Apocalypse Forecast-Chapter 720 - 589: Assassin’s Trump Card_1

In front of the Light of Judgement, the walls of the theater crumbled and disintegrated, only to rapidly start repairing themselves.

The mighty and scorching Light of Judgement was bound within the theater, struggling to breach through.

Even the outermost curtain hanging in front of the stands couldn’t be pierced, and it soon dissipated into tumultuous Source Substance, vanishing without a trace.

Huai Shi stood there, stunned.

"I’m sorry, Mr. Huai Shi." The face that Beelzebub had pierced, its lips moved, still emitting a voice, "According to Ivy Vine’s calculations, as long as five members of the troupe support with their Stigmata, you cannot break the ’Golden Palace’ from within with that weapon."

As he spoke, his features rapidly repaired and healed, returning to their original state. Not even a hair was out of place, and he remained calm.

"By the way, before the next act begins, any attack on the actors will incur punishment... Look, the audience is getting angry."

Above the stands, there was an uproar. They were berating the rude intruder who resorted to violence after storming the stage.

No sooner had the words fallen than a bolt of thunder descended from the sky without warning, landing on Huai Shi’s arm. Before Huai Shi could react, the arm holding the gun went numb.

It was a long while before the unbearable pain started spreading from beneath his cracked skin, forcing him to stagger, gasping for breath.

But amidst Pant Delong’s white hair, vague edges began to appear. It resembled a crown woven from withered laurel leaves, decorated with gold and jewels. However, it had lost its former color and glory.

—The Dream of the Golden Palace.

A Border Relic from Rome, the last creation left behind by some tyrannical monarch, a perfect fit for the troupe’s ’Golden Palace’!

With its presence integrated, what was originally just an effect triggered by the combination of Stigmata suddenly leapt to the realm of the Miracle Imprint.

Altering reality, creating miracles.

As though it were grace and remnants left behind by a god.

"Don’t waste your effort, Mr. Huai Shi," Pant Delong said indifferently, "We will not be so foolish as to engage you in close combat, nor will we risk anything for victory. For us, merely entangling you is already sufficient."

Enduring the pain of his wounds healing and flesh regrowing, Huai Shi sneered, his smile twisted, "I thought you had some grand scheme. Don’t you have even the slightest dream?"

Everyone looked at him indifferently; nobody responded.

Even the Colonel, known for his explosive temper, remained silent.

They all focused intently on Huai Shi, without any slack, as if facing a formidable enemy.

Pant Delong raised his cane. Like an announcer, he looked around at the audience in the stands and declared with fervor, "What follows is a performance for you all, a legendary epic adventure, an immortal anthem of rebellion!

"Cheer, everyone, for the thrilling story is about to begin!

"Applaud, everyone, for this is the noble crystallization offered by true warriors to you all!

"Now, please continue to enjoy—

"—’Spartacus’!"

In that instant, Isabella opened her mouth, her voice soaring in song, her perfect soprano heralding the prologue to the classical tragedy.

The world upon the stage shook thunderously, and everything transformed. Huai Shi’s vision blurred as if he had fallen into an Abyss, but then he steadied himself again.

In the sudden dizziness, he looked around in astonishment.

Everything was utterly changed.

In an instant, the theater had turned into a Colosseum, and behind the towering walls, countless audience members shouted excitedly.

Meanwhile, Huai Shi’s skin darkened swiftly, turning into a sun-tanned bronze. All his equipment had vanished without a trace, his clothes ragged, as if he were a slave, looking around bewildered.

Around him, the Frost Giants were also shrinking rapidly, becoming the size of ordinary men. They were as disheveled as Huai Shi, only more robust, their frost winds and Ice Armor gone.

Soon, Huai Shi realized... his Stigmata had disappeared!

With continuous CLANGING, heavy hammers, sharp Axe Blades, Sacrificial Knives, Long Spears, and Lock Chains fell one after another from his body to the ground. Except for the lingering ferocity on the Wolf-headed hammer, nothing of their mystique remained.

They had become mere weapons, just much harder than ordinary ones.

"Help, I’m CRACK-CRACK-CRACKING apart..."

From his waist, Beelzebub’s terrified shriek came as it rapidly transformed from a modern weapon into a shabby Hand Crossbow.

It shuddered briefly.

And then it could no longer speak.

All that was out of place underwent correction. Everything was pulled into the fictional world the troupe had created. With the stage set by the Dream of the Golden Palace, the six members of the troupe once again unfolded the legendary tale.

They forced Huai Shi into it.

The never-ending gladiatorial combat was about to start!

At this moment, right in front of Huai Shi, a dying Gladiator struggled for breath, fighting desperately.

"Spartacus! Spartacus! Spartacus!!!"

The stands, now filled with onlookers turned Roman citizens, enthusiastically chanted, waving their fists, urging fervently, "Kill him! Spartacus! Kill that bastard!!!"

Lirae continuously rained down from above, landing on his shoulders.

Am I... Spartacus?

Huai Shi looked up in confusion at the audience, suddenly realizing what was happening. But an invisible force had gripped him, forcing him to lift the Dagger and aim at the enemy before him.