After learning the truth, Aerylia's remaining sanity collapsed like a breached dam. Holding her head, she screamed and cried in agony, utterly losing control as all her suppressed emotions erupted at once.
The striped skin on her body blossomed outwards like whip-blades, cutting and striking everything in the room. In mere moments, the surrounding walls were cleanly sliced open, the ceiling and support pillars snapped and collapsed instantly, and massive stones crashed down, burying Aerylia's distorted form.
"Watch out." Just as Xu Xiaoyou darted towards Tang Xin, the fractured ceiling collapsed, blocking her path like a sloping hill, revealing mangled rebar.
Tang Xin summoned her mimicry. Her brow furrowed slightly upon seeing Xiao Xin transform into a microphone, and a deep blue light swirled. The next moment, a silver-blue orchestra conductor's sword, spiraled with musical strings and intricately carved with patterns, appeared in the girl's hand.
Tang Xin gripped the conductor's string-sword. A wealth of sword arts knowledge flooded her mind at that moment, and the sapphire embedded in the hilt of the string-sword glowed. Without time to ponder, she slashed forward, shattering the falling stones.
Seeing this, Xu Xiaoyou silently took two steps back, retreating into the shadows.
It was time for Themia to exit.
A raven-blue windbreaker billowed wildly behind the blonde girl, followed by a grey-black robe draping over her shoulders. Burning flames shattered massive stones, and a lightning-fast long whip formed a dense, woven net of white blades, tearing through space!
All that remained was a scene of devastation as far as the eye could see, and only whistling sounds filled the ears. Everything on the second floor of the orphanage was reduced to shattered walls and ruins in this massive upheaval: the children's drawings, the potted plants they had carefully tended together, their laughter from days gone by....
The entire orphanage began to tremble violently. Dust constantly fell from the ceiling, and the monster's sharp howls came from an unknown corner.
Suddenly, the entire classroom was in chaos. The children huddled together, bewildered. Because everything happened so abruptly, their little faces, filled with confusion, showed no sadness, but rather panic and helplessness.
"What happened?" a little girl asked helplessly.
"I don't know.....
Recalling Tang Xin's earlier strange behavior, some more sensitive children vaguely guessed the cruel truth, their small faces instantly draining of color.
Ince watched over the children, counting them. He sighed in relief after confirming they were all in the classroom. Just then, he vaguely noticed the ceiling above a little girl's head beginning to sway precariously.
"Aerylia... Mama..." Tears welled in the little girl's eyes as she stood motionless.
"Hey, you over there!"
Ince had no time to say anything else. He lunged directly towards the girl, tackling her out of the danger zone. Huge stones fell, covering his legs and burying his lower body beneath the rubble.
"Damn it, that hurts like hell..."
The intense pain nearly drained Ince's consciousness. He forced himself to push the girl further away, then looked around at the classroom buried deep beneath the shattered ruins, a profound sense of powerlessness sweeping over him.
"If I'd known I'd be so unlucky, I would have said no to coming here..."
...
Another boulder fell, and Ince's consciousness, along with the surrounding darkness, plunged into nothingness.
An earthquake swept through the Keyboard District. No one knew why this natural disaster erupted so suddenly. By the time they reacted, swathes of houses had already collapsed, familiar people had perished in the catastrophe, and large areas were reduced to ruins.
Fire and smoke stained the sky. Silence and death invisibly filled the air. The cries of people were buried beneath the rubble, like imprisoned ghosts, their last shred of hope for rescue fading as their limbs grew cold and stiff.
The survivors watched the collapsed buildings overlap into slopes of concrete and rebar, blocking out the last remaining light. On their faces, caked with thick dust, that numbness became clearer and more profound.
Why do the gods always delight in pouring more suffering into the shells of the afflicted?
In a grey world where people's numb limbs are already manipulated by strings, why do the gods insist on emphasizing their helplessness?
"Gods, I question you."
On the ruins, a playwright impaled by rebar devoutly wailed and roared loudly, hot blood gushing from his throat. In his last moments, he created with his sincere heart.
"Ordinary people are unwilling to face the unknown world, unwilling to endure the injustice of fate. Why must they be forced to enact this tragic drama?"
"Why repeatedly strip people of their right to choose!"
"Everyone has the right to choose, but are the choices made by ordinary people truly the choices they desire in their hearts?"
"Everyone must bear the cost of their choices, but can this inherent injustice truly be blamed on their choices?"
"Why is it that all things are endowed with the meaning of their existence before birth, yet ordinary lives alone do not even have the right to know their destiny or choose whether to be born?"
"Gods, are you truly so cruel?"
"Or rather, should ordinary people endure all the absurdity and suffering of this world, without even the right to resist?"
"I question you,"
"Why does life weep?"
The entire orphanage was buried deep underground. Countless sufferings collectively staged a tragedy, and The Artist welcomed a new resurgence!
A crimson monster roamed through the ruins. Its entire skin bound its body, weaving together to cut out a black swallow-tailed coat. Half of a silent mask was worn on Aerylia's face. Invisible massive hands extended from the coat's hem, heavily smashing stone pillars.
The Artist was like a born tragedian, emerging from creation, appreciating this grand tragedy, and finding joy in the suffering people endured. With a casual wave of the scissors formed by two crossed black blades, the fleeing caregivers in the orphanage had their flesh torn into threads, instantly cut into magnificent garments, their souls forever bound within, unable to reincarnate.
Finally, it found a target of interest. The scissors formed by two crossed blades pointed towards the blonde, amber-eyed girl ahead, and a laugh escaped from behind the silent mask.
A neutral, gender-ambiguous voice emerged from beneath its half-silent mask: "You will be the greatest work of art I personally create."
The Artist's tone rose. The demonic scissors named Hammerlin crossed before it.
In the next instant, it lunged towards Xu Xiaoyou. Invisible giant hands darted out, seizing Xu Xiaoyou's body in mid-air, and the demonic scissors pierced through the blonde girl's chest!
Before it could even feel a moment of hesitation, wondering why the girl hadn't been cut into exquisite garments like others, "Xu Xiaoyou" suddenly melted before its eyes, and a powerful gust of wind surged from behind it.
Xu Xiaoyou's eyes were calm. Her long whip, like a swift venomous snake, or a blazing white lightning bolt streaking across the sky, instantly tore through the dense darkness, breaking through the layered defensive rules of the 'silent' power, directly cleaving open half of The Artist's chest!
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