King of Titans and Dragons
Chapter 1125 - 1125 1112 Pathetic Weapon

Chapter 1125: Chapter 1112: Pathetic Weapon Chapter 1125: Chapter 1112: Pathetic Weapon This blue greatsword, almost taller than Muria’s stature at that moment, was embedded in the metal stand. The moment Muria grasped its hilt, dazzling light burst forth from the engraved patterns on the Divine Machine, and then, the Divine Machine itself began to tremble.

A roar that was barely audible emanated from the Divine Machine. The violent consciousness surged down Muria’s palm towards his mind. If Muria failed to block this violent consciousness, he would be devoured by the Divine Machine and reduced to a pitiable monster.

However, such an occurrence was impossible. The violent consciousness that permeated from within the Divine Machine, intent on devouring Muria, was akin to a bucket of water thrown against a dam when compared to Muria’s will—utterly meaningless.

The consciousness that stemmed from the Divine Machine collapsed the moment it came into contact with Muria’s will. Muria didn’t even make any superfluous movements. He simply let the Divine Machine amuse itself; all he did was grasp it and then pull it out.

Then, everything fell silent. The Divine Machine no longer trembled, and the light upon it gradually dimmed. The entire training ground was quiet, and the base’s higher-ups who were observing Muria were stunned.

“I suppose this means I have taken control of the Divine Machine?” Muria asked, one hand holding the God Machine that appeared larger than his body, and then looked up toward the observation window.

“Is this what taking control of a Divine Machine looks like?” Inside the observation room, a militar officer, now in disarray, turned to look at a researcher beside him dressed in white.

“Probably, I guess,” responded the middle-aged man, slightly aged in appearance. He scratched the top of his head, where hair was thinning, wearing an uncertain expression, as the current situation had also exceeded his understanding.

“Are you sure there is nothing wrong with this Divine Machine, that it’s not some sort of defective product?” The militar officer looking on wore an intricate expression—he had never seen anyone control a Divine Machine so easily.

He had witnessed more than once the process of Qualifiers with the necessary attributes taking control of a Divine Machine—some cried their eyes out, some howled in pain, and some even screamed in despair, being devoured by the Divine Machine.

But he had never seen anything as effortless as what was unfolding before him, as if it were a game. It was as if what he held in his hands was not a Divine Machine capable of slaughtering Desolate Beasts, but just a piece of ordinary metal.

“I cannot be certain; we need to check,” said the researcher who had come as a routine to observe and record data. When he heard the militar officer’s question, his instinct was to criticize him; how could the Divine Machines they produced have quality issues? But the recent event made him reconsider his words.

“Didn’t you guys check the Divine Machine before delivering it?”

“Of course, we did. We can guarantee that every Divine Machine we hand over to you is up to standard,” the researcher replied, straightening his spine and answering with conviction when it concerned his field of expertise.

“Well then, how do you explain what just happened?” demanded the militar officer responsible for observation and reporting, pointing at Muria below still awaiting an answer.

“Why do you always assume that the problem lies with the Divine Machine and not with the Qualifier himself?” the researcher countered, frowning.

“Fenrir, what kind of problem could he have?” The militar officer who came to observe was puzzled. He speculated that this unusual scenario might be due to the Qualifier in question.

“But compared to other Qualifiers, he hasn’t shown anything different. After entering the base, he didn’t exhibit any particular standout behaviors. He’s just a very ordinary Qualifier.”

Frowning, the militar officer pulled up all relevant information about Muria from the data terminal in front of him but found nothing special. The only slightly notable thing about this Qualifier was his love for reading books and a decent battle Talent.

But these traits were nothing extraordinary among the group of Qualifiers at the base, even quite mediocre, unable to explain the current situation.

“Hey, why aren’t you answering me?” Down in the training ground, Muria, who had waited a long time without a response, grew impatient. Although time had lost its significance for him, this was not a way to waste it.

“Fenrir, the process of you taking control of the Divine Machine was unlike any we’ve seen with other Qualifiers, so we will conduct a real combat test on you,” the militar officer replied.

“Real combat test?” Muria, standing on the metal stand, waved the now exceptionally tame Divine Machine in his hand, indistinguishable from an ordinary weapon, and his eyebrows raised slightly.

“Okay,” he agreed.

Muria had no objections to a real combat test; he was also curious about the performance of the Divine Machine.

He had roughly grasped the general state of this small world. It was nothing more than a very ordinary little world, and due to its low level, it didn’t even have a system of Extraordinary Powers.

And because of this, when the Minions of the Evil God began to appear in this world, they spread rapidly in an unstoppable manner, destroying the civilization that had been nurtured upon it.

But as the Evil God corrupted the world, the world also corrupted the Evil God in return. Any world possesses the ability to assimilate foreign entities, and the outcome of this small world’s reciprocal corrosion of the Evil God resulted in the Divine Machines.

The Divine Machine is a special biomechanical weapon created by combining the power of the Evil God’s Followers with the wisdom of civilization. This is the result of the world’s rebellion against the Evil God.

Muria did not comment on the small world’s resistance to the Evil God, but he was very curious to meet one or several of the humans who designed the Divine Machine and ask about their thoughts, to find out just how insane they must have been to come up with such a toy.

The essence of the Divine Machine was clear to Muria the moment he grasped it; although the weapon’s exterior appeared to be made of metal, its core was actually the Active Flesh of an Evil God’s Follower.

Therefore, the Divine Machine possessed its own will, and the remaining human forces in the world had found Qualifiers with the requisite talent to suppress the consciousness of the Divine Machine and thus control it, before using it to resist the encroachment of the Evil God’s Followers.

Using the power of the Evil God to resist the invasion of the Evil God’s Followers was what the remaining humans in this small world were doing, which to Muria seemed extremely laughable.

Because this resistance was meaningless, the path ahead was dark, with not a glint of light. They were like someone who had plucked an insignificant thorn from the body of the Evil God, thinking to resist a calamity of the Void like an Evil God.

Without any unexpected events, the destruction of this small world was destined; the day of the Evil God’s Descent would mark the starting act of the end, and the humans’ resistance would become a mockery.

With the perspective of Muria’s Epics, he could foresee the future development and eventual end of this world without his intervention. However, now that he was here, everything was bound to be different.

“Fenrir, we will release a Thorn Wolf as your opponent. Please focus your attention and use all your strength to slay it in the shortest time possible,”

a somewhat dry male voice echoed in the Training Ground, followed by the sound of mechanical operations once again. The metal platform where Muria stood began to slowly sink until it was level with the surrounding ground.

In the wall in front of him, several gaps appeared, outlining the frame of a door, which then opened with two thick metal doors sliding apart, revealing a corridor.

Amidst the darkness of this corridor, a low roar echoed, and Muria watched as a wolf-like Monster with a body covered in spiky chitin shell slowly walked out, its eyes emitting a crimson light, and putrid saliva dripping from the uneven Tooth cracks.

“Fenrir, do not be afraid. You are now a Divine Machine User, and you possess the power to slay Desolate Beasts.”

It seemed like the voice from before was worried Muria would be scared in his first battle, so it spoke up again, comforting and encouraging him.

Clang~

Muria did not pay any attention to the voice coming from the observation room. He gripped the Divine Machine in his hand, channeled the power contained within, and then swung it, sending a pale blue Sword Mark nearly three meters long flying out. It sliced through the Thorn Wolf that had leaped from the ground.

The Sword Mark entered unimpeded through the central part of the Thorn Wolf’s head, then flew out along the spine, cleaving the Beast in two before embedding into the steel wall behind it, leaving a deep Sword Mark.

“Trash!”

With an offhand swing, Muria killed the Desolate Beast in a second and spat out two words. The testing ground, where one could hear a pin drop, echoed with his voice, clear and sharp.

The Beast that the base had chosen to test his battle power, now lying dead, was nothing more than trash in his mind, for it was not a Follower of the Evil God. Even a newly ascended Evil God would not harbor Minions of such strength.

It was simply too weak. The weakest of the Evil God’s Followers possessed Gold Rank strength and a matching robust vitality. This creature before him could only be considered a Minion of the Evil God’s Minions, too unsightly even for cannon fodder.

However, Muria’s candid assessment of this Desolate Beast was seen by the base’s Military Officers and Researchers in the observation room as an arrogant display.

“Is this your so-called normal?” a Researcher asked, glancing at the equally astounded Officer next to him.

“Standard, nothing exceptional,” the Officer replied, suppressing the strange expression on his face, then offered an evaluation.

“Are you trying to fool me? I’ve witnessed Qualifiers take control of the Divine Machine more than ten times, and seen the same number of battle tests,”

the Researcher said as she casually flipped her long hair, her face showing contempt while she pointed at Muria below, who had started to toy with the Divine Machine, “but I’ve never seen anyone like him.”

“Alright, I admit that he’s indeed somewhat special, so I suggest that we continue with the battle testing.”

“Why don’t we ask Fenrir himself what he thinks? He is now a qualified Divine Machine User.”

When the base asked Muria whether he wanted to continue with the battle testing, he did not hesitate and agreed immediately. He wanted to study the Divine Machine more and see how to replace its core.