this infinite world

"cough……!"

Beneath the collapsed black spire of Angban, the surging black mist writhed and twisted in agony like a wounded beast. With a suppressed cough of blood, a disheveled Melkor staggered into existence.

The novice saint looked utterly wretched. His left half of his body was unnaturally transparent, as if it had been forcibly erased by some irresistible force. His right half seemed to be constantly disintegrating and reforming, and dark mist was falling from his body, melting holes into the already scorched earth. Ironically, the clear handprint was still deeply imprinted on his face, and no matter how hard he tried, he could not erase it.

—How is that possible... How is it possible to do that?

Feeling the slap mark on his cheek, Melkor's eyes showed genuine fear for the first time. As a dark overlord who had once rivaled Manwë, he knew better than anyone what this indelible injury truly meant!
To sages, the physical body is nothing but an illusion; their bodies are manifestations of pure energy, capable of being reconstructed in an instant even after severe damage. This immense power of "controlling energy" is as natural to them as breathing... But how can mere "energy" possibly rival Yang Yun's attack, which combines the four elements?
Even now, Melkor still couldn't believe it. That seemingly simple palm strike contained the mysteries of the four elements—earth, wind, water, and fire—all fused together. Time froze around him, the void locked his escape route, energy disintegrated his form, and matter imprisoned his soul… This strike, returning to the essence of nature, not only severely injured him, forcing him to flee in panic, but also caused his eternally unshakeable holy position to tremble. Had he not escaped in time, even his eternally immortal foundation of the holy path would likely have been permanently damaged by this single blow!

So powerful, so powerful it's despair-inducing, so powerful it defies all understanding!
Melkor's soul and consciousness trembled. He was not unfamiliar with the so-called "approaching saints"—the reason they were called "approaching" was that they could at most match a saint for a short period of time. Even if a few exceptionally talented individuals could gain a slight advantage or even overpower a saint, they could not do so with such nonchalance...

—Damn it, this is already at the level of a high-level saint, or even close to a primordial saint, right?

At this moment, Melkor was filled with grief and indignation. As a saint, he naturally knew how difficult it was to do such a thing. Let alone a mere novice saint like himself, even Ilúvatar herself might not have been able to do it with such ease…

"...Oh right, Ilúvatar!"

Recalling Ilúvatar's will descending upon him, Melkor immediately realized something. He looked up at the sky, towards the direction beyond the world, and hissed in a distorted voice, "You're watching me... Was that attack you just now?"

"I am, after all, the commander of your Saint Legion. How could you do something that hurts your loved ones and pleases your enemies?"

"...First, there was the former 'Saint Legion Commander'."

With a soft sigh, Ilúvatar's will descended from the Void. Although she seemed to be playing the so-called "emotional card," the unfamiliarity in her words still lingered: "Ever since you attempted to incorporate your own understanding and holy path into my 'Great Symphony of Creation,' and broke with Manwë and the others, you have long ceased to be a member of my Saint Legion."

"Ah……"

Melkor merely sneered, offering no rebuttal. He knew Ilúvatar's words were true, but he also knew the other's stubbornness masked a soft heart. Although he wanted to use the Holy Path to hone his skills and break through to a higher realm through the duality of light and darkness, if Ilúvatar had shown him no mercy, the other wouldn't have allowed him to enter this world… "That's your weakness, Ilúvatar, your soft heart…"

Despite these thoughts, Melkor still asked, "What's going on with that person? I've never heard of a Saint being so powerful! A strike containing all four elements..."

It was just a guess, but at this moment, Melkor was absolutely convinced. With the conspicuous handprint on his face, he hissed at the frowning, silent Ilúvatar, "No, it must be you! You created this world; no outsider could possibly overstep your authority and wield such power..."

Faced with Melkor's resentful words, which sounded more like a scapegoating than an accusation, Ilúvatar maintained her divine silence. Her gaze swept over this once glorious but now wretched fallen Valar, her golden pupils swirling with an unfathomable, complex divine light.

This silence, however, became the most blatant acquiescence in Melkor's eyes. His mutilated body suddenly erupted with a piercing laugh, causing more parts to crumble, but Melkor was oblivious, instead laughing venomously.

“Just as I suspected. I knew Ilúvatar had already placed a heavy bet, just like back in the War of Creation.” Melkor’s voice trailed off, becoming almost inaudible: “After all, the Elves always side with the winner—”

"Oh!"

Before the words were even finished, Melkor's misty figure suddenly exploded, splitting into countless streams of dark light that traced eerie trajectories across the sky, fleeing in all directions. Ilúvatar didn't attempt to give chase; instead, she gazed upwards with a complex expression at the fleeing black lights, her eyes reflecting what she had just witnessed…

"...Truly stubborn and courting death."

Perhaps Melkor himself hadn't realized it, but in Ilúvatar's eyes, the severely injured novice saint's body was already shrouded in dark clouds, enveloped in an aura of impending doom. And within those dark clouds, a glimmer of golden light was hidden, causing all the dark streaks of light that came into contact with it to unconsciously drift towards a predetermined target…

"The goblin kingdom... huh? It seems that's where all cause and effect converge..."

Gazing at the distant, seemingly solidified calamity clouds, Ilúvatar's expression grew even more sorrowful. She shook her head and whispered, "So that's how it is, Your Majesty. Is this your scheme? Not only did you use my world to repay the karma of that reincarnated and reborn being, but even Melkor, who betrayed my Saint Legion long ago, wandered for a long time before finally becoming a novice Saint, a powerful figure in the entire multiverse, is included in your game..."

"Is he just a so-called 'discarded pawn'?" (End of Chapter)