Academic gathering with a lich-Chapter 892 - 829 Preparation (Part 3)

On the road back, Mr. Law hummed softly, savoring the joy of once again dispensing justice. Although, as an Executor, he was not supposed to harbor personal feelings, Law still found genuine pleasure in punishing his junior, especially now that the misdeeds of the Literature Society had been extinguished. From his familiar duties, he rediscovered a sense of self, even experiencing a bizarre ritualistic satisfaction during the punishment of Mr. Plague Doctor.

The final punishment carried out before the war was directed at Mr. Plague Doctor, the embryonic form of an Evil God. It was as if a skull had been set precisely atop the correct spine, and the seamless interlocking of fate’s gears brought a sense of spiritual clarity to Law’s heart. A powerful intuition prompted him to end his role as an Executor and devote himself to war preparations. With determined strides, he marched back to the Magic Research Society.

The Magic Mirror had been removed from its usual place, but that didn’t matter—now every hidden door was wide open. The rooms of the Magic Research Society resembled drawers embedded within the walls, ready to be opened at any moment. Wrapped in magical energy, Mr. Law blinked and arrived at the grand hall. Mr. Miracle was seated behind the wide office desk, transcribing scrolls while Society members lined up to receive the freshly written scrolls. From the bookshelf behind him hung samples of unrolled scrolls, their varying colors of text and stamped seals signifying the effects of different Deceptive Scrolls.

Standing at the doorway, Mr. Law hesitated, overcome by a stark sense of incongruity. Something was amiss. Were Miracle and the others behaving too honestly?

"Decree: Let there be no concealment in this place! Violators shall be executed!"

Deep blue magical text shot straight toward Miracle’s skull. Miracle turned his head to look, remaining still even as Law’s decree exploded upon him and dissipated. He stayed as he was.

"Have you finally gone mad, Law?"

With his palms clasped behind him, Mr. Law bowed openly to his friend in apology, his expression betraying an irritable dissatisfaction as he rose.

"You’re acting so unnervingly normal; it doesn’t feel right."

The Inspiration entered the hall from another doorway, carrying a stack of enchanted equipment, and walked toward another shimmering gate.

"No companions left, no inspiration, no joy."

"Your suspicion wounds me deeply, Law," Miracle muttered while slouching over the desk, doodling aimlessly on paper without looking at its content. He then solidified the scroll and tossed it to his silent partner.

"My vigilance toward you is precisely a form of trust. Where’s Mr. Jing?"

"How would I know?" Miracle shrugged, engrossed in the creation of a new Deep Sea Deception Spell scroll. "Jing bolted out of here in a rush. Before leaving, he entrusted me with preparing the Society’s armaments. Me? Ha, a true president indeed—completely unlike you, Law."

Law walked over to a pile of cleared-out odds and ends, rummaging through the collection for anything useful.

"That’s because he hasn’t firsthand experienced your destructive tendencies. The moment he visits the Executor Committee to claim someone, Jing’s trust in you would vanish faster than a vampire under sunlight."

Under the Headmaster’s leadership of wartime mobilization, most societies at Andrei Academy had ceased their ongoing research, converting their findings into usable combat strength. Without the existence of a world, there could be no resources, no testing grounds, no experimental aims. Liches and the Evil God bent on assimilating the world shared fundamental contradictions. Their unwillingness to embrace peace spurred them to assert their individuality, steadfast in their belief that they were superior to "ordinary people" and deserving of special privileges. Yet such desires were irrelevant to the Sleeper, who sought only matter and souls, treating all as recyclable materials for constructing a new world. This struck a harsh chord in the Spellcasters’ pride, driving them to reject submission even in the face of certain defeat.

Liches, however, possessed cold rationality. Their aptitude for strategic thinking afforded them diverse choices. Even if the administrators had established a primary path, the Executors did not necessarily follow obediently.

Jing stood before the Apocalypse, the president of the Magic Research Society facing the president of the Advanced Magic Research Society. Apocalypse sat enthroned in plate armor, massive energy conduits piercing the ground and connecting to his armor through pipelines. Looking at his junior, Apocalypse’s aloofness walled them apart like an unyielding barrier.

"Do not covet power beyond your worth."

"The praise of mere mortals deludes you into believing you’re exceptional. Even with a thousand failures strapped to your back, you won’t come one step closer to greatness. Jing, crude imitation will only render you a pitiful shadow, forever stuck in place."

"Inheriting the legacy of that old relic—ha, that laughable Society he cast aside. And you, you picked up the bones he abandoned with all the enthusiasm of a dog overjoyed to retrieve a leftover scrap."

The same pipelines materialized behind Jing, and Apocalypse’s armor extended onto his form. Trembling, Jing merged with Apocalypse’s posture and demeanor.

"You ought to show reverence to your mentor, Apocalypse—you ungrateful wretch."

Apocalypse shot him a dangerous glare. Through the slit in his helmet, Jing’s gaze caught the peril in his eyes. Behind him, the mirrored world began to collapse; the reproduced power of Apocalypse faltered, and uncontained obliteration tore Jing’s body apart entirely. The ensuing explosion was confined to a small space around him, accompanied by an intense flash of white light. Jing fell into the dirt, his left arm vanished, seven ribs fractured, and his legs cleanly severed at a thirty-degree slant, the remaining portions obliterated.

Apocalypse rose, striding over to his defeated foe.

"Progress is unstoppable."

Reflective crystal shards sprouted from Jing’s ravaged body, the soil beneath him transforming into a silvery metallic surface. Another mirrored version of himself appeared, showing his wretched state, distorted into a pitch-black shadow amidst the interplay of light.

"The gap between us has existed since our student days—more foolish, more lazy, more cowardly. What truly disgusts me is your blindness to the truth, Jing. The path he illuminated ought to be plain to us, both capable of perceiving where it leads—a straight road to a predetermined end. We both know what it means: to become him, an assembly-line product of a King of Magic."

"You’ve been cowed by his achievements, too afraid to question, too afraid to resist. Because he’s your teacher, the reigning authority. Losing the Spellcaster’s fundamental curiosity—that’s the true rift between you and me."

"Take that blind loyalty and follow him into hell, you worthless wretch."

Apocalypse’s iron boots descended mercilessly, shattering the mirror surface into fragments. Jing lay on the ground, watching pieces rain down upon him like droplets. He saw Apocalypse turn away and return to his throne, the glowing energy device behind him churning without pause.

Electromagnetic emerged from the edge of his view, glancing at the fallen Lich before shifting his gaze away.

"Boss, the Railgun Launcher is fully calibrated."

"What’s that, your new weapon?" Jing crawled up once more.

Apocalypse cast an annoyed look at the half-dead Lich, vexed by his tenacious regenerative abilities.

"The Moon Landing Launcher. Since this planet is doomed to destruction, we of the Advanced Magic Research Society have decided to switch to a new experimental world."

"You... you’re planning to flee?"

"The macro-concepts of Advanced Magic Research lie outside the Evil God’s comprehension. Whether this world is reconstructed or not, our power will remain unchanged. Conversely, even if the Evil God is defeated, our power won’t increase. We are irrelevant to the war against the Evil God. Why should we waste time on your survival?"

"You!!"

Before Jing could finish his curse, Apocalypse activated the teleportation array, hurling Jing’s remains away. Electromagnetic stood silently nearby, observing his quiet leader.

"Not telling the truth?"

"Every word I spoke did not contain a single lie."

"Yes, Boss, I understand. The Railgun Launcher indeed has the capacity to land on the Moon, and relocating to a new planet was once part of our expansion plan—though wasn’t that rejected by you personally?"

"Electromagnetic, I despise being dictated to, even if such instructions align with my own intentions."

Electromagnetic nodded knowingly, gesturing to stitch his lips shut, then...

"So, should the launcher’s targeting be shifted from the battlefield to the Moon?"

"Do you wish to die? I can grant that wish."