The silence that followed the explosion was even more deafening than the roar itself. Aaryan remained standing. The royal insignia on his back emitted heat that vaporised the acid rain within a ten-metre radius, turning his tattered, grey-blue work clothes to ash. Bathed in the purple-gold light, his exposed back exuded a divine, towering presence.
"Look… that's…" Balthazar wiped the blood from his eyes, propped himself up on his broken sword and swayed as he stood.
He witnessed a miracle beyond physics: the ruins of the clock tower, which had been on the verge of complete collapse due to bombardment by the 'Holy Diamond Pulse Cannon', were now undergoing strange 'recirculation' within the golden light. The broken iron beams seemed to come alive, reassembling with creaking sounds as they did so, while shattered gears and springs emerged from the dust and embedded themselves precisely in place in mid-air.
This was no longer mechanical repair, but the 'Royal Law' reorganising reality.
Aaryan turned around, dark golden flames flickering deep within his pupils. The spacetime core spun wildly on his gauntlet, each rotation releasing high-frequency shockwaves that erected a translucent, purple-gold dome around the outpost's ruins. Just seconds earlier, the second wave of the 'Wings of Judgment' saturation bombardment had arrived. Missile swarms, each capable of destroying entire blocks, struck the dome, creating only ripples before being forcefully dissipated by its overwhelming power.
'The ether density is surging... the physical parameters here are converging towards the "Primal Crystal Zone"!' Cyrus exclaimed, a mixture of fear and excitement evident in his eyes as he looked at the now-destroyed detector.
However, the crisis wasn't averted by the reshaping of the golden light. Aaryan's face turned deathly pale. He was using his own flesh and blood as the core while battling the 'rectifier' of the real world. With each rebuilding of the ruins and each defence against bombardment, his spine — the core of his bloodline, known as the 'Spine of the Royal Family' — was being crushed repeatedly by tens of thousands of tons of ethereal pressure.
'Aaryan, stop! Your body can't withstand this level of 'Domain Expansion'!" Dahlia staggered towards him. She could sense the groans emanating from his veins — the inhuman power forcibly widening his meridians.
Aaryan didn't turn back. His gaze pierced the golden barrier and fixed on the Holy Blood Floating Tower, which remained indifferent above the clouds.
'If I stop, the Maya District will have no backbone left.' His voice was hoarse yet unwavering.
As he spoke, the black mist of the 'Clockwork Plague' outside the dome thickened even more. Having seen their first wave of attacks fail, the Holy Blood Council had completely torn off its mask of benevolence. The workers lingering outside the ruins, unable to retreat to their stronghold, screamed in agony. Their steam-powered prosthetics were gradually transforming into self-destructing bombs as they received destructive signals.
Golden light and black mist clashed and tore at each other on the ruined streets. The Clock Tower stronghold was like an isolated island in this dark city. Aaryan was the unyielding pillar supporting it.
'The first wave is held back.'
He coughed up a mouthful of blood mixed with crystalline fragments, pressing his right hand tightly against the melting spacetime core.
'I'll make them pay for the debts to come, inch by inch.'
The purple-gold dome temporarily shielded them from the aerial bombardment, but the ground was already shadowed by a killing intent.
In the rubble surrounding the clock tower outpost, several corpses of the 'Purgers', which had been stacked together, suddenly began to twitch eerily. The 'parasitic etheric cores' that Malakor had implanted in the back of their necks were emitting a dark red glow. This forbidden technology could take over the nervous systems of the dead and transform them into painless combat puppets.
'Holy Blood Never Dies... Heretics... Must Be Punished..." Four modified 'Flesh Zombies' leapt up, their overloaded etheric warblades spewing pale flames several metres long as they hurtled towards Aaryan, who was standing at the edge of the defence line.
'Aaryan, watch out for the flank!' Balthazar shouted, struggling to raise his broken sword. However, his recent severe injury caused him to stumble.
However, Aaryan didn't even turn his head. He was completely focused on sensing the city's 'pulse', his fingertips shimmering with a purplish-gold light. Just as the blade was inches from his carotid artery, the royal insignia on his back suddenly trembled.
An invisible repulsive field erupted instantly. The four zombie soldiers were hit with the force of a speeding steam train; their breastplates collapsed instantly and their bodies were flung away, crashing heavily into broken metal pillars.
'Is this your way of treating guests?' Aaryan slowly turned around, his voice carrying an edge of chill born of experience. 'Using the dead to humiliate this land?'
At that moment, the rhythmic crunch of tracks echoed through the dust. A squad of 'Punishment Knights' clad in heavy, fully enclosed anti-magic armour was slowly approaching, led by a high-ranking commander codenamed 'Broken Swordsman'. His mechanical legs, forged from steel, left deep cracks in the ground with every step.
'Aaryan, former handyman number 8972 at the former machine factory,' boomed the Broken Swordsman's hollow, grating voice through the loudspeaker. 'Do you think you can challenge the Council's truth by activating a remnant of ancient blood? The demonic beings behind you aren't worth an ounce of ether on our scales."
He waved his hand and the punitive knights spread out, pushing several captured demonic civilians to the front. Each had a red, glowing 'wind-up bomb' implanted in their chest.
'Kneel down and hand over the Time-Space Core,' the Broken Swordsman sneered, 'or watch your "comrades" turn to ashes in the glory of a king. You call yourself a king, but a king cannot protect ants."
The atmosphere in the stronghold instantly plummeted. Cyrus pounded the walls in fury while his rescued coworkers struggled desperately.
This was the logic of the Holy Blood Council: extreme selfishness and the absolute objectification of life. In their eyes, all emotions were quantifiable costs.
Aaryan's fingers trembled slightly with rage. He could feel the ancient, mournful cries of the land reverberating from the centre of the spacetime axis.
'The truth you speak of is nothing but a lie built upon bones.' Aaryan strode forward, stepping past the purple-gold protective circle, and walked alone towards the group of heavily armoured knights.
'Halt! One more step and I'll detonate!' the Broken Swordsman roared, his finger already on the remote control.
'Detonate,' Aaryan said, his voice eerily calm.
The Broken Swordsman paused, then burst into maniacal laughter. 'Fine! Is this your so-called "King's Mercy"? Then let's all go to hell together!'
He slammed down the red button.
However, the expected bloody explosion did not occur.
At its peak, the red light on the civilians' chests was forcibly enveloped by a warm, purplish-gold aura, and the originally explosive energy was absorbed by the spacetime axis upon touching Aaryan's domain, like rivers flowing into the sea.
'Before my presence, no death is permitted.' Aaryan's figure appeared instantly before the broken swordsman, his purplish-gold pupils staring directly at him.
His right hand, with fingers like knives, plunged directly into the indestructible heavy breastplate of the broken swordsman, precisely crushing the power core within.
'Crack.'
The power circuits of the Punishment Knight squad simultaneously shut down. Aaryan stood amidst the paralysed enemy ranks, the mark on his back like an unyielding battle flag.
"Go back and tell Malakor," Aaryan said, casually tossing the paralysed commander into the mud, "that I now control every spring in the Maya district, every drop of filthy blood. If he wants them, let him come with his own coffin."
This battle not only halted the advance, it also created a clear dividing line between friend and foe amidst the ruins: on one side, the cold shackles of order; on the other, the bloodstained awakening of monarchy.
The Punishment Knights' paralysis cast an eerie silence over the clock tower. Aaryan stood in the rain, the sparks from the crushed power core still clinging to his fingertips. He could feel countless cold eyes watching him intently via satellite surveillance above the thick, leaden clouds.
'They won't stop,' said Cyrus, trudging over with his steam-powered prosthetic eye flashing a chaotic red light. 'That "Broken Swordsman" was just the Council's "cleaner". Malakor's true trump cards are the 'White Tower Guard' and the 'Clockwork Plague' spreading through the city's pipes."
Aaryan closed his eyes and placed his palm on a steel beam reshaped by golden light at the stronghold.
The Maya District was not just a slum. Its crisscrossing underground steam pipes and ethereal cables were actually poorly constructed replicas of the ancient royal city's 'ethereal network', through which the Holy Blood Council extracted life force from the lower classes. The intersection of these networks is the clock tower.
'Cyrus, what if I forcefully embed this core into the power supply centre of the Maya District?' Aaryan suddenly opened her eyes, her tone chillingly calm.
Cyrus froze, then shook her head frantically. "You're insane! The core is high-dimensional energy and these pipes are ancient relics. They'll all explode like overloaded fuses!" Besides, do you really want to refine the entire city's hub? How much divine consciousness would that consume? You'd end up a dried-up corpse!"
'If I don't do it, every single one of them will become a living bomb.' Aaryan pointed to the workers huddled in the corner outside the stronghold, their prosthetic bodies emitting black smoke. 'Malakor has used the "Crimson Pact" to reverse-engineer all the prosthetic bodies. Only by regaining control of this network can the spread of the virus be stopped. I will use my blood to give this city's skeleton a new spine." "
Dahlia stepped forward and gently took Aaryan's trembling hand in hers. She could feel the royal mark on his back changing from hot to cold, which was a sign of extreme exhaustion. 'I will help you,' she whispered. 'My "White Eye Sensing" ability can help you avoid the bursting points of those old pipes. If you are the spine, then I am the nerve."
Meanwhile, several kilometres away, atop the Holy Blood Floating Tower...
Malakor was immersed in a life-sustaining pool filled with blue repair fluid. His skin was covered in purplish-gold burn marks, imprints left by Aaryan's backlash against the 'Crimson Pact'.
'Heh… "The Spine of the Royal Family," huh?' Malakor extended a withered finger and traced it across the virtual holographic screen in front of him. The screen displayed Aaryan standing before the stronghold. 'He wanted to refine the Nexus; he wanted to save those ants. What a 'merciful' king.' 'My lord, should we deploy Karsor?' a priest in white robes whispered from the shadows.
'No, let him refine it.' A ruthless glint flashed in Malakor's eyes. 'When he's completely absorbed in the refining process, he'll be the world's most vulnerable battery. Issue the order to activate the 'Final Judgement' countdown. I will take his noble soul the moment he believes he has redeemed the entire city."
A storm was gathering in the shadows. Inside the stronghold, Aaryan took a deep breath and slowly pressed the spacetime core into the slot beneath the clock tower.
A purple-gold light spread along the rusty iron pipes into the unfathomable depths of the Maya District.
Trying to refine the 'lungs' of a city is no easier than containing surging magma with a single capillary.
Deep beneath the clock tower, a purplish-gold light spread wildly along a spider's web of steam pipes. However, with each step forward, Aaryan's body trembled violently. This was not just an energy transfer, but a powerful spiritual connection. His consciousness was forcibly peeling away the 'Crimson Pact' mark belonging to Malakor, which was clinging to the pipes as the light expanded.
'Ah—!' Aaryan suddenly dropped to one knee, digging his fingers deep into the marble floor.
To him, every inch of the Maya District felt like a rusty saw. Due to the Council's years of excessive extraction of the etheric veins, the underground veins were riddled with holes and filled with a chaotic mix of greedy energy. When the royal bloodline attempted to repair these veins, decades of accumulated 'industrial resentment' and 'etheric residue' surged forth like a tidal wave, hitting him in the back.
"He's enduring the pain of the entire city…" Dahlia's face was deathly pale. She tried to ease Aaryan's suffering with the power of her white pupils, but the moment her hand touched his shoulder, she was repelled by a dark red electric current.
That was Malakor's trump card: the 'Bloodline Trap'.
"Aaryan, look outside!" Balthazar's furious roar came from above.
The situation outside the Clock Tower stronghold was rapidly deteriorating. The "Wings of Judgment" fleet, which had previously dispersed, had not retreated into the sky. Instead, they were hovering at the four extreme points of the Maya District, dropping four enormous, tombstone-like black crystal pillars — 'Etheric Insulating Pillars'.
As these pillars sank into the ground, the purple-gold sensory network that Aaryan had just established was instantly severed. Even more terrifyingly, the pillars began to emit a high-frequency pulse.
To ordinary people, the sound was harmless, but for civilians with steam-powered prosthetics, it was a countdown to hell. 'Beep—beep—'
'My hand... my hand is moving on its own!' a co-worker cried out in terror. His heavy mining prosthetic hand had twisted through 180 degrees and was gripping his neck tightly. 'Help! My heart… the clockwork is jammed!'
Wailing cries filled the air. This was Malakor's insidious plan: since he couldn't stop Aaryan from refining the core, he would manipulate the terminal's prosthetics, turning Aaryan's object of salvation into a weapon that would kill him.
'Despicable...' Blood seeped from Aaryan's teeth. He had to make a choice: either continue refining the core and ignore his coworkers killing each other outside, or withdraw his power to protect the civilians. However, this would interrupt the refining process and the out-of-control energy would instantly shatter the spacetime core, turning the entire Maya District into a sea of fire.
Just then, the gate to the stronghold in the clock tower was smashed open.
A group of miners, completely under the control of the 'Clockwork Plague' with unfocused pupils, stumbled towards Aaryan, manipulated by the Aether Core and wielding crude wrenches, crowbars and pieces of gravel.
'Kill... kill... the heretics...' they murmured, their words sounding like synthesised electronics, devoid of human understanding.
'Damn it! Don't come any closer! That's Aaryan!' Balthazar brandished his broken sword in an attempt to stop them, but he dared not use his full strength — these were his brothers-in-arms, the very foundation that Aaryan was fighting to protect.
An old miner, who had once worked with Aaryan in the boiler room and now had a bloodshot prosthetic eye, held a sharp chisel, aiming straight for the back of Aaryan's neck — the most vulnerable point of the royal mark — as Aaryan underwent a critical refining process.
'Clang!' Even more terrifyingly, the pillars began to emit a high-frequency pulse.
To ordinary people, the sound was harmless, but for civilians with steam-powered prosthetics, it was a countdown to hell. 'Beep—beep—'
'My hand... my hand is moving on its own!' a co-worker cried out in terror. His heavy mining prosthetic hand had twisted 180 degrees and was gripping his neck tightly. 'Help! My heart… the clockwork is jammed!'
Wailing cries filled the air. This was Malakor's insidious plan: since he couldn't stop Aaryan from refining the core, he would manipulate the terminal's prosthetics, turning Aaryan's object of salvation into a weapon that would kill him.
'Despicable...' Blood seeped from Aaryan's teeth. He had to make a choice: continue refining the core and ignore his coworkers killing each other outside, or withdraw his power and interrupt the refining process. The out-of-control energy would then instantly shatter the spacetime core, turning the entire Maya District into a sea of fire.
Just then, the gate to the stronghold in the clock tower was smashed open.
A group of miners, completely under the control of the 'Clockwork Plague' with unfocused pupils, stumbled towards Aaryan, manipulated by the Aether Core and wielding crude wrenches, crowbars and pieces of gravel.
'Kill... kill... the heretics...' they murmured, their words sounding like synthesised electronics, devoid of human understanding.
'Damn it! Don't come any closer! That's Aaryan!' Balthazar brandished his broken sword in an attempt to stop them, but he dared not use his full strength — these were his brothers-in-arms, the very foundation that Aaryan was fighting to protect.
An old miner, who had once worked with Aaryan in the boiler room and now had a bloodshot prosthetic eye, held a sharp chisel, aiming straight for the back of Aaryan's neck — the most vulnerable point of the royal mark — as Aaryan underwent a critical refining process.
'Clang!' Dahlia pushed the old miner out of the way, but the chisel also cut her arm, leaving a deep wound that exposed the bone.
"Aaryan, don't be distracted! Leave this to us!' Dahlia cried out through gritted teeth. But her voice was drowned out by the wailing cries of agony.
An even more despairing presence loomed above them: atop the Holy Blood Floating Tower, Malakor's phantom was projected onto the clouds of the Maya District, looking down upon the struggling ants below.
'Look at these lowly people you love, Aaryan,' Malakor's laughter echoed throughout the city. 'You give them hope; I give them despair. You give them light; I give them pain. When you've borne too much suffering on this 'Royal Spine', do you think this bone won't break?"
As Malakor's words fell, the four 'etheric insulating stakes' abruptly closed and the purple-gold dome of the Great Clock Tower stronghold began to collapse. The violent energy fluctuations caused countless tiny cracks to appear on Aaryan's skin and dark golden blood dripped into the underground slots, sizzling and burning.
Aaryan's vision blurred. He saw Balthazar being overwhelmed by a dozen crazed civilians, Cyrus desperately trying to repair the overloaded, burning control panel, and Dahlia's pale face illuminated by the firelight.
He did not feel as though he was refining a city; he felt as though he was carrying a collapsing mountain on his back. Every scream of his colleagues was like a nail driven into his consciousness through his veins.
"Is this... your order?"
Aaryan lowered his head, sweat and blood mingling as they dripped down. He felt loneliness and powerlessness from the depths of his soul. As king, he had to watch helplessly as his people suffered for his sake; as saviour, he had become the source of disaster.
This sense of oppression was more despairing than death.
His spine cracked as if it were about to break under this overwhelming mental and physical pressure.
"Casso..." Malakor whispered into the void. "Go and reap that bent spine. Since he wants to be the foundation, let him rot in the mud forever."
From the shadows of the stronghold ruins, a heavy, silver figure slowly emerged. It was Casso, the ultimate force of the Holy Blood Council and the nightmare that had brought devastation to Aaryan's father. He dragged his massive, cross-shaped greatsword, each step landing in time with Aaryan's chaotic heartbeat.
The situation had reached a dead end.
Kaso's greatsword dragged across the ground, sending sparks flying. 'It's over, descendant of the losers,' Kaso boomed like thunder within the sealed stronghold. He raised the greatsword high above his head, its blade shimmering with the dark red 'execution ether' bestowed by the Holy Blood Council. He aimed it at Aaryan, who lay prostrate on the ground, his back heaving violently.
However, just a second before the greatsword — powerful enough to cleave a warship — fell, time seemed to freeze.
'Kaso...' Aaryan slowly raised his head and his eyes were no longer human pupils but two nebulae pulsating with purple-gold flames. 'You were once my father's guard; you should know better than anyone that the bones of royalty cannot be crushed.'
Boom!
A destructive energy surge exploded from Aaryan's centre. It was an inward contraction, not an outward impact. The four 'ether insulating stakes' that had been shrouding the city in an attempt to sever the connection now groaned metallically under strain. 'What?!' Malakor, far away in the floating tower, jumped to his feet and stared in horror at the monitor screen.
Aaryan revealed his trump card. He didn't try to resist the overwhelming 'pain' and 'resentment'. Instead, he opened every pore in his body and actively absorbed the distorted etheric burden that had accumulated in the Maya District over decades into his spine.
Mystical Refining Method: Using the body as a furnace to forge the entire city!
'Since you treat the Maya District like a cage, I will turn it into my bones!' A thunderous roar, like that of a dragon, erupted from Aaryan's spine. The previously dim royal mark burst forth with dazzling light. It was no longer gentle, but carried a majesty that ruled over life and death. On the streets of the Maya District, civilians controlled by cybernetic bodies and forced to kill each other suddenly stopped. An overwhelming force emanating from the depths of their souls made them kneel on the ground involuntarily.
"What was that sound?" An old miner with tears streaming down his face gazed towards the clock tower. He could hear a heartbeat, not just from one person, but from the entire city's steam pipes, intricate gears and underground mines, all beating violently at the same frequency.
At that moment, the control signals of the 'Crimson Pact' parasitising the prosthetic body were erased by a more powerful, more ancient will.
Beneath the clock tower, Aaryan gripped the blade of Kaso's greatsword tightly with one hand, dark golden blood trickling down the edge. However, not a drop was wasted; it swiftly transformed into dense runes and flowed back up the sword, invading Kaso's silver armour.
"This is what you call a 'contract'?" Aaryan's voice carried an oracular majesty. 'Now, I will rewrite the logic!'
He shattered his greatsword and the mark on his back exploded, transforming into six translucent, purple-gold wings. These were not feathers, but the 'Wings of Order', composed of countless rapidly spinning gears and pure ethereal flow.
'Reversed—Harvest!'
With Aaryan's roar, the ethereal pathways of the entire Maya District instantly reversed. The 'bloodline trap', which had been draining life force from civilians, transformed into a vortex that absorbed the power of the Holy Blood Council.
The four massive 'insulating stakes' in the sky were instantly blasted to smithereens, turning into a rain of ether. The 'Wings of Judgement' warship on top of the clock tower, which had been preparing to fire, had its engines shut down simultaneously as if in the presence of a true king and plummeted to the ground.
Kaso was forced to his knees before Aaryan by the terrifying pressure of the bloodline. His prized silver armour crumbled inch by inch in the purple light, revealing twisted mechanical flesh.
"Impossible... This bloodline's purity has surpassed even that of the former king..." Kaso trembled, his eyes filled with unprecedented terror.
Aaryan stood up straight. In that instant, it seemed as if his spine supported the entire sky of the Maya District. He looked towards the floating tower, his piercing gaze striking directly at Malakor's soul through the layers of mist.
"Malakor, the backbone of the Maya District, has returned."
The entire stronghold was rebuilt in golden light and the damaged equipment was instantly repaired by high-purity ether. Balthazar gripped the reforged greatsword and Dahlia's white eyes shone with an unprecedented brilliance. The horn of counterattack sounded at that very moment.
Above the Maya District, the perpetually heavy, leaden-grey clouds were torn open by the shockwave of Aaryan's awakening, creating a vast empty space. However, this brief respite brought no salvation, only a deeper shadow.
The collapse of the 'Crimson Pact' triggered a violent backflow of ether. In the shadows of the city, traitors who had secretly pledged allegiance to the Holy Blood Council wailed in agony. Toxins from the broken pact spread beneath their skin like a purple spider's web, transforming their flesh into twisted crystals.
Malakor's Final Madness
Ten thousand metres above the ground at the summit of the Holy Blood Floating Tower, High Priest Malakor knelt beside the dried-up energy pool. His once smooth, jade-like skin had become crinkled and wrinkled, and his withered hands were frantically clawing at the control panel.
'My bloodline... my bloodline is draining!' His voice was sharp and hoarse, filled with the madness of a dying beast.
The draining force of the 'Reverse Contract' had shattered Malakor's centuries-old illusion of immortality completely. Looking at his murky eyes in the mirror, he suddenly let out a maniacal, chilling laugh and pulled the forbidden red lever, raising the tower's defence level to 'Ember Mode'.
'Since you desire this throne, Aaryan, then climb up over the corpses of your own people!' With this roar, the thrusters at the base of the floating tower spewed out eerie, dark red flames. The entire tower began to rotate slowly and heavily, like a butcher's knife hanging over Maya's head. On top of the ruins of the Great Clock Tower stronghold, Aaryan slowly rose. The royal mark on his back did not extinguish, but instead transformed into a serene, almost transparent glow.
Before him was the 'Etheric Connection Rail', which had once belonged to the Holy Blood Council. Due to energy overload, it glowed a sickly crimson. The rail slanted through the clouds and pointed directly at the imposing floating tower like a blood-paved road.
Aaryan's gaze was cold and resolute; the crystalline part of his right hand resonated subtly in the cold wind.
His companions: Dahlia gripped the glimmer of light tightly, Cyrus frantically adjusted the last set of propulsion packs, and Balthazar stood silently behind Aaryan, carrying his broken sword.
'This is the final path,' Aaryan murmured.
He stepped onto the blood-red etheric rail first. With each step, the defensive runes on the rail shattered resentfully, sensing the royal bloodline.
In the distance, the defensive cannons of the Holy Blood Floating Tower began to charge, and crimson light flashed in the clouds. The target was the Holy Blood Floating Tower! Aaryan and his team were about to face their most brutal vertical assault yet. Meanwhile, Malakor's final 'gift' is about to unveil a shocking lie buried in the Maya region for sixty years.