"Phrolova, are you not curious at all about the script I have designed?"
"No. A failed script is just noisy garbage. I have zero interest."
Phrolova glanced at Cristoforo and was about to leave, but Cristoforo clearly had no intention of letting her go so easily.
"Patience, Phrolova. You will be interested."
Cristoforo pressed a mechanism. Two buckets of pitch-black water instantly poured down onto the tortured human figure. Piercing shrieks immediately filled the dim room.
"This filthy frequency… is it the Black Tide?"
Enduring the screams ringing in her ears, Phrolova furrowed her brows again:
"Where did you get it from?"
"No rush. Let me first talk about my script." Cristoforo spoke unhurriedly:
"I took the historical Black Tide invasion of Ragunna City as blueprint, used Threnodian creations as the anchor point of the script, and developed a script that belongs to Ragunna."
"When the twisted faith of Ragunna reaches a certain peak, Threnodian · Leviathan will invade everyone's will through the medium and my script, reshaping their bodies."
"I could have casually picked any protagonist for the script. As long as the ending is that he gets eroded by the Black Tide like countless people in history, then this script would be perfectly completed."
Hearing this, Phrolova thought for a moment and quickly understood the key point.
No matter who the protagonist is, as long as the final result is that this protagonist gets eroded by the Black Tide, then Cristoforo's script would achieve a perfect curtain call.
This condition is, frankly speaking, extremely easy to satisfy.
Whether it's the strange and unfathomable erosion of Threnodian creations, or the resurrection of Leviathan — none of these are things ordinary people can resist.
Even if this protagonist obtained the script, it would still be almost impossible to escape the arrangement of the script. No wonder Cristoforo had always been full of confidence before, as if everything was firmly within his grasp.
"As a script that I painstakingly planned for many years, of course I'm not willing to casually pick some mediocre person as protagonist. That would be too boring."
"Previously, I had considered choosing that intelligent second miss of the Montelli family, or that other carefree wandering bard, or any other interesting person…"
"Anyone would do. Anyone can do. And no one can escape the ending of being fused into a Threnodian body."
Cristoforo lowered his head. That originally handsome face looked even more sinister and gloomy in the dim room:
"Every time the script opens, I could preserve the 'protagonist's' memory, watch them desperately search for a way to break the script… but all of it would just be adding more torment to the foregone conclusion."
"The protagonist's despair, helplessness, pain… all these wonderful performances are worth savoring carefully. They bring me immense pleasure."
This script was so "beautiful" that Cristoforo desperately wanted to find an absolutely outstanding protagonist.
And then… he chose Noah.
A Crimson Blossom in full bloom that tore both his script and Leviathan into pieces together.
That was bad enough, but for some reason Noah actually knew him — every time the script started, he would beat him up once.
"I poured years of effort into this script. Even if it's Noah, he should at least die once!"
Cristoforo clenched his fists tighter and tighter, teeth grinding, his expression turning ferocious:
"Just one time — even just once — I could erase his memory of the script, and make him experience death countless times!"
"Countless repetitions of the script, until it's enough to overwrite reality. Leviathan would fulfill the promise made to us, everything would proceed according to plan, but—"
He raised his hand and pointed at the two figures that had stopped screaming and fallen into unconsciousness:
"Just because of these two short-sighted idiots, my thousand-li dam collapsed in a single day!"
Phrolova listened quietly from the side, only occasionally knitting her brows.
She didn't understand how Cristoforo's script could be ruined by two minor characters.
But it seemed Cristoforo wasn't finished yet — otherwise he wouldn't have dragged her down here so forcefully.
"Just wait a little longer. Once the Black Tide completely erodes these two idiots, I can communicate directly with Leviathan through them."
A manic smile appeared on Cristoforo's face:
"I want to help Leviathan descend the Black Tide, destroy this disgusting city. Even if I can't kill Noah, I want to make him sick!"
As his words fell, Phrolova's pupils widened for an instant:
"Are you insane? Directly helping Leviathan reshape its body — there's no way It will keep the promise made to us."
"Listen, Phrolova — nobody cares whether those half-human half-ghost things of yours can actually be resurrected or not!"
Cristoforo sneered coldly:
"Right now I am going to help Leviathan descend the Black Tide. If you're afraid of getting implicated, feel free to walk out and try."
"…You lunatic." Phrolova looked as if her most vulnerable spot had been viciously stabbed. Her breathing became rapid, fists clenched tightly.
Inside the room, the two figures on the pool of Black Tide slowly regained consciousness, only to be firmly restrained by iron chains once again, unable to break free.
An ominous frequency emanated from their bodies, carrying an indescribably weird pollution.
"O honorable Lord of Tides and Riddles, Threnodian · Leviathan, Fractsidus Overseer and playwright Cristoforo sends you greetings."
Cristoforo gave the two figures an elegant hat-removing salute and spoke slowly:
"Please, through the mouths of these two fools, bestow upon us your noble oracle."
On the iron chains, the faces of the two priests that had been eroded by the Black Tide wriggled. Their gray-white eyes simultaneously fixed on Cristoforo, mouths opening at the same time:
"…Insect… what do you seek…"
"Thank you for responding. Trust me, you will definitely be satisfied with what I'm about to mention next."
Cristoforo showed a confident smile:
"I wish to assist you — in reality, not in script — to descend the Black Tide upon Ragunna City, allowing you to reshape your body…"
"ABSOLUTELY NOT!"
The two figures suddenly roared in unison. The smile on Cristoforo's face froze:
"…Why would you refuse this proposal…"
"Don't think I don't know! You Fractsidus and that Godslayer are working together!"
The chained figure continued to roar:
"When I was hung up and beaten, I screamed the whole night — and you two Calamity-class pieces of trash, not a single one came to help me!"
"Even after being beaten all night, I didn't tell him anything. Then the next day, he turned my proxy against me and destroyed my creation!"
"If this wasn't you leaking information, then who was it?!"
"Ah, this…" Cristoforo panicked: "O honorable Lord of Tides and Riddles, in the name of Fractsidus I swear to you, we…"
"SHUT UP!"
Leviathan didn't even let him finish.
It wasn't a brainless warmonger like Ovathrax. It was Leviathan — the Threnodian representing pestilence, possessing far greater wisdom than the former.
It was too smart. In one glance it saw through the "trick" of Fractsidus.
"You just want to trick me down again and again, beat me up again and again, toy with me again and again, treat me as entertainment! Is it fun?!"
"The first time, I believed you. The second time, I believed you. And the result?"
"You have no credibility left! I will never trust you again!"
"No, we…" Cristoforo anxiously tried to explain, only to be interrupted once more.
"Fractsidus — are my Threnodian's enemies!"
BOOM! BOOM!
After throwing down those final words, explosive buzzing erupted inside the bodies of the two people who had been completely eroded by the Black Tide. Their heads tilted, and all signs of life vanished.
"No—!"
Cristoforo turned around in collapse, looking toward the only audience member here — Phrolova:
"Is It mentally ill?!"