I Forged the Myth of the Ancient Overlords
Chapter 882 - 882 881. Nuclear Fusion Bazooka

Chapter 882: 881. Nuclear Fusion Bazooka Chapter 882: 881. Nuclear Fusion Bazooka Within the cosmos, though civilizations varied in form, some things were quite similar.

For instance, the primary energy source for most planets was their respective star, the constellations of their galaxies.

Namely, the nuclear fusion at the heart of the sun.

The energy released from these fusions supplied the majority of life-sustaining planets, propelling the progress of civilizations.

Of course, there were also a few extraordinarily unique Foreign Domains where life forms fed on different substances, such as extreme emotions or the products of dreams, tainted by Pollution.

But even the origins of these fed ultimately from the sun’s provided energy.

Thus, for the vast majority of civilizations, the power of the sun could be considered the ultimate weapon.

The Octopus People were no exception.

Their world also had a sun; therefore, once the Octopus People ended their protracted wars and ventured into space, they too studied their star.

Controlled nuclear fusion and miniaturization were already commonplace technology amongst the Octopus People, even newly educated neonates with rudimentary materials and the convenient tools encoded in their genes could create a small nuclear bomb.

Urukluqqa used just such technology.

What he had just launched was a small fusion bomb.

The radiation range of this fusion bomb was vast, and in an instant, the area where Lu Ban’s flesh resided was vaporized, with nearby sands and stones not even having the chance to melt before turning to gas.

As for raindrops and pools of water, they no longer existed.

A mushroom cloud pierced through the clouds; within the pitch-black cloud mass, due to the energy leakage, the original dark green lightning intertwined with the Thunderstorm, composing a symphony of thunder.

Hundreds of meters around the area where Lu Ban was located, all things were vaporized, leaving behind a huge crater.

A bit further away, the remaining sand and gravel, in a molten state, cooled by the water rushing in from the outside, emitted towering white smoke.

In Lu Ban’s world, there had once been what some thought of as jokes or actual designs, which included shoulder-mounted nuclear rocket launchers—since their radius of destruction exceeded the firing range, they were essentially seen as tools of suicide.

And in Urukluqqa’s hands was a weapon of similar nature.

He, too, was within the nuclear bomb’s lethal range.

However, within the steam, slick tentacles spread out, with Urukluqqa emerging from the scalding vapor as if nothing had happened.

His tentacles were coated with a semi-transparent casing, which, with a casual shake, fell off easily and quickly dissolved in the water, dispersing and Polluting the body of water with many bubbles.

This was a self-adaptive casing, which every Octopus Man would automatically generate when under attack; with the defense of the casing, even if a nuclear bomb exploded right in front of them, it would not cause any damage, not to mention that the Octopus People’s bodies had been modified to absorb nuclear radiation, making the deadly radiation to them no more than a snack.

When Urukluqqa faced an unknown enemy, he normally used these weapons to probe, trying to give them a good blast.

If the enemy was dealt with, then naturally Urukluqqa need not worry.

If not, that was another matter.

Now, looking at Lu Ban, who didn’t even leave behind scraps, Urukluqqa was quite satisfied.

This explosion also caught the attention of Utopia, hundreds of miles away.

When the shockwave diffused to here, it was at the end of its strength, but it still brought a Gale Wind to Utopia.

Atop the great Pyramid in the city’s center, Plato gazed into the distance at the Torrential Rain still on the horizon and the mushroom cloud rising within it.

“That is an ominous rain that will bring destruction to this city,”

Plato said.

“Yes, the rainwater has been polluted, and you plan to stop it?”

Beside him, his friend Hippocrates inquired.

“I’m almost at my limit. The Saint’s power has blocked those Crystals, but it cannot grant immortality. If I act now, I fear I would rapidly age, not to mention three days, even one day may not remain.”

Plato lamented.

He was well aware of his own body. Only with the blessing of extraordinary powers had he been able to live a lengthy life; but now, everything had come to an end, and he didn’t have much time left.

Sometimes, Plato even envied the common people.

They believed Saints lived long lives but didn’t see that Plato always had to bid farewell to those companions who couldn’t become Saints.

Over the centuries, all those he had become familiar with had passed away, leaving only him behind.

“If you die now, Utopia will lack a Saint; I cannot guarantee the next ‘Plato’ will be the right one.”

Hippocrates declared.

He glanced at Plato’s arm; underneath the clothes, decay had long taken hold of that body, Pollution’s Corrosion had caused Plato’s organs to fail, turning them into a breeding ground for rot. That he could still stand here and talk was thanks to not just Hippocrates’ medical skills but even more so to his own willpower.

The more he used the Saint’s power, the more severe the Corrosion would become. When Pollution reached its limit, the will would collapse, and in the end, would return to dust; the soul would then become food for Utopia, ensuring its eternal existence.

“I trust everyone will make the right choice.”

Plato said, uncertain whether the person who had his name in his era had also harbored a similar thought when writing that monumental book.

He yearned for the age of reason and freedom proclaimed by that person.

A surge of intense pain made Plato fall into his chair. His abdomen squirmed as if worms were breeding, about to burst forth from his body.

“My time is running out, old friend. Gather all the candidates; I must find my successor today.”

He tasked Hippocrates with finding the Saint’s successor while he sat in the chair, gazing into the deep green storm.

The corners of his mouth twitched; Plato’s facial expressions changed, at times crying, at times laughing manically, at times as pure and innocent as a child.

The next moment, Plato’s eyes widened.

Some power transcending time sent his will soaring into the sky, into the midst of the Torrential Rain.

His physical body rapidly withered, muscles atrophied, bones protruded, eyes sunken, transforming from the handsome elder reminiscent of a classical Greek sculpture to a dying old man on the verge of death.

Yet his will grew stronger. High in the sky, Plato was like a giant, reaching above the dark clouds, watching the Thunderstorm unfold below.

Plato saw the Urukluqqa meandering through the water. His keen intuition convinced him it was the culprit behind the storm of Pollution.

Plato reached out, fingers spread wide.

His hand pierced through the storm clouds, enveloping the space around the Urukluqqa.

Boom—

A giant wave surged, completely enveloping the Octopus Man.

Just as Plato tried to use his power to snatch it up, a dazzling light burst from the palm of his hand.

The scorching waves penetrated his palms, the brilliant light stinging Plato’s eyes.

Another mushroom cloud rose.

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