Above the ruins of Seoul, gunpowder smoke and purple mist interwove into a suffocating net.
The twin guns in Mizuki Hoshi’s hands spat tongues of fire, the muzzles reddening from overheating.
She slid under an alien’s pounce, then kicked it hard in the jaw, using the momentum to backflip and finish it with two headshots midair.
The outskirts of this villa on the outskirts of Seoul had already been piled high with alien corpses into a small mountain.
The three silently carried out the head of the family’s orders.
Rumble—
Just then, a deafening roar as if from the depths of the earth interrupted everyone’s actions.
It was as if the planet’s heart had suddenly given a violent thump.
“What’s happening? An earthquake?” Mizuki Hoshi looked around in terror.
Immediately after, the aliens surging in like a tidal wave halted instantly in place.
They let out agonized shrieks, then their bodies began to disintegrate—like sand sculptures weathered by the wind.
After an invisible wave swept through, no matter how hard their shells or how strong their regenerative abilities, everything turned to purple dust in an instant, vanishing in the wind.
In just a few seconds, the densely packed horde had completely turned to ash.
“This…”
Sasaki’s eyes widened. Before he could even breathe a sigh of relief, an even greater wave of fear clenched his heart.
The three instinctively looked up at the sky of Seoul, forever shrouded in purple mist.
There, the enormous shadow suspended over the city like a mountain range—the remains of the Insect God—was now trembling violently.
And wrapped around those remains were hundreds of thick chains emitting a faint blue light.
That was the “Seoul’s Lock.”
That was the seal formation built at the cost of countless top Espers’ lives.
It was these chains that locked the God’s corpse, preventing its radiation from turning all of Asia into a dead zone.
But now.
Crack—
The first chain snapped in full view. The crisp sound of breaking echoed through the silent world like the bell of doomsday.
Then the second, the third…
Crack, crack, crack, crack, crack—
A continuous series of snapping sounds rang through the sky. The blue seal’s glow rapidly dimmed.
“The seal… broke?”
Mizuki Hoshi’s legs gave way, and she fell to her knees.
Beneath her mask, her face was deathly pale: “It’s over… The Insect God is going to revive…”
The nearest landmass to the peninsula besides Serys was Japan. Her family was still there!
“Hurry! Back to the family head!”
Sasaki reacted first and yanked Mizuki Hoshi to her feet. The three frantically charged toward the open space in front of the villa.
But when they rushed into the clearing, it was completely empty. No sign of Jiang Jian Yue, nor of that Saori Saiyonji.
Just then, the sky changed.
The deep purple that had hung over Seoul—the color of the Insect God’s power—suddenly developed an extremely small red dot at the center of the Insect God’s remains.
That red dot was so vivid, so eye-catching, like a drop of concentrated ink into clear water.
Hum—
A blood-red ripple burst out from that red dot, expanding instantly.
It ignored space, ignored distance, sweeping across the entire sky with overbearing force.
Before the purple mist, this red ripple was like a natural enemy, melting it away madly.
In the span of a single breath. Seoul’s sky changed—to a shocking blood red.
“That’s…” Beiye looked up, staring blankly at the sky.
There, the enormous Insect God’s remains, against the backdrop of the blood-red sky, began to twist.
Its center seemed to collapse into a massive black hole. The god’s corpse, a symbol of despair and terror, was being frantically devoured by that black hole.
The colossal object that had blotted out the sky just minutes ago shrank visibly, eventually turning into a streak of light and plummeting straight down. The direction of the fall: this very villa.
Boom!
The streak of light crashed into the center of the clearing, kicking up a cloud of blood-red dust. When the dust cleared.
A petite figure stood quietly in the center. The hem of her combat suit’s skirt fluttered slightly with the airflow.
Deep within Jiang Jian Yue’s blood-red eyes, a faint golden pattern had appeared, faintly forming a strange symbol. Other than that, no other change.
She raised her hand, and in her palm floated a crystal-clear regular dodecahedron core.
Inside the core, it was as if a miniature galaxy was sealed, countless lights slowly rotating within.
This was… a Godhood, or rather… a biological crystal from another plane.
After devouring the Insect God, Jiang Jian Yue also inherited a part of its memories.
The “Insect God,” or rather the creature named “Abo,” came from another world.
Not a higher-dimensional life form. Simply that the basic settings of that world, when translated to this one, allowed Abo to exist as a “god.”
The other functions of the Godhood were insignificant to her. The most important thing was that it granted her the concept of “ownership.”
Any being that believed in her, submitted to her, or was branded with her mark would be judged on a rule level as “belonging to her.”
And anything belonging to her could be used as a bargaining chip for [Trade].
That meant, as long as she was willing, she could sacrifice the lives and souls of her subordinates at any time to exchange with the world for the results she wanted.
At the same time, Jiang Jian Yue finally understood that the negative emotions caused by the side effect of her ability were actually the runaway energy in space.
Her own negative value of runaway energy naturally meant that her body was constantly absorbing runaway energy.
But the magnitude was small, and its impact on her emotions wasn’t as great as the pleasure brought by Kokoro.
However, when copying abilities, the multiplier of this absorption instantly increased by hundreds of millions of times… The result was emotional breakdown.
In a sense, she truly was a Super Devourer.
“Thud.”
Sasaki was the first to kneel on one knee, bowing his head deeply. Mizuki Hoshi and Beiye followed.
“Congratulations, family head.” Sasaki said respectfully.
Jiang Jian Yue turned her wrist, merging the Godhood into her body, and said calmly, “Next target: bring back the Shock Core.”
“Understood!” The three answered in unison without hesitation.
……
Agony.
The tearing agony still lingered deep in Saori Saiyonji’s consciousness, as if trying to rip his soul apart from the middle.
He clearly remembered the rough texture of the sand, the resolve in Jiang Jian Yue’s cold blood-red eyes, the icy sharpness at his neck.
Then, the fall. Endless void.
With a grunt, Saori Saiyonji’s eyes snapped open, and his body instinctively sat up.
He gasped for breath, his hand moving to his neck—smooth, intact. No wound, no blood.
He looked down. He was no longer wearing the shirt stained with sand and blood, but a modernized Chinese-style robe. He looked up blankly.
Before him, the world was dazzling.
Layers of vermilion flying eaves and interlocking brackets rose like burning flames, filling the horizon.
Countless red lanterns painted with intricate, strange patterns floated in midair, casting a warm, soft yellow light that illuminated this city—seemingly trapped in an eternal twilight—as bright as day.
This was not a desert.
Not inside the Insect God.
Nor the ruins of Seoul.
Where… was this?
‘I… was killed?’
As cognition backtracked, Saori Saiyonji felt a tickle in his throat.
He subconsciously clenched his fist, feeling the sensation in his palm.
No anger, no fear. After the initial shock, Saori Saiyonji was already resigned.
Yes, he had resisted. With his life and his beliefs, he had cast a veto against Jiang Jian Yue’s unquestionable “New World” plan.
Though the outcome was death, he had upheld his dignity as Saori Saiyonji, not someone else’s pawn.
“Ha…” A bitter laugh escaped his lips.
But this resignation didn’t last long. A figure emerged vividly in his mind.
A sharp pain pierced his heart, far more unbearable than Jiang Jian Yue’s sword.
Kirishima Ren, his new wife, the one he had promised to protect for life.
He had left her alone in that hellish wedding scene, left her in the immense grief of losing him.
Tears burst forth, scaldingly sliding down his cheeks, dripping onto the bluestone pavement beneath him.
“Little brother, don’t cry, don’t cry! On such a happy day, losing golden beans is such a pity!”
“Young man, life is full of disappointments—take it easy, take it easy.”
“Big brother, want a sugar-coated hawthorn? It’s sweet, then you won’t cry!”
The “people” around him gathered, speaking words of concern with lively expressions and gentle tones.
For a moment, Saori Saiyonji was at a loss. He thought these people were mindless wandering souls.
“Excusez-moi, monsieur?”
A clear, pleasant voice sounded, with a distinct French accent. A fair hand gently rested on Saori Saiyonji’s trembling shoulder.
He looked up. Through tear-blurred vision, he saw a young woman with blonde hair and blue eyes.
She wore a modified Hanfu ruqun, her golden hair coiled up with a jade hairpin—well, a Westerner in such attire looked particularly strange, even Saori Saiyonji, a Japanese man, could tell.
“You look very lost and very sad. My name is Ailuodi. Welcome to Phantom City.” Though she spoke French, Saori Saiyonji somehow understood her meaning.
“It’s a wonderful place!”
Saori Saiyonji instinctively wiped his face, trying to hide his loss of composure, but his reddened eyes couldn’t be concealed.
Ailuodi seemed not to mind his disheveled state and enthusiastically took his arm: “Come! Let me show you around!”
She was quite strong, with a tour guide’s kind of enthusiasm.
“I’ll take you to the registration office! New residents can get a nice place to live, near the academy or the tea house. Life here is so comfortable—no worries, no troubles. Any skill you want to learn, there’s a master to teach you. Any snack you crave, the shops have them!”
She chattered on about the “benefits” of Phantom City, her tone lighthearted, painting a picture of a carefree utopia.
Saori Saiyonji was half-dragged, half-pulled along, his steps unsteady.
Everything around him surrounded him with overwhelming reality.
But Ailuodi’s enthusiastic introduction sounded like background noise from a distant world, indistinct.
He knew he was dead.
He knew Jiang Jian Yue had won the first step.
He knew Ren was still in the real world, suffering the pain of losing him.
And he himself was trapped in this eternally false “Phantom City.”
Looking at Ailuodi’s bright profile, at the unquestioning belief in “a good life” in her eyes, an indescribable loneliness completely swallowed Saori Saiyonji.
He let Ailuodi pull him along, merging into the bustling crowd.
After that, his figure was never seen again—
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