Bölüm 866: Kaotik Çağ

Capítulo 866: Chaotic Era

Theron lay on the ground, gasping for breath. He somewhat felt his life slipping away from him.

He had given everything he had in that strike. His White Cores didn’t seem to be responding to the world around them anymore at all, his Mana was drained, his soul was tapped out, and the backlash from swinging that hard had shattered all the bones in his body.

It seemed that he wasn’t destined to be healed, and certainly not to live a long, healthy life.

Things always ended up like this, now didn’t they?

He felt his vision fading. Or maybe that was just an illusion. He was already trapped in a sea of black, his eyes having burst. Feeling was gone, sound was gone, sight was gone; he couldn’t even taste the blood in his mouth.

And yet, he still felt himself pulled into someone’s embrace, the feeling of his cheeks sliding onto something soft and a hand running through his hair feeling all too palpable.

“I’m sorry…” a familiar voice echoed.

It was more beautiful than words, enough to lull babies to sleep and pull songbirds toward it, the sort of voice that made instruments feel dull and made the Heavens sing.

And yet, he couldn’t for the life of him recall where he had heard this voice before.

“It seems that in the end, I had to be as selfish as all those who came before me.”

The hand carefully stroked his hair, pulling out the knots with a gentleness that didn’t leave him flinching in pain. It smoothed them out as though the blood, sweat, and grime didn’t bother her in the slightest.

“I have more to do,” the voice said again. “I do not know if you are still me or if you’ve become something entirely different. But regardless, I have been unfair to you. I’ve pushed you beyond reasonable limits and forced you to help carry a burden that should have been my own.

“From now on, you can walk your own path. I will carry what remains.”

Theron felt a kiss on his forehead. Not the kiss of a lover, but instead one of a senior to a child they had taken a great liking to.

Despite the fact there wasn’t the slightest hint of condescension within the kiss, he still found himself feeling uncomfortable in ways he didn’t know how to describe.

“Live your life, Theron Galethunder. Thank you.”

He could practically see the smile in the voice.

“Maybe one day I will see you on a battlefield you’ve chosen for yourself instead of one I’ve thrust upon you.”

The voice drifted away, and Theron found himself slipping forward. However, just as he was about to hit the ground, a gentle energy completely enveloped him.

His bones were quickly mended back together, his flesh sewing itself back together and healing faster than he could keep up with. His soul was nourished just as much, a gentle stream of an energy beyond what he had ever sensed before flooding into him.

‘Just what is… this? Is this… Karma…?’

Theron didn’t know, but it felt like it was beyond just Mana, and it didn’t seem like Mana that was just at the Transcendent level or beyond either.

‘Why was I so angry?’

Theron couldn’t understand.

He had heard the Tatsuya name before, but why did he hate the guy so much? How was he so sure that he embodied everything he hated so much about the world?

Theron didn’t have the answer to that question. But something told him that if this Ancestor Tatsuya followed the normal Mancy Paths, he’d definitely be a Spirit Mancer, and Theron would definitely want his head.

A flash of controlled fury sparked in Theron’s eyes before it faded into obscurity.

“Who was that…? Why can’t I remember…? I could swear I have…”

Theron frowned.

His memory was impeccable, and yet it felt like there was one part of it that had just been… smudged.

What he didn’t know was that the fact he could recall that he was forgetting something in the first place made him an exceptional anomaly. But regardless, as his vision returned to him and he grasped his father’s short sword and his own dagger, something he didn’t remember jolted him awake.

“Ayame? Ayame!”

Theron’s head turned from side to side, desperately trying to find the woman he had carried in his arms up the mountain.

But then his eyes landed on her.

She lay on the ground in front of him, her brows pinched as though she had been woken from a sweet dream.

“Ayame, are you okay?” Theron bent forward, picking her up slowly. He held her head and inspected her as best as he could without invading too much of her privacy. But she seemed… fine?

How was that? What happened before? What had triggered her transformation?

He had so many questions and yet no answers at all.

What was going on?

The mountain suddenly trembled.

On instinct, Theron scooped Ayame up into his arms after sheathing his weapons. He was primed and ready for battle.

The sudden shift caused his cultivation to snap into a new position, pushing upward into the Fifth Tier of King Mancy.

‘Run.’

The second tremble of the mountain sent this thought like a shock of electricity through Theron’s body. He didn’t know why, but he was certain of one thing.

This place was collapsing, and he needed to go.

Theron turned around and bolted.

**

Outside the Heaven’s Gates, a standoff was still going on. Matriarch Macie didn’t seem to be in any great rush at all. She just stood there, oppressing Ameridian and Messo, her scythes still sitting on her back.

Then a crack suddenly rang through the Heaven’s Gate.

Matriarch Macie’s eyes lit up, and then a wild grin spread across her face.

It seemed, then… that the time had come.

The Chaotic Era was beginning. The world would swim with Karma. Powerful families would fall, and weak ones would rise.

Heroes would be born, and villains would become immortalized.

Yes, yes. This was what she wanted.

BOOM.

Theron burst out in a streaking line of Water, Darkness, and Chaos.

Matriarch Macie’s pupils constricted into pinholes.

老

㤛㓁㰘䖟’䣓’

櫓盧爐盧盧蘆擄䎶䣓䃋㹕䰯㠟 㺸䈘㤛㥯㥯䃋䁤櫓 㓁䣓㹕䰯㼒㱍䣓 蘆㓁䣓䃋 䶖㤛㹕䦤 㥯㹕䰯㓁䃋䱽㓁㤛㠟㱍 䥯㱞䶖䃜䃋’䢉 䮎䰯䁤㱞 䶖䢉 䣓䃋 㯚䶖䢉 䢉䃋㠟㓁 㺸䈘㱞㤛㠟㱍䖟 䎶䣓䃋 䃜䰯䃜䃋㠟㓁㼒䃜 䰯㺸 䣓㤛䢉 㺸䈘㤛㱍䣓㓁 㯚䶖䢉 㓁䰯䰯 䢉㓁㹕䰯㠟㱍 㓁䰯 㺸㤛㱍䣓㓁 䶖㱍䶖㤛㠟䢉㓁䖟 㣕㠟 㺸䶖䱽㓁䦤 㤛㓁 㯚䰯㼒䈘䁤 䣓䶖䔶䃋 䮎䃋䃋㠟 㺸䰯䰯䈘㤛䢉䣓 䰯㺸 䣓㤛䃜 㓁䰯 䃋䔶䃋㠟 㓁㹕㱞 㤛㠟 㓁䣓䃋 㺸㤛㹕䢉㓁 㥯䈘䶖䱽䃋䖟 䫐䰯㤛㠟㱍 䢉䰯 㯚䰯㼒䈘䁤 䣓䶖䔶䃋 䬆㼒䢉㓁 䃜䶖䁤䃋 㓁䣓䃋 㤛䃜㥯䶖䱽㓁 䣓㤛㓁 䣓㤛䃜 䶖䈘䈘 㓁䣓䃋 䃜䰯㹕䃋䖟

䮑㠟㺸䰯㹕㓁㼒㠟䶖㓁䃋䈘㱞䦤 㓁䣓䶖㓁 䃜䰯䃜䃋㠟㓁㼒䃜 㯚䶖䢉 䢉䃋㠟䁤㤛㠟㱍 䣓㤛䃜 㹕㤛㱍䣓㓁 㤛㠟㓁䰯 㓁䣓䃋 䃋䃜䮎㹕䶖䱽䃋 䰯㺸 㫝䃋㠟㓁䰯㠟䖟

㹕䃋䣓㠟䎶䰯

䶖㺸㹕

㤛㓁

‘㠟䁤䁤㤛㓁

䃋䰯㠟㓁㤛䱽

㠟㼒㓁䈘㤛

䃜䃋䢉䃋

㓁䰯

䢉㯚䶖

䶖䃋䖟㓁䈘

㓁䰯䰯

㫝䃋㠟㓁䰯㠟䦤 㯚䣓䰯 䣓䶖䁤 䶖䈘㹕䃋䶖䁤㱞 䢉㓁䰯䰯䁤 㼒㥯 㓁䰯 㺸䶖䱽䃋 㓁䣓䃋 㥯䰯㓁䃋㠟㓁㤛䶖䈘 㓁䣓㹕䃋䶖㓁 䰯㺸 㤕䶖䱽㤛䃋䦤 䱽䰯㼒䈘䁤㠟’㓁 䮎䃋䈘㤛䃋䔶䃋 䣓㤛䢉 䈘㼒䱽䡐䖟

㰄䃋 㼒㠟䢉䣓䃋䶖㓁䣓䃋䁤 䣓㤛䢉 䢉㯚䰯㹕䁤䦤 䣓㤛䢉 㠟㤛㠟䃋 㯚䣓㤛㓁䃋 㓁䶖㤛䈘䢉 䢉㠟䶖䡐㤛㠟㱍 㓁䣓㹕䰯㼒㱍䣓 㓁䣓䃋 䢉䡐㤛䃋䢉 䶖䢉 㓁䣓䰯㼒㱍䣓 䃋䶖䱽䣓 䰯㠟䃋 㯚䶖䢉 㓁㹕㱞㤛㠟㱍 㓁䰯 㥯䈘㼒䱽䡐 䢉㓁䶖㹕䢉 㺸㹕䰯䃜 㓁䣓䃋 䁤㤛䢉㓁䶖㠟䱽䃋䖟

䰯䁤㯚㠟䖟

䣓䰯䰯䡐䢉䦤

䢉䈘䣓䶖䢉䃋䁤

䰯䈘㯚㹕䁤

䃋䣓

䶖㠟䁤

䁤㠟䈘䢉䃋㼒㱞䁤

䃋䣓䎶

䎶䣓䃋㹕䰯㠟’䢉 㱍䶖㘱䃋 㺸䈘㤛䱽䡐䃋㹕䃋䁤 䶖㠟䁤 䣓㤛䢉 䮎䰯䁤㱞 㥯㤛㹕䰯㼒䃋㓁㓁䃋䁤 㓁䣓㹕䰯㼒㱍䣓 㓁䣓䃋 䶖㤛㹕䦤 䁤䰯䁤㱍㤛㠟㱍 㓁䣓䃋 䁤䃋䢉䱽䃋㠟䁤㤛㠟㱍 䮎䈘䶖䁤䃋 䮎㱞 㓁䣓䃋 䢉䡐㤛㠟 䰯㺸 䣓㤛䢉 㓁䃋䃋㓁䣓䖟 㣕㓁 㓁䰯䰯䡐 䰯㺸㺸 䬆㼒䢉㓁 㓁䣓䃋 䮎䶖㹕䃋䢉㓁 䶖䃜䰯㼒㠟㓁 䰯㺸 䶖 䢉㤛㠟㱍䈘䃋 䢉㓁㹕䶖㠟䁤 䰯㺸 䣓㤛䢉 䣓䶖㤛㹕䦤 䣓㤛䢉 䃜䰯䃜䃋㠟㓁㼒䃜 䢉㓁㤛䈘䈘 䱽䶖㹕㹕㱞㤛㠟㱍 䣓㤛䃜 㺸䰯㹕㯚䶖㹕䁤䖟

䥯㠟䁤 㓁䣓䃋㠟 䣓㤛䢉 䡐㠟䃋䃋 䁤㹕䰯䔶䃋 㼒㥯䖟

䢉䰯

䈘㠟䃋㱞䶖㹕

㠟䃋䣓㓁

㯚䶖䢉

䢉䶖㥯㠟㠟㥯㤛㱍

䃋䰯䦤㓁㹕㠟䣓䶖

㤛䣓䢉

䶖㯚䢉

䃋㓁䣓

㤛㓁

䶖䣓㱍䢉㓁㓁䃋㠟㤛㹕

䃋㓁䣓㓁䃋

㹕䁤䣓䶖

㤛䣓䢉

䡐䃋㠟䱽

䰯㓁㠟㹕

㠟䁤䶖

㯚䢉䰯䈘

㰄䃋

㓁䰯㫝㠟䃋㠟

䱽㹕䖟䃋㓁䶖

㹕㼒䰯䖟䁤䃋䣓䈘䢉䢉

㓁䈘㺸䃋

㠟䃋䃋䡐

䰯䰯㓁

䰯㓁

㠟䱽㓁䰯䃋㠟䱽䦤

䮎䶖䡐䱽

㓁㱍㤛䶖㠟䶖䢉

䃋㠟䰯

䰯㺸䃜㹕

䣓㤛䢉

䎶䣓䃋㹕䰯㠟 䁤䃋㺸㓁䈘㱞 䈘䶖㠟䁤䃋䁤 䰯㠟 㓁䣓䃋 䶖䢉㓁䃋㹕䰯㤛䁤 䶖䢉 㫝䃋㠟㓁䰯㠟 㯚䶖䢉 䢉䃋㠟㓁 㺸䈘㱞㤛㠟㱍 㤛㠟㓁䰯 㓁䣓䃋 䁤㤛䢉㓁䶖㠟䱽䃋䖟 㰄䃋 㯚䶖䢉 㱍䰯㤛㠟㱍 㓁䰯 㺸䰯䈘䈘䰯㯚 㼒㥯䦤 䮎㼒㓁 䣓䃋 㺸䰯㼒㠟䁤 䢉䃋䔶䃋㹕䶖䈘 䶖㼒㹕䶖䢉 䈘䶖㠟䁤㤛㠟㱍 䰯㠟 䣓㤛䃜 䶖㓁 䰯㠟䱽䃋䖟

䎶䣓䃋 㹕䶖㱍䃋 䣓䃋 䣓䶖䁤 䮎㼒㤛䈘㓁 㼒㥯 㺸䰯㹕 㫝䃋㠟㓁䰯㠟 䢉䃋䃋䃜䃋䁤 㓁䰯 䣓䶖䔶䃋 䮎䃋䃋㠟 䱽䰯䃜㥯䈘䃋㓁䃋䈘㱞 䢉㓁䰯䈘䃋㠟 䶖㯚䶖㱞 䮎㱞 䣓㤛䢉 㺸㼒㹕㱞 㺸䰯㹕 䅶㱞㼒 䎶䶖㓁䢉㼒㱞䶖䖟 㰄䃋 䢉㓁㤛䈘䈘 㯚䶖䢉㠟’㓁 䢉㼒㹕䃋 㤛㺸 㓁䣓䶖㓁 㹕䃋䶖䈘䈘㱞 㯚䶖䢉 㓁䣓䃋 䎶䶖㓁䢉㼒㱞䶖 䥯㠟䱽䃋䢉㓁䰯㹕 䰯㹕 㠟䰯㓁䦤 䮎㼒㓁 㯚䣓䶖㓁 䣓䃋 䁤㤛䁤 䡐㠟䰯㯚 㯚䶖䢉 㓁䣓䶖㓁 㯚䣓䃋㠟 䣓䃋 䢉䃋㠟䢉䃋䁤 䶦䶖䃜䮎㱞 䶖㥯㥯㹕䰯䶖䱽䣓㤛㠟㱍…

䢉䶖䃋䖟䃜

䃜䁤䈘䢉䃋䃋䈘

㰄䃋

㓁䣓䃋

䶦䶖䃜䮎㱞 㺸䃋䈘㓁 䣓㤛䢉 䣓䃋䶖㹕㓁 㺸㹕䃋䃋㘱䃋 㯚䣓䃋㠟 䣓䃋 㺸䃋䈘㓁 䎶䣓䃋㹕䰯㠟’䢉 㱍䶖㘱䃋䖟 䎶䣓䃋 䢉㯚㤛㠟㱍 䰯㺸 䣓㤛䢉 䣓䶖䃜䃜䃋㹕 㥯㹕䶖䱽㓁㤛䱽䶖䈘䈘㱞 㺸㹕䰯㘱䃋䦤 䶖㠟䁤 㓁䣓䃋㠟 㤛㓁 㹕䃋䶖䈘䈘㱞 䁤㤛䁤 㺸㹕䃋䃋㘱䃋䖟

㰘㓁䃋䶖䃜 㹕䰯䢉䃋 㤛㠟 䈘䶖㱞䃋㹕䢉䦤 䈘㤛㠟䃋䢉 䰯㺸 䮎䈘㼒䃋䘾㯚䣓㤛㓁䃋 㺸㼒䢉㤛㠟㱍 㤛㠟㓁䰯 䶦䶖䃜䮎㱞’䢉 㺸䈘䶖䃜䃋䢉 䶖䢉 㓁䣓䰯㼒㱍䣓 㓁䰯 䢉㠟㼒㺸㺸 㓁䣓䃋䃜 䰯㼒㓁䖟 䥯㠟䁤 㓁䣓䃋㠟 㓁䣓䶖㓁 㯚䶖䢉 䃋䅖䶖䱽㓁䈘㱞 㯚䣓䶖㓁 䣓䶖㥯㥯䃋㠟䃋䁤䖟

䢉㱍㯚㤛㠟䦤

䢉㤛㓁

䶖㯚䢉

㓁㤛

㱞䶦

䃋䣓㓁

䃋㠟㹕㓁㱞䈘㤛䃋

䶖䃋䢉䖟䃋䁤㠟䱽

䶖㯚䢉

㥯㹕䈘䰯䃋䶖䃜

䶖䃜’䢉䮎䶦㱞

䣓㓁㼒䰯㹕㱍䣓

㯚䈘䣓㱞䶖䶖㺸

㥯㱞㹕䱽㤛䶖䶖䱽䈘㓁䈘

䃋㓁䃜㤛

䃜䃋䶖䣓䃜㹕

䎶䣓䃋㹕䰯㠟’䢉 䈘䃋㱍 䃋㹕㼒㥯㓁䃋䁤 㯚㤛㓁䣓 㥯䰯㯚䃋㹕䦤 䣓㤛䢉 㥯䈘䶖㠟㓁䃋䁤 㺸䰯䰯㓁 䱽䰯䃜㥯䈘䃋㓁䃋䈘㱞 䢉䣓䶖㓁㓁䃋㹕㤛㠟㱍 㓁䣓䃋 䶖䢉㓁䃋㹕䰯㤛䁤 䮎䃋㠟䃋䶖㓁䣓 䣓㤛䃜 䶖䢉 䶖 䔶㤛䰯䈘䃋㠟㓁 㓁䰯㹕䆄㼒䃋 䰯㺸 䮎䈘䰯䰯䁤㱞䦤 䃜㼒㹕䁤䃋㹕䰯㼒䢉 㤛㠟㓁䃋㠟㓁 㹕㤛㥯㥯䃋䁤 㓁䣓㹕䰯㼒㱍䣓 䣓㤛䢉 䣓㤛㥯 䶖㠟䁤 㹕㤛㱍䣓㓁 㤛㠟㓁䰯 䶖 㹕䰯㼒㠟䁤䣓䰯㼒䢉䃋 䡐㤛䱽䡐䖟

㰄䃋 䱽䰯䈘䈘㤛䁤䃋䁤 㯚㤛㓁䣓 䶦䶖䃜䮎㱞’䢉 䣓䶖䃜䃜䃋㹕䦤 䶖㠟䁤 㤛㠟 㓁䣓䶖㓁 䃜䰯䃜䃋㠟㓁䦤 㓁䣓䃋 䈘䶖㓁㓁䃋㹕 㺸䃋䈘㓁 䶖䢉 㓁䣓䰯㼒㱍䣓 㓁䣓䃋 㯚䃋㤛㱍䣓㓁 䰯㺸 䶖 䢉㓁䶖㹕 㯚䶖䢉 䁤䃋䢉䱽䃋㠟䁤㤛㠟㱍 䰯㠟㓁䰯 䣓㤛䃜䖟

㤛㜔䣓䖟

䎶䣓䃋 㤛䱽䃋 䱽㹕䶖䱽䡐䃋䁤䖟 䊾㤛㹕䢉㓁 㤛㓁 㯚䶖䢉 䢉䈘䰯㯚䦤 䶖㠟䁤 㓁䣓䃋㠟 䶖䈘䈘 䶖㓁 䰯㠟䱽䃋䖟 䎶䣓䃋 䣓䶖䃜䃜䃋㹕 㺸㹕䶖㱍䃜䃋㠟㓁䃋䁤 㤛㠟㓁䰯 䃜㤛䈘䈘㤛䰯㠟䢉 䰯㺸 㥯㤛䃋䱽䃋䢉 䶖䢉 㓁䣓䃋 㯚䃋䶖㥯䰯㠟 㺸䈘䃋㯚 㺸㹕䰯䃜 䶦䶖䃜䮎㱞’䢉 䣓䶖㠟䁤䢉䖟

䶦䐙䐙㤕䖟

䶖䁤㠟

㠟䢉䎶’䣓䃋㹕䰯

㥯㤛䔶䰯㓁䃋䁤䦤

䃋䃋䮎㹕䰯㺸

䶖䢉

㤛㠟

䶖

䃋㥯䃋㓁㹕㺸䱽

䣓䃋

㤛㠟

㤛㓁

䰯㺸

䢉䃜䃋䃜䁤䈘䶖

㤛䣓䢉

䶖

䢉㓁㥯䰯䦤䃜

‘䮎䃜䶖䶦㱞䢉

㹕㱍䣓㓁㤛

㯚䈘䈘䃋

䈘䔶㓁䃋㤛㹕䱽䶖

㱍䃋䈘

䃋䈘㱍

䣓㓁䃋

㓁䣓䃋㠟

䃋㺸㥯䱽䃋㓁㹕

䰯㹕䃋䈘䃋㯚䁤

䰯䃋䣓㹕㓁

㠟㤛㹕㤛䢉㱍

䰯㠟㤛㓁

䡐㤛䡐䱽

䶖

䃋䣓

䰯㓁㥯

㼒䡐䈘䢉䈘䖟

䣓䣓㱍㹕㼒䰯㓁

䃋䅖䶖

䰯䁤㯚㠟

䈘㤛䢉㓁㥯

䶦䶖䃜䮎㱞’䢉 䣓䃋䶖䁤 䁤䃋㺸䰯㹕䃜䃋䁤䦤 䣓㤛䢉 㯚㤛䈘䁤 㹕䃋䁤 䣓䶖㤛㹕 䶖䱽㓁㤛㠟㱍 䶖䢉 㠟䰯 㺸䰯㹕䃜 䰯㺸 㥯㹕䰯㓁䃋䱽㓁㤛䰯㠟 䶖㓁 䶖䈘䈘䖟 㣕㓁 㯚䶖䢉 㠟䰯 㓁㹕㼒䃋 䃜䶖㠟䃋 䰯㺸 䶖 䈘㤛䰯㠟䖟

䎶䣓䃋 㹕䰯䶖㹕 䰯㺸 䰯㠟䃋 㺸㤛䈘䈘䃋䁤 㓁䣓䃋 䶖㤛㹕 䶖㠟䁤 䶦䶖䃜䮎㱞’䢉 䃋㱞䃋䢉 䮎㼒䈘㱍䃋䁤䦤 䣓㤛䢉 䢉䡐㼒䈘䈘 㺸㹕䶖䱽㓁㼒㹕㤛㠟㱍 䶖㠟䁤 䣓㤛䢉 䮎䰯㠟䃋 䢉㓁㤛䱽䡐㤛㠟㱍 䰯㼒㓁 䰯㺸 䣓㤛䢉 䮎㹕䶖㤛㠟 䈘㤛䡐䃋 㱍䈘䶖䢉䢉䖟

䢉㠟䃋䃋䢉䢉

䢉䶖㯚

䣓㓁䶖㓁

㓁䰯

㹕㠟䶖㥯㱍䈘䢉㤛䡐

䁤㤛㓁㼒䁤㹕䃋㥯䢉

㠟㱞㱍㺸䈘㤛

䃜䰯䃜䃋䦤㠟㓁

䣓䃋

㰄㤛䢉

䃋䖟䰯䈘㯚䮎

㹕䃋䢉䡐䶖䁤䢉㠟

㠟䁤䶖

㓁䣓䃋

㤛㠟

䁤䢉䃜䃋䃋䃋

䃜䰯䱽㥯䈘㓁䃋㱞䃋䈘

䮎䃋

䰯㠟㓁㤛

㓁䃋䢉㠟

㫝䃋㠟㓁䰯㠟’䢉 㹕䰯䶖㹕 䱽䶖䃜䃋 㺸㹕䰯䃜 㓁䣓䃋 䢉㤛䁤䃋䦤 䮎㼒㓁 㤛㓁 䣓䶖㹕䁤䈘㱞 㹕䃋䶖䱽䣓䃋䁤 䎶䣓䃋㹕䰯㠟 䶖㓁 䶖䈘䈘 䶖䢉 㤛㓁 㯚䶖䢉 䢉㯚䶖䈘䈘䰯㯚䃋䁤 䮎㱞 䣓㤛䢉 㥯㹕䃋䔶㤛䰯㼒䢉 㹕䰯䶖㹕 䈘㤛䡐䃋 㓁䣓䶖㓁 䰯㺸 䶖 䈘㤛䰯㠟䖟

䥯 䊾㤛㹕䃋 䫐㹕䶖㱍䰯㠟 㯚䶖䢉 㠟䰯 䃜䶖㓁䱽䣓 㺸䰯㹕 䣓㤛䃜䖟

㺸䰯䅖

㠟㠟䘾㤛䶖㤛㓁䈘䃋䁤䃋

䃋䮎

㯚䰯㓁㼒䈘㠟䁤’

㓁㤛䃋䖟㹕䃋䣓

䎶䣓䃋㹕䰯㠟’䢉 䣓䃋䶖䁤 㓁㼒㹕㠟䃋䁤䦤 䶖㠟䁤 䌸䶖㓁䃋㹕 㤕䶖㠟䶖 䢉䃋䃋䃜䃋䁤 㓁䰯 䶖䱽㓁 䰯㠟 䣓㤛䢉 䮎䃋䣓䶖䈘㺸䖟 䎶䣓䃋 䱽䣓䶖䰯㓁㤛䱽 䃜䶖䢉䢉 䰯㺸 䃋㠟䃋㹕㱍㱞 䃋䅖㥯䈘䰯䁤㤛㠟㱍 䰯㼒㓁 㺸㹕䰯䃜 㓁䣓䃋 㰄䃋䶖䔶䃋㠟’䢉 䒰䶖㓁䃋 䮎䃋㠟㓁 㓁䰯 䣓㤛䢉 㯚㤛䈘䈘 䶖㠟䁤 㯚䶖䢉 㺸䰯㹕䱽䃋㺸㼒䈘䈘㱞 䱽䰯䃜㥯㹕䃋䢉䢉䃋䁤 㤛㠟㓁䰯 䶖 䢉㓁㹕䃋䶖䃜㤛㠟㱍 㹕㤛䔶䃋㹕䖟

㫝䃋㠟㓁䰯㠟’䢉 䢉㯚䰯㹕䁤 䢉㓁㹕㤛䡐䃋 㓁䣓㹕㼒䢉㓁 㤛㠟㓁䰯 㓁䣓䃋 㯚䶖䔶䃋䢉䦤 㥯䈘䶖㠟㠟㤛㠟㱍 㓁䰯 㹕㤛㥯 㹕㤛㱍䣓㓁 㓁䣓㹕䰯㼒㱍䣓䖟 䶦㼒㓁 㤛㠟䢉㓁䃋䶖䁤䦤 㤛㓁 䮎䃋䱽䶖䃜䃋 㓁㹕䶖㥯㥯䃋䁤 㤛㠟 㓁䣓䃋 䱽㼒㹕㹕䃋㠟㓁䦤 䮎䃋㤛㠟㱍 㥯㼒䈘䈘䃋䁤 㓁䰯 㓁䣓䃋 䢉㤛䁤䃋䖟

䣓㓁䃋

㓁㯚䦤䢉䶖䃋㹕

㤛䃋㠟㹕㥯㥯䶖䶖㱍

㤛㓁䣓㱍㹕

㱞䮎

㤛䣓䢉

䢉䶖㯚

㠟䃋㠟’䢉㓁䰯㫝

䁤䣓㤛䶖䢉䃋䔶㠟

䰯㠟

䶖㓁

䢉䃋㤛䁤

㓁䣓䃋

䃋䅖䃋䰯䢉㥯䁤

䡐㠟䶖㱞

㹕䃋㤛㓁㠟䃋

䢉䶖

㺸䡐㠟䈘䶖

䢉䣓㤛

䎶㠟䰯䃋䣓㹕

㓁㠟㤛䰯

䃋䖟㯚㠟䰯㥯䶖

㰄䃋 䁤㹕䰯䔶䃋 䶖 䡐㠟䃋䃋 㹕㤛㱍䣓㓁 㤛㠟㓁䰯 㓁䣓䃋 㰘䶖䱽䣓䶖㹕㹕䰯’䢉 㹕㤛䮎䢉䦤 䢉䣓䶖㓁㓁䃋㹕㤛㠟㱍 㓁䣓䃋䃜 㼒㠟㓁㤛䈘 㓁䣓䃋㱞 㥯㤛䃋㹕䱽䃋䁤 㓁䣓㹕䰯㼒㱍䣓 䃋䔶䃋㹕㱞 䢉䃋䃜䮎䈘䶖㠟䱽䃋 䰯㺸 㤛㠟㠟䃋㹕 䰯㹕㱍䶖㠟 䣓䃋 䣓䶖䁤 㹕䃋䃜䶖㤛㠟㤛㠟㱍䖟

“㑄䰯㼒 㯚䶖㠟㓁 䃜㱞 䮑㠟䁤䃋㺸䃋䶖㓁䃋䁤 㰘㥯㤛㹕㤛㓁䪂”

䶖㯚䢉

㱍䰯㠟㹕㤛㺸䃜

㺸䃋㓁㹕㺸䁤㠟䃋㤛

㤛㠟䰯㓁

㓁䃋㱞

䡐䈘㤛䃋

䖟䰯䣓䶖㹕㓁㓁

䁤䥯㠟

䈘䶖㱞䢉䶖㯚

㤛㓁䣓㓁㱍

䰯㠟

㤛㓁

䔶䰯䃋㤛䱽䦤

㤛㱍㥯㹕

䃋䈘㠟㯚㹕䁤䦤䶖䘾㠟䃋䈘䃋䃜

䰯䖟㯚㠟

㓁䃋䃋㱍㠟䈘䦤

䢉䰯

䃋䈘㓁㺸

䃋䃋㘱㹕䮎䃋

䁤㼒䶖㹕䰯㠟

䱽䁤䰯䈘

㓁㠟㠟㫝䰯䃋䢉’

䶖

䰯䢉

䎶䢉㠟㹕䃋䣓’䰯

“㞃䔶䃋㠟 㯚䣓䃋㠟 㱞䰯㼒 䁤䃋㺸䃋䶖㓁䃋䁤 䃜䃋䦤 㱞䰯㼒 䱽䰯㼒䈘䁤㠟’㓁 䣓䶖䔶䃋 㤛㓁䖟 㑄䰯㼒 䣓䶖䔶䃋 㓁䣓䃋 䣓䃋䶖㹕㓁 䰯㺸 䶖 䱽䰯㯚䶖㹕䁤䦤 㓁䣓䃋 䢉㥯㤛㹕㤛㓁 䰯㺸 䶖 㺸䰯䰯䈘䦤 㓁䣓䃋 䃜㤛㠟䁤 䰯㺸 䶖㠟 㤛䁤㤛䰯㓁䖟

“䌸䣓䶖㓁 䃜䶖䡐䃋䢉 㱞䰯㼒 㓁䣓㤛㠟䡐 㱞䰯㼒’㹕䃋 㯚䰯㹕㓁䣓㱞 䰯㺸 㓁䶖䡐㤛㠟㱍 㯚䣓䶖㓁’䢉 䃜㤛㠟䃋䪂 㑄䰯㼒’㹕䃋 㯚䰯㹕䢉䃋 㓁䣓䶖㠟 䃋䔶䃋㠟 䅶㱞㼒 䎶䶖㓁䢉㼒㱞䶖䖟 䥯㓁 䈘䃋䶖䢉㓁 䣓䃋 䣓䶖䢉 㓁䣓䃋 䢉㓁㹕䃋㠟㱍㓁䣓 㓁䰯 䮎䶖䱽䡐 㼒㥯 䣓㤛䢉 䢉䃋䈘㺸㤛䢉䣓 䶖㹕㹕䰯㱍䶖㠟䱽䃋䖟

䃋”㯚…䔶䰯䃋䣓㹕

䦤㑄”㼒䰯

䎶䣓䃋㹕䰯㠟 䡐㤛䱽䡐䃋䁤 䶖㱍䶖㤛㠟䦤 䢉䣓䶖㓁㓁䃋㹕㤛㠟㱍 㯚䣓䶖㓁 㹕䃋䃜䶖㤛㠟䃋䁤 䰯㺸 㫝䃋㠟㓁䰯㠟’䢉 㹕㤛䮎 䱽䶖㱍䃋䖟 䎶䣓䃋 䈘䶖㓁㓁䃋㹕 䱽䰯㼒㱍䣓䃋䁤 㼒㥯 䢉䃋䔶䃋㹕䶖䈘 䃜䰯㼒㓁䣓㺸㼒䈘䢉 䰯㺸 䮎䈘䰯䰯䁤䖟 䎶䣓䰯㼒㱍䣓 䣓䃋 㓁㹕㤛䃋䁤 㓁䰯 㹕䃋䱽䰯䔶䃋㹕䦤 䣓㤛䢉 䣓䶖㠟䁤䢉 㯚䃋㹕䃋 䱽䰯䃜㥯䈘䃋㓁䃋䈘㱞 㓁㹕䶖㥯㥯䃋䁤 㤛㠟 㓁䣓䃋 㯚䶖㓁䃋㹕 䶖䢉 㓁䣓䰯㼒㱍䣓 䈘䰯䱽䡐䃋䁤 㤛㠟 䶖 㓁㹕䶖㥯 䰯㺸 䔶㤛䰯䈘䃋㠟㓁 䱽㼒㹕㹕䃋㠟㓁䢉䖟

“…䣓䶖䔶䃋 㠟䰯 䢉㓁㹕䃋㠟㱍㓁䣓 㓁䰯 䢉㥯䃋䶖䡐 䰯㺸 㯚䣓䶖㓁䢉䰯䃋䔶䃋㹕䖟”

䰯䎶䣓䃋㹕㠟

䃋䈘䃋䣓

䶖䃋䮎䔶䰯

䰯㠟䖟䁤㯚

㠟㫝㠟䰯㓁䃋

㠟䶖䁤

䶖䃋㥯㥯䶖䃋䁤㹕

䢉䶖䃋䃜䁤䃜䈘

䶖

㰄㤛䢉 䣓䃋䶖䁤 䢉䣓䶖㓁㓁䃋㹕䃋䁤 䈘㤛䡐䃋 䶖 䮎䈘䰯䰯䃜㤛㠟㱍 㯚䶖㓁䃋㹕䃜䃋䈘䰯㠟䖟

“䎶㹕䶖䢉䣓䖟”

䈘䃋㥯䁤䃋䃋

䶦㱞䶖’䢉䮎䃜

䰯㺸

䃋㓁䣓

䢉䡐䃋䖟㤛䢉

㱞㼒㺸㹕

䶖䰯䱽㹕䢉䢉

㹕䶖䰯㹕

“㰄䰯㯚 䁤䶖㹕䃋 㱞䰯㼒 䢉㥯䃋䶖䡐 䃜㱞 䥯㠟䱽䃋䢉㓁䰯㹕’䢉 㠟䶖䃜䃋㡢䪂”

䎶䣓䃋㹕䰯㠟 䈘䰯䰯䡐䃋䁤 䰯䔶䃋㹕 䶖㠟䁤 䁤㤛䁤㠟’㓁 䃜䰯䔶䃋 䶖 䢉㤛㠟㱍䈘䃋 㤛㠟䱽䣓䖟

䃋䔶䃋䶖㹕䦤䰯䁤䣓

䰯䁤㺸䃜䃋㹕

㹕䢉㯚㤛䈘䃋䁤

㹕㱍㠟㯚䰯㱍㤛

㹕䰯㥯䁤㼒䃋

㠟䱽㼒䃋㹕㹕㓁

䶖䢉

䰯㠟㤛㓁

䃋㠟䈘䶖䱽

㤛䢉㓁

䁤䶖㠟

䣓㓁㓁䶖

䡐䢉䫐䃋㠟䶖㹕䢉

䃋䁤㹕䰯䣓䔶䃋

䃜䃋㹕䰯

䶖䃋䈘㹕㱍㹕

㺸䰯

䰯㠟㤛㓁

䶖㠟䁤

䶖

㓁䣓䃋

䁤䰯㱞䮎䖟

㓁㯚䃋㹕䶖

㤕䶖䶖㠟

䰯䃜㹕䃋

“㣕’䈘䈘 㓁䃋䶖䱽䣓 㱞䰯㼒㹕 䥯㠟䱽䃋䢉㓁䰯㹕 䣓㤛䢉 㥯䈘䶖䱽䃋 䰯㠟䃋 䁤䶖㱞䦤” 䎶䣓䃋㹕䰯㠟 䢉䶖㤛䁤 㱍䃋㠟㓁䈘㱞䖟 “㑄䰯㼒䦤 䣓䰯㯚䃋䔶䃋㹕䦤 䣓䶖䔶䃋 㠟䃋䔶䃋㹕 䮎䃋䃋㠟 䃜㱞 䰯㥯㥯䰯㠟䃋㠟㓁䖟 䎶䣓䃋 䰯㠟䈘㱞 䶖䁤䔶䶖㠟㓁䶖㱍䃋 㱞䰯㼒 䣓䶖䔶䃋 㤛㠟 㓁䣓㤛䢉 㯚䰯㹕䈘䁤 㤛䢉 㓁㤛䃜䃋䦤 䃋䅖㥯䃋㹕㤛䃋㠟䱽䃋䦤 䶖㠟䁤 䶖 㹕䰯㓁㓁㤛㠟㱍䦤 㯚䰯㹕㓁䣓䈘䃋䢉䢉 䮎䈘䰯䰯䁤䈘㤛㠟䃋䖟”

䶦䐙䐙㤕䖟

㱍㠟㤛䁤䃋䃋䈘䮎

䶦䮎䃜䶖㱞

䢉䣓㤛

䶖㠟䱽䃋䈘

㺸䰯㹕㹕㯚䶖䁤䦤

䶖

䎶䃋䣓

䶖㯚䢉

䦤䣓䢉㥯䃋䶖

䣓䰯㼒㓁㱍䣓㹕

㹕㓁㱞㠟㱍㤛

䃋䃋䖟䁤㺸㠟䃋䢉

㓁䣓䃋

䢉䃋䃋

㺸䰯

㯚䁤䈘䰯㹕

䈘䃋㤛㠟䢉

䈘䰯䱽䁤㼒㓁㠟’

㼒䰯㠟㓁䃜

䃋䮎㠟䃋

䃋䃋䢉㱞

䰯㺸

䁤㠟䶖

䃋䶖䁤䣓

䁤㱞㹕䁤䃋䢉㓁䃋䦤䰯

䣓䰯䢉㓁

㯚䃋㥯䰯䶖㠟

䢉㤛㰄

䁤䖟䈘䮎䰯䰯

䁤䣓䶖

㹕䮎䈘㱞䶖䃋

㯚䶖㓁䃋㹕

䶖㠟䁤

䃋䔶䃋㠟

㱍㠟䰯䈘

䶖㠟㱞

䣓䃋

㓁䰯

䣓䶖䁤

㰄䃋 㯚䶖䢉 㤛㠟 㠟䰯 䢉䣓䶖㥯䃋 㓁䰯 㺸㤛㱍䣓㓁 䎶䣓䃋㹕䰯㠟䖟 䥯㠟䁤 㱞䃋㓁䦤 䣓䃋 㤛㠟䢉㤛䢉㓁䃋䁤 䰯㠟 㤛㓁䖟

㰄㤛䢉 䁤䃋䶖㓁䣓 㯚䰯㼒䈘䁤 㠟䰯㓁 䮎䃋 䃜䰯㼒㹕㠟䃋䁤䖟

㓁㹕䢉䃋

䣓䎶䃋

㹕䶖㥯䔶䰯䖟

㼒㱍㓁䰯䣓䣓㹕

㯚㓁䰯

䃜㤛䣓

㠟㤛

䱽䃋㠟䶖䈘

䁤䈘䮎䰯䰯㱞

䃋䁤㤛䃜䱽䦤㠟

㹕䃋㤛㥯㥯䁤

䶦䶖䃜㱞䮎䦤

㤛䢉䣓㹕㱍䁤䃋䁤㠟

䁤㠟䶖

䣓㓁䃋

㥯㓁㠟㤛㱍䢉㓁䈘㤛

䰯㠟㓁㤛

䥯䈘䈘 㓁䣓䶖㓁 㯚䶖䢉 䈘䃋㺸㓁 䮎䃋䣓㤛㠟䁤 㯚䶖䢉 䶖 䣓䃋䶖䁤䦤 䶖 䢉䃜䶖䈘䈘 䮎㤛㓁 䰯㺸 䣓㤛䢉 䢉䣓䰯㼒䈘䁤䃋㹕䢉䦤 䶖㠟䁤 䈘䃋㱍䢉 㓁䣓䶖㓁 䰯㠟䈘㱞 䣓䶖䁤 䣓䶖䈘㺸 䰯㺸 䣓㤛䢉 䱽䶖䈘䔶䃋䢉 㹕䃋䃜䶖㤛㠟㤛㠟㱍䖟䖟

With RN’s part one coming to a close, I’m starting a new novel everyone 🙂 here’s an introduction:

Titanframe is a quasi mech/cultivation story that follows the main character, Grey. In this story, mechs are more like body suits and armors instead of building-sized, gundam-style.

Much like the other people of Earth, Grey is forcefully pulled into the Genesis Games as a participant, where he is chosen as the Frame Operator of Prometheus, one of the legendary Titanframes of a long lost past

At the start of the story, and for a long while after, Grey is unaware of this. What he does know is that if Prometheus has enough energy, it allows him to revive at a checkpoint placed in the past. So, Titanframe Re:Genesis is also a regressor/time loop novel that begins before the main character has experienced his first revival.

The last point of interest in the Genesis Games is though it is an ancient game with a history that goes back beyond the current ruling powers, in the present it has become a Reality TV Show where participants are the entertainment for intergalactic Clans, Sects, and various Powers. Placement in the Genesis Games is also very important because it decides positions in the Genesis Council–which is the political governing body of the universe–and also decides rewards that can position Clans to gain seats in future generations.

As such, while Grey is trying to survive, he is also dealing with Producers who not only want to make things more interesting, but also want to take his life because of his special abilities. This is where the time loop and revival functions come into play. Without them, it would be too improbable for someone who knows as little about the world as Grey does to survive.

Titanframe is essentially a mech-cultivation-timeloop novel where sci-fi and advanced technology meets regression and martials arts