Imagination System: I Can Build Anything-Chapter 194: Ivanov Vs Rouchi 3

Rouchi rolled away, scrambling to put distance between them, gasping for breath. "My regeneration is the fastest among the Franks," he sneered. "You cannot break me. No injury you inflict will last."

Ivanov felt the ache of his own wounds, the legacy of Rouchi’s earlier assaults. He knew his strength was fading; if he didn’t end this now, the wretch would outlast him. Rouchi charged again, but Ivanov darted away. Rouchi scoffed, mistaking the retreat for cowardice. But Ivanov wasn’t fleeing; he was aiming. He drove his foot into the side of a building, using the wall as a springboard. He launched himself backward like a missile, driving his forehead into Rouchi’s stomach with the force of a battering ram.

The crystal armor over Rouchi’s gut shattered. The blow reverberated through his intestines, sending him crumpling to the ground, clutching his stomach. But Ivanov was relentless. He sprinted to a nearby rooftop, vaulted high into the air, and descended upon Rouchi’s prone form like a wrestler delivering a killing blow. More crystal cracked; ribs snapped audibly.

Rouchi shoved Ivanov off and scrambled to his feet, desperate. He unleashed torrents of electricity from his hands, not at Ivanov, but at the surrounding wooden houses. Flames erupted instantly, consuming the structures.

"Polarision may be tough," Rouchi smirked, the firelight dancing in his eyes, "but it cannot withstand heat. It melts like any other metal."

Ivanov recoiled from the intense heat. He threw a long-range rubber punch at Rouchi’s face, following it up with a left hook. Rouchi advanced, deflecting the stretching limbs until he managed to seize Ivanov’s wrist. He yanked him close, spun him around to build momentum, and hurled him toward the stone stairs.

"Be gone," Rouchi snarled. "And do not come back."

Rouchi watched Ivanov soar through the air and felt a surge of elation. This was his chance. He turned tail and ran, fleeing for his life just as the first cannons of the great machines thundered against the Tree. A massive explosion ripped through the air, killing many and setting a section of the great branches ablaze.

Ivanov landed on the stairs and looked back. He saw the Ghlizan rushing to save their books, desperate to preserve their heritage. Then, a shell screamed down, incinerating hundreds of volumes in an instant and claiming the lives of the scholars holding them. Rage, hot and blinding, seized Ivanov. He was torn—return to save them, or hunt down the miserable coward?

He looked forward at the fleeing Rouchi, then back at the dying Ghlizan. His chest tightened. Then he heard Rouchi’s manic laughter echoing as the historian watched the Tree burn. Ivanov felt his liver burn with a fury so intense he could almost smell it.

He decided to end it.

Ivanov gripped the stair railing, compressing his rubbery body down against the steps like a coiled spring. He released the tension, launching himself into the sky, soaring toward Rouchi with terrifying speed. Mid-air, he began to pump mass into his right arm, expanding it, swelling it until it was colossal, heavy as a boulder, large enough to crush an elephant.

"This is for the Tree, you ugly charlatan!" Ivanov roared, driving the titanic fist down.

Rouchi looked up, his eyes bulging at the sight of the massive shadow descending upon him. He looked around for an escape, but the fist was too wide, the attack too sudden.

"Save me, General Claudy!" he screamed.

The fist crashed down. It shattered his entire crystalline body in a single stroke, crushing his bones and pulverizing the skull that had been filled with nothing but lies and deceit.

Ivanov landed heavily. He exhaled a long sigh of relief, ensuring Rouchi was dead. Then he looked to the horizon. His eyes widened. Dozens of Leviathans were approaching slowly.

They were towering machines, reaching sixty meters in height. There were three Land Destroyers—massive, four-legged structures bristling with long-range cannons and point-defense turrets. Flanking them were Land Frigates, thousand-ton eight-legged beasts flying the Franks flag. They were small enough to move with frightening speed but large enough to tear the Ghlizan to shreds. Smoke billowed from their chimneys, indicating powerful engines, and dual turrets swivelled on their backs, scanning for targets.

Fear, cold and sharp, gripped Ivanov’s heart. He hadn’t seen machines of this magnitude since his war against Gaia. He ran back toward the Tree to salvage what he could and opened a comms channel to Sairi.

"Sairi," Ivanov said, his voice urgent. "I need you at the Great Tree immediately. The one visible from everywhere on Ghlizan."

Sairi looked toward the horizon, spotting the distant, red-leaved giant shrouded in mist. "Why? What is wrong?"

"The bastard Franks," Ivanov panted, words catching in his throat. "They mean to burn it."

"Don’t worry," Sairi said, trying to reassure him. "I found the crystal. We can save the Tree with it later. Just get out of there before you get killed."

"The Tree is the least of our problems," Ivanov insisted. "The tragedy is the books. They hold the entire history of this planet. If they burn this history, they will fabricate a new one, claiming this world has always belonged to them. Nothing but these rare manuscripts can expose their falsehoods to the universe. We must save the library, or these people have no future. They will be scattered across the stars, just like us."

Sairi sighed heavily. "We have the crystal. We can flee and head for Earth. Why do you want to throw away this golden opportunity to reclaim our home? Why drag us into a war we cannot handle? Think, Ivanov. If the Franks discover us, they will place bounties on our heads across the galaxy. The Enix chasing us are bad enough. Saving ourselves is better than risking extinction in a conflict with a galactic empire we have neither the strength nor the gear to fight. I barely defeated one of them, and he nearly killed me."

"I killed one of them too," Ivanov retorted grimly. "They will investigate. We are already involved."

He paused for a beat, then spoke with steely determination. "There is a Prince here who has inflicted defeat after defeat upon the Franks. He controls seventy percent of the planet. If we aid him, perhaps he can drive them off this world. He will surely notice the burning of the Tree and bring a massive army. The Ghlizan will rise up for their holiest site. This is a chance to finally win, to stop running from planet to planet. This is the third world we’ve fled in defeat. Do you want to run again, to go wherever the winds of fate blow us? Haven’t we had enough of running? We have the crystal. We can rebuild the burnt villages, restore the crops. Let us try to win this time. We can make this planet a base for our return to Earth. We don’t know what awaits us there—it could be under galactic occupation with endless weapons waiting for us. We must win here if we want to reclaim Earth."

Sairi exhaled a long breath of frustration. "What a stubborn man you are. Hard of head and hard of body. Very well. I will try to reach the others and tell them to gather at the Tree. But if the battle is lost, we flee immediately. No regrets."

"Agreed."

"I forgot to tell you," Sairi added, his voice dropping. "One of the Enix is here. He shadows Noor like a ghost; he cannot shake him."

Ivanov frowned, pressing a hand to his aching wounds. "So they found us. Gather the comrades, try to neutralize him and save Noor, then come to the Tree fast."

Sairi looked out at the stretching desert and stretched his stiff limbs. "That is the plan, but I don’t know his location. I’ll rally the others and wait for Noor to send coordinates."

Ivanov cut the connection and sprinted up the stairs just as several shells slammed into the Tree, obliterating large sections of wood and leaf.