As if conducting an orchestra, Sunday swept his baton through the air, each arc transforming golden musical notes into tangible projectiles that soared toward the newly born dragon.
Despite witnessing this spectacle, the Martyr's face remained locked in fervent fanaticism. Though blinded by zeal, he wasn't foolish enough to stand still and be struck. He swiftly evaded the barrage.
In the next instant, a colossal figure materialized directly before him—a newly born dragon, poised to unleash a thunderous roar that would announce its arrival to the world. But the moment its jaws parted, a massive golden note crashed onto its skull, brutally silencing the unborn roar.
Then, a torrential rain of musical notes descended, giving the dragon no time to react. Within mere seconds of its birth, the creature was crushed under the relentless assault, its life extinguished.
Yet the Martyr showed no trace of surprise or fear. His fanatical expression remained unchanged. "It's undeniable!" he cried. "Even within this Illusionary Realm, even if these are mere phantasms, their power is real! This aura, emanating from a Divine Being, cannot be mistaken!"
Typically, Transformers gain peak combat abilities the moment they are born, while Evolvers start from varying levels, none particularly high.
The Martyr, however, was an exception.
Twenty years ago, the Martyr was just an ordinary citizen of the White Eagle Free Federation, utterly unremarkable. The White Eagle Civil War had just ended, and the "White Eagle Eight" had divided the nation into their spheres of influence, beginning their rule.
It's worth remembering that these eight leaders were once ordinary people themselves, lacking formal education, experience in governance, and even basic competence. The White Eagle Eight member who ruled the Martyr's region was a textbook Homelander archetype—a complete tyrant who abused his power without restraint, acting impulsively and without regard for consequences.
The Martyr once witnessed firsthand how a passerby who clicked his tongue upon seeing the Homelander was snatched into the sky, hurled from hundreds of meters above, and splattered into pieces on the ground.
At that moment, a thought flashed through the Martyr's mind: The ordinary people of this nation are truly pitiable. If only I could help them.
That very night, an impossibly vast Dimensional Rift tore open above the Martyr's city, and the Martyr himself had a dream.
In his hazy slumber, he seemed to hear someone ask, "Is this truly so?"
The Martyr couldn't recall his exact response, but it was likely an affirmation. When he awoke the next day, he had gained the ability called "True Illusion."
While other Evolvers struggled tirelessly to obtain their powers, only to find themselves at the starting line after immense effort, the Martyr had bypassed all hardship and arrived directly at the finish line. How utterly unfair!
Yet in this world, absolute fairness was an illusion. Limited fairness existed only under the stable rule of the strong.
The colossal Dimensional Rift vanished as quickly as it had appeared. The next day, as others panicked or speculated about what changes it might have wrought, the Martyr kept his promise. With effortless ease, he slaughtered one of the White Eagle Eight who ruled the region and seized their position.
Indeed, the Martyr was not one of the original White Eagle Eight. In the years since the nation's reconstruction, its rulers had naturally changed hands several times.
Upon ascending to power, the Martyr remained true to his original vision, striving to aid everyone within his domain to the best of his ability.
He distributed food, allocated housing, and fulfilled nearly every request. Where did these resources come from? He created them out of thin air using his True Illusion ability.
The Martyr's realm became a veritable paradise on Earth, where nothing was lacking. With material needs satisfied, he turned to spiritual fulfillment. Even in this realm, the Martyr met their deepest desires.
For those who had lost loved ones in disasters, the Martyr conjured absolutely realistic Illusionary Realms that persisted until the individual had lived a full and happy life within them (time flowed differently in these realms). Only then would the Martyr withdraw his ability.
Both the Martyr's first and second abilities were continuous skills. As the demands of the populace grew, his capacity eventually reached its limit.
Long ago, the Martyr had reached a state where he was perpetually maintaining a hundred thousand Creations and a million units of his Illusionary Realm.
This meant that every time the Martyr created a new Creation, he had to dismantle an existing one. This explains why he appeared so weak during his battle with the Bureau of Anomalous Investigations and Zhong Wanhong.
In a sense, each new Knight he summoned meant that a family in White Eagle would lose several days' worth of food or their home.
From this perspective, the Martyr seemed like the ultimate selfless benefactor, sacrificing so much for others while living a modest life in a small, unremarkable church, barely different from his life before he gained his powers.
However, the truth was far more complex. The Martyr wasn't a saint; he was simply fulfilling a promise he had made.
Day after day, year after year, he upheld this vow while constantly recalling the hazy dream realm where it all began.
He desperately wanted to understand what entity had granted him this power, and why.
Over countless years, this question had become an obsession for the Martyr.
Naturally, he regarded the entity that had bestowed his extraordinary power as a Divine Being. He scoured the sacred texts of every Church and delved into the myths of every nation, only to find that none matched the hazy figure from his dreams.
The Divine Being remained simply "Divine," defying any other description.
Yet the Martyr continued his relentless pursuit, unaware that this quest had gradually consumed his entire being, becoming his sole purpose and ultimate goal in life.
Now, as he gazed upon the colossal golden figure before him, a thought flashed through his mind: Perhaps this is the closest I've ever been to achieving my lifelong ambition.