Save the simulator and make Sarkaz great again!

He knew exactly how much effort he had put in to finally touch that truth that transcends mortals.

But what makes this person stand at the same level as him in such a short time?

"absurd."

He whispered, his voice carrying a hint of wavering that even he himself was unaware of.

The sorcerers of Letania knelt at his feet, calling him the embodiment of truth, and the nobles trembled as they offered their offspring, hoping to absorb even a fraction of his wisdom.

But now, a monster younger than him is tearing apart everything he firmly believes in in the most brutal way—

Talent? Bloodline? Accumulation?

The criteria he used to distinguish between mortals and geniuses seemed so ridiculous in front of this man.

Helhunzoren was very familiar with that resonance, because it was the Originium Arts he had just used.

Just by observing his movements, this man had already grasped a portion of the Golden Melody.

But that wasn't enough to surprise Helhunzoren. What truly astonished him was the immense primordial power that the man displayed in that instant.

He felt that his connection with the Golden Melody was being forcibly intervened by some higher force, like a stream suddenly flowing into the ocean.

Herhunzoren's fingers froze in mid-air, the piano keys vanished, and only silence spread between the two.

"Humanity is shackled by ugly rules. They are in a cage! They are unaware of the truth!"

"Sarkaz leader... your strength astonishes me..."

"But since you have already glimpsed the origin, why have you set foot here?"

He suppressed the shock in his heart, his voice low and hoarse.

Pavieon's breakdown was enough to drive him mad; he wanted an explanation.

The man spoke.

“Alexei…”

"Alexei?"

The man simply shook his head at his puzzled gaze.

It's normal that you can't remember him, after all, you'll never look at what's right in front of you.

"He was a great Sarkaz warrior who ultimately became a sacrifice to sustain the tower's energy at your command."

"..."

Herhunzoren's fingers suddenly twitched as if in a spasm; he had expected to hear even grander visions from the man.

“Alexei…”

He repeated the unfamiliar name, his vocal cords dry as if they had been rubbed with sandpaper.

The tower's depths were indeed piled high with the bones of countless Sarkaz prisoners, but they were merely insignificant consumables in his grand experiment.

"Just for... some nobody?"

His voice was first confused, then turned into sharp sarcasm, and finally twisted into a kind of almost manic tremor.

He could not accept that Letania was destroyed for such a ridiculous reason.

The lingering echoes of the golden melody trembled in the air, but could no longer form a complete tune.

The man simply stared silently at the former tyrant.

Deep within his dark pupils, the gradually collapsing figure of Helhunzoren was reflected.

"you are wrong."

"Not just one, but every single one."

The scepter slammed heavily onto the ground, and dark purple energy surged toward the man like a tidal wave, only to vanish the moment it touched the hem of his clothes.

The man simply blew the bone flute softly, and a melodious tune echoed throughout the tower.

The surrounding, volatile energy suddenly changed course, piecing together a series of flowing images—

A Sarkaz mother humming a lullaby amidst the flames of war;

The rhythms improvised by miners in the underground tunnels;

An elderly man in a border village teaches children to sing with a dry, hoarse voice...

This is a song that belongs exclusively to the Sarkaz.

When the music ended, the man looked up.

"The Golden Melody is incredibly profound; it belongs to the nobility, to geniuses, and is destined to belong only to a select few."

"But a true piece of music should not be played just for a few individuals; it should be played for everyone."

The man's eyes remained unmoved, and countless tiny points of light continuously appeared around him, each connected to a Sarkaz warrior in the distance, his aura steadily rising.

"You have been pursuing the origin, but you have never truly understood the origin."

"The origin is never in a high place."

"The origin is creation; all things are the origin."

"It flows in every living life; it is the sum of all the struggles, laughter, and tears over millions of years."

"This tower is far too tall. It's so tall that you can't even hear the calls from the bottom. How can you possibly reach the true origin?"

"So even without me, the tower will surely collapse."

"Because you have forgotten your roots, Herhunzoren."

Chapter 118 How Can There Be No Stele?

The aftershocks emanating from the tower still trembled the earth, and the figures of two kings faced off atop the ruins.

Ivignad's harp shield trembled slightly, Herinmat's blade reflected the blood-red setting sun, and Theresa and Theresis stood side by side, black Originium Arts flowing around them.

The sound of the zither suddenly rang out.

Ivignad's golden pupils narrowed slightly as her fingers traced sharp arcs across the strings.

The invisible sonic blade tore through the air, but was swallowed by the black vortex before it reached Theresa.

Helena seized the opportunity to charge forward, her blade flashing like a viper's tongue. Therese met her attack with her sword, the sparks from the clash of metal particularly dazzling in the twilight.

The battle unfolded in the blink of an eye.

Theresis's swordsmanship was fierce, but without the aid of his staff, his Originium Arts became sluggish.

Herlinmats astutely seized this opening, targeting the gap in his spellcasting with her blade.

When Theresa noticed Theresis's disadvantage, she was distracted, and Ivignad's music materialized into energy and wrapped around her wrist.

The black particles surged violently, yet they could not break free for a time.

Focus on yourself.

Ivignad increased the pressure on her fingertips.

"Is this all the strength you have?"

Theresa suddenly laughed. She stopped struggling and let the energy tighten.

"Have you ever wondered why it's the two of us who are stopping you?"

Herlinmat's blade paused.

In that instant, Theresis suddenly changed his tactics. He abandoned his defense and aimed his sword straight for Helinmat's throat.

She hastily retreated, the blade barely managing to block the sword, but was forced back several steps by the enormous impact.

"because--"

Theresa's voice suddenly rang in Ivignad's ears, and she realized that what she saw in front of her was just an afterimage.

The real Theresa had somehow gotten close behind her.

"We don't need to defeat you at all."

……

He's forgotten his roots...

These words echoed in Helhunzoren's mind like a demonic chant.

No one had ever dared to say such a thing to him, not even his closest friend and mentor, Fremont.

In less than twenty years, he became a master of magic, and in just three months, he composed all 634 musical pieces by the sages stored in the tower.

He once used the statue at the entrance as a sand table to deduce the situation in Terra, and in a short time he saw clearly Letania's weaknesses against other countries.

Who on earth can compare to him?

As a genius, no one in Terra can match his talent.

He never believed that there was any need to spend time educating the "ordinary men" in the eyes of men. As long as they practiced and made sacrifices according to his will, Helhunzoron, Letania would prosper forever.

Those "rotten wood" that cannot keep up with his rhythm have no need to be carved; being crushed by the times and the rolling melody is their only fate.

The man's idea was completely opposite to his.

Herhunzoren's heart trembled slightly as he looked up.

The mere presence of this man in black caused the towering laws he had painstakingly cultivated for decades to crumble.

Those spatial rifts that were powerful enough to crush the Ursus army, those chaotic contaminations that even made the Twin Queens retreat, were as laughable as child's scribbles in front of this person.

He felt a sense of defeat from the man before him that he had never experienced before.

What terrified him even more was that he began to doubt himself.

"The Creator is cruel, the Creator is evil, the Creator is cunning."

"He cannot destroy the will, but he can weaken it. He cannot override the will, but he can make it confused."

"The origin you speak of is nothing but a consolation for the weak! They are incompetent, they are confused, they are short-sighted. What kind of future can we gain by sculpting them?"

It sounded like a roar, but also like a question.

The black Originium Flame spread wildly following Helhunzoren's words, instantly enveloping the two of them, and gradually approaching the man.

However, Shen Lin simply watched all of this quietly, his dark pupils reflecting the distorted firelight, yet showing no emotion whatsoever.

"comfort?"

He spoke softly, his voice piercing through the flames, as clear as a drop of ice water.

"you are wrong."

He raised his hand, his fingertips lightly touching the air.

wow——

In an instant, all the approaching black flames suddenly stopped, and then, as if drawn by an invisible force, they began to slowly retreat, flowing back to the feet of Helhunzoren.

Shen Lin shook his head.

"The weak you speak of are the very foundation of this land."

Helhunzoren's pupils contracted sharply. He tried to regain control of the Originium Flame, but found that his power was like a stone thrown into the sea, unable to make even the slightest ripple.

"you--"

"You ask what kind of future they can offer through carving?"

Shen Lin took a step forward, and a ripple spread out from his feet, completely extinguishing the black flames.

"Then let me ask you—"

"Who built your tower?"

Who will sing your melody?

Who grows your food?

"Who makes up your army?"

Each question struck Helhunzoren like a heavy hammer blow to his heart. His fingers trembled slightly, and he was momentarily speechless.