Superhumans of the Dome City Chapter 1186: 94: Reunion After a Long Separation

Capítulo 1186: Chapter 94: Reunion After a Long Separation

Aorus lay in the sewer, looking up at the clear sky through the holes in the manhole cover.

The white clouds were as light as dissipating smoke, and a few large white feathers fell from the sunny sky. Today the sky was high and the air was clear, suitable for a day out, and there should be carefree n and won sitting on the Biochemical Pigeon, discussing how to spend their day off. Yet none of this had ever been related to him. In the past, he had no interest, and now he was unable to reach it. His eyes were lifeless, as dull as the stones scattered on the ground.

A mutated rat crawled over, cautiously observing him for a long ti before deciding to bite his finger. The rat probably thought Aorus was dead and was startled when it tasted warm blood. But Aorus didn’t move; he was accustod to pain, long resigned to numbness.

The hurried footsteps ca closer, mixed with the wild shouts of young people. This ti, his enemies should find him soon, and afterward, it would just be another repetition. Aorus’ leg was broken; a man with a broken leg couldn’t escape, so he no longer made any futile struggles. The rat resud its work, and his vision blurred with the sound of gnawing. Fragnts of mory jumped out, disjointed like a broken record playing a horrid song.

At the start, he was captured by the low-level hooligans and thrown into a pitch-black factory. There, he encountered the city’s deepest malice and witnessed how those crude thugs dealt with their enemies. Aorus scread, cursed, threatened, pleaded, and cried, but nothing worked. When he died, everyone laughed, and his corpse was tossed into the sewer like a bag of filthy garbage.

Then the “second” experience began. This ti Aorus t a minor gang leader whom he had once used as a pawn. The leader brought new humiliation and pain, using drugs, ntal abilities, and every tool of interrogation. This small-ti player was overjoyed at the chance to humiliate a “big shot,” fully engrossed in the work of torturing others, knowing full well it would bring him no benefit, deriving pure pleasure from the violence release.

Aorus continued to curse and cry, and this ti he died in a slaughterhouse. Then ca the third ti, the fourth… After the number exceeded twenty, he stopped counting. He beca familiar with the city he had lived in for ten years in the most ironic way. For a ti, he was despondent like a wanderer, then tried to resist in pain.

Once, Aorus almost succeeded. He used the environnt and the tools at hand to successfully handle a group of thugs. But then he t a young man in white, refined and gentle. He was a new mber of Light Core, and his thods of torture opened Aorus’ eyes. That child was of junior high age but skilled at human cruelty like a veteran secret agent from a ti of covert war. This person was furious that Aorus’ failure brought disgrace to Light Core, cursing the unworthy Aorus with every word, intent on executing the useless leader on behalf of the majority.

For the first ti in his life, Aorus Otimis began to reflect on his actions. Many tis in retrospect, he admitted he was wrong, and this ti he understood he had erred.

He began to reflect, deeply, kneeling and pleading every restart, confessing his actions as if hoping this could free him from hell. But in this endlessly repeating world, there was no response. Sky Extre was as high and unreachable as its na, while the pain in the Mortal World relentlessly pressed on. After a sense of two months, Aorus started to endure, becoming silent like an ascetic monk, indifferently facing the world like a withered old tree. He saw it all as a test, believing once he overca the challenge, he could ascend to a new level, with a strong spirit making him a human legend like a Saint.

But still, no one ca to save him.

Then Aorus realized the test was nothing but a self-deceptive excuse, others’ magnanimous deception. Pain was never a good thing; it was re tornt, aningless beyond destroying life. This new understanding made him discard most of the books he had read, thereafter finding nothing useful on the bookshelf. When a politician discards lies, he finds himself no different from a vagabond.

“Should be… over here…” “Search the hallway…” “I’ll check below…”

The voices from above grew louder, the manhole cover clanged underfoot, shaking dust that fell onto Aorus’ face. The rat was scared off by the noise, and Aorus wasn’t in a hurry, knowing soon he would die from blood loss. After all the emotions wore out, only numbness remained in his heart. He barely moved his lips to utter a soundless question.

What do you still want to understand?

I am already weary; aren’t you tired?

Sky Extre remained distant, silent as always. Death, with its familiar chill, quietly approached. The fragile young man closed his eyes, wanting to recall so happy mories, warming himself amidst the endless tornt.

In the past, Aorus might have chosen mories of his speeches at Light Core, conversations with his father, or the sense of achievent from practicing Impermanence Skill, but perhaps Sky Extre’s Skill was too powerful, for no matter how he rembered, he couldn’t warm himself. Ordinary people might think of their mothers at this ti, but Aorus had no mother in a familial sense. He was a test-tube baby with genetic adjustnts, born with the mission expected of elites. The chosen one shouldn’t let aningless familial affection interfere with his judgnt, a source of pride in the past.