Defiance of the Fall Chapter 1390: The Pressure of a World

A towering fury served as the only thing keeping the agonizing pain and the rising cacophony of voices at bay. It functioned as a lifeline for Zorm while he struggled to suppress the chaotic Temporal Energy warping his senses and the tempestuous storms tearing through his fractured Inner World.

Zorm was stunned by how swiftly his situation had spiraled into total catastrophe. Reaching Lodge Island was supposed to mark the end of the greatest risks. He had successfully eliminated this layer’s version of Zorm Hastor without alerting any pursuers. Furthermore, he had earned significant merit by orchestrating the covert takeover of the Hastor Society and gathering rare resources unique to this side of reality.

Given his accomplishments, Zorm expected rewards substantial enough to guarantee his survival during the Great Merge. Even if other C-grade iterations of himself existed across the infinite layers, he possessed the might of the First Era and the backing of the prime dimension to ensure he emerged victorious. Now, he would be fortunate to simply avoid a military tribunal for his failures.

The fact that everyone had missed the infiltrators hiding in the shadows was irrelevant. As the commander on duty when the primary array eye was destroyed, the blame rested solely on his shoulders. He briefly suspected Navel of intentional negligence, though that seemed unlikely given that Navel would be next on the chopping block. Only one path to redemption remained: he had to capture the culprit and uncover their true objectives. This enemy was far more sophisticated than anticipated, having penetrated this high-security zone before the island's defensive formations could be deactivated.

Idiche was of little concern. Though she didn't exist in Zorm’s home dimension, his intelligence reports suggested he could easily overpower her, even in his current battered state. The true threat was the meddling outsider. Fortunately, the man showed no evidence of possessing an Inner World, and he had foolishly walked straight into Zorm’s trap.

Neither the corrosive Death energy nor the thick mists could prevent Zorm from tracking his target’s cautious approach—a weakling lurking in the shadows rather than engaging in honorable combat. Zorm intended to see if this assassin would remain hidden once his little stage was demolished.

Despite his confidence, a flicker of doubt crossed Zorm’s mind as he looked at the detailed statues encircling the massive eye of Pure Oblivion. He was certain this was an innate ability rather than a magical tool. Never had he witnessed a Hegemon wield Energy and Dao with such precision. Even a Monarch would find it difficult to construct something this complex without significant time to prepare.

“It matters not. A single force can suppress Myriad Daos,” Zorm growled, his face twisting as the spectral image of a one-eyed titan rose behind him.

The swarm of chains attempting to bind Zorm plummeted toward the ground, unable to withstand the crushing gravitational field projected by his Illusory Blood Fiend. The pain from the energy backlash intensified as the giant shared its power, but Zorm endured, focusing all his might into his fist. Complexity was fragile; true power lay in the simplicity of Heaven’s Path.

Merging his essence with his strike, Zorm punched toward the desolate eye, pouring his rage and the full weight of his Cultivation into the blow. A ghostly chain manifested out of thin air to pull him off course, while a protective barrier shimmered into existence before him. Zorm snarled in frustration, unwilling to let anything delay his violent release.

Space itself warped, and Zorm felt a rush of triumph as the barrier shredded like cheap parchment. His momentum carried forward, vaporizing more than half of the dark sun. The Oblivion was wiped away, and a mile-wide gap was punched through the shroud of darkness. Zorm caught a glimpse of the sky above, and the sight of the flickering magic circle reignited his fury.

The pulse in his forehead throbbed with murderous intent as he caught sight of the cloaked figure retreating into the gloom. He ignored the closing portal in the heavens and let the collapsing eye attempt to reform. It was too weak to be a threat now, so he saw no reason to run.

“We aren't finished!” Zorm laughed harshly, grabbing hold of the spectral chain.

The assassin was jerked forward like prey led to the knife. Only at the final moment did Zorm feel a sudden, lethal chill. The world seemed to tilt as the target spun in mid-air, launching a savage, direct strike at his head. Facing certain death, Zorm’s frantic thoughts cleared, and he desperately tapped into the power sealed within the depths of his damaged Inner World.

A flicker of Primordial Energy from the First Era manifested and vanished, surging into his physical form. Guided by ancient instincts, a black eye opened on his left temple. Zorm fought back a wave of nausea as a second perspective filled his mind, staring directly at a fast-approaching streak of shadow.

Thick blood leaked from the new eye as Zorm forcibly mimicked his Blood Fiend’s natural power. A shockwave erupted from the eye with blinding speed. It shattered the dark blade that had made Zorm’s very soul tremble, and the remaining energy slammed into the armored arm of his foe. The sound of bones snapping within the metal echoed pleasantly, followed by the spray of black, death-tainted blood. The sight almost distracted Zorm from his own agony. He doubted anything but ruined meat was left inside that armor. Zorm roared with laughter, brushing aside two chains aimed at his face. His next move would core the man’s chest.

His laughter died in his throat as the axe suddenly reappeared before him. The assassin, who should have been incapacitated by pain, had wrapped a chain around his mangled arm to swing the weapon again. He had even utilized the momentum from the previous clash to speed up his follow-up. While this strike lacked the sheer power of the first, it was still lethal.

Zorm hissed as he intercepted the blow with his forearm, feeling a burning rot seep into the flesh. He was baffled. The man’s arm was a pulp of bone and muscle, yet he hadn't even flinched. Attacking with such a wound should have caused enough pain to induce unconsciousness, yet the man showed no sign of stopping.

The assassin didn't flee or try to hide again. Instead, Zorm found himself trapped in a storm of suffocating chains and lethal blades, facing a silent madman who moved like a heartless doll. Yet, he was far from empty. At this range, Zorm could finally see his attacker’s eyes. His spirit shook at the fire within them, and even the voices in his head went quiet before that incredibly pure Imperial Killing Intent.

Who was this person? No mere disciple could cultivate such terrifying intent; this was the hallmark of legendary generals. Was he being toyed with? Could this be a powerful senior who had bypassed the Karmic Blockade and infiltrated the island by suppressing his true strength? If so, were there others?

It was no wonder their plans were failing. The Originators were finally striking back.

His mind racing, Zorm tried to channel his energy into the complex defensive techniques he had mastered over centuries. However, every time his [Golden Giant Armor] began to manifest, a chain or a perfectly timed strike broke his concentration. It was as if this senior knew every nuance of his techniques.

Unleashing his Inner World to create a suppressive field did little to help. His foe maintained four overlapping domains that worked in perfect harmony to pin him down. Perhaps if he were at full strength, he could break free, but now? He was just trying to keep his foundations from shattering completely.

Fury threatened to blind him as he struggled to land a decisive blow. He repeatedly tore through the darkness, but his opponent was always a hair’s breadth away. Zorm was unable to bring his full power to bear and grew frustrated that he had to exercise restraint. A missed strike could kill his own men nearby or ruin the remaining formation nodes.

The axe-wielder’s individual strikes were not overwhelming, but they were relentless. Zorm felt himself being worn down by the constant barrage draining his energy. New wounds opened with every passing second. He only needed one clean hit to end this, but his enemy offered no such opening.

He had lost all initiative after his first failed blast. How could he compete with the combat experience of a seasoned veteran? He might as well—

“Enough!” Zorm screamed, venting his desperation in a wave of force that blew back the restricting chains.

He realized this fight was just like his mission: high risk, high reward. No matter how skilled, this opponent was still limited to the Late D-grade. If Zorm could kill him and present the body, his previous failures would be overlooked. The rewards might even be greater. Someone with this level of killing intent had to be a secret genius of the Mercurial Court’s Dao Reserve.

Eliminating such a threat early would be a massive service to his superiors. The lives of a few subordinates and some broken array nodes were a small price to pay. Seeing a path to victory, Zorm decided to commit everything.

The seal broke, and a tide of slaughter-filled energy surged forth. It flooded his damaged Inner World and acted as a mystical glue for his wounds, filling his body with immense power. This time, he would not be stopped. He took a direct hit on purpose, tensing his muscles to trap the axe in his flesh.

The target's rhythm broke for a split second, and Zorm’s fist came crashing down before he could recover. The strike was cataclysmic. The fading eye of oblivion vanished like a candle in a gale, and the surrounding statues were reduced to dust. The four domains pinning him were erased by the primordial power of the First Era, and the shadows were blown away.

“Is that the best you can do?” Zorm bellowed at the mangled remains and broken chains in front of him.

His punch hadn't been aimed at the sky; it had struck the mountain itself, leveling the entire valley. Zorm didn't care about the collateral damage to his men. Ending this threat was the priority. An unnatural craving drove him to reach for a nearby piece of torn flesh.

The voices screamed at him to devour his foe and take his power, but a scrap of grey cloth on the meat snapped him back to reality. It wasn't the black garb of the assassin, but the robe of his cousin. Regret came too late, followed by a sharp agony as a black blade carved through his body from shoulder to hip.

“You… how?” Zorm coughed, staring at the man who had appeared from nowhere without a sound. He had lost an arm to Zorm’s blast, but the fire in his eyes was undimmed.

“A mindless beast, as expected,” the man whispered, his voice cold as the grave.

Choking on blood, Zorm couldn't reply. He focused entirely on protecting his core. A physical wound could be healed, but the strike had exposed the path to his Inner World. In its fragile state, one more hit would destroy it. Zorm desperately reinforced his subspace defenses while triggering his final escape artifact.

He no longer cared about winning; the dark influence of the First Era couldn't overcome his instinct to survive. He had been outplayed at every turn. If he could just flee and recover, he might still survive the Great Merge. The future could wait.

As Zorm began to teleport away, an unknown, invisible force slammed into his barrier. This alien energy was the polar opposite of his own Dao, and even the Primordial Energy couldn't stop it. It only managed to create a tiny crack before vanishing, but the implications terrified him.

An Inner World’s barrier was reinforced by the laws of the universe. It shouldn't be vulnerable to a single strike unless it was already failing or under a massive siege. Despite his injuries, Zorm shouldn't have been this vulnerable.

He still had enough energy to last until the [Zi’var Retreat] finished activating. Even if his body was destroyed, he could spend centuries regrowing it. By then, he could disappear into the shadows of a post-war world.

But his hope died when he saw a scroll manifest behind his attacker. A new line of blood-red text appeared at the bottom. Though Zorm couldn't read the script, he instinctively knew his name had been added to a ledger of the dead.

“Bullying a junior…” Zorm managed to groan, just as a dark blade appeared inside his Inner World and split it in two.

This wasn't how his legend was supposed to end.

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The area was a scene of total ruin. The explosion hadn't felled the ancient tree, but many of its limbs were shattered. The heat had sealed the cuts made for harvesting, and the tree's essence had retreated deep into its core. No more sap would be gathered today. It didn't matter; the ritual site was gone.

A small mercy.

“Guild Master Marai, your performance this past year was quite convincing,” Royce remarked, cleaning blood from his lips. He tried to look composed, but Marai sensed the white-hot rage beneath his calm exterior. “However, you failed at the end. The same greed that led you to us caused your downfall. If you had actually collapsed your Inner World instead of a mere projection, we might all be dead.”

Marai didn't waste her breath on the creature wearing Royce's skin. She was struggling to keep her Inner World from falling apart while using spatial barriers to hold back the encroaching corruption. She had been forced to weave lies with truth to deceive these invaders, even truly accepting their dark gifts. Now, she felt a desperate, parched craving for the very corruption she was fighting.

The decoy Inner World she had used to absorb the madness had cost her a quarter of her real foundation. By detonating it, she had likely ruined her future as a cultivator. Even if she survived, her power might vanish. But she wasn't done yet.

“You were too slow,” Marai whispered with a blood-stained smile, reaching into the air.

A nearby branch burst apart, revealing a shattered tiara set with a blue jewel that glowed with ancient power. Everyone had been waiting to see where Sevona’s artifact had landed after the blast, and Marai’s quick thinking gave her the advantage. She hadn't become the head of a treasure-hunting guild on looks alone.

“No!” Royce screamed, his body warping into something hideous as Marai grabbed the tiara.

Seeing the man she had loved turned into a monster broke Marai’s heart once more, but it only made her more determined. The invaders were right—she was selfish and felt no loyalty to the Empire. But they had made a mistake by trying to replace Royce to manipulate her. She would destroy everything they worked for.

Her spatial defenses shattered under a hail of attacks. She couldn't dodge, and she couldn't let her body be pulverized. She channeled the damage directly into her Inner World, letting it strike her broken landscape like falling stars. The corruption was making her head spin, and she felt a sudden urge to just give up and hand over the prize.

Her vision blurred, and her mind began to wander. She clung to her hatred of the false Royce to stay focused as she triggered [Peregrine Voyage]. Royce’s screams faded as she was pulled through space, the following attacks hitting nothing but air. A moment later, Marai slammed into a hard, damp surface, the impact breaking her back. She was too weak to even crawl.

“Still here…” Marai sighed, feeling the corruption all around her.

She had hoped her best escape tool would take her back to the Peregrine Isles, but the island’s seal was too powerful. She wasn't even sure if the isles still existed in their world.