Defiance of the Fall Chapter 1390: The Pressure of a World

A towering fury held back the agonizing pain and the rising cacophony of voices. This rage served as a lifeline, allowing him to steady himself while he suppressed the chaotic Temporal Energy warping his senses and the tempests tearing through his fractured Inner World.

Zorm was stunned by the speed and scale of the collapse. Reaching Lodge Island should have signaled the end of the greatest risks. He had successfully eliminated this layer’s Zorm Hastor without alerting the trackers. Furthermore, he had earned significant merit by facilitating the quiet infiltration of the Hastor Society and gathering rare materials unique to this side of reality.

Given his accomplishments, Zorm expected rewards sufficient to guarantee his survival during the Great Merge. Though other C-grade versions of himself existed across infinite layers, he possessed the might of the First Era and the backing of the prime dimension to ensure his success. Now, he would be fortunate to simply avoid a military court-martial for his failure.

It mattered little that everyone had missed the enemies hiding in the shadows. As the commanding officer, the responsibility for the destruction of the main array eye fell solely on him. He briefly suspected Navel of intentional negligence, though that seemed unlikely given Navel would be the next one sent to the gallows. Only one path remained to lessen the fallout: he had to capture the culprit and uncover their scheme. This faction was far more capable than anticipated, reaching this restricted zone before the island's defensive formations could be deactivated.

Idiche was not a concern. Although she didn’t exist in Zorm’s home reality, his intelligence reports suggested he could easily overwhelm her, even in his current battered state. The true threat was the meddling outsider. Fortunately, the stranger showed no evidence of an Inner World and had walked straight into Zorm's trap.

Neither the vision-obscuring fog nor the Corrosive Death could prevent Zorm from tracking his target’s cautious approach—a weakling lurking in the shadows rather than engaging like a true warrior. Zorm intended to see if the assassin would remain hidden once he demolished the battlefield the man had created.

Despite his resolve, Zorm felt a prickle of dread as he looked at the detailed statues encircling the massive eye of Pure Oblivion. He was certain this was a technique rather than a magical tool. Never had he witnessed a Hegemon manipulate Energy and Dao with such complexity. Even most Monarchs would find it difficult to craft something of this caliber without significant time to prepare.

“It changes nothing. A single force can suppress Myriad Daos,” Zorm growled, his face contorted as the phantom of a one-eyed colossus rose behind him.

The swarm of chains attempting to bind Zorm plummeted toward the ground, unable to withstand the crushing gravitational force of his Illusory Blood Fiend. The pain of the backlash intensified as the giant shared its power, but Zorm endured, focusing all his strength into his fist. Intricacy was fragile; simplicity was the true Heaven’s Path.

Becoming an extension of his own strike, Zorm lunged at the desolate eye, pouring his rage and the full weight of his Cultivation into the blow. A ghostly chain manifested out of thin air, trying to pull him off course, while a protective shield shimmered into existence before him. Zorm snarled in frustration, refusing to let anything halt his violent momentum.

Space warped under the pressure, and Zorm felt a surge of triumph as the barrier shredded like cheap parchment. His strike tore through, vaporizing more than half of the anti-sun. The Oblivion was snuffed out, leaving a mile-wide gap in the shroud of darkness. The sky above became visible, and the sight of the flickering magic circle stoked his temper once more.

His pulse quickened with murderous intent as he caught sight of the cloaked figure retreating into the gloom. Ignoring the closing portal in the sky, he let the collapsing eye attempt to reform; it was too weak to be a threat now. There was no reason for him to run.

“We aren't finished,” Zorm smirked, grabbing hold of the spectral chain.

The assassin was jerked forward like a beast to the altar. Only at the final moment did Zorm sense a lethal danger. The world seemed to tilt as the target spun in mid-air, launching a savage, sudden blow toward Zorm's head. Facing death, Zorm’s fractured thoughts cleared, and he desperately tapped into the power within the cracked seal of his Inner World.

A surge of Primordial Energy from the First Era flared and vanished, channeled directly into his physical form. Inspired by ancient techniques, a void-black eye manifested on his left temple. Fighting through waves of nausea as his perspective doubled, Zorm focused on the incoming streak of dark energy.

Thick blood leaked from the new eye as he forced a replication of the Blood Fiend’s innate power. A wave of ocular energy erupted with unstoppable velocity. It shattered the dark blade that had made Zorm’s soul tremble, and the remaining shockwave slammed into the armored arm of his foe. The sound of breaking bone echoed from beneath the metal, and black blood smelling of rot leaked through the seams. The sight nearly distracted Zorm from his own agony. He doubted anything but ruined meat remained inside that armor. Zorm gave a booming laugh, swatting away two chains targeting his face. He intended for his next strike to pierce the man's chest.

His laughter died in his throat as the axe swung toward him again. The assassin, who should have been incapacitated by pain, had lashed a chain around his mangled arm to force a second strike. He had even utilized the momentum from the previous clash against Zorm’s eyes to speed up the follow-up. Though it lacked the sheer power of the first hit, it was still a killing blow.

Zorm grimaced, blocking the strike with his forearm and feeling a burning corrosion seep into the flesh. He couldn't understand it—the man's arm was a pulp of bone and muscle, yet he didn't even flinch. Moving such an injury should have caused enough agony to induce unconsciousness, yet the man continued his assault.

The assassin showed no fear and no desire to hide. Zorm found himself trapped by constricting chains and lethal edges, facing a silent fanatic who moved like a hollow doll. Yet, he was far from it. Up close, Zorm finally saw his attacker’s eyes, which seemed to pierce his very soul. Zorm’s spirit wavered at the fire within them; even the chaotic voices in his head fell silent before that terrifyingly concentrated Imperial Killing Intent.

Who was this person? No disciple could possess such a monstrous aura; it was the mark of a great general. Was he being toyed with? Could this be a senior expert who had bypassed the Karmic Blockade and infiltrated the island by suppressing his true power? If so, were there others?

It was no wonder their plans were failing. The Originators were finally striking back.

With his mind racing, Zorm tried to circulate his energy through the intricate pathways he had mastered over centuries. However, every time his [Golden Giant Armor] began to manifest, a chain or a perfectly timed strike broke his focus. It was as if this senior knew his every move before he made it.

Even deploying his Inner World to create a suppressive domain did little to help. His foe maintained four overlapping domains that worked in tandem to pin him down. Perhaps if he were at full strength things would be different, but now, simply preventing his foundations from shattering further was a struggle.

Fury threatened to overwhelm his logic as he fought to land a solid hit. He repeatedly tore through the darkness, but his opponent remained elusive, always a hair's breadth out of reach. Zorm hated the restraint he had to show; a stray blow could kill his own men outside or destroy the remaining parts of the formation.

The warrior with the axe delivered attacks that were individually weak but devastating in their frequency. Zorm felt himself drowning under the relentless pressure that drained his dwindling energy. New wounds opened across his body every second. He only needed one clean hit to win, but his enemy refused to give him the chance.

He had lost the initiative entirely after his first failed explosion. How could he compete with the combat experience of a senior who had survived countless wars? He might as well—

“Enough!” Zorm screamed, venting his desperation in a shockwave of destruction that cleared the chains binding him.

This fight was no different than the mission itself: high risk, high reward. No matter the skill, this opponent was still restricted to the Late D-grade. If Zorm could kill him and present the corpse as evidence, his failures would be overlooked—perhaps even rewarded more than the original objective. A man with such pure killing intent had to be a secret member of the Mercurial Court’s Dao Reserve.

Eliminating such a threat would greatly benefit the elders of his home world. Compared to that, the loss of a few subordinates or array nodes was irrelevant. Seeing a path to redemption, Zorm decided to commit everything.

The seal broke, and a tide of slaughter erupted. It flooded his damaged Inner World and flowed into his injuries, acting as a bloody glue. It surged through his muscles with overwhelming strength. This time, there would be no retreat. He took the next hit willingly, tensing his muscles to trap the axe in his own body.

The target’s rhythm faltered for a fraction of a second, and Zorm’s fist descended before he could recover. The force of the blow was absolute. The fading eye of oblivion vanished like a candle in a gale, and the statues crumbled into millions of echoing shards. The four domains suppressing him were obliterated by the raw power of the First Era, and the shadows were swept away.

“Is that all?” Zorm bellowed at the bits of flesh and broken metal drifting in the air.

His punch hadn't been aimed at the sky; he had struck straight down into the mountain, engulfing the entire valley in his final attack. Zorm didn't care about the collateral damage. Killing this threat justified the death of his subordinates. A primal, insane hunger drove him to reach for a nearby piece of meat.

The voices screamed at him to devour his foe and claim his strength, but a scrap of grey fabric on the flesh restored his clarity. It wasn't the black cloth of the assassin, but the robe of his own cousin. Regret came too late as a cold realization struck him. A sudden, agonizing pain flared as a dark blade sliced through him from his shoulder to his hip.

“You… how?” Zorm gasped. The man had appeared from a blind spot without a single ripple of energy. He had lost his left arm to Zorm’s massive strike, yet the intensity in his eyes had only grown.

“Truly, a mindless beast,” the man spat, his voice sounding like the cold wind of a graveyard.

Blood choked Zorm, preventing a retort. He focused entirely on shielding his nucleus. A physical bisection was survivable, but the strike had exposed the path to his Inner World. In its weakened state, one more hit would shatter it. Zorm desperately reinforced his subspace barrier while triggering the escape artifact he had been saving.

Any hope of victory had vanished. Even the madness of the First Era couldn't restore his will to fight. He had been outplayed at every level, and now only the instinct to survive remained. If he could just escape and heal, he might still survive the Great Merge. Future problems could wait for the future.

Just as Zorm began to fade away, an invisible, alien force slammed into his barrier. This energy was the complete opposite of his own path; even the First Era's power could not withstand it. The attack only managed to create a microscopic crack before dissipating, but it was enough to terrify him to his core.

The walls of an Inner World were bolstered by the laws of the Universe. They were not easily breached. It usually required a long siege or enough internal damage that the owner lost control. Despite Zorm's condition, neither should have been possible yet.

He still possessed enough energy to last until the [Zi’var Retreat] finished activating. It didn't matter if his physical body was pulverized; he could spend centuries reforming it. By then, the conflict would be over. He could disappear into obscurity.

But the sight before him destroyed those hopes. Despair filled Zorm as a scroll appeared behind his attacker. A new line of strange, blood-red text had been written at the bottom. Though he couldn't read the script, Zorm knew instinctively that it was his own name being recorded.

“Bullying the younger generation…” Zorm lamented, filled with bitterness as a black blade suddenly manifested inside his Inner World and split it in two.

This was not the end he had envisioned.

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Ruins lay everywhere. The shockwave hadn't felled the ancient tree, but many of its limbs were shattered. The heat from the blast had sealed the taps in its bark, and its lifeblood had retreated deep into its core. Harvesting more sap would be impossible for now. It didn't matter; the altar and the formation were gone.

It was a necessary destruction.

“Guild Master Marai, your performance this past year was quite convincing,” Royce remarked, wiping blood from his lips. He tried to stay composed, but Marai could see the fury boiling beneath his calm mask. “However, you failed at the end. The same greed that led you to us caused your downfall. Had you actually detonated your Inner World instead of a mere illusion, you might have finished us.”

Marai didn't waste her strength responding to the monster wearing her friend's face. She was struggling to keep her Inner World from falling apart while using a spatial shield to hold back the encroaching corruption. She had been forced to weave lies with truth to deceive these invaders, even truly accepting their tainted gifts. Now, she felt a desperate, parched craving for the very mist she was trying to block.

The decoy Inner World she had used to soak up the madness was crafted from a significant portion of her actual soul. By blowing it up to stop the ritual, she had crippled her future. Even if she survived, her Cultivation would likely wither. And she wasn't ready to leave yet.

“Still, I am impressed. We thought we understood you,” Royce continued. “Did you really think you could just walk away from your new masters after using us to advance? Some paths cannot be retraced. You feel the pull, don't you? Without us—”

“You talk too much,” Marai spat with a bloody smile, reaching into the air.

A small branch nearby burst, revealing a shattered tiara set with a glowing blue stone that radiated ancient power. The others had been hesitant, trying to locate Sevona’s semi-awakened artifact after the blast. Marai’s quick thinking had given her the advantage. She hadn't become the head of a treasure-hunting guild on luck alone.

“No!” Royce screamed, his body warping into a nightmare shape as Marai seized the tiara.

Marai felt a pang of grief seeing the monster Royce had become, but it only strengthened her resolve. These invaders were right; she was selfish and had little loyalty to the Empire. But they shouldn't have tried to win her over by replacing the man she loved. She would destroy their work even if it cost her life.

Her spatial shield shattered under a barrage of attacks. With no way to dodge, she couldn't let her physical form be obliterated. She channeled the damage directly into her Inner World, letting it strike her broken lands like falling stars. The corruption clouded her mind, and she felt a nearly irresistible urge to surrender the treasure just for a moment of peace.

Her vision blurred, and her focus slipped. She clung to her core identity, using her hatred for the thing Royce had become to power her [Peregrine Voyage]. Royce’s screams faded as she was pulled through space, the following strikes hitting nothing but air. A moment later, Marai slammed into a hard, damp surface. The impact broke her back, leaving her paralyzed and drained.

“Still trapped,” Marai whispered, sensing the corruption all around her.

She had hoped her most powerful escape tool would take her back to the Peregrine Isles one last time, but the barrier was too thick. She wasn't even sure if the island still existed in their world.