Chapter 1285 - 34: Madness (Part 2)

But such power couldn’t target the chaotic monsters.

The bullets clinked against the pitch-black armor, sparking and smoking, nearly filling the entire corridor.

The soldiers couldn’t see their target anymore, but they didn’t let go of the trigger, continuing to pour out firepower, because although they couldn’t see, they could still hear.

They could hear the gradually approaching crashing sound, amidst the chaotic gunfire, the increasingly clear footsteps.

Distorted steel slashed through the smoke, chopping down soldiers along with the guns in their hands.

Roger lifted the still-living corpse, wanting to examine the horror on its face, but more bullets came, turning the body into chunks of flesh, staining the pitch-black armor.

"Fragile, powerless, futile..."

Roger put down the long spike, and the broken body fell off with it. His eyes were hollow under the pitch-black face armor as he stared at the pathetic humans, with a rising fury.

He intended to mock these pathetic humans, laughing at their inferiority, but in the end, Gareth spat on Roger instead.

This was a wound heavier than any sword, as humble maggots dared mock the sacred greatness.

Roger became uncharacteristically enraged, perhaps it was the source of his anger, or maybe not, as his thoughts had long fallen into chaotic disorder under the erosion of The Inexpressible, and so-called rationality was just a hollow disguise.

It was as if flaming bullets exploded, an instant high temperature spitting flames, evaporating the pupils of the soldiers, scorching and peeling their skin, making the guns in their hands glow red, and then the bullets ignited, destroying the gray-black remains.

The high temperature assaulted the Broken Dome.

As the core of the Purification Mechanism, its location was set above the Dunling Tower that oversaw the entire city. Few enemies could reach here unimpeded, and it was expected that even if demons conquered Old Dunling, they would still find it difficult to climb this isolated tower.

But now, this advantage had turned into its disadvantage.

The large elevators repeatedly transported large numbers of personnel and materials away from the Broken Dome, gathering all available forces here, trying to buy more time.

The soldiers gripped their weapons tightly, standing behind a heavy gate. They could hear the screams beyond it and sense the rising temperature.

The cold metal began to show some red-hot spots, and a faint white smoke with a burnt scent rose from the wooden boards around the gate.

In their hearts, the soldiers prayed, and at the same time, the red on the gate spread from a small dot to a circle, finally collapsing suddenly like melting ice.

"Fire!"

Someone shouted, pulling the trigger, gunfire rang out in unison, but this time the story took a completely different and even darker direction.

A distorted long spike pierced through the not-yet-fully-melted gate, penetrating the soldier’s body with molten iron. The force was so great that it almost shattered the body, then the spike continued to fly, inflicting more soldiers before pinning itself into the wall.

With just one strike, Roger shattered human courage and the firepower of industry. They looked ahead in terror, through the rising flames, all saw those blazing white eyes, and beyond them, a mad hell.

The soldiers stopped firing; no matter the state of mind, faced with this "truth," there was only death and madness left.

Their mouths emitted whimpering sounds, bodies trembling, tears streaming down their faces.

Some shakily picked up a pistol, blowing their own heads off, while others, under pressure, knelt on the ground, allowing their bodies to begin transforming, growing sharp fangs.

Under extreme erosion, the surviving lives easily transformed into demons, and they let out bloodthirsty roars, seeking fresh humans, while Roger continued forward, searching for his target.

He wanted to know what.

Why these people were not afraid.

Why these people still believed they had a chance.

Why...

"Why are you unwilling to end it all?"

Roger couldn’t understand; he once had many hopes for this world, for which he had joined forces with Ed, trying to pull this world back from the brink of destruction, but in the end, it was all in vain.

"You’re a pathetic guy, Roger."

A voice rang out, a fallen soldier forced up his head. His injuries were severe, the lower body turned into a bloody mess, but there was no pain on his face, only cold calmness.

"Oh? You’re not dead yet?" Roger looked at the soldier, mocking him.

"I should have realized from the beginning, you’re an idealist dissatisfied with reality, but you couldn’t find a perfect solution, only proving yourself with increasingly radical actions."

Ed spoke coldly.

"You dragged more and more people into the tragedy you created..."

"You want me to stop?" Roger interrupted Ed, looking at him helplessly, "How long has it been, and you still want to persuade me?"

"Yes, you won’t stop," Ed said, "I just find you very pathetic."

"You will never stop. You’ve killed so many people, committed so many crimes, for which even you were sacrificed to the Devil. You’ve paid such a heavy price, and that price binds you to madness."

Roger’s smile turned stiff, and his mouth slowly sank, turning gloomy.

"If you stopped, what would your previous actions mean? To avoid denying yourself, you gave up thinking, only focusing on madness..."

Roger reached the soldier’s side, lifted his foot, and stomped on his head, silencing Ed.

"If you want to lecture me, come see me in person, Ed, instead of hiding in a corner."

The cold gaze stared at Roger, until the head was crushed to dust, scattered across the ground.

The disturbing sound finally disappeared, and Roger’s mood relaxed again. Ed was still a threat to him, but not as deadly as before.

After the previous confrontation, Roger had clearly realized Ed’s situation; The Inexpressible’s murmurings echoed in his ears, and he needed to constantly be vigilant of it, utterly unable to obstruct himself.

"I am right..."

Roger momentarily spaced out, muttering to himself, but soon his eyes filled with madness again, pressing forward.

He wanted to know what these people were hiding, then break their pride apart. Behind the door, there was a blinding light, where the command room was, Percival stood at the entrance, gripping a handgun.

The two would confront each other, separated by a cross-shaped corridor, with no path forward but forward.

Like a solitary duel.

"Don’t be afraid."

Percival said to the soldiers, they had no retreat, all they could do was die with dignity.

Roger stepped forward as if advancing an iron curtain, squeezing their space for survival.

There was a rising agitation.

Then a tremendous wave rose through the walls, an invisible surge sweeping everything in an instant.

Everything, at that moment, slowed down, clearly discernible by the naked eye.

The sudden explosion enveloped Roger, and while Percival and the soldiers were at the edge of the explosion, hence not too affected, they still felt the power that set their hearts racing.

There was no light, nor heat, a blast beyond Percival’s comprehension.

"Anti-Meme..."

She whispered, for the Anti-Meme weapon set by the Anonymous were taking effect at that moment.

Roger’s once-indestructible black armor was full of cracks, seemingly about to shatter in the next second, and Roger himself showed a pained expression.

The explosions continued without light or heat, but everyone felt the information of the "explosion", and an unseen storm raged there, as at the same time calm footsteps sounded. At the other end of the cross corridor, someone walked around the corner, raised a gun, and fired at Roger.

Percival could only see the suddenly appearing figure’s back, but she recognized the newcomer at a glance, for they were so distinct in this unfamiliar land.

The Anonymous wore sophisticated light armor, a red hem beneath, pulling the trigger, one Anti-Meme Bullet after another hitting Roger.

In the empty corridor, there was just the one Anonymous, but his steps were determined, without fear.