Chapter 535 - 488: Do-or-Die Finale

Chapter 535: Chapter 488: Do-or-Die Finale

The phantom pain lingering on his fingertips still screamed at his nerve endings.

The touch of Avril’s body as it turned to ash—light as nothing, yet heavy as a mountain; the nauseatingly smooth "emptiness" where Duraga had been; the faint yet piercing crackle as Galvis shattered into crystal shards...

Every detail was like a poison-laced Ice Cone, repeatedly carving into his memory and Perception.

Grief was the first tide, submerging everything, bringing with it a salty suffocation and the dull ache of a heart being squeezed.

Regret followed close behind, like maggots clinging to his bones.

’Why couldn’t I have noticed sooner?’

’Why can Oath Guardian only save one person?’

’Why am I still not strong enough?’

These emotions washed over him violently, threatening to sweep away what little reason and will he had left, dragging him into the Abyss named "Powerlessness" and "Loss."

However.

Just as the cold, desperate tide was about to crest, something deeper, more fundamental, was ignited.

Not smoldering embers, but a new Flame, one that had been forcibly compressed and forged.

Grief and regret did not disappear, but they were devoured, transformed, and reconstructed by a greater Power.

Like the extreme cold of the arctic finally freezing into a translucent, indestructible iceberg.

All his negative emotions...

Pain, powerlessness, Fear, even the instinctual awe he felt for Yemiga’s inhuman existence.

At this moment, all of it was thrown into an invisible furnace.

The core of that furnace was the most primal and violent...

...transgressive rage that had erupted when he witnessed his dearest friends being "disposed of" as easily as wiping away dust.

’By what right?’

’By what right could He so casually determine life and death, toy with time, and treat everything he cherished as experimental parameters to be freely erased and rewritten?’

’By what right were he and the people he cared about trapped in this false eternity, forced to become nutrients and background scenery for some arrogant ambition?’

The tide of grief receded, revealing the cold, hard riverbed beneath.

The poisoned barbs of regret were pulled out, the resulting voids filled with an even colder substance.

It was a pure rage, one stripped of all impurities.

This rage was so cold, yet so searing, it instantly burned away his lingering daze and numbness.

It didn’t make Roland lose his mind. Instead, like a bone-chilling current, it washed over his every Perception, leaving them exceptionally clear and sharp.

Grief and regret were compressed and tempered, becoming fuel for this rage. His gaze refocused, his thoughts settling and crystallizing at an astonishing speed.

Then, he "looked" toward the source of that rage.

Yemiga.

Not at his composure, not at his Authority.

Instead, he pierced through that halo of Divine Attribute and air of total control, "staring" intently at a fact that had just occurred, yet was concealed by the reversal of time.

’We hurt him...’

The thought was like a lightning bolt in the dead of night, suddenly splitting open the fog of despair.

’It wasn’t an Illusion, not a trick of the mind. Bright Moon truly ran through his chest, leaving that hole clear through from front to back. The astonishment in his eyes, the momentary disruption of his Power... it was all real!’

’He can rewind time, erase the "result," but he can’t negate the "process"! Our attack genuinely touched his "existence" and, for a moment, caused "damage" that even he couldn’t instantly ignore!’

His thoughts, like unbridled wild horses, galloped madly, driven by his cold rage.

’He’s not invincible... at least, not "invulnerable" in the absolute sense. His "invincibility" is built on his absolute control over this pocket of Space-Time and his ability to make timely repairs. But what if...’

Roland’s gaze seemed to pierce through Yemiga’s currently flawless chest, seeing the hole that had briefly existed there.

’What if the intensity, speed, or the inherent "properties" of an attack exceed the threshold of what he can instantly "repair" or "rewind"?’

’What if the "existential damage" caused is of an intensity or nature that exceeds his preset "safety margin"?’

’What if maintaining this massive Space-Time loop is both the source of his Power and, at the same time, his greatest "burden" and "weakness"—the one thing he cannot afford to lose?’

Question after question, clue after clue, collided and reassembled frantically within the furnace of his cold rage.

Roland slowly, very slowly, took a breath.

The breath filled his lungs, carrying the cold air of the archives and taking with it the last trace of hesitation.

Grief was suppressed to the bottom of his heart, becoming a heavy cornerstone.

Rage was sheathed, tempered into resolve.

"Listen to me, guys..."

Roland’s voice was hoarse and low, yet it carried an undeniable, piercing quality that shattered the suffocating silence.

He didn’t turn around. His gaze remained locked on Yemiga as he slowly drew Bright Moon from his waist.

The sword’s cold light illuminated his pale face and the renewed, iron-cold resolve in his eyes.

"A moment ago... before we were ’rewound’..."

He began to speak, his pace unhurried, each word landing like a hammer blow.

"Yemiga killed you. Duraga was erased by space, Galvis was shattered by Silence, and Avril..."

His Adam’s apple bobbed. An almost imperceptible tremor entered his voice, only to be flattened by a stronger force.

"...turned to dust before my eyes."

Brief, direct, without any embellishment.

Yet it was more impactful than any ornate description.

He omitted the details—the struggles, the acts of protection, the despair—stating only the cruelest of outcomes.