The ship rose from beneath the earth.
It did not destroy the city, leaving only a deep black pit where it had emerged.
The sound of iron chains and the roars of thousands of vengeful spirits echoed endlessly.
Suddenly, pitch-black chains stretched out in dozens of directions, surrounding the city as if trying to seize it.
Nearby soldiers darkened in expression, as though fearing something about to happen to them.
Yet the ship remained there without moving even once, and gradually people saw the chains retract.
The chains—each thicker than a building—slid past structures and people as if they were merely smoke blown by the wind.
…
BOOM BOOM~
A series of areas around the city exploded in fire and bombs.
Some places near the center were swallowed by smoke, dust, and anti-observation magic.
Julien and his group were moving through alleys at extremely high speed compared to their normal limits.
They continuously used enhancements to increase speed, perception, and anti-identification in order to hide and move.
Those enhancements came from the survival competition that was supposed to be held.
In any case, that was no longer important.
Rumble!
Water burst out from every sewage pipe and drain—surely because the underground sewers had been continuously destroyed by Himel.
For the plan to be as perfect as possible, every method had to be used to create diversions and complete the mission.
Rumble…
With every step they ran, more explosions sounded—yet only in central strategic areas, the city's command hubs.
Because it was a festival, few people gathered at the command center except the truly important ones.
And the important ones usually possessed bodies strong enough to endure explosions.
The explosions were products of items from the competition, so they were very weak.
Thus, aside from destruction, they caused very few casualties.
"Another explosion in the civilian district! Mobilize people to investigate!"
"The smoke is too thick—does anyone have reconnaissance magic?!"
"Find the terrorists—they might still be nearby…"
Many soldiers ran across rooftops while rats crept secretly below.
…
Tap, tap.
Five members of One Line's headquarters gathered at the city gate, where numerous soldiers were checking identification papers.
"Please present your citizen identification."
A soldier called out, and the black-haired girl handed him five cards.
They were their citizen IDs—truly perfect, without any legal flaw.
"Thank you for your cooperation. Please enter that tent to report what happened while we recheck your IDs. You have the right to remain silent. Do not worry—we represent the law and will protect your civil rights."
The soldier pointed to a nearby temporary tent, where several figures were already inside.
…
Promet looked down over the city from the clock tower, feeling how small everything seemed.
He formed a hand seal and dispelled the light storm he had created to break the barrier.
The deal between him and the strange man in white was quite peculiar.
The man would help him resolve one matter:
Leviathan's submission.
That was strange, because only a few people close to him knew that before returning to the academy, he had defeated Leviathan's tower and formed a contract with a hatchling after killing its mother.
But because it hated him, it refused to submit—and since he had little time left, he had to return here.
The condition:
Break the barrier after escaping false reality.
And he had followed those words, summoning Leviathan's consciousness.
Even though it was not here, through the contract he could still call its soul and mind.
Fortunately, Phelion had killed it.
After being killed, Leviathan would begin two cycles: fear and causing fear.
In truth, killing was unnecessary—beating it near death would suffice.
And if at this moment Promet suppressed it with authority and compassion, it would gradually submit until becoming a symbol of oppression and chaos.
(Wait… why did this suddenly become Stockholm syndrome?)
As for his Gift: Dispersion of Suffering.
It allowed him to transfer pain and injury he perceived onto another substitute—specifically, parts of his own body.
If his hand were injured, he could disperse the pain and trauma to other parts such as his legs.
But what if the injury involved the brain?
And what if it resembled hallucinations like alcohol or drugs?
The Demon Soul was the direct cause.
In the original novel, he had risked his life to transfer brain damage onto something else—Kale's Gift.
Coincidentally, Kale was already heavily affected by the Demon Soul due to his own Gift and unintentionally went mad.
When Promet confronted Kale, he inadvertently gave Kale a distorted perception of the artificial world.
Essentially, Promet became lucid about reality, while Kale—layered with two realities—lost judgment.
But in the present, Promet's Gift was decisive for this moment.
Because the destruction and injuries he suffered would be transferred to Leviathan, gradually pushing it into illusion.
These illusions were caused by the Demon Soul and would soon fade.
But permanence was unnecessary—over time, they would soften Leviathan.
This depended on the cycle Promet imposed on Leviathan:
both physical pain and mental pain.
It created a command code in the brain—a conditioned reflex tied to the transmission of pain.
And it seemed effective when he used Leviathan's power to create chaotic structural distortions in the barrier and collapse it.
At the same time, Promet also received compensation when he had to commit suicide.
That was the pill he had taken—different from Lloyd's.
It strengthened mind and soul, something Ron himself had prepared for his future.
At this moment, Promet had obtained what he wanted.
And so had Ron.
The only thing left was the soldiers' cleanup of the remaining terrorists.