CH1186 · Rewrite
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Chapter 1186: Reconstructing the Final Battle

The other team did not appear until the battle was over.

Roland smeared his face with mud, tore a few cuts in his clothes, and lay in a heap with the rest — waiting for the Martialist Association’s rescue like any other casualty.

Ling had pressed the walkie-talkie’s transmit button by accident, but the channel wasn’t open to all teams. Only Fei Yuhan had heard. And Fei Yuhan had lost consciousness. Roland could lay that strange transmission on the confusion of injury, talk her into believing it was a hallucination — the fever dream of a woman half-dead in the dark. As for why the monster had vanished without a trace, he could simply claim he’d blacked out before that part. The cost: he’d have to surrender all credit to Fei Yuhan and wash his hands of it entirely.

It went as expected. The liaison officer barely glanced at Roland’s statement. The Association’s eyes were fixed on the corruption — on the discovery that someone had made it. That revelation eclipsed everything, even the six deaths out of twelve martialists who’d entered the mine.

One thing did catch Roland off guard: Garcia was first into the hole when her team arrived. He watched her drop through the gap before anyone else, heard her calling his name as she moved among the casualties — urgent, unguarded. When she found him alive, she smiled. A real one. It lasted only a moment before her face closed back into its usual wall of indifference. She threw him into the ambulance with a mutter: “Wow, you’re still alive. Good for you.”

That was how the alliance mission ended.


Back at the apartment, Phyllis regarded the magic creature’s warning with unease. It had noticed Roland was different from ordinary martialists — which meant what it said might not be empty threat.

A year ago, such a warning would have stopped him. The Dream World had felt strange then, slipping free of his grip, becoming something he no longer quite controlled.

But that was a year ago.

The Dream World was more than a source of knowledge — it was the one place the God’s Punishment Witches could live something resembling a human life. It might not endure forever. Before the day it ended, he wanted these women to have as many good memories as they could carry.

That was one reason he dismissed the warning. The other was simpler: he trusted what his instincts told him.

Whatever change had taken root in the Dream World, it had started the moment he released the first cyclone. He didn’t yet understand the mechanism — didn’t know what thread connected those releases to the subtle shifting of the world around him — but when he’d defeated the magic monster by wrenching out its astrolabe, he’d felt something right about it. A bone-deep satisfaction. The sense that he was moving in a correct direction, even without a map.

As long as he kept fighting the Fallen Evils, the answer would come.

There was also the unfinished business of the battle itself. The man-made corruption would send shockwaves through the Association, ignite fury across the martialist community. Once the survivors woke and gave their accounts, the investigation would reconstruct everything — and modern martialists would have new reason to distrust him, even resent him.

He decided not to borrow that trouble yet.


Three days later, the Detective Group returned to Neverwinter.

Summer had not only reconstructed the final battle but captured several key moments with the Sigil of Recording. Roland convened a meeting in the hall of the Third Border City immediately — all the executives, gathered to watch.

When Ashes summoned the divine power and died alongside Ursrook, Roland felt a hand close on his arm. Trembling. He held it without looking, and kept holding it until the magic movie ended. When he finally turned, Tilly’s eyes were red at the rims. She had watched every second of it. He said nothing. There was nothing adequate to say.

Now they had the full picture.

“This is my first time seeing a hybrid of an Eye Demon and a regular demon,” Pasha said at last, her voice low and careful. “How did they manage it?”

What had confounded Roland most — watching the movie — was how the demons had arrived so precisely, the moment the Special Unit reached their ambush position. He hadn’t credited an Eye Demon with that kind of strategic intelligence. Then he saw the answer.

Ursrook had cut open a Mad Demon’s face and packed a box of frozen eyeballs into the wound. The eyeballs, scenting blood, burst alive and drove their roots into the Mad Demon’s flesh. The Mad Demon screamed. For nearly a week, the Eye Demon completed its possession. Beyond that, the Mad Demon carried not a God’s Stone of Toss but a Stone of Flight — a rare resource no ordinary demon was normally entitled to carry.

Ursrook had been preparing this for at least half a year.

The moment the transformed Mad Demon left Taquila, Sylvie had been watched by the Magic Slayer. To buy time for the army, Ursrook had flown toward the First Army and then feigned retreat halfway — drawing the Special Unit’s full attention onto a decoy while the demons set their ambush behind them. Unless the Special Unit had abandoned the mission and retreated west, they had no way out.

“From what I can see, this is manipulation rather than hybridization,” Agatha said, turning it over slowly. “The transformed Mad Demon was the host. The decoy wasn’t the Mad Demon itself — it was the tiny Eye Demon mounted on its head.”

“Why do you think so?” Roland asked.

“If the demons could produce a hybrid that powerful, they would have used it in the second Battle of Divine Will. A few hybrids monitoring and harassing the army while Devilbeasts attack from above — the Union would have fallen in under five years.” She paused. “This is a technology, not an innate ability. Like the Spider Demons.”

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