Life Game In Other World
Chapter 1260: The Price Given by Fate (Vote for Monthly Ticket)

Chapter 1260: Chapter 1260: The Price Given by Fate (Vote for Monthly Ticket)

"The smooth sailing you’ve experienced all this way was fate’s grace to you. And now, it demands its price."

He Ao gazed at the luminous figure, and at the immense, towering illusion outlined behind that radiant form.

Just looking at that illusion, he could hear countless layered hymns echoing ceaselessly in his ears.

The illusion did not face him but was directed toward the enormous, gray-white eye in the sky.

"Sigh..."

He Ao continued watching the figure suspended in the air, and likewise the massive illusion.

His throat rasped and tore, letting out a hoarse sigh.

"You... now... still..."

He wrenched his throat, continuing in a low voice.

"You could even consider me as your teacher. I essentially possess all his memories. Of course,"

The radiant figure raised its head, looking calmly at He Ao. "You may also regard me as Order itself."

Hearing these words, He Ao said nothing more.

A faint sorrow welled up, pooling beneath his brow and eyes.

"Heh—"

The corner of his mouth twitched as he let out a bitter smile.

If gods desired not offerings from their followers, nor their strength, nor gave selflessly without reciprocation, then perhaps what they sought were the followers themselves.

Now, the old detective was gone. The ambitious "next patriarch" of the Order Church was also no more. All that remained was the angelic incarnation of the God of Order.

The ladder to the heavens might not necessarily lead to Heaven—it could lead to Hell.

Sizzle—

Violent sounds, as if flesh and blood were being scorched by fire, sizzled and echoed between Heaven and Earth.

At this moment, in the firmament above, although the gray-white eye had been entirely sealed by a "crystal" formed from rules and lines, the intense sound still resonated in everyone’s ears.

Gray-white radiance kept emerging from the void, like concentrated sulfuric acid, rapidly corroding the solidified crystal in the sky.

Clearly, the crystal’s power had not anticipated the gray-white eye to have invested so much force here, and its very strength used to seal the eye was being swiftly consumed.

"It seems the God of Knowledge is paying close attention to you all. I can feel His wrath and power,"

The radiant figure fixed its gaze on He Ao. "But He doesn’t seem to care about your life. Under such overwhelming power, surviving is nearly impossible for you."

He raised his hand. "What a pity. As the core of this ritual, you must die by my hand for this body to fully ascend to angelhood."

He Ao stared at the radiant figure. He could distinctly feel the immense illusion behind its radiance—locked in confrontation with an old companion—emitting an oppressive coldness, one that seemed to be the essence of pure Order, devoid of all emotion.

Though plotting everything, He Ao could sense the indifferent loftiness of the God suspended above the firmament, like humans gazing at ants—apathetic and dismissive.

Yet the radiant figure maintained a certain "personality," even inheriting the loquacious tendencies of the old detective.

Of course, this "personality" felt awkward. Coupled with its nearly emotionless tone, it seemed more like a being with no feelings trying hard to act "human."

Moreover, the radiant figure seemed not fully integrated with the God of Order and didn’t appear to have acquired much knowledge or memory from Him—perhaps it couldn’t bear the weight of such mystical power.

At the same time, when summoning the God of Order’s power just now, He Ao noticed traces of ritual arrangements—most likely set up by the old detective earlier. While skipping some steps might have been possible, the ritual couldn’t be wholly omitted.

An incarnation of a god is both god and not god.

He Ao wondered whether this was unique to the God of Order or applied to all gods. However, it implied that these incarnations might not be truly "undying."

He Ao clenched his fist, and a distorted mark emitting a faint purple glow—lines winding intricately and forming a twisting purple "K"—slowly appeared on the back of his hand.

"I know what you’re thinking, how you’ll overturn this, child,"

The radiant figure lifted his hand, and the yellow radiance atop the firmament flared intensely, its glow becoming even fiercer. "But you no longer stand a chance. Using your own flesh and blood as the foundation, you can only inscribe a ritual array pointing to divinity."

With those cold, detached words, the radiant figure withdrew part of the lines extending toward the heavens. The pressure surrounding He Ao doubled again, crushing his throat like two walls closing in from opposite ends, nearly flattening his entire body.

The power of Divine Sense swiftly enveloped He Ao’s body, resisting the terrifying pressure and preventing him from being instantly turned into a pulp.

But under such circumstances, he could no longer utter a single word.

After calling upon the true power of the God of Order, the radiant figure himself seemed significantly amplified.

Even as he declared He Ao had no chance, the radiant figure was meticulously blocking any possibility of He Ao initiating a ritual.

The sudden increase in pressure was, in itself, an attack. Without his Divine Consciousness Protection, He Ao would have been reduced to mere flesh and blood.

As a divine incarnation, the radiant figure conducted its actions with the same caution and cunning as the old detective, except it was even more ruthless and detached.

"Such tenacious vitality,"

The radiant figure trembled, its calm and indifferent voice resonating under the night sky. "I thank you for summoning the God of Knowledge for me and enhancing the ritual’s completion. However, before Knowledge shatters this seal, you will become the final cornerstone of my ritual."

He Ao rolled his eyes upward, gazing at the radiant figure above him. He could not draw breath, his ability to breathe almost entirely gone.

However, his B-level terrifying vitality still sustained his will and life.

His fingers twitched slightly, as scabs of dried blood fell from the back of his hand, revealing an eerie, intricate mark formed by countless intertwined lines.

Just a glimpse of this mark’s edge was enough to stir elusive fantasies in the mind.

It was a rune pointing toward the "Dream Phantom."

Ever since exchanging for the [Dream Phantom] and making his way to the rooftop of the Dumel National Cemetery, He Ao had continually attempted to connect with this mark. Armed with the experience from the [Arrogant Person] and [Holy Grace of Life], he began deciphering the techniques behind drawing the rune.

The [Dream Phantom] blended elements of the Witch of Desire’s power, with the Winding Hill as its foundation.

Thus, the final rune bore some of the Witch’s soft, heart-shaped curves, along with the chaotic, twisted patterns of the hill.

He Ao had waited until he fully understood the mark before stepping onto the final stair.

Of course, throughout the process, he had never used the rune.

Only by intuition, guided by faint and intangible links, did he confirm its utility.

Now, he calmed himself completely and attempted to activate the rune.

Faint, hazy glimmers surfaced on the back of his hand, outlining countless warped and knotted winding patterns. Ultimately, these patterns coalesced into a strange and tantalizing "K" shape, tinged with an almost sinister allure.

And in that instant, it was as if He Ao’s will had been split in two.

One part remained within Dream City, while the other reached a realm between twisting lines.

The lines were "immersed" in a permeating, indistinct purple mist, constructing a vague humanoid figure as they flickered.

At the same time, He Ao’s consciousness merged with these lines.

Chaotic, maddening ravings accompanied by fragmentary knowledge surged into He Ao’s awareness as soon as his will fused, tearing at his reason.

The whispers were disordered and jumbled, though He Ao faintly discerned traces of the Winding Hill among them. Yet within such a brief period, it was impossible to extract anything useful from the whispers.

Ignoring the pandemonium, his line-made body surveyed its surroundings. The space was eerily quiet, seemingly isolated from the real world, shrouded entirely in thick, purple fog.

There was something disturbingly familiar about this fog—it felt as though it was part of his very being.

However, He Ao couldn’t scrutinize it further. He hadn’t unlocked the usage time for the [Dream Phantom]; this moment was merely a fleeting manifestation of his will by leveraging the rune’s connection.

Swiftly scanning the tranquil fog and lines that surrounded him, he willed the power to surge through his connection with "Suote," crossing space-time and descending into Suote’s body.

Countless twisted purple lines traversed reality, coiling on the Dream City’s borders, while faint mists emerged around them.

But at the instant the lines were about to cross the city and sink into Suote’s body—

He Ao abruptly severed the descent.

For typical descending ceremonies, it was almost impossible for the summoner to terminate the ritual forcefully once established. The process becomes controlled by the higher being summoned.

However, in this "descent," He Ao himself was the ceremony’s initiator and target, granting him the ability to take back control and cut it off.

As the ritual collapsed, He Ao’s will quickly withdrew from the [Dream Phantom] form. He could feel the twisted lines dissipating rapidly into the void, rendering his initial descent a complete waste.

Simultaneously, he sensed that around those lines, part of the purple mist entwined among them convulsed the moment the lines vanished.

An immense and horrifying gaze, capable of invoking a cascade of emotions, emerged from the depths of the fog, locking onto He Ao’s consciousness as it retreated from the [Dream Phantom].

The swirling purple mist around him churned violently, twisting into forms that tried to anchor He Ao’s will in place.

But the fog was a step too late. At the moment it surged, He Ao’s consciousness had already pulled out completely.

In the instant He Ao departed, an ethereal, veiled figure emerged from the twisted fog, casting a glance at the warped humanoid lines.

Then it turned its gaze toward the deepest recesses of the mist and void.

The rift between the virtual and the real.