Chapter 261
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Chapter 261: Deadly Mail
An indescribable feeling surged through Bai Yan’s heart.
Never before had he been so close, both physically and emotionally, to the truth about the “Babel Tower.”
“Is this the fundamental rule of the book called Babel Tower?”
He looked up, his gaze fixed on streams of black ribbons flowing out from the phone, drifting mid-air. Above them, a cascade of characters hovered like clouds, shifting slowly in deliberate patterns, as though governed by immutable laws.
Without a doubt—this was it.
This was the core principle of Babel Tower!
Bai Yan steadied himself, inhaling deeply.
“So, let’s begin…”
Focusing every ounce of his being on the ethereal symbols, he activated Insightful Linking.
Instantly, a splitting headache struck, sharper and fiercer than he anticipated. His mental strength drained at an alarming pace, more vigorously than before. It was far beyond anything he’d experienced.
“No…” he thought. “The challenge of uncovering the truths of Babel Tower is far greater than peering into the laws of destiny or the future.”
The realization hit him like a thunderclap. The effort taxed not just his mind but his very soul.
As his body shook violently, his vision blurred and darkened. The world tilted, threatening to consume him.
“If I collapse now, all my efforts will be for nothing…”
Summoning a willpower beyond the ordinary, Bai Yan resisted unconsciousness. His eyes, wide and bloodshot, remained fixed on the floating ribbons and the symbols they bore.
“I see it… I see it now!”
In his final moments of lucidity, he grasped a fragment of their meaning:
If the operation ‘Deadly Mail’ is successfully completed, the difficulty of the First Doomsday Crisis will slightly decrease, or…
Bai Yan awakened to a profound sense of exhaustion.
For the first time in years, he felt the frailty of an ordinary human.
Lying there, he slowly pieced
together what had happened.
His attempt to discern the
rules of Babel Tower had
drained his mental strength
and inflicted damage on his
soul. His powers had
weakened slightly.
Even as he recovered, he
resolved: If unnecessary, this
must never be attempted
again.
The room was still. Yet, a
presence lingered nearby.
Opening his eyes, he found
Sylve lying on the floor, her
chin resting on her hands. She
was watching him with an
intensity that was both curious
and shy.
“Sylve?” Bai Yan’s voice was
soft, breaking the silence.
Startled, Sylve quickly
withdrew, her face turning
crimson.
“Mr. Moriarty, are you okay
now?” she asked, her voice
laced with concern.
“I’m fine,” Bai Yan replied with a
faint smile. The throbbing in
his head persisted, but he
dismissed it.
Sylve let out a breath of relief,
her words spilling out rapidly:
“When I saw you lying there, I
panicked! I thought something
terrible had happened. But
when I realized you were just
asleep, I didn’t dare wake
you…”
Her words trailed off, and she
lowered her head.
Bai Yan stood, extending a
hand to help her up. Her
innocent concern brought a
faint smile to his lips—a rare
softness in a world fraught
with madness.
“Sylve,” he said, his tone light.
“The tree outside… I planted it
to save the world.”
Sylve blinked, puzzled but
intrigued.
“One day, that tree will open a
magical gateway to other
worlds. When that time comes,
we’ll go together—to see what
lies beyond.”
Her eyes sparkled with hope
as she nodded eagerly.
But when she looked back, Bai
Yan was gone.
Standing on the rooftop, Bai
Yan stared into the horizon, his
black cloak billowing in the
wind.
The Babel Tower game
interface glowed on his phone.
The new event, “Deadly Mail,”
loomed ominously—a chilling
introduction accompanied by
an image of a cursed black
envelope.
Four bosses. Four crises.
“Two hours,” he muttered. “I
have two hours to stop them.”
The countdown had begun,
and the stakes had never been
higher. If he could achieve an
SS-level evaluation, the
difficulty of the First
Doomsday Crisis would ease.
Bai Yan clenched his fists.
“I won’t fail.”
Meanwhile, at Herendor
University, An Yang scrolled
through the Babel Tower
forums.
As a devoted fan, she adored
the heroes of Babel Tower,
especially Nightsaber. Her
dorm room was a shrine to the
team, with posters, figurines,
and plush toys adorning every
surface.
But not everyone shared her
admiration.
Online, detractors ridiculed the
heroes, accusing them of
vanity and negligence. An Yang
fumed, furiously defending her idols in comment sections.
“Why can’t they see all the good Babel Tower has done?” she muttered, frustrated.
Her phone chimed—a new
email.
Another hate message?
She sighed, reaching for her
mouse. But before she could
click, a hand seized her wrist.
“Don’t move.”
Her heart stopped.
Slowly, she turned—and froze.
Standing before her was
Nightsaber.
Her idol. Her hero. In the flesh.
“N-Nightsaber?!”
The legendary figure didn’t
respond. Her piercing gaze
was fixed on the computer
screen.
“That email,” she said, her
voice steady but urgent. “If you
open it, everyone in this
university will die.”
An Yang gasped, her blood
running cold.
“What… What is this?”
But Nightsaber offered no
explanation.
The cursor moved on its own,
clicking on the email.
The screen went dark. A
chilling whisper filled the
room.
And the nightmare began.
