The voice in her consciousness made Yu Lingye's unfocused eyes regain their focus, the vacancy in her gaze replaced by a bone-chilling, icy malice.
She abruptly lowered her head and saw a dark red flesh stitch emerge at her wrist.
Like a living thing, the stitch crawled upward bit by bit across the surface of her skin, acting like steel needles that violently ripped apart her identity as “Yu Lingye.”
The pure white world began to peel away and fade in massive chunks.
Yu Lingye lowered her head, her ink-black hair cascading down to her waist as an almost demonic, crimson bloodlust welled up from the depths of her eyes.
The surrounding threads wove a delicate black dress over her body, and she transformed back into the witch, Isolde.
She slowly raised her head, the corners of her lips stretching into an exaggerated, wide grin across her pale, delicate face, carving out an extremely neurotic and terrifying smile.
The pure white, holy unicorn in front of her began to show countless cobweb-like cracks all over its body, its illusion core violently torn apart by the witch's will.
Its golden eyes flickered repeatedly, and a mechanical sound, like jammed gears, rasped from its mouth: “...This... This is impossible... No one can refuse... heaven's... salvation...”
Isolde muttered under her breath, her right hand curling into a loose fist as countless silver threads gathered and entwined within her palm.
In the blink of an eye, they condensed into a sharp spear woven from Soul Threads.
Heavy killing intent and an unquenchable obsession surged through the spear, unleashing a thunderous roar.
Staring at the falsely pristine white unicorn, she gripped the spear with a reverse hold: “Pain will never yield to hypocritical salvation. Only revenge is the sole truth of blood and fire!”
【You have unlocked the exclusive skill: Mastering Truth】
【Skill Description: Condenses Soul Threads into any weapon, dealing both spiritual and physical damage to the target. The weapon's form is shaped by the user's will.】
[At this point, you finally understand that truth never waits for pity; it only remains in the hands of those who are brave enough to point out evil with their own wounds.]
As soon as the words fell, the spear tore through the air.
A brilliant, blinding streak of silver light violently pierced the holy illusion of the unicorn.
The illusion of the world was ripped open, and the gentle prayers shattered into screams.
The faces of her companions cracked open one by one, filthy black matter erupting toward the sky as the pristine grassy field collapsed, exposing layer upon layer of animal bones.
Amidst this cataclysmic scene of destruction, a sharp pain shot through Isolde's palm.
The Echo of Last Wishes that had belonged to the unicorn reemerged, clearer than ever before.
A solitary, cold beam of blue light burst from her palm.
Immediately after, a battered, broken Mooncrown Unicorn appeared before her, accompanied by the howling wail of wind and snow.
It looked incredibly wretched—its horn was broken, its coat was stained with blood, and red liquid seeped from every wound on its body.
The unicorn let out a mournful whimper, lowering its broken back before Isolde.
Without a hint of disgust, Isolde reached out and pressed her palm against its forehead. As the world trembled around them, she said, “Do not lower your head. You are not a sacrificial offering on the Holy Court's altar, nor are you the self-sacrificing holy beast in their stories.”
“Your pain is real, and your hatred is real. No one has the right to forgive anyone on your behalf.”
“Just remember the pain those evils brought you. We will settle the remaining debts together.”
The unicorn's body shuddered violently. Then, slowly but with absolute resolve, it raised its head.
Within its hollow blue eyes, countless blood-colored shadows seemed to churn and flip frantically at that very moment.
Everything around them crumbled entirely into ruins. An endless black tide roared in from all directions, attempting to completely submerge the girl and the beast in the depths of this unknown underground.
Without the slightest hesitation, Isolde leapt onto the unicorn's blood-stained back.
The unicorn reared up, throwing its head back to unleash a soul-shaking, angry neigh toward the hypocritical sky.
“Let's go! We're going to crush them underfoot!”
The broken unicorn lunged forward, transforming into a blue light that tore and smashed wildly along the cracks of the collapsing illusion.
Wherever the surging blue light passed, the encroaching black tide was temporarily forced back.
However, the filthy black matter behaved almost like living creatures. In the blink of an eye, they lunged back viciously from both sides, attempting to stitch this collapsing illusion back together with the most malicious power.
Isolde crouched low, gripping the unicorn's mane with one hand while unleashing silver threads with the other to shred the oncoming dark figures.
In the depths of the darkness, blurry human faces began to twist and emerge.
Among them were monks wearing holy robes and smiling compassionately, as well as the sanctimonious players she had seen in her past life's memories.
All of them were dyed a filthy, pitch black, their mouths stretched open to an exaggerated extreme. Thousands of voices overlapped, roaring continuously like a curse: “Stop.” “Let go of your hatred.” “Turn back.” “You have already done enough.”
The final sentence was even in her own voice.
“Using my own voice to disgust me? You're not worthy.”
With a flick of her wrist, the silver threads sliced horizontally, instantly cutting several dark figures ahead in half.
But the split shadows did not dissipate. Instead, as if enraged, they thrust countless slender arms from their wounds, clawing densely at her and the unicorn.
“Strangle!”
The silver threads tightened violently, snapping those black hands off in unison.
Yet more dark figures blocked the path ahead, layering over one another like a writhing wall to seal off their only way out.
The black tide behind was catching up, and the bone-strewn ground on both sides was collapsing. If they didn't break through soon, she and the unicorn would be swallowed by the void.
Isolde stared at the rising wall of dark figures ahead, suddenly sensing that something was wrong.
Those shadows weren't just blocking the path; they were protecting something.
She abruptly looked up. High above the shadows, she could faintly make out a translucent dome, like a massive barrier suspended at the very end of the illusion.
Isolde's breath grew heavy, and she curled her fingers inward. All the silver Soul Threads scattered in the void swept back at once, twisting and restructuring tightly in her palm.
Her blood boiled; her obsession burned.
The once-fragile silver-white Soul Threads condensed once again into the shape of a long spear.
The unicorn seemed to sense her intention. With its broken horn pointing at the lunging shadows ahead, it accelerated and charged fiercely once more.
Isolde stood tall, her black hair whipping wildly in the gale whipped up by the black tide.
Staring at the high barrier, she channeled her mana into 【Mastering Truth】 and threw it with all her might: “Shatter for me!”
The moonlight spear in her hand, bearing the weight of an entire world, pierced violently toward the high-and-mighty illusion barrier.
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