Chapter 57

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Chapter 57: Title

Merlinka stood alone in her empty living room, her face paling as waves of helplessness washed over her.

Is this the power of divinity? Resistance seems utterly futile.

This wasn’t her first encounter with deities. When she’d returned to the elven race, she’d been granted an audience with their queen rumored to have ascended to divine tier. She also knew the Earth God himself had created their kind.

"Hello? Myers?"

"It’s Merlinka. Regarding the Wizard Academy matter we discussed… Yes, I’ll act as your mediator. Consider it settled."

Realm of the Dead

Satan brought Waylin into his grand hall where subordinates conducted soul judgments. The Lord of the Dead sprawled casually across his obsidian throne.

While in the human realm, the spiritual pressure had been bearable. But here in his domain, Waylin found herself instinctively bowing under the crushing weight of infernal authority.

"Your Majesty, what purpose does this soul serve?" his adjutant inquired.

"Undecided," Satan propped his chin lazily. "What use is a six-century-old wraith? Were it not for Father God’s meddling…"

"Given her antiquity, perhaps she could assist with our staffing shortages?"

"Shortages?"

"Indeed, Sire. Even with streamlined judgment protocols, daily mortality rates overwhelm us."

Satan’s fingers drummed the armrest. At minimum she could fetch tea – he recalled his earlier notion and gave a dismissive nod.

"Assign her to your division. Instruct her in our ways, and ensure she causes no disruptions."

Thus, Waylin’s eternal fate was sealed through casual decree.

Though aware of divine existence, she’d never stood this close to incarnate power. Her gaze drifted to the suited figure beside Satan’s throne.

"You’ll be shadowing me," the sharp-dressed entity declared.

"As you command, God of Death."

"Judge Loifis," he corrected with a sidelong glance at his liege. "Your Majesty, will you be attending to duties today?"

Satan’s initial impulse to flee wilted beneath recent memories of transgressions. Better endure temporary responsibility.

"I’ll remain."

"Most gratifying." Loifis’ lips curved slightly.

Judges required extensive soul records for verdicts, but the Lord of the Dead needed mere glances to condemn souls to Hell or rebirth.

"Cease grinning. This is tedious," Satan grumbled, yet began processing souls with supernatural efficiency.

"Loifis – take this… Waylin? Familiarize her with the realm."

"You’re relieved for half a cycle."

"By your will, Majesty."

The judgment hall centered around Satan’s throne flanked by four judicial seats, typically processing soul clusters simultaneously.

As paperwork mounds dulled his interest, Satan’s hand suddenly froze over an unexpected document – an exchange plan from eastern underworld dignitaries. Intrigued by their proposed innovations, he seized a raven quill dipped in crimson ink and scrawled bold annotations across the parchment.

Hades was occupied with his duties in the hall when news arrived of Satan’s return from the human realm, accompanied by a lingering spirit. Rather than passing judgment, the Lord of Hell had chosen to harbor the ghost within his domain.

The ruler of the underworld paused only briefly before dismissing the matter. If Satan wished to keep his peculiar souvenir, who was he to interfere?

The Book of Death in Hades’ grasp glowed faintly as it chronicled the kneeling soul’s earthly existence – an American male who’d perished under the strain of brutal human experimentation. The god-king’s fingers traced the glowing text, his eyelids fluttering closed as divine insight revealed the mortal’s ultimate cause of demise.

Ought he consult the Father God? Yet this remained strictly mortal affairs territory. Let those meddlesome guardians of the human realm handle their own messes. Recalling the supreme deity’s characteristic apathy, Hades’ features hardened with resolve as he pronounced judgment.

America’s sudden surge in human experimentation couldn’t be divorced from Obias County’s recent disturbances. Clearly, the nation sought defenses against Satan’s growing influence. The so-called "plans to create gods" and "plans to kill gods" drew bitter amusement from the underworld sovereign. Did these mortals truly believe deities could be manufactured through mere belief?

*

Deep within a secret military base in America, requisitioned six weeks prior for unspeakable purposes, machines hummed with terrible purpose.

Fifteen days earlier…

The Atlantic had revealed its nightmare – a leviathan spanning eight city blocks. Naval submarines pursued the aberration through crushing depths until their instruments screamed in protest. Through swirling silt emerged an impossibility: an ancient continent cradling sophisticated ruins.

Human fragility normally prohibited such exploration, yet here their vessel settled effortlessly on dry seabed. "A spatial partition?" breathed a submariner, fingers flying across communication panels to alert surface ships.

The crew stood transfixed before their viewports. Before them stretched a luminous metropolis of alabaster spires and paved boulevards, illuminated by some unseen celestial light. The crushing blackness of the deep sea had been banished, leaving only this silent necropolis where carvings whispered of forgotten glory.

"These coordinates… the Atlantic trench?"

"Where else?"

"But that would mean…" The sailor’s voice dropped to a reverent whisper. "Atlantis?"

Legends East and West concurred – here lay the fabled sunken empire. Ancient texts described floating cities and celestial wisdom, all drowned in divine wrath. Modern scholars dismissed it as allegory, yet here pulsed physical proof beneath their trembling floodlights.

Within hours, encrypted transmissions sparked frenzied activity in war rooms. Twenty-four hours later, armored teams descended in bathyspheres, accompanied by trembling researchers.

The energy barrier’s properties defied logic. When a Xiao Bai mouse passed through the shimmering veil, its tiny body compressed instantly into crimson paste – conclusive evidence. The barrier itself posed no harm; survival merely required overcoming oceanic pressure and obtaining underwater respiration.

"Seventy millennia," murmured a white-coated scientist, staring at Carbon-14 dating results. The numbers danced tauntingly on his tablet. "These structures predate recorded human civilization by fifty thousand years."

Seventy thousand years—what did that even signify? Modern human civilization, by most accounts, barely spanned ten millennia. True cultural development through magical formations emerged merely a few thousand years prior; humanity hadn’t fully evolved seventy millennia ago.

"This appears to be an ancient civilization. I wonder if its creators still survive."

The architectural carvings testified to a sophisticated society, but what truly captivated their attention was the luminous sphere suspended overhead like a miniature sun.

Its radiance stretched across vast distances without the sun’s harsh glare.

"Could this be the legendary Atlantis? Colonel Wells, let’s investigate those structures. We might uncover vital clues within."

"Agreed." The middle-aged officer in colonel’s attire nodded curtly.

Soldiers advanced cautiously, fingers tense against their firearm triggers. The absence of visible threats didn’t warrant lowered vigilance.

They crossed a barren hundred-meter expanse separating the energy veil from the structures—twenty meters of lifeless void between technological marvels.

"These crystal pyramids adorn every building’s exterior. What’s their purpose?" a researcher mused aloud.

"Can we breach the entrance?" Colonel Wells demanded.

"Negative—appears locked." A soldier shoved against immovable stone.

When another scholar brushed the floating fist-sized crystal pyramid, ethereal light erupted alongside mellifluous alien speech.

"Password interface? That must’ve been their native tongue. Deciphering this could prove invaluable."

Though the ancient city seemed to welcome intruders, its secrets remained barred. The colonel finally ordered explosives deployed.

Detonations triggered dormant defenses—heavenly beams descended like divine judgment. Sophisticated laser weaponry claimed two lives, paradoxically increasing the site’s worth.

The blast shattered the sealed doorway. Researchers carefully stored the hovering crystal pyramid in a glass container, its anti-gravity properties defying explanation.

This technology—potentially revolutionary anti-gravity applications—could birth new aerospace eras. Industrial transformations loomed imminent.

Within the tripartite structure, oversized clamshells replaced conventional bedding, sized for two-meter occupants.

Teams catalogued scattered artifacts but found no texts—only fingernail-sized crystal shells matching the pyramids’ material.

The expedition withdrew after partial exploration, leaving sentries at the energy barrier. All finds were transported to military facilities, launching formal Atlantean studies.

"The residents fled hastily—abandoned possessions lie in disarray. This mural shows three merfolk: two adults, one youth, all with human torsos and fish tails…"

Though legends credited Atlantis to humankind, evidence disproved this. The preserved city merely represented one settlement on the lost continent.

Nearby ruins detected through scans lay in worse condition. America prioritized reverse-engineering Atlantean tech over historical inquiry—practical applications trumped academic curiosity.

*

Hell’s Depths

"Your Majesty, what troubles you?"

Mammon trembled before the brooding Demon King. Aeons had passed since he’d witnessed such stormy countenance—not since the sovereign’s emergence from the abyssal depths.

"Mammon… someone has summoned the Void."

"What?!" The demon’s voice cracked. Even Hell’s denizens shunned dealings with the primordial abyss.

"Did you go to the Abyss for this matter?"

"Yes."

"I can sense the Abyss growing restless; it must be plotting to seize this opportunity." With the Magic Return and the emergence of Heaven and Hell, the Abyss had detected shifts in the outer world. Its stirring ambitions came as no surprise.

After all, the Abyss had harbored intentions to corrupt the world from the very beginning.

"What about you…"

"I’m unharmed." Lucifer reclined lazily upon his throne, a soft chuckle escaping him.

That smile sent Mammon’s heart racing. His Majesty’s beauty remained utterly mesmerizing, even after millennia of gazing upon it.

"What of Heaven’s affairs?"

"No trace of the Son has been found. By the reckoning of time, he should have already descended to the human realm." Mammon schooled his thoughts and answered with deference.

The Son, Messiah – an old acquaintance from Hell’s chronicles.

"What of the preparations I tasked you with?" Lucifer’s gaze lifted to meet Mammon’s. The Son’s last descent felt like eons past.

This time, how could they neglect to gift Heaven some delightful turmoil?

"All is in readiness."

"Excellent. Let us hope Messiah won’t shower me with excessive gratitude." Lucifer’s crimson eyes sparkled with impish delight, a living testament to his title as Demon King.

Within the canopy of the World Tree, Ye Linlang surveyed her created realms. Any mortal witnessing these worlds would find themselves struck dumb with awe.

Countless spheres of existence beyond human comprehension clung to the branches like dewdrops, each connected to Blue Star by shimmering threads. Most realms lay dormant, their translucent forms so fragile they might vanish at a touch. A select few pulsed with energy flowing through crystalline filaments, nourishing their bubble-worlds.

Cradled in Ye Linlang’s palm glowed an orb containing a curled figure – the Son himself. Her task was simple: place this luminous vessel upon Blue Star.

Then grant its occupant legitimate existence in that world.

"Messiah" meant "Christ" in the Hebrew tongue, born of lore where a virgin mother carried divine child.

A spatial vortex swirled before Ye Linlang. With practiced ease, she sent the orb tumbling through.

None witnessed the luminous sphere’s descent until it settled within a French maiden named Maria. That night, the girl dreamed of an angel wreathed in celestial radiance.

This Maria would birth the Son as his mortal mother, though Ye Linlang had no plans for divine ascension. One supreme deity sufficed for the West – no need for rival claimants to devotion. Yet as reward for bearing the Son, she reserved for Maria an angel’s station.

The Son’s coming went unnoticed by humankind.

Not so for Gabriel and his fellow archangels. When divine prophecy stirred them, Gabriel made haste toward the human realm.

Michael stayed him with raised hand. "Seven days the Son requires for birth. Remain earthbound until their passing."

"Understood."

Maria awoke haunted by her strange vision. All knew of the Son’s prophesied coming through Vatican City’s proclamations, yet weeks had slipped by without sign.

From descent to birth spanned seven sevens of days, the final week demanding utmost vigilance. Gabriel’s diminished power forced him into hidden guardianship of the Son’s mortal mother.

Through Maria’s school gates swaggered hellspawn wearing grins sharper than daggers. Leading them? None other than Mammon, seventh among Hell’s dread Kings.

With His Majesty concealing his demonic aura, Mammon harbored no fear of detection by the angels guarding the Son unless deities manifested personally. He comported himself as the most ordinary of individuals.

Originally, Samael and others were to undertake this task, but their refusal to face former comrades had thrust the responsibility upon him. After millennia of fallen exile, such reservations seemed absurd.

A golden light sphere slipped into Maria’s womb during their passing encounter. This birth would yield more than just the Son of the Holy Light. Mammon’s gaze followed the retreating figure of guardian angel Gabriel accompanying the maiden.

Their battlefield encounters had been numerous, yet Mammon never anticipated Gabriel’s descent to the human realm. Securing a soul undetectable to holy radiance proved arduous, particularly one predisposed to darkness’ corruption.

Days accumulated like sand through an hourglass. Maria observed her swelling abdomen with dawning horror, belatedly recalling the prophetic dream. Two souls gestated within her womb, unnoticed by both the mortal woman and her celestial guardian.

At the church confession, the priest’s skepticism dissolved upon verification – Maria found herself escorted to Vatican City.

On the seventh dawn, the Son manifested.

Sacred radiance flooded the chamber as cherubs materialized, their hymns weaving through air thick with destiny. History’s quill poised to record this momentous occasion.

Chaos erupted when twin infants emerged. "How can this be?" The Pope’s voice held steel-edged tension.

"Examinations showed single gestation!" The physician trembled, mystified by the delivery-room revelation.

Gabriel’s wings twitched involuntarily as he stared at the identical infants. The Messiah’s singular prophecy permitted no duplicates. Yet here lay two babes with golden wisps and cerulean eyes, their laughter pure as angelic chorus.

Heaven’s halls echoed with Michael’s choked exclamation. "Twins? Show me!"

The mirror’s surface shimmered, revealing Maria’s progeny. "Eighteen mortal days until maturity," Gabriel murmured. "Now they’re indistinguishable."

"Soul signatures?" Michael pressed.

"Both resonate with the Holy Spirit’s essence. Could division have occurred?"

Before the Divine Throne in Crystal Heaven’s Grand Sanctuary, Michael knelt. "My God, why twins? Have we erred?"

From the celestial radiance came the reverberating truth: "Duality of light and darkness. Only one bears the Messiah’s incarnation."

"That other one…"

"Hell."

The deity uttered indifferently, making Michael’s eyelids flutter. They hadn’t provoked Hell recently—had the underworld initiated this confrontation? The archangel seemed oblivious to the Church’s ongoing persecution of dark creatures in the human realm.

"My God, can we discern between them?"

The duality of light and dark twins—did this mean one embodied radiance while the other dwelled in shadows? If one was the Son… then the other must be… Michael’s thoughts froze before reaching conclusion.

"Time will unveil all truths."

Departing the Grand Sanctuary in bewilderment, Michael grappled with the deity’s ambiguous words. How could he determine the true Son for the human realm’s sake?

Within the Grand Sanctuary’s depths.

The golden-eyed deity sat immobile upon the celestial throne, piercing gaze stretching beyond heavenly domains towards infernal landscapes. Had those divine orbs penetrated marble walls and celestial clouds, they might have witnessed Hell’s startling revelation.

Lucifer. Now this proves intriguing.

The deity’s eyelids descended like falling curtains.

Amidst the World Tree’s crown.

Ye Linlang’s chest tightened as she contemplated her exchange with Michael. What began as whimsical musing—this concept of light-dark twins—had somehow manifested through Hell’s machinations. The audacity to forge counterfeit Sons of Holy Light, then pair them with the genuine Messiah as siblings!

Tsk. Did Hell intend to gift Cain an unwitting uncle?

Before becoming the Son, Messiah bore another name. Yet those buried memories held no relevance now—Ye Linlang had seen to that during his creation. Through divine alchemy, she’d meticulously woven then purged conflicting recollections until only purity remained.

Adam became Messiah, yet Messiah transcended Adam.

In Vatican City, the Pope orchestrated caretakers for both potential Sons. Uncertain which child embodied the deity’s prophecy, equal opulence shrouded both. Kneeling before sacred altars, the pontiff prayed fervently for celestial guidance.

Gabriel materialized with ambiguous instructions. Though Heaven’s intentions remained obscure, earthly affairs demanded attention. "The duality of light and darkness persists," the archangel declared. "When time ripens, truth shall manifest in the true Son."

Eighteen human days—that’s all the twins needed to reach maturity.

Though confusion clouded his mind, the Pope dared not question. Divine wisdom surely veiled deeper meanings. He’d simply obey Gabriel’s command, nurturing both children through their accelerated growth.

Across Zhongxia’s territories.

News of the Western twins spread like wildfire through digital networks. In this era of instant communication, such cosmic events defied concealment.

Tang Tong cycled spiritual energy through her meridians, half a mooncycle having passed since her East Sea return. The golden dragon Ao Yuan’s brief encounter with Special Bureau agents still lingered in memory—how the majestic creature had stated peaceful intentions before vanishing into sapphire depths with his kin.

No further dragon sightings occurred, though marine monitors confirmed their continued deep sea presence. Authorities preferred this arrangement—having primordial beings roaming cities would cause pandemonium.

At Kunlun Valley’s construction site, workers fortified spiritual barriers. This energy-rich valley, mercifully devoid of mutated beasts, offered ideal cultivation grounds—save for the looming catastrophe predicted in six moons.

Zhongxia’s national physical fitness program accelerated exponentially. What began as public health initiative transformed into survival strategy after discovering the foreign rifts’ dual nature—portals spewing abyssal creatures while devouring whatever crossed their event horizons. The goal shifted: citizens needn’t become warriors, but must outrun the encroaching darkness.

Quality education has been promoted for years, yet the nation’s physical fitness remains below average. Now presented the perfect opportunity for thorough reform.

With a single decree from Zhongxia’s central authorities, provincial governments mobilized instantly. Schools converted physical education to Spiritual Practice classes while mandating post-school physical training.

Basic cultivation techniques proved straightforward. Teachers received specialized training with curated materials alongside scientific exercise regimens. Special Bureau members could practically envision schoolchildren intervening against injustice with righteous fists.

The same applied to adults. The Bureau’s official portal disclosed introductory cultivation techniques accessible through citizen Identity Cards for single-time acquisition and personalized selection.

These publicly available techniques, while far from top-tier, offered exceptional safety and versatility. Designed for ordinary people, risks of spiritual deviation remained minimal provided practitioners avoided unorthodox methods.

Special Bureau personnel naturally comprised the earliest adopters, alongside military and law enforcement teams preparing for impending chaos forecasted within five months.

Metropolitan law enforcement teams underwent rigorous selection, their capabilities surpassing novice cultivators – though exceptions existed for undiscovered talents among civilians.

Two paths emerged: immortal arts demanding innate talent and comprehension versus martial arts rewarding relentless dedication.

On December 25th – Western Christmas Day – the Spiritual Network stealthily unveiled a revolutionary section:

[Sects & Clans]

Countless users discovered extensive lists of cultivation sects recruiting disciples through posted assessment locations. This revelation struck like thunder – though ancient practitioners had grown familiar through daily Spiritual Network lectures since technique disclosures, their sudden recruitment initiative stunned all.

Within Special Bureau headquarters:

"Accelerated progress concerns me," Lin Jing remarked.

"Our academies won’t enroll until February. What if prime candidates get poached?" Liang An added.

"We honor prior agreements," Xi Ning responded calmly. "Their assistance these months warrants two months’ reciprocation. Moreover, sect rules rival ours in strictness, clinging to archaic traditions."

"Sects favor pliable children over adults."

"Lacking loyalty?" Lin Jing ventured.

"Precisely. Youthful minds prove more malleable. Combined with limited recruitment quotas and emphasis on predestined connections…" Xi Ning paused. "They prefer proactively hunting prospects over open enrollment."

That night, as Spiritual Network’s announcement dominated public attention, catastrophe erupted.

Strange Beasts poured through celestial rifts into urban centers.

Sleep-deprived Special Bureau members converged at Information Section 2, analyzing satellite feeds showing dozens of incursions nationwide.

Cui Ming mobilized regional law enforcement teams while Yan Hua prioritized crisis zones.

"These creatures mirror Classic of Mountains and Seas entries!" Shi Fan exclaimed, scrutinizing footage.

Yan Hua’s piercing gaze met Shi Fan’s. "Focus on containment, not origins. Status on spatial rifts?"

"All closed instantaneously," technicians confirmed. "Creatures caught mid-transit suffered bisection."

Ironically, defenses against abyssal creatures now confronted this unexpected invasion first.

"Deploy reserves to critical zones!" Yan Hua ordered, monitoring crimson alerts on Spiritual Energy maps.

Li Canghai and Yang Xingyu boarded helicopters toward danger zones – privilege demanded responsibility.

"Tier One energy readings across all hostiles," technicians warned.

"I’ll petition ancient practitioners," Xi Ning decided. "They won’t abandon Huaxia Nine Provinces."

Yan Hua assumed command as Xi Ning departed.

Kunlun Valley

Leng Xingwen observed rift-spawned creatures urbanward. Their Demonic Beast-like aura yet unfamiliar essence troubled him. Sword-riding pursuit commenced.

Atop neighboring peaks, a silver-clad figure monitored the phenomenon impassively before gliding cityward on gleaming steel.