Life Game In Other World
Chapter 1243: Reunion (Large - for Monthly Votes)

Chapter 1243: Chapter 1243: Reunion (Large Chapter for Monthly Votes)

"Director Vilint’s words are rather unpleasant."

The blonde young man gazed at the gray-haired man before him, his eyes narrowing slightly, carrying a deep expression that was both smirking and enigmatic.

"Well, that’s how I am. I’m not very good at socializing,"

Vilint clapped his hands, placing one on his waist. "Most of the time, I speak to people like people, and to scoundrels like scoundrels. There are too many scoundrels in Ains, so I had no choice but to come to Dawn City."

"Ah, was it really necessary?"

The blonde young man shook his head. "You come from a founding family of the Federation. I originally had no intention of clashing with you—don’t want those Ains bastards chasing after me and causing a mess. Wouldn’t it be better to enjoy a good cup of coffee and have a peaceful sleep?"

"If all things could slide by with a blind eye,"

Vilint gripped the slender hilt of the sword on his waist and shook his head. "Then there wouldn’t be any need for the Federal Bureau of Investigation."

"The Federal Bureau of Investigation’s purpose isn’t about upholding justice,"

The blonde young man sighed. "No wonder those lackeys of Order claim Dawn City has so many rebels—turns out the mistakes start right at the top."

He shook his head, looking at Vilint. Above him, in the high skies, mecha after mecha broke through the defensive line formed by the floating warplanes.

He raised his hand, and faint starlight began to condense in his palm. "Still, what does that have to do with me?"

"It seems your relationship with those Ains scoundrels isn’t all that great either,"

Vilint shook his head. "Makes sense—scoundrels and scoundrels have their share of conflicts of interest."

Buzz—

A silver, semi-transparent knight’s sword gleaming like pure moonlight was drawn from Vilint’s waist. Throughout the heavens and earth, the resonant cry of the sword seemed to echo.

The blade of the knight’s sword surged forward with speed reminiscent of moonlight itself, almost instantly reaching the blonde young man’s presence.

Where the sword light passed, the cold air seemed to quiver violently as if heated by an unseen force.

"Director Vilint’s words are truly unpleasant,"

The blonde young man watched the sword light cutting through the night. "Such a quick blade."

He raised his palm as faint, dissipating radiance gathered at his fingertips, rapidly forming into a crystalline short staff, standing defensively before him.

And at the very moment he finished speaking, the silver Moonlight Knight Sword reached his front, colliding with the crystalline short staff.

Bang—

With a sharp and clear sound.

At the moment of contact between sword and staff, the short staff trembled abruptly, instantly covered in countless cracks before shattering into scattered starlight.

Without pause, the sword light lunged forward, aiming at the blonde young man’s body.

The sharp blade cleaved through the air like it was slicing into water, splitting his clothing, flesh, and bone.

In merely a moment, the young man’s body was severed in two.

Vilint raised the Moonlight Sword in his hand, glanced coldly at the golden-haired young man he had effortlessly sliced in half, and without hesitation, spun to slash towards the right front.

"Impressive battlefield intuition,"

In the dull night ahead of Vilint, a figure with flowing golden hair emerged from faint, hazy light. He raised his head, pale cheeks turning towards Vilint, who was once again slicing towards him, and softly sighed,

"Director Vilint—you truly live up to your reputation."

Vilint didn’t respond, as the icy sword light had already reappeared near the blonde young man’s body.

Suddenly, stray beams of radiance spilled from the sky.

The skies, previously shrouded in a slight haze, had unknowingly transformed into a brilliant, dazzling starry expanse.

Resplendent starlight illuminated the blonde young man and morphed instantly into a dazzling barrier of starlight before him.

With an unyielding expression, Vilint stared at the glowing barrier.

Bang—

The Moonlight Sword struck the barrier, shattering it completely without hesitation.

Witnessing this, the blonde young man raised an eyebrow, watching the advancing Moonlight Sword. His body began to disintegrate rapidly, turning into scattered starlight flowing backward.

But the part of his form in front, the region directly where the sword was about to fall, seemed bound by some invisible force—unable to transform into starlight.

The blonde young man had no choice but to forcibly pull his body backward.

Craaaack—

The Moonlight Knight Sword landed on his chest, slicing through his clothes and leaving a blood-red mark upon his chest. Bright green-hued blood splattered outward.

Yet at that moment, the young man broke free of the invisible "lock," his form exploding into starlight and reappearing across the street.

Dots of starlight seeped from the wound on his chest, quickly sealing the injury.

Vilint gripped the knight’s sword tightly, scanning the starry heavens above him before lowering his gaze with a contemplative look directed at the golden-haired man. "A follower of the Lord of the Starry Sky? Fascinating—you’re still maintaining reason? Wasn’t your god supposed to be insane by now?"

"Director Vilint has great insight—to recognize the might of my Lord,"

The blonde man gazed at Vilint, chuckling. "It’s not my Lord who’s mad—it’s this world."

"Indeed, I remember the last time your people were active—around seventy years ago. I had the privilege of participating in the battle to eradicate you."

"At the time, I was young. Seventy years passed by in the blink of an eye, yet your tricks remain unchanged,"

Vilint chuckled lightly, raising the knight’s sword. "But it doesn’t matter. Whether it’s this world or your god that has gone mad—you will stay here."

The thin blade erupted into moonlight once again, slashing through the night toward Vilint.

The blonde man gazed at Vilint, who instantly appeared before him. His gaze dropped slightly.

In that instant, Vilint seemed to realize something, swiftly leaping to the side to evade.

But in that very moment, the unnoticed golden-haired figure, the one that had been severed earlier, swelled up and exploded into countless starry points of light.

The starry points scattered everywhere, enveloping the street, lampposts—everything nearby, including both Vilint and the golden-haired man—in a reflection of the starry sky above.

Against the backdrop of this mirror-like sky, the golden-haired man dissolved into starlight. As the starlight trembled, endless whispers merged into an ancient chant, resounding within the reflected night,

"Endless stars become your essence, the radiant veil births all creation; we praise you, mighty Lord of the Starry Sky!"

Horrifying and vast power descended from beyond time and space; the reflections around collapsed instantly as the chant echoed.

Like a reversed explosion, starlight and stars alike contracted and gathered into a singular point in the sky.

Blurry luminescence reformed into the golden-haired man’s figure.

Beneath him, the ground seemed forcibly excavated by an unknown force, leaving an immense crater amidst the hollowed street.

The golden-haired man floated in the air, descending gradually towards the crater’s edge.

He raised his hand—an illusory vision of a starry sky manifested within his palm.

Within this miniature cosmos stood Vilint, looking tiny and contained, vigilantly surveying his surroundings.

Vilint’s gaze seemed unable to penetrate the starry illusion, failing to perceive the gaze watching him from outside.

Then, dense beams of light began plummeting from the miniature cosmos, rushing toward Vilint.

His form flickered and vanished in an instant, skillfully dodging the starry assault.

Watching Vilint’s deft evasion amidst the cosmos held in his hand, the blonde young man shook his head and sighed. "Why fight? This wasn’t meant for you, yet now it has to be. Why meddle in these waters—a shame."

He landed gently on the ground, flipping his hand to dispel the cosmic vision.

Raising his eyes, the young man surveyed the darkened surroundings.

An increasing number of mechas were breaching the floating warplane defenses, converging behind him.

His gaze lifted, passing through the luminous starry expanse above, fixating on the city’s northwest sector.

It seemed reinforcements wouldn’t make it. That item hadn’t gone to waste after all.

Who would have guessed—there was a fourth army?

He shook his head and turned to face forward.

A towering statue loomed ahead.

Brilliant starlight bathed its surface with a faint luminescent glow, exuding a holy aura.

It was the statue of Dawn City’s first mayor and one of the Federation’s founders, Ellenska.

He had landed on the East Coast, emerging from wilderness and madness to establish this city.

"Dawn, Dawn,"

The blonde man gazed at the massive statue and laughed. "Not as splendid as a starry night."

The statue remained silent as ever, standing firm just as it had for centuries.

Redirecting his gaze, the young man looked toward the palace behind the statue.

The palace, alongside the statue, had also stood within this city for centuries.

High on the palace’s grandest floor, behind a massive window, a figure dressed in silver formal attire stood, observing the scene below in silence.

The golden-haired man lifted his head and locked eyes with the silver-clad figure.

Above, the pitch-black mechas had breached the defenses, assembling behind him like colossal demons emerging from hell.

One after another.

In front of the grand palace, cannons swiveled to face the mechas in the sky.

More and more mechas broke through the defenses, clustering behind the blonde young man, aligning in formation like a massive, dense black cloud.

Explosions erupted in the distance behind the mecha group—perhaps from an unknown assault—but the young man could no longer concern himself with that.

He raised a foot, stepping forward step by step toward the grandiose palace ahead.

Fixed cannons on the ground unleashed fiery torrents, aiming at the advancing blonde young man, striving to hinder his progress.

Yet, before those shells could reach him, the airborne mechas intercepted the incoming fire with anti-aircraft volleys, detonating it into fiery blooms in the skies.

At the same time, the mechas angled their cannons downward, raining dense firepower like a downpour of light onto the ground-mounted cannons, obliterating them.

Through the shower of brilliance and fire, the blonde young man continued to walk forward in slow, deliberate steps.

Along his path, the exploding cannons seemed like a luminous road laid in coruscating lights, stretching unimpeded to the palace’s entrance.

······

High above, the man in silver formal attire lowered his head, calmly observing it all.

His office, vast and silent, seemed shielded from the chaos and shellfire outside by some invisible glass.

Behind him, there was no one. Before him, there was no one.

The heavens had already transformed into a radiant starry expanse, while mechas amassed behind the golden-haired man in growing numbers.

Clearly, the enemy wanted his body intact. Otherwise, they could have relied solely on relentless bombardment to destroy the office entirely.

Perhaps the aggressors knew he was a Transcendent, though non-combative; at this proximity, a mere bombardment couldn’t guarantee his death—making the scene excessively messy.

But none of this mattered anymore. That blonde young man was evidently a powerful B-level—extremely so.

If he reached this very floor below, killing him would merely be a flick of the wrist.

Yet his pace remained slow, as if savoring the feeling of cornering prey step by step.

Christos watched in silence.

He thought he had long prepared for this moment, yet as death truly encroached, he could still feel his heart pounding at an unprecedented rhythm.

Yes, he was afraid. Terrified.

He gazed toward the massive window before him, where his reflection faintly shimmered against the night.

Suddenly, images of familiar faces crossed his mind.

Roy... Ronald... Pete... Jess... Cito... Linen...

One name after another, one face after another, swirled through his thoughts.

Had they also felt anxious, frightened, in their final moments?

He lowered his head, raising his hand to examine the Spade K playing card in his grasp.

Then, the memory surfaced—of the boy who had given him that card, the one who had first broadcast K’s speech on the giant screens of Dawn City.

Since then, Christos had never seen the boy again.

Only ’K’ had reappeared once for another speech.

Did he die, or merely "disappear"?

Christos raised his hand, lightly tossing the card backward.

Click—

The card landed perfectly on the desk, activating a button.

"Mr. Christos."

A middle-aged man’s hologram materialized amidst the distant barrage outside, emerging over the desk.

"Has the plane left?"

Christos gazed out the window, speaking softly.

"It’s departed,"

the middle-aged man replied slowly. "It seems the enemy mecha’s rear was hit by an unknown attack, possibly reinforcements from the Federal Bureau of Investigation."

"Contact them, ensure they proceed cautiously,"

Christos sighed. "If necessary, prioritize retreat."

"Understood."

The middle-aged man nodded gently.

For once, no follow-up orders came immediately.

After a brief silence, Christos turned back with a faint smile. "Thank you."

The middle-aged man froze slightly, straightening his posture with sudden respect. Amidst the distant battle, he saluted with pride. "It’s my honor."

Christos raised his hand, gesturing lightly to end the communication.

The holo transmition flickered off, leaving the middle-aged man’s presence erased entirely.

Christos grew silent once more, shifting his gaze toward the fiery scene outside.

The vast room sank back into muted stillness.

Like death itself, gradually seeping in.

Thump, thump, thump—

Suddenly, the soft sound of footsteps echoed within the expansive office.

Christos froze momentarily, turning around.

A blood-stained hand reached out slowly, picking up the card lying upon the desk.

"You kept this card, huh."

With a voice tinged with youthful naiveté, that of a boy no older than eighteen or nineteen, the words rang out within the silent, cavernous room.