NOVGO.NET Chapter 1009 Adjective
Chapter 1009: Chapter 1009 Adjective
Summoning the last of his strength, Cyrus straightened his spine and crossed his legs, assuming a lotus position.
The ground beneath him cracked and trembled from the faint remnants of his power.
He closed his eyes and inhaled deeply, focusing his mind inward.
Within his soul, he could see it—thin, glowing chains etched with divine runes, twisting around his core.
They pulsed faintly with Ross’s energy, a cold, golden light that burned to the touch.
Cyrus grit his teeth, pressing his will against the bindings, but they refused to yield.
"Damn it... what kind of seal is this?" he hissed through clenched teeth.
His veins bulged, sweat pouring down his temples as he struggled.
Every attempt to resist made the chains tighten, suffocating his spirit, but still he refused to give in.
The hours stretched endlessly.
His breathing grew shallow, his aura flickered, and still he sat unmoving, locked in an internal war against the unseen force that held him captive.
***
While Cyrus fought for his freedom, the world outside had already begun to unravel.
The skies had turned crimson, bleeding light across the horizon.
The ground shuddered as though the planet itself were in pain.
Winds howled through the forests, carrying whispers that drove mortals mad.
Animals fled in terror; even the elements seemed to have lost their balance.
Then came the screams.
"Nooo! Get away from me!"
"Run! Runnnn!"
"Don’t come near me! Ahhhhh!"
Cities fell into chaos. Once-proud metropolises became nightmares of panic and blood.
From deep beneath the surface, countless tombs that had been sealed for thousands of years burst open.
Things that should have never awakened... did.
From the darkness rose creatures of bone and shadow, echoes of ancient wars and forgotten civilizations.
They crawled out from graves, from the ruins of temples, from oceans and deserts alike.
The air thickened with the stench of decay and malice.
And above it all, unseen but ever-present, the World Heart pulsed faintly—its once-pure rhythm now distorted.
The corruption had begun to spread through its veins, darkening its light, feeding off the chaos that swept the land.
The people cried out to their gods, but no answers came.
The divine themselves could feel the imbalance growing—a sickness in the core of creation itself.
And still, far from the madness, Cyrus sat in solitude.
His eyes remained closed, his breathing steady despite the agony. But deep within, he felt it.
The world trembled. The energy he had once controlled was now raging beyond his command.
Cyrus knew this would happen.
He had seen the might of this technique many times—the screams, the blood, the cities falling under a crimson sky.
Yet when it finally came to pass, he felt... nothing. No pity. No guilt.
Only a cold detachment, as if he were watching ants drown in the rain.
The suffering of humanity was meaningless to him.
They were pieces on a board, tools in a grander scheme.
What truly mattered now was breaking free from Ross’s control, escaping the invisible chains that bound him.
But such freedom was a fantasy.
It would have been easier to sprout wings, grow two hearts—or even two cocks—simply by wishing it, than to escape the influence of that man.
Ross’s power was not of mortal origin. It was as though his very will had been branded into reality itself.
Every attempt Cyrus made to resist it only made the binding stronger, the control deeper.
He clenched his fists, his face contorted in fury. "Damn that man, just what are you?"
***
Far from the chaos, deep beneath the trembling earth, Ross sat within the safety of his hidden fortress.
The bunker was no ordinary shelter—it was a marvel of engineering, buried miles under Parkland City.
Layer after layer of reinforced alloys, anti-seismic plating, and top of the line conductive shielding surrounded it, making it impenetrable even to nuclear fire.
Dozens of massive monitors flickered across the walls, each displaying live footage from the collapsing world above.
Streets choked with smoke. Fires devouring skylines. The once-beautiful horizon drowned in red.
Ross sat comfortably in a sleek black chair, his posture relaxed, a glass of blood-red wine swirling lazily in his hand.
He was dressed immaculately—as if the apocalypse were nothing more than a show he had tickets for.
Above ground, helicopters roared through the skies, cutting paths between the flames as they ferried people to safety—his people.
All his women had been accounted for—his wives, his mistresses, and those whose connection to him was known only in whispers.
Gwen, Emma, Trinity, Reina, Adele, Cate, Ashley... Jane... Ella, Kate, Alexa, Jennifer... and the list continued, names that might once have been spoken with envy, now carried with desperate prayers.
Each of them, along with their families—their parents, siblings, even servants—had been given priority evacuation.
Ross had planned this for years already since he was the one who lured Cyrus on this planet to begin with using the massive amounts of faith essence that he had intentionally amassed.
He was not one to leave loose ends.
Even his aging parents, still living quietly in Mirfield Town, had been transported to safety under heavy escort.
No one he deemed valuable would be left behind.
On the central screen, the map of the continent pulsed with red zones spreading outward like an infection.
Cities once filled with life were now marked as massively infested by the living dead.
Ross watched it all in silence.
He could hear the faint tremor of explosions echoing through the ground above, but his expression never wavered.
His eyes—cold, sharp, and unreadable—reflected the flickering light of destruction.
"Humanity will survive," he murmured finally, his tone distant. "At least... some of it."
He knew what he was witnessing.
The corrupted energy that had spread from the World Heart had twisted countless corpses into monstrous forms, but for now, the transformation remained confined to humanoids.
No animals had succumbed to the infection.
That was the thin thread of hope left to mankind.
"If the beasts ever fall," Ross muttered with a dry chuckle, "then the world will truly be over. Imagine it—zombie tigers, zombie whales, zombie dinosaurs." He smirked faintly.
"Now that would be overkill."