Chapter 97: Silquaya
Her true body? What true body? Wasn’t she an Apostle of an Outer God? Where would a true body co from?
At this mont, Hethorik stared at the puppet walking toward him, an ominous feeling rising unbidden in his heart.
anwhile, the corners of Sylvia’s lips curled upward in an arc that no human could ever make, accompanied by cracks spreading across her face.
Within those cracks shimred brilliant starlight.
The starlight pulsed as if breathing, rendering the gray-haired puppet both eerie and enigmatic.
At the sa ti, ghostly howls echoed in Sylvia’s ears.
They ca from various entities, layered atop one another, impossible to discern individually, and pierced straight into her soul.
Alongside the howling, waves of starlight poured forth endlessly.
“Excellent, excellent.”
As agony surged from the depths of her soul, Sylvia’s expression began to collapse, yet her deep purple eyes remained fixed on the shadow dragon.
Just as she had said—she was gambling.
She had reestablished the connection with her true body and was drawing down the power of that Outer God into herself.
But what descended was not rely that Outer God’s power—it was also its myriad consciousnesses!
She, the one currently known as Sylvia, had been entrusted from the beginning with a mission: to serve as a beacon on Earth, a conduit, through which the power of that Outer God could descend into reality.
However, due to the world’s barriers and the circumstances of her traversal, that connection had temporarily been cut off, isolating the Outer God’s power from reality.
But today, she had personally shattered that shackle, making herself once again a beacon, a conduit.
And the price she had to pay now was simple: she would beco the vessel for Silquaya’s descent.
No—that wasn't quite right. For she was already a part of Silquaya. What she was doing now was rely a “return to the true body.”
Because to drag the City of Alova, which had beco part of Hethorik’s deification ritual, back into reality, the power of an Apostle was no longer sufficient.
At the very least, she needed to stand on equal footing with him—only then was there a chance of success!
After witnessing the gods indulge Hethorik’s deification due to their internal conflicts, she finally made this choice.
Her conscience, her values, would not allow her to abandon this city while she still had ans left to try.
Indeed, she held a unique affection for this city.
All her ties and affections were focused entirely on this city. It was also the first mark she had willingly left upon this world.
Although those ties stemd from specific people, she could not simply relocate them all and abandon a city she felt nothing for—
Because ti was running out.
Moreover, as a foreigner to this world, her sentints toward it were deeply complicated.
She did not fear death. Perhaps death was not the end, but rather the prelude to returning ho.
And back in her holand, she had once dread of becoming a savior, admired by all.
But that was not the only reason.
Now, in the soon-to-be-deified Hethorik, she saw another possibility—another potential way to oppose Silquaya.
As her consciousness blurred under the assault of the Outer God's countless other minds,
Sylvia’s deep purple eyes fixed on the shadow dragon with irrepressible desire and greed.
The starlight spilling from her exposed skin added to the aura, causing the evil god—on the very cusp of deification—to feel a chill.
A True God was a being on the sa level as Silquaya.
If she could seize such a god, could she then sever herself from Silquaya as a whole?
Even if severance proved impossible, could she at least maintain so degree of independent consciousness, minimizing the risk of complete assimilation?
The mont she learned that the number of True God thrones in this world was limited, her original plan had collapsed.
It was near impossible for her to ascend on her own to a level equal to her true body and devour it from within.
But now, an opportunity had presented itself.
That very reality was what compelled her to sit at the table and gamble it all—rather than simply walk into death.
Moreover, she did not fear that her failure would lead to the complete descent of Silquaya the Faceless, bringing even greater catastrophe upon this world.
Because, at this very mont, the gods stood right above her.
In the face of a rampaging Outer God, they would surely set aside all disputes and unite against the threat.
What she now had to worry about was whether, after devouring the tenth divine throne, her consciousness could remain whole and lucid—and how she would escape afterward.
“Haa... haa...”
By now, the voice coming from her mouth was no longer her own, but a chorus of countless voices layered into one.
The skin on her face and body began peeling away, revealing the padding and tal frawork within.
But in the next mont, all of it was enveloped by dazzling starlight.
At the sa ti, countless starlights surged forth like a rushing river, expanding outward from her body as the point of origin.
“I... in my... na...”
“I proclaim... separation!”
The voice, ford from countless eerie tones overlapping one another, was chanted from her mouth. The language spoken was neither Koinsprache nor any known tongue of this world.
In fact, the various voices comprising it each spoke in different languages.
Yet the loudest and most dominant among them spoke in flawless Mandarin!
The mont the words fell, the entire City of Alova quaked, and the endless darkness in the sky rippled in response.
“You dare?!”
At this mont, Hethorik was both shocked and enraged.
Its massive body suddenly rose into the air and charged straight toward Sylvia.
“I... in my... na...”
“I proclaim... stillness!”
The strange voice once again echoed in a language foreign to this world. Instantly, the shadow dragon’s movent slowed, as if caught in a fra-by-fra freeze.
But it seed that the power descending from Silquaya the Faceless was not yet strong enough to restrain the King of Loathing and Hatred.
Though Hethorik’s body had slowed, a dim, eerie light flickered through his deep purple eyes.
In the next second, an aura of decay and deterioration leaked from his form, causing the starlight restraining him to start breaking apart.
His movents gradually resud.
“In... ungh…”
Sylvia had just begun to speak again when she suddenly let out a muffled groan, nearly crying out in pain.
As more of Silquaya’s power descended, the chaotic wills intensified their assault on her soul.
Though she had originally been chosen as a high-quality consciousness capable of withstanding the weaker minds, once quantity shifted into quality, she was starting to falter.
However, just as the heavy tension on Hethorik’s draconic face began to ease into relief, a trendous explosion suddenly echoed from the southeast.
That was...
Using the scattered starlight to “observe” the trembling city, Sylvia imdiately identified the source of the sound—
Stadcon District, St. Andrenard Cathedral!
In that mont, the cathedral collapsed with a thunderous crash, and a massive figure erged from the swirling dust.
It was a jet-black iron giant, clad in partial steel armor plating.
But the most striking feature was the long, thick cannon mounted on its shoulder!
A war golem—Phlororos!
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