Chapter 532 - 487: Irreversible Sorrow

Chapter 532: Chapter 487: Irreversible Sorrow

But deep within those eyes, which usually burned with rage, an undeniable shadow born from the absolute disparity in Power was slowly spreading.

He did not fear death. But against an opponent who could mercilessly erase the very act of inflicting damage, a Warrior’s pride and fighting spirit felt as if they had crashed against an invisible, eternal wall of sighs.

Avril pressed her pale lips together. An Elf’s pride kept her spine straight, but the slightly lowered tip of her arrow and the hint of bewilderment deep in her eyes betrayed her faltering resolve.

She excelled at finding the spark of life within the currents of nature, but this completely ’defined’ expanse of Space-Time before her was cold, precise, and offered no foothold for her Natural Spiritual Attribute.

Galvis clutched his battered Lute, his fingertips unconsciously brushing across its broken strings, yet he could no longer coax a single inspiring note from it.

He had exhausted more than just his Magic Power; he had spent the very conviction that his music could touch the world and sway the hearts of men.

When his song failed to create even a single ripple in the sea of ’Rules’ his foe controlled, the Minstrel’s Power lost its anchor.

A sense of resignation, like a cold fog, quietly settled over them.

It wasn’t that they had given up the fight. Rather, in the face of absolute Power and an incomprehensible Authority, a helplessness born from the very limits of their understanding was eroding their will to battle.

They still stood, weapons in hand, but the sharp edge of their initial resolve had been inevitably cast in shadow.

This suffocating atmosphere of despair crept into Roland’s heart as well.

The chasm of despair between them was enough to break the back of most Warriors.

But only for a moment.

Roland’s eyes sharpened, as if he’d severed the encroaching shadow in his heart with an unseen blade.

And before despair could take hold, an icy suspicion surged through him.

’Something’s wrong...’

He furrowed his brow, his gaze sharp as lightning, rapidly dissecting the near-absurd situation before him.

’Yemiga was right. The Power He’s shown could easily overwhelm us. If He wanted, He could have imprisoned us, disintegrated us, or even simply ’deleted’ us from this segment of time before we launched that final attack. But He didn’t.’

’He’s been ’persuading’ us, demonstrating the miracle of ’rewinding time,’ stressing that we have ’no chance of victory’... This doesn’t seem like the most efficient method for a being who possesses absolute Power and is clearly wary of and curious about us—especially me. Not unless...’

Inspiration struck Roland.

’Is something restricting Him? Or... would killing me—completely erasing this ’variable’—bring some kind of ’consequence’ for Him, for Silver Radiance City, for the cycle itself... a consequence He is unwilling or unable to bear?’

The thought was a spark in the darkness, instantly igniting Roland’s nearly depleted mind.

He recalled the words of the Son of Divine Remains and the mission bestowed upon Yemiga as the ’World Serpent’.

To maintain the ’correctness’ and ’eternity’ of Silver Radiance City.

’If an uncontrollable ’variable’ capable of disrupting the cycle were to suddenly vanish, would that trigger some unpredictable chaos within the system?’

’Or perhaps my ’Time Traveler’ attribute is connected to this altered Space-Time on a deeper level—one that even Yemiga hadn’t fully deciphered, forcing Him to tread carefully?’

Countless theories collided in his mind, but one thing was becoming clear.

Yemiga was not omnipotent. At least, not when it came to a unique existence like him. He couldn’t simply do as He pleased.

At this thought, Roland took a deep breath of the dusty, scorched air. His nearly exhausted heart began to pump with renewed, unyielding Power.

He took a step forward, his tall frame shielding his despondent companions like a rock, and slightly bent his body.

It was not a sign of weakness, but the posture of a taut bow, drawn and ready to fire.

He raised his head, staring directly into Yemiga’s inhuman, dark-yellow slit pupils. Though his pale face was still slick with sweat, his gaze was as sharp as it was at the start.

Seeing that Roland still refused to yield, the effortless composure on Yemiga’s face—the look of a scientist observing the final struggles of a test subject—faltered for an instant.

Within his dark-yellow slit pupils, the eternally flowing stream of data-like calculations seemed to fall into a momentary Chaos, only to be replaced by a cold, almost tangible rage.

This was not the hot fury of a mortal who had been offended. It was the icy wrath of a higher being, the chilling indignation of a ’guardian of the world’s Rules’ whose meticulously constructed ’certainty’ and ’sense of control’ had been defied time and time again.

"Mr. Roland..."

Yemiga’s voice was still level, but every syllable seemed to carry a soul-freezing chill.

"You are more... obstinate than I imagined. And far more... unwise."

He slowly shook his head, as if lamenting a precious specimen that was destined for destruction.

"In that case..."

Yemiga made no further attempts to persuade him, nor did he demonstrate his miracle of reversing time again.

He simply raised his arms, like a conductor about to begin the final movement of a symphony, his posture both elegant and lethal.

But his target was not Roland.

His indifferent gaze swept past Roland to the companions behind him—those who, though despondent, still gripped their weapons, placing their final Hope in him.

The next moment, the attack descended.

There was no great fanfare, no blinding light.

There wasn’t even a ’process’.

Under Yemiga’s will, Space-Time itself became the most precise and cruel instrument of execution.