly forged a shield and raised it in defense.

The object exploded upon impact, the concussive force blasting Noor backward until he slammed hard against a boulder. His bones groaned in protest. Noor realized Hugo had drawn an artillery shell and launched it at him; a split-second delay in forging that shield, and he would have been blown to pieces.

Through the shifting smoke, Noor spotted another shell tearing through the air toward him. He dove to the right, narrowly evading it as the shell struck the boulder, reducing it to dust.

Steadying his nerves, Noor conjured a cluster of hand grenades, pulled the pins, and hurled them one after another toward the origin of the attack.

A massive chain reaction of explosions ripped through the area, blowing the smoke away. When the dust settled, Noor saw Hugo standing unharmed, safely encased in his blue defensive barrier.

Noor observed the General carefully, analyzing his pattern. The white paint cleared elements away, like smoke. The black paint conjured objects from nothing, much like Noor's own ability. The red launched sharp, lethal projectiles. The green healed his body and knitted flesh. The blue formed a protective shield. The yellow created a sticky, gum-like substance that adhered to things. But crucially, he could blend these colors to create entirely new properties; the orange paint had birthed a perfect decoy of himself.

He was undeniably the strongest General, the ultimate weapon of the Franks. And he undoubtedly had more tricks hidden up his sleeve. Noor felt a surge of tension, his thoughts racing. This man was lethal. He possessed a razor-sharp intellect and the cunning tactical mind of a veteran who had fought hundreds of battles. Only now did Noor fully grasp what he had walked into. He found himself wishing he had brought Sairi, or the crystal.

Hugo dismissed his blue shield with a flick of his brush and calmly stroked his wide mustache.

"I see you have finally realized your mistake, boy," he said, his tone dripping with condescension. "You are facing the Commander of the Third Galactic Army. Did you not think carefully about what that meant before you assaulted me with such insolence? I hold the highest rank in the Franks army. My rank is equal to that of the Supreme Admiral of the Galactic Fleet. I stand shoulder-to-shoulder with the Commanders of the First and Second Armies. Do you truly believe a nobody like you can eliminate me with a few cheap tricks and a bit of planning?"

Hugo took a measured step forward. "I fought alongside Darleon the Great. I contributed to his victories in dozens of battles. Nothing defeated us save a united alliance of all the Zurix empires against us. Who are you to strike at me, you lowly wretch?"

Noor merely shrugged. "My identity will be of no use to you, because I have none. I am a vagabond brought here by circumstance." He met the General's gaze unflinchingly. "But as strong as you may be, you are no match for Gaia, one of the emperors of the universe. We stood against Gaia and did not fear him. Why, then, should I fear you?"

Hugo raised an eyebrow, genuinely intrigued. "You were among those who fought in the war against Gaia? I suppose I must give you credit for that." His eyes narrowed as he pointed the tip of his brush at Noor. "However, it was the Enix who brought Gaia down. And that is a fact known only to the highest-ranking military commanders. Are you one of the Enix?"

Noor was internally stunned that Hugo knew of the Enix—the most dangerous secret organization in the universe—but he masked it perfectly.

Deciding to wage psychological warfare to chip away at the General's confidence, he let a dark, knowing smile touch his lips.

"So, you have heard of us," Noor said smoothly. "I didn't realize our infamy had spread this far."