Chapter 455 - 429: Veil Breaker

Chapter 455: Chapter 429: Veil Breaker

In the center of a vast basin, on a relatively flat expanse of land that looked as if it had been plowed by some immense force.

A sprawling, chaotic settlement crawled across the horizon, an ugly scar upon the earth.

Its inhabitants called it "Rusted Town," a name so direct it was almost cruel.

From a distance, the silhouette of Rusted Town was a haphazard amalgamation of countless twisted, deformed metal plates, massive discarded pipes, and giant stones that had crumbled from some unknown, magnificent structure.

Tall, rust-spotted metal watchtowers, like the skeletons of dying giants, stabbed crookedly at the perpetually murky sky. Crude rope ladders and tattered flags that fluttered in the wind were wrapped around their bodies.

A crude wall, built from a mixture of scrapped vehicles, sharp metal fragments, and rammed earth, roughly encircled the town.

The wall was covered in charred scorch marks and dried stains of a suspicious color, as if it had endured countless assaults from beasts or something else entirely.

As the view drew closer, the scene within the town became clearer.

Narrow, muddy streets snaked between low, dilapidated shacks and tents. The air was thick with the perpetual smell of rust, the acrid smoke of low-grade fuel, and a deeper, faint scent of decay.

A few scattered braziers crackled in the corners, providing negligible light and heat, illuminating figures huddled in the shadows.

These were the common folk of Rusted Town. Most were dressed in rags, their faces gaunt, their eyes numb and empty, as if the land had long since drained them of all hope and vitality.

They mechanically went about their chores, such as sorting through trash, mending broken tools, or simmering a viscous, dubiously colored stew in their pots.

Occasionally, a fully armed Rusted Knight would thunder past on a mutated Saddle Beast, splashing mud everywhere. The townspeople would only curl up silently, shrinking further into themselves like startled ants.

Despair and decadence were the only emotions that circulated here, etched deep into their very bones.

And in the relative center of Rusted Town, a more conspicuous building stood.

It appeared to be converted from the remains of a massive facility from a previous civilization.

Its main structure was made of heavy, rust-covered, curved metal plates. One could faintly discern the smooth industrial design it once had, but now it was covered in crude weld marks, reinforcing steel frames, and various external pipes and cables of unknown purpose.

A giant, gear-shaped structure, long since stopped turning, was embedded in the building’s facade, serving as its most prominent feature.

Thus, the Knights called this place the "Gear Hall."

At this moment, deep inside the dim Gear Hall, filled with the smell of engine oil and metallic dust, an exceptionally burly figure stood with his back to the only light source: a cluster of unstable, flickering, eerie-blue energy leaking from a ruptured pipe.

He stood silently before a massive, crude map table cobbled together from scrap metal plates and driveshafts.

His figure cast a huge, distorted shadow that nearly enveloped the entire room.

Just then, the heavy, rhythmic clang of metal boots broke the silence in the depths of the Gear Hall, echoing through the empty metal space.

"Lord Tangde."

The newcomer was completely encased in the signature rust-covered armor, stained and scarred, and stopped abruptly a few steps away from the burly figure. He bowed slightly, and a muffled voice emerged from beneath his helmet.

"You wished to see me for something?"

The tall man called Tangde did not turn around. Without any pleasantries, he cut straight to the point, his voice as hoarse as two pieces of rusty iron grinding together.

"Torrel, the ’Curtain of Heaven’ has loosened. It is time to launch another expedition."

Hearing the word "expedition," the man called Torrel tensed almost imperceptibly.

He mulled it over for a moment, seemingly choosing his words with care, before finally speaking.

"Lord Tangde, I would never question your perception of the ’Curtain of Heaven’s’ state, but..."

He hesitated, his voice dropping a little.

"On the last expedition, we lost nearly a third of our brothers, along with a great deal of precious supplies." 𝘧𝓇ℯℯ𝑤ℯ𝘣𝓃ℴ

"A few years have passed, but our power has yet to recover to its former level. To go again now... isn’t it a bit too hasty?"

Tangde didn’t turn, but his voice carried a hint of finality.

"Torrel, you and I never belonged to this cursed land!"

His voice rose slightly, heavy with long-suppressed disgust.

"Look around you! Breathe this air that reeks of rust and rot! Chew on those mutated roots and irradiated jerky that taste like grit! Everything here is slowly killing us, body and soul! I don’t want to stay here for one more day, not one more moment!"

As he said this, Tangde suddenly spun around.

The dim, flickering, eerie-blue light revealed his true face.

It was a twisted, inhuman visage.

His skin was an unhealthy bluish-gray, covered with thick, worm-like growths and festering scars that seemed to ooze slime.

What was most unsettling were his facial features.

Three murky eyes with differently shaped pupils were arranged vertically in the center of his forehead, currently glinting with a frantic, determined light.

He had three arms, an abnormal count. Two were relatively normal, while the third, slightly atrophied but still powerful, extended from beneath his right shoulder blade.

Even more bizarre, two of his hands sported six thick, short fingers covered in calluses and keratin.

Tangde used his normal arm to point at his own terrifying face and deformed limbs, his voice tinged with deep sorrow and self-mockery.

"Look at me, Torrel! If I stay here any longer, I’m afraid that soon, even I won’t be able to recognize myself as human!"

"Even... even if we do finally manage to leave this godforsaken place, where in the wide world outside would there be a place for a monster like me?"

Hearing these words, filled with immense pain and despair, Torrel fell into a long silence. The sound of his breathing under the helmet grew heavy.

Finally, all his doubts seemed to be crushed by this more powerful emotion. He asked in a low voice,

"When do we leave?"

"Now! Immediately! At once!"

Tangde’s reply was decisive.

"Bring only the necessary supplies and those who can still fight. Abandon all burdens! We must act before the other fools realize the ’Curtain of Heaven’ has loosened! If we miss this chance..."

His voice trailed off.

"I don’t know how much longer I’ll be imprisoned in this living hell."

Torrel immediately pressed,

"Then... how do we explain this hasty expedition to the other members? Many of them already see the mutations here as..."

"A blessing? Hmph!"

Tangde snorted, cutting him off, his gaze sweeping with disgust over his own twisted arm and six-fingered hand.

"Only those natives who’ve been driven mad by this land, and those fools whose minds have long since been corrupted, would mistake this curse for a divine spirit’s favor!"

He paused, suppressing his surging emotions, and commanded in an almost ruthless tone,

"Just tell them it is a divine revelation from the ’Master of All Things Decaying’!"

Hearing this, Torrel nodded slightly, indicating he understood, but then he spoke again.

"However... Hagry took a team out hunting today and has yet to return."

A flash of anger instantly crossed Tangde’s three eyes.

"Didn’t I give a clear order that no one was to go out during this time and that everyone was to remain on high alert?"

Torrel’s tone was tinged with helplessness.

"You should know... Hagry... like you, he has also undergone ’significant’ mutations. Because of that, he’s become... increasingly difficult to manage lately."

A flicker of irritation crossed Tangde’s face. He finally waved his six-fingered hand and made his decision.

"There’s no need to wait for that self-righteous fool! We leave immediately!"

Torrel said no more and bowed to accept the order.

"Yes, my lord!"

He then turned and strode away with heavy steps to assemble the team.

Silence returned to the Gear Hall, leaving only the faint, hissing crackle of the unstable, eerie-blue energy.

Tangde’s burly, deformed figure turned back to the crude map table.

His six-fingered hand slowly unfurled. The twisted fingers traced a path across the map’s surface before pressing down heavily on the central region with a resolve born of desire, hatred, and a desperate, all-or-nothing gamble.

His three eyes stared intently at the name marked there, as if gazing upon his only salvation or his final tomb. His hoarse voice whispered into the empty hall.

"Silver Radiance City..."

...

...

"So..."

Roland pointed a finger up at the strange sky that hung perpetually overhead, flowing slowly like murky oil paint. He looked at Hagry, who was bound on the ground, his face pale from blood loss and pain, and asked in a low voice,

"That’s the ’Curtain of Heaven’? We came through it, so you call us ’Veil Breakers’?"

Hagry nodded weakly, his voice hoarse.

"That’s right... the Curtain of Heaven... it’s a cage, and a barrier."

"Countless people have tried to cross it, whether trying to get in or get out. They all died, turning to nothingness... I haven’t... I haven’t seen new Veil Breakers in a long time."

Roland’s gaze swept over the Chainsaw Sword at his feet, which had stopped running, and he continued to press for answers.

"What about these things? And the armor on your bodies, the vehicles you ride... did you forge them yourselves?"

Hagry shook his head with difficulty, sucking in a sharp breath as pain flared from his severed arm.

"No... we didn’t. These... these ’Blessings’ were all dug up from the ancient ruins deep within the ’Big Pit.’ We just... learned how to use them..."

"Ancient ruins..."

Roland repeated quietly, understanding dawning on him.

’By the looks of it, these powerful yet uniquely styled creations aren’t products of the current civilization. They most likely originate from... the Crystal Era? That era of extreme prosperity on the Aiselon Continent, which only exists in fragmented ancient records.’

Just as he was lost in thought, Duraga walked over with heavy steps, a clear shadow of gloom on his coarse Gray Dwarf face.

He lowered his voice, speaking at a volume only the two of them could hear.

"Things aren’t looking good, Roland."

Roland’s heart tightened, thinking there was a problem with the repairs.

"Is the Shell Ship still unable to adapt to the magic environment here?"

Duraga shook his head, his thick eyebrows knitted tightly together.

"That’s not it. The repairs on the ship’s hull are going smoothly. I’ve already recalibrated the Rune Circuits to ’squeeze’ out enough energy to fly on this continent, but..."

He paused, a look of extreme confusion on his face, and pointed toward the Shell Ship’s navigation core.

"The problem is with the navigation."

"I can’t lock onto, or even detect, any spatial coordinates or Star Realm anchor points inside or outside this continent. It’s like... like something is completely blocking the signal."

Roland’s brow furrowed deeply.

"Is it because of interference from these strange Magic Elements?"

"No, it doesn’t seem so."

Duraga slowly refuted the guess, his voice carrying a hint of imperceptible unease.

"This interference... it feels more... deliberate."

"It’s as if some powerful, incomprehensible force has forcibly twisted the spatial connection between this area and the outside world, forming an invisible cage."

"It seems... it doesn’t want anything to easily leave or wander this continent."

Duraga’s words were like a stone tossed into a calm pond, sending ripples of doubt spreading through Roland’s mind.