"What a sorry state you’re in, Governor Bablushka!"
Balkmon extended the Mage’s Hand, casually crushing a small asteroid. With the other hand, he lifted his magic wand, provoking the chanical Colossus with the tip’s magical blade, laughing brazenly:
"The Galactic Governor of the Night Butterfly, deploying chanical deification, yet fighting so timidly—don’t you feel ashad?"
"Noisy bastard..."
Bablushka snorted coldly, offering no retort.
The Holy Machine Body was covered in scars, nanochanics racing through scripture recitals to repair them. These details betrayed a harsh truth: in the recent spell clash, Bablushka had been absolutely outmatched.
And Balkmon? Balkmon’s body twisted grotesquely, the light reflecting from him forming complex, fluid clusters. To a mortal’s gaze, even a brief stare would induce dizziness. Direct proximity would see one torn apart by the twisted curse.
Bablushka glanced at the space around him—the sunlight itself appeared sowhat distorted.
Balkmon was nothing short of a madman.
In sheer strength, he was only slightly inferior.
However, Kappa Rank warriors afflicted by the Border Abyss’s curse would find their will increasingly distorted the more they used their strength.
Balkmon did not care about this, freely wielding forbidden spells and stacking power, indifferent to the curse’s influence. Instead, the more distorted he beca, the more fierce his onslaught.
No wonder he was hailed as a genius by the Narrative-Level Civilization.
The Golden Dragon Monks on the front lines were already troubleso enough. If the Crystal Tower deployed this guy to the front...
The outco would be unimaginable.
"You didn’t co here just to have a fight with , did you, Minister Balkmon?"
Bablushka nodded, emitting a sanctified, lodious synthetic voice akin to a choir singer:
"If this continues, you’ll be devoured by the curse, and I’ll succumb to the Border Abyss’s curse—a pyrrhic victory at best."
The unspoken implication being: Enough of this nonsense, further fighting will hurt us both.
"Victory—does it matter?"
Balkmon spat out the words purely, carrying his wand like an ancient knight wielding a guandao, truly perplexed:
"Knowing your opponent is weaker and poses no threat, yet striking ruthlessly, even winning such a fight is dishonorable."
"But knowing your opponent is stronger, making victory impossible, and still charging head-on, even losing such a fight earns you praise as a warrior."
"Governor Bablushka, tell : does victory matter?"
Balkmon’s words seed illogical, his thoughts chaotic, his voice coming from all directions:
"Victory is aningless. Only the battle of the mont is truly real."
His arcane glow surged outward, forming eerie, terrifying twisted tendrils.
He rambled on:
"Returning warriors desecrate the fight itself..."
Desecrate?
Desecrate...
DESECRATE!!!
His words were filled with a multitude of shifting emotions, twisted and interwoven, whether joyous or sorrowful, angry or resentful, causing the entire galaxy to tremble.
"Goddamn it..."
Bablushka backed away rapidly, watching the terrifying energy surge from Balkmon’s body, his heart sinking:
"This madman has entered ’Curse Mode’!"
Kappa Rank was not a power ant for this universe. The higher one climbed the Pathway, the more inseparable they beca from their affinity and fanaticism for the Primordial Abyss.
Every Ascender knew clearly... the divine power they sought ca from the deeper layers of the Starry Abyss.
Ascending required subrging. Subrging drew the Starry Abyss’s love and attention. After receiving its benefits, hoping to resurface?
No such luck.
For Ascenders escaping the Starry Abyss, its curse would intertwine with their bloodline and fate for life, until they were utterly extinguished.
Curse Mode was an utter release, relinquishing resistance to the curse, actively responding to the Starry Abyss’s call.
—Return to the Starry Abyss!
In a physical sense.
If this continued, he’d drag everything around him into the Border Abyss.
"Tch, all this for a Canyue, such a bad deal—"
Bablushka cursed under his breath. Just then, a ssage ca from his subordinates. He quickly scanned it, delight filling his heart:
"Oh? Two fragnts of the Eye of Discernnt— ’Lyle Sventler’s Art of Deception’ and ’Lyle Sventler’s Whispers’—have been secured?"
Though they hadn’t obtained the highest-value ’Card of Destiny by Lyle Sventler,’ this was enough to break even.
Moreover, his staff brought even more exhilarating news:
"Observations show that the chanical World Society, Mashigang, has invaded Baizhu Star and established a Council? They will descend soon? What fortune!"
Bablushka’s eyes lit up, the electronic orbs shining with divine glory.
Mother of the Night above, the deities were blessing the Night Butterfly People with victory.
Baizhu Star was the pri source of troops for the Crystal Tower. If the chanical World Society consud it, the Night Butterfly Federation would steamroll the frontline!
"This is destiny... The fate of the Night Butterfly Federation is rewritten from this mont!"
Stall!
As long as he stalled this sole Kappa Rank, he would win.
Bablushka laughed wildly:
"Wahahahaha! Hahahaha!"
He flung his head back, his chanical face twisted into a grotesque smile:
"Baaalkmon! Since you want to fight so badly, I’ll humor you!"
The Machine Slaves’ hymns were filled with treachery, the prayer verses deviated bizarrely, light bent under the cursed aura, enveloping Bablushka’s grand chanical form in an orange-red vortex like a black hole.
The Border Abyss Curse—Warped Pathway
Balkmon stuck out his tongue, surging forth with epoch-changing magical energy, planets incinerated into crystalline glass by his magical radiation. Bablushka’s dark night wings unfolded like those of a butterfly, spewing jets that decomposed teors and solid water, scattering beautiful blue arcs across the galaxy.
Collision, tearing!
In the combat interwoven with destruction and hate, reality itself warped and twisted, light and ti distorted wherever they went, only ruthless, insane laughter echoing through the Star Realm.
"This is the fate of the cursed."
Bablushka’s staff officer shook his head, offering no further comnt.
As decisive armants, Kappa Rank warriors held imnse importance, each engagent strictly limited. A single misstep could see one dragged into the Border Abyss, cursed by the Starry Abyss forever.
Narrative-level civilizations lacked not high-rank warriors, but those capable of fighting normally.
The higher the rank, the stronger the curse from multiple ascensions and subrgings, bringing them one step closer to madness and destruction.
But even so... who could resist the allure of the Pathway to godhood?
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