It could not be reproduced. This also meant... its effects were incurable!
Sometimes, one didn't even need to act; the effects of Position Reversal alone were enough to severely injure a Sublimator... just like now!
In the midst of the chaos, Huai Shi stumbled to the ground, painfully doubling over.
He tore off the small respirator hanging on his face and opened his mouth, but he could not breathe.
He felt his Stigma rapidly shrinking. The Buried Sacred Place around him quickly receded, while his Source Substance scattered, becoming chaotically violent.
His head was buzzing.
It could no longer be controlled.
The regression began.
Stigma: Soloist dissipated!
.
.
"What the hell?"
On the truck, amidst the ruins of another landmass, Raymond stared dumbfounded at the scene displayed on the screen.
Huai Shi got sniped? he wondered. But where was the sniper?
No matter how his radar scanned, it couldn't find the sniper's location. Only when the search range expanded to its maximum could he distinguish the signal of a Gryphon-style Flyer amidst the countless electronic noises.
The distance... 26.31 kilometers?
Without a second thought, Raymond waved his hand. Beneath the truck's splitting armor, a heavy gun barrel rose abruptly. It adjusted its angle, corrected its coordinates, and locked onto the aircraft far on the horizon.
The core of the 'Wheel of Fate' began to operate urgently, overdriving its systems.
A scorching light brewed within the barrel, ready to unleash a retaliatory counterattack.
But before that could happen, a piercing threat alarm blared by Raymond's ear. Instinctively, he turned the barrel, aiming behind him.
He fired!
A mighty stream of light erupted, engulfing the figure emerging from the ruins.
Then, heat sufficient to incinerate an entire building was cleaved apart—by an overly massive tower shield and Heavy Sword.
The blood-colored phantom of Asura rose into the air.
Immersed in blood and death, 'Non-Heaven' raised its eyes, and the Vajra Pestle in its hand smashed forward.
In that instant, the artillery fire was split in two by the slash!
As the cannon fire, composed of pure heat, slowly dissipated, the dull sound of flowing lava could be heard. On the scorched, crimson earth, an armored figure slowly walked towards Raymond.
Raymond was already frozen in place.
Transfixed by those ancient eyes, he could not move.
"Hey, isn't this too much..." He swallowed dryly. "Wasn't it said... that Fourth Stage couldn't participate in the war?"
"The contract, indeed, says so." The Ten Thousand Chiefs of the Eye of Nightmare—the silent Avery—lifted his hand, took off the fierce Lion Helmet, revealing an indifferent face.
"I am not participating in the conflict between Ivy Vine and the Ivory Tower." He calmly informed the man before him, "I came here merely to purge a former apostate from my ranks, to erase the shame."
Raymond said nothing.
His fingers hanging by his waist twitched as if trying to grasp something, but they caught only air.
He looked momentarily bewildered, his expression gradually turning bitter.
Avery gazed at his waist and asked indifferently, "Renault, where is your sword?"
"...It's long been broken, Teacher," Raymond sighed, slowly raising his hands. "Can I surrender? I can kneel right now, as long as you spare my life, even if it means cutting off my own hands and feet... As for money, we can discuss any amount. I've saved a lot over the years, as long as you, Teacher, can be lenient..."
But his voice was cut off. Avery looked at him, his eyes now devoid of mercy and gentleness, only a cold calm. "It seems the spine also broke along with the sword, didn't it?"
Raymond stood there stunned for a long time, then weakly lowered his head.
"Yes, it's all broken... Why can't you just let me go this once?" he asked. "Why make things difficult for a 'Knight' who doesn't even have a mount anymore? You see, someone as disgraceful as me, even if left alone, wouldn't I die a terrible death someday anyway? Why must you dirty your own hands, esteemed elder?"
"Words are of no benefit. Draw your weapon, Renault, Son of Dragon." Avery, both hands resting on the pommel of his Heavy Sword, declared impassively, "Let me see how much your skills have improved since the battle at the Feuerbach Mansion. After losing your Red Dragon, to what depths have you fallen?"
In the deathly silence, Raymond sighed, "Is there really no other choice?"
Avery nodded with understanding. "So these are your last words?"
"No, I just—" Raymond began to explain.
Then, beside him, the once silent cannon, as if it couldn't bear to watch anymore, decided to 'chime in' as a bystander.
Unfortunately, it didn't utter words like 'to be fair' or 'indeed.' From its muzzle erupted a terrifyingly bright light, no less fearsome than the previous blast!
Avery sighed. There was no shock, no surprise; he even felt an urge to scoff.
He lifted his Heavy Sword and brought it down again, effortlessly tearing through the cannon fire that was all show and no substance.
But Raymond was no longer there. The ruins were a mess; both the truck and Raymond had vanished without a trace.
In the far distance, one could see the truck, now unrecognizable. It had sprouted eight legs like a Spider and was carrying Raymond as it sprinted away at an incredible speed.