CH1359 · Rewrite
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Chapter 1359: Convincing

“Mr. Rock—” Someone in the hall started to object.

Rock raised his hand. “It’s fine.” He scanned the room before he continued, and his voice had the settled quality of a man who had made his assessment and was done reconsidering it. “If I’m not mistaken, over thirty percent of these cores were obtained by this Hunter himself. If he had been interested in them for his own use, he would not have waited until now.” He looked at Roland with something that was not quite trust and not quite its absence, but was moving in a direction. “Honestly, I find it difficult to say whether Roland is a World Creator. But he is the most capable and most proven person available for resisting the Fallen Evils.” He nodded to his secretary. “Bring the core storage box.”

Roland’s reputation in the Association was not a minor thing. A new Hunter had appeared, distinguished from the field not by self-promotion but by results — and the difference his results had made to the general mood among the older generation of Martial Artists was significant. Fallen Evils were cagey opponents, deliberately selecting weak individuals to engage and hiding from anyone capable of fighting back seriously. The Association found few opportunities to hunt them. Since this particular Hunter appeared, the Fallen Evils had been dying at a rate that stood comparison with anything in the Association’s historical record, and the morale effect of that was real.

The brief quiet was broken by a middle-aged man who leaned forward and said, “I’d like to ask Mr. Roland a direct question, setting aside the Creator question for now.”

Roland shrugged.

“I was at the bridge. I’m the one who found the emergency doctors.” The man took a deliberate breath, as if ordering his thoughts carefully. “I know those injuries were beyond what Force of Nature or our current medical capabilities could address. The attending physicians told me you used instruments that appeared — by every visual measure — to be modest and low-grade. And yet the result was…” He pressed his lips together, searched for the word, and gave up searching. “New flesh and blood, is the closest I can describe it. I understand you may have reasons for not disclosing the origin or manufacturing process. But I have to ask: would you consider selling those instruments to the Association? I can assure you the price is negotiable.”

Fei Yuhan tilted her head toward Roland and dropped her voice. “Please don’t tell me what you used on me was some priceless medicinal herb or spirit pill from the other world, and the instruments were just a cover story. I do have some savings, but they aren’t at the scale of national wealth.”

Roland smiled. He hadn’t expected that from her, of all people. “It’s free.”

Her exhale was genuine. “Thank goodness. But don’t tell them that. People stop valuing things when they’re free.”

He made a small gesture of acknowledgment and turned to the man. “Of course. Martial Artists form the forward line of resistance against Erosion — naturally I want them to be able to fight without having to calculate the cost of injury. And I have no intention of concealing where those instruments came from. They are not products of this world. They come from another world, altered through magic power. In other words, they do not belong here by origin.”

This was important information. The hall understood that immediately, even before it finished processing.

Another world?

“What is magic power?”

“He mentioned confined magic power being released — is the Force of Nature a type of magic power?”

“You’ll understand soon enough,” Roland said. “Where I was before this world appeared, what the Gods intend, the relationship between magic power and this world — I’ll explain all of it. But first, I’ll provide the most direct evidence possible.”

The secretary brought the large box in. It opened to Rock’s fingerprints and iris scan, and inside: a neat row of glass jars, six of them, each containing a red crystal sealed within.

Natural cores after congealment.

“Is this sufficient?” Rock asked.

“More than enough for proof.”

With Rock’s approval, the secretary passed the jars to Roland.

“Every seal carries an alarm device — any unauthorized opening signals the Association immediately,” Rock explained. “Direct contact with a core will seize the consciousness of any ordinary person and trigger a transformation into an inferior Fallen Evil, one running purely on instinct. Awakened individuals have some resistance, but extended contact causes irreversible erosion. To prevent the cores from being recovered and reused, the Association has always had to construct large strongholds and bury them deep. Every historically significant structure in this city has, at some point, been used to store or conceal one. Our techniques for storage have improved considerably, but the fundamental approach has not changed — Prism City being the most recent example.”

“From this day, you won’t need to do any of that.” Roland broke the seal and took the first core in his hand.

Every person in the room stopped breathing.

The congealed crystal stirred. It began to rotate, as if something inside it had woken from a long sleep. Its color shifted — the dark red draining steadily, replaced by the clear blue of an open sky. Then it dissolved into a column of light that rose straight through the ceiling and was gone, leaving behind only a few scattered motes that drifted downward and faded. In five seconds, not a fragment remained.

Total silence.

In all the Association’s history — reaching back through thousands of years of documented record about Awakened beings — there was no account of a core simply vanishing. The fundamental, unquestioned understanding, held as reliable for as long as anyone could trace, was that a Fallen Evil’s core could not be destroyed. Once erosion occurred, the core would persist indefinitely. The only known method of elimination was introduction into the Erosion itself, which accelerated the rift’s expansion and was treated as an absolute last resort. That was the bottom of what everyone in the room had built their understanding upon.

They were no longer standing on it.

“Mr. Roland — where did it go?” Even Rock’s characteristic steadiness had cracked a fraction; his voice had an excitement that he was not fully managing.

“Exactly where I said. It returned to the world.” Roland took the second core and sent it upward in the same column of silver light. “The most fundamental difference between the Dream World and other places is that this world’s entire existence runs on magic power. According to what I currently understand, magic power is nearly without limit in application. It grants Awakened individuals extraordinary strength and physical resilience. It allows flesh to regenerate. The Force of Nature is simply another expression of it. I do not yet know the origins of this power with certainty, but I am confident it is connected to the Gods.”

He then gave them what they needed: the other world, the Oracle who betrayed the Gods, the structure of the Battle of Divine Will. He kept it deliberately accessible, omitted the most technically complex details, and centered the account on the practical urgency.

“I don’t know whether the Battle of Divine Will playing out in both worlds simultaneously is coincidence or design,” he said. “But this much is certain: if the cycle is not broken, the Gods will destroy everything. They already have the means to do it.” He paused. “If we do nothing, both worlds end — what you call the real world, and this one. There is no version in which standing still is safe.”

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