Power and Responsibility

The instant he touched the statue, Lynch felt as if he had returned to the Red Moon Memories at the end of the First Age, looking down upon the devastated land and witnessing the arrival of destruction.

Grand temples collapsed with a roar, vast swaths of vibrant life perished, and brilliant civilizations shattered into pieces. At the end of all things, the red fog representing the Dreamlands arose from places unknown, gradually engulfing the entire world.

It was as though dreams had bled into reality, merging the Dreamlands and the mortal world into one.

Countless eerie, distorted figures emerged from the thick red fog. Indescribable horrors stepped forth from the mist to ravage the realm, driving everything toward its ultimate end.

Sorrow, pain, compassion, reluctance...

All manner of emotions welled up in Lynch's mind—faint, yet overwhelmingly intense.

A crimson full moon rose, casting its mysterious moonlight across the entire planet. Beneath its glow, the red fog quietly receded, forcing the monstrous shapes within to halt their gnashing, clawing advance.

A single will resonated from the crimson full moon, echoing with profound loneliness across a planet fraught with death and destruction.

Power is duty. To hold authority blessed by faith is to bear the burden of protection. Our world, our children... we must protect them. We must prevent this world from falling into ruin, no matter the cost—even if we must offer ourselves in their stead.

Amidst the lonely call, the blood-red fog swept back in force, growing ever thicker until it obscured the moonlight piece by piece. Within the dense mist, grotesque horrors wriggled, leaped, and cheered as if celebrating a carnival of victory.

Yes, no matter the cost.

Before the moonlight was extinguished, the exact same will suddenly echoed back from afar—one, two... In an instant, countless supreme wills coalesced into a single voice.

Destruction draws near. Even if we must sacrifice ourselves in their stead, we will protect this world.

As the voice echoed across the realm, points of light representing divine kingdoms lit up one after another around the planet. Encircling the world, they connected into a seamless grid, their brilliant flames flaring violently to clash against the ubiquitous red fog.

Lynch knew he was glimpsing the great catastrophe at the end of the First Age. By now, tears were streaming down his face.

“Whoa, Uncle Lynch, you aren't crying from pain, are you? Hahaha, you're worse than me!”

The sudden childish voice shattered Lynch's emotion. Jolted back to reality from his revelation, he let out a soft sigh.

Over the past sixteen days, he had studied these Red Moon Memories filled with Divine Authority many times, watching the same imagery over and over.

Time was of the essence, and opportunities were rare. He was eager to break through directly to rank two and activate his second authority, Death.

The main issue was that the supreme will he had absorbed from the cat god Bastet last time had been completely exhausted. His soul manifestation was empty now, leaving him without a trump card. This made him feel deeply uneasy, so he could hardly wait to reach rank two, hoping that unlocking a new Divine Authority upon ranking up would replenish what he had used and restore his hidden trump card.

Yet curiously, every time he reached the end of the memory, Lynch felt as though he suddenly hit an impassable wall, followed immediately by some random interruption—a bird flying into the room, a sudden burst of cicada chirping, a sharp crack of thunder, or a sudden downpour.

Today, it seemed to be the brat peeking in through the doorway.

It was almost as if something were deliberately holding him back. Lynch had even asked Lady Luna, but his neighbor simply replied that it was a normal reaction—his understanding of the Red Moon's Divine Authority was still lacking.

It wasn't a lack of comprehension regarding the Concealment authority, but rather a lack of understanding of the Divine Authority as a whole, which prevented him from making a breakthrough.

This frustrated Lynch immensely. Having gone through so much trouble to obtain a Divine Authority only to be unable to use it right away was excruciatingly tantalizing. Still, comparing himself to the unlucky souls in tales from his hometown who got struck by lightning upon failing a breakthrough made him feel much better.

Yeah, it must be the laws of the world at play. Can't really blame the kid.

Setting aside his frustration, Lynch smiled and waved little Martha over. The moment she drew near, he suddenly grabbed the little girl by her collar, pinned her onto the bed, and expertly delivered three quick spanks to her rear.

“Let's see if you cry from pain! Let's see if I'm worse than you! Hahaha my foot!”

“Sly adult!” Ambushed, little Martha squealed in protest. After finally breaking free, her cheeks puffed up with anger as she covered her bottom and aimed a few fake kicks at Lynch. “Why did you hit me again?!”

“You said the wrong thing at the wrong place at the wrong time. And, of course, the most important reason: my hands were itching.”

Lynch shook his hand. His mood over the failed breakthrough was much improved. Sure enough, the best way to shift one's mindset was to build one's happiness upon someone else's suffering.

“Aren't you supposed to be at school today? Why are you slacking off at home?”

“Tomorrow I'm going to grow a pot of prickly cactus! See how much your hands itch then, you big bully!” Little Martha hadn't actually been hurt at all, and her anger evaporated after a few fake kicks. Out of habit, she leaned over, grabbed a pen, scribbled a few doodles, and giggled. “I have so many things to tell Sister Maya. Plus, Mama saw how well I've been behaving lately, so she asked for a day off for me.”

Lynch realized the little girl was trying to find a way out for the younger children in the King District, meaning she really intended to give up mugging for good. Seeing how much the little brat—who had been so deserving of a beating half a month ago—had genuinely changed, it seemed she hadn't been spanked in vain. A sense of gratification washed over him, and he couldn't help but ruffle her shiny blond hair.

The little girl's eyes lit up. She bounced on the spot, pushing her head against Lynch's palm so he would rub harder, before happily scampering over to the window to open it for fresh air. “Judging by the time, Aunt Natalie should be here soon. Mama asked me to check with you on what you'd like for lunch.”

The natural, cozy exchange warmed Lynch's heart. He said lazily, “You call Maya 'Sister Reporter,' but Natalie 'Aunt.' Careful, if she finds out, she might give you a spanking.”

The little girl reflexively covered her bottom. “Auntie isn't like you! Hmm, maybe I should call her sister too?”

“Yep, that's the way.”

“It's not right at all! Auntie is Mama's friend. If I dare call her sister, Mama will be the one beating me! Don't think I can't figure it out, you sneaky adult, trying to trick me again!” The little girl chattered away, leaning her head out the window to take a deep breath. “There's surprisingly no fog this morning. The air outside is so nice! You sneaky guy, let me help you over to the window to get some sun before you grow mold—huh?”

“What is it?”

“There's a weird person standing downstairs. I think he's looking up here.”

Lynch's heart tightened. Although a top-tier rank eight authority expert had just left, and theoretically no one should be suicidal enough to come looking for trouble, no world ever lacked people eager to court death. Gritting his teeth, Lynch rolled out of bed with his broken leg and hopped over to the window.

“Eek! Uncle Lynch, what are you doing?!”

Startled, little Martha rushed to support Lynch with her small body, helping him stand by the window.

At a glance, Lynch spotted the person Martha mentioned. A cloaked man in formal attire stood in the shadows, looking up toward the window. Seeing Lynch and little Martha appear, the cloaked man raised his right hand, making a gun gesture with his thumb and forefinger aimed directly at Lynch. A chilling smile curled on his lips as he mouthed: Bang.

In that instant, a terrifying pressure crashed over them as if they were facing a savage primeval beast. Death felt imminent.

Not only Lynch, but little Martha's face drained of color as well, leaving her gasping for breath. Yet passersby on the street acted completely normal, as though they couldn't see the man standing there at all.

Why is he attacking a civilian? How can a child endure this?

Suppressing the urge to hide, Lynch gritted his teeth against the overwhelming pressure and pulled little Martha behind him, taking the full brunt of the force himself. His heart pounded wildly, and his breathing grew ragged.

He didn't even know why he did it—it was pure instinct. The man was clearly after him, and as the target, he had a duty to protect the ordinary people around him. Perhaps this was the responsibility that came with the power of a transcendent.

The moment he realized this, Lynch felt a sudden warmth in his chest pocket. The Red Moon Memories drifted out on their own, floating above his head as the phantom image of his soul manifestation surged up behind him.