A dull longsword and a heartbroken villager

“Use every concept you can, or you’ll never have another chance,” Beatrix said coldly.

He had already decided to kill Marek right here and then go out to see what the other clown was up to.

"I'm sorry, Mr. Beatty."

“I really can’t do anything to you anymore,” Marek said, as if he had given up the struggle.

But his tone revealed boundless madness.

He could not possibly give up such a grand stage.

“Mr. Betley, the madman of the shaman, tell me, am I insane?” Marek suddenly asked.

This question has nothing to do with anything that's happening right now; it's just something Marek wants to ask.

He wondered if it was abnormal for him to be so excited when he was about to die.

Instead of fear, they became increasingly frantic.

Because everything proceeded smoothly according to the script I had written, without deviating from the plan as it had last time.

But to forget the horror of death just because of this is truly abnormal.

No, this should be normal for reincarnated individuals.

After all, for them, death was just a new beginning.

However, is the reborn version of himself still himself? Is the current version of him the same person as the original Marek?

He couldn't understand it; he couldn't comprehend how he, the guy who had destroyed even the people closest to him, had come to this.

To be truly insane, you need to eliminate everything that makes you hesitate.

Yes, that was the very reason I killed them all with my own hands, killing all those who trusted me.

But why did I become so crazy? What was the reason for my madness?

“Already? Aren’t you a madman to begin with?” Betley looked at Marek with disdain.

"So that's how it is. I was a madman all along." Marek was relieved at that moment.

He was a madman in both his previous and present lives.

As for which lifetime it started and what caused the madness, that's not so important.

"It's just that he's been pretending to be normal for too long, so he looks like a normal person and might regret some things." Marek smiled.

In his purple pupils was a mad thought that wanted to tear everything apart.

Each reincarnation has its own set of values ​​and principles.

But in the end, he was inevitably affected by these inherited memories of madness.

As expected, carrying too many memories will still lead to confusion about which thoughts are truly one's own.

"Alright, goodnight." Betley's left arm was bathed in moonlight as he prepared to finish off the dying Marek with a single punch.

However, Marek simply narrowed his handsome eyes in response.

“Mr. Beatrix, although you are a ringholder, having obtained two rings, you have long since deviated from the original path.”

“The one who upholds the precepts is a restraining force generated by the world's will in response to a crisis; it is used to protect the ‘wall of the world’ and to maintain balance.” Marek faced his impending death without even flinching.

Even her smile is as annoying as ever.

"Unfortunately, you yourself are the culprit who destroyed the 'World Wall' and reversed the world's balance."

“Look at that distant horizon, the walls of the world, the cracks have widened.” Marek’s eyes, devoid of their former brilliance, gazed at the destroyed dome.

“…” After hearing Marek’s words, Betley’s pupils suddenly contracted.

In that distant place unseen by the naked eye, at that unknowable boundary, the cracks in the "wall of the world" are expanding.

It is expanding little by little simply because he uses his power.

"You won't die from trivial matters. It seems we still need to think very carefully about how to deal with Mr. Betley."

"Plan little by little, pave the way little by little, otherwise the play cannot be completed."

“Jonathan will probably never be able to do that in his entire life,” Jonathan said smugly.

The melodramatic plot ultimately failed to affect Beatrix.

Even children who are like his own sisters will not be shown mercy; Betley is such a ruthless avenger.

“You rebellious one, you human who dares to deceive the gods…”

“A person who cheats under God’s nose and impersonates God.”

"How should you face the true gods?" Indeed, the gods are still unable to enter the other side of the "wall of the world".

However, they are already able to interfere with this Kapras to some extent.

If we were to name the ants most gods despise, it would be Betley.

They are nothing but ants, yet they constantly deceive God and steal divine power from Him.

No matter how insignificant those divine powers may be, they can still arouse the displeasure of the gods.

The golden race are, in the end, still living beings; some are dull-witted, while others are highly sensitive.

Betley, a man who had once defied God, was the person some true gods most wanted to target.

Unfortunately, the connection between the protection of the "World Wall," the identity of the ringholder, and Betley's magic circle has allowed Betley to act lawlessly.

So the Golden Seed, who hated Beatrix with a vengeance, could only swallow his anger.

But now everything is different.

Two points in Beattie's iron triangle have been broken.

"Hahahahahahaha!" Marek stopped smiling and used the last of his strength to laugh wildly.

"Did you hear that? The audience's applause was thunderous!"

"Did you see that? It's exactly the plot I imagined!"

Marek kept talking, and the breath of life was slipping away with him.

However, Betley couldn't be happy, even after one of his two most troublesome people died.

"There is a chasm between humans and gods... one can only struggle, or even crawl..."

“Mr. Beatley, struggle as much as you want, struggle as much as you want.”

"Let's see if those who are used to killing can struggle to survive under the tricks of God."

"BOOM!!!!" This wasn't the sound of something being destroyed, but a real thunderclap.

In this skyless, enclosed space, thunder inexplicably resounded.

The surrounding space trembled, as if in fear of something.

The gods have finally been found.

They found the Black Iron race, who constantly deceived the gods and recklessly used their divine power.

Their specific race doesn't matter; they only care about what Betley has done.

Space was torn apart, and on the other side of the spatial rift was endless darkness shimmering with nebulae.

"Cough cough..." Beatrix's eyes were bloodshot, and his arms, which were originally covered by divine magic, gradually returned to normal.

The magic circle, which seemed to be moving around as if possessed by something, also stopped at this moment.

All the divine power in his body was being drained away, gradually drying up.

“Tsk, it’s not really my own stuff after all… it’s still unreliable.” Betley said with difficulty.

No one attacked him, yet the magic circle around him was cracking.

Betley sensed several wills from the other side of that spatial rift.

A single Goldborn being separated by the "World Wall" is no match for that arrogant guy, Beatrix.

However, it would be a different story if several golden-blooded individuals who hated Beatrix were to come together.

Indeed, uniting a group of people in a shared aversion to something is the most effective approach.

The moment the magic circle, which acted as a gear, stopped moving, Betley's abilities began to fail.

This also means that he has become weaker.

“You bastard…you’re quite the schemer,” Beatrix grinned maliciously.

He miscalculated; he definitely miscalculated.

He never considered that he was currently the one causing the most damage to the walls.

Every bit of force applied will push open the already cracked wall.

When the wall cracks to a certain extent, the golden seed's fingers can pinch itself.

“However, I never intended to return what I obtained through deception—” Beatrix shouted, his roar directed at the so-called true gods.

He struggled to gather back the scattered divine power.

The magic circle, which had been stagnant, began to operate slowly again, like rusty gears.

Veins bulged, blood was boiling.

He felt the pressure exerted by a distant being.

“Noha—” A long, drawn-out sound came from the other end of the crack.

This is a language, an ancient language in which a single syllable can symbolize countless meanings through variations in tone.

Betley didn't understand the language, but he could still hear the disdain and anger in his tone.

The next second, Betley felt something snap.

A taut line snapped in an instant.

"Now is the time for the judgment of sinners."

Betley heard one of these sentences amidst the complex language.

"Yes, I am a sinner, but you are not the ones to judge me."

Ignoring the blood streaming down his face, Betley forced himself to stand up straight and stared at the other end of the crack.

The ring responded to Betley's will, its dim light swirling around a long string of words.

The mental world begins to expand and begin to envelop reality.

but--

"Ping!" Betley's mental world was shattered before it could fully unfold.

It means literally crushed.

Two fingers extended from the other end of the crack, grabbing the mental world that should have been untouchable, and destroying it with a slight force.

How can one "grasp" such a small world?

Why was it possible to grab it? What exactly was that corner that was grabbed?

This incomprehensible thing was as natural as it should be for Golden Seed, something he could accomplish effortlessly.

Those two fingers were covered in scales and had sharp nails.

It doesn't feel grotesque or ugly; on the contrary, it has a primal beauty that belongs to the wild.

Betley was very familiar with the figures in various myths and legends, and almost instantly he knew who the finger belonged to.

"The Evil Dragon Emperor?" Beth covered his face with his left hand and let out a chilling laugh.

"Tick."

"Tick."

Blood dripped from Betty's right arm, which had been torn off at some point.

Even Betley himself didn't know.

"Go back!!" After lowering his left hand, Betley revealed a ferocious expression that only a wild beast would have.

With his remaining left fist, he forcefully smashed the two fingers back into the crack.