Chapter 476: • Recontextualized
Chapter 476: • Recontextualized
All laws are statements of the celestials, meant to govern reality. One doesn’t take precedence over another—they exist to affect different scenarios under different conditions.
Whatever her title was, it had just prevented him from judging her.
He wasn’t looking at a destabilizer anymore.
He was looking at a being that disregarded the concepts of laws themselves.
That didn’t make any sense.
It shouldn’t even be possible.
She cocked her head. “It’s not power that matters in this game of gods and legacies… it’s frame of reference.”
And Galisk realized something chilling.
He hadn’t just been outmaneuvered.
He’d been re-contextualized.
Galisk lay on one knee, his divine aura flickering and sputtering like a dying flame. The air around them warped, unsteady, as if the laws themselves were uncertain whom they should obey.
Footsteps echoed—measured, unhurried.
She approached him with a smile that didn’t quite reach her eyes. “You cosmic big shots,” she said, voice dripping with amusement, “always have a habit of underestimating everyone below you.”
She stopped in front of him, tilting her head slightly. “Feels good, doesn’t it? Being on the other side for once.”
Galisk glared up at her, blood staining his lips. Her presence pressed down on him—not with brute force, but with a cold, inescapable certainty.
“Oh well,” she said, stretching her arms as if finishing a light chore. “Nice to know this didn’t end up taking long.”
Galisk coughed, trying to muster what authority remained in him. “Whatever you think you’re trying to pull off, it won’t work. Only a vessel that originally owns a law can use it.”
She giggled, soft and unsettling. “Oh, really? What if the Celestials named a mortal with a title that allowed them to steal and use the titles of others?”
Galisk went pale. The meaning sank in like ice into marrow. “…That would be madness.”
She shrugged, still smiling. “Well, it won’t be the first time they did something crazy.”
Another cough. More blood.
His eyes trembled. “Are you saying that—”
“Hell no,” she cut in with a wink. “I’m not the one with that title.” Her smile sharpened. “That’d be our House Head. I’m just here to get a slice of the pie.”
Shadow burst behind her, twisting and solidifying into the shape of a massive, curved scythe. She raised it with reverence, her silhouette haloed by unraveling cosmic light.
“Thanks for your help, Son of Thl’lor.”
She swung.
A single arc of shadow.
The next instant— Blood splattered across the floor.
… …
Press Conference
The auditorium of Megacity I’s Union Hall crackled with raw, desperate tension, its silver-blue walls dimmed by the weight of a city in mourning.
Holographic screens loomed overhead, broadcasting to a sector gripped by fear, their feeds capturing the hollow eyes of viewers watching from ruined homes outside.
The crowd inside—reporters, civilians, guild members—was a tense sea, their faces pale, some tear-streaked, others twisted with anger.
Their signs, clutched tightly, read: “STOP THE MIST,” “WHERE IS OUR HOPE?” and “UNION FAILED US.”
At the podium, emblazoned with the White Comets’ silver crest, stood Guildmaster Yuuto, his silver hair glinting under harsh spotlights, silver eyes steady but strained.
His boyish frame seemed almost fragile against the crowd’s fury, though his white and silver uniform, accented with blue, held an unshaken dignity. Beside him was Lady Aiko, her blue hair tied back, blue eyes sharp behind her glasses.
She clutched a datapad, her composure a thin shield against the room’s hostility.
The questions came fast, sharp as blades. A reporter from Channel 7, her voice trembling with rage, stood.
“Guildmaster Yuuto, the red mist has killed over 15,000 people—families, children! You say you’re ’working on a cure,’ but how many more have to die before you figure it out? Until we’re all dead?”
The crowd roared, voices overlapping…
“Yeah, how long?”
“My brother’s gone!”
“Do something!”
Yuuto’s jaw tightened, but his voice remained clear, though heavy.
“The mist’s corruption is complex, mutating faster than we can counter. Our alchemists are testing inhibitors, but a cure… it’s not ready. We’re fighting for every life, every day.”
A civilian, eyes red from crying, shouted, “Fighting? My daughter’s rotting in a quarantine zone! You call that fighting?”
Others echoed, “Useless!”
“Step down, who needs a useless guildmaster!”
Aiko stepped forward, her voice cutting through. “We’ve contained 7,000 cases with partial success, saving thousands from turning. It’s not enough, but it’s progress.” Her words were tense yet strangely calm, as she struggled to keep a straight face as these people blamed her father for everything.
Another reporter stood, his tone venomous. “Red Gates are spawning everywhere—five in District 12 last night, wiping out entire neighborhoods! Your alert systems and ’rapid-response teams’ are a joke. Why can’t the White Comets stop this? Are you even trying?”
Yuuto’s silver eyes flashed, his voice firm.
“We’ve sealed nineteen gates this week, containing their spread. We’re mapping their patterns, deploying every resource. It’s not perfect, but we’re holding the line.”
Aiko projected a hologram, gate locations pulsing red.
“Containment arrays have reduced gate expansion by 45%. We’re scaling up, but these gates are unpredictable, unlike anything we’ve seen before.”
The crowd’s anger surged. A man yelled, “Unpredictable? My home’s gone! GONE! You’re failing us!”
“Where’s the Union President? Dead, like the rest of us will be?”
The question hit like a bomb, silence falling as all eyes locked on Yuuto. A reporter pressed, “Guildmaster, the President’s been missing since the attack on Megacity X three weeks ago. You’re the strongest known awakened left—will you take charge of the Union, or are you too scared to lead?”
Yuuto paused, his silver eyes narrowing with intensity, the weight of the question pressing down.
Aiko’s fingers tightened on her datapad, her gaze steady but tense. The crowd leaned forward, cameras zooming in, the silence suffocating.
Yuuto exhaled, sidestepping with measured calm. “The Union’s leadership isn’t my concern right now. Lives are. For the Red Gates, we have a team leader who can contain them—maybe end them.” He turned, voice rising.
“Alister, step forward.”
The crowd gasped, a wave of awe cutting through their anger as Alister emerged from the line of White Comets team leaders at the stage’s edge.
His long black coat billowed, white and blue guild uniform elegantly fitted to his muscular frame, glinting golden eyes piercing.
And around his shoulders coiled a small silver dragon, its crystal-like scales shimmering, purple eyes glowing.
It clung lightly, its tail curling around his neck, appearing a bit clingy, as if it considered Alister to be its parent.
Beside him stood the other leaders: Ren, adjusting his glasses; Goro, burly and stoic, giving a silent thumbs-up; Razorgrin, nodding; Hiroshi, his katana sheathed, smirking; and Kaida, her fiery red hair tied back, nodding encouragingly.
Ren leaned toward Alister, his voice low but warm.
“You’ve got this, Alister. Show them why you’re our ace.” Hiroshi chuckled, nudging him playfully. “Go do your thing, hotshot.” Kaida’s eyes sparkled, adding, “Give ’em hope, Alister.” Razorgrin growled softly, “Crush it, kid.” Goro’s thumbs-up was his only gesture, but his grin spoke volumes.
Alister stepped to the podium, the silver dragon shifting, its purple eyes scanning the crowd. A reporter shouted.
“Dragon Lord, you’re supposed to stop the Red Gates? How? What makes you think you can do what the Union couldn’t?”
The dragon’s tiny teeth gritted, glaring at the reporter, a low hiss escaping. Alister placed a hand on its head, murmuring.
“Easy, it’s okay.” His smirk widened. “I don’t think—I know. I’ve torn gates apart before. Find the source, destroy it, seal the rest. That’s the plan, and I don’t fail.”
A civilian yelled, “Big talk! What if you die like the President? He was the strongest human, and now he’s dead. What do you think you can do?” The dragon hissed again, but Alister’s calm gesture silenced it.
“Then I die trying,” he said, eyes locking on the man. “But I don’t plan on dying. You want results? Watch me deliver.”
Yuuto nodded, reclaiming the podium. “Alister’s our spearhead. With him and our teams, we’re fighting back. That’s our answer—action, not excuses.”
“Dragon Lord, you say you’ll stop the Red Gates—how? What’s your plan?” Alister’s voice was calm, sharp, cutting through the chaos. “By deploying my dragons across the city. They’ll guard every neighborhood, seal gates as they form. As long as people are willing, my dragons will protect them.”
Skepticism erupted. A civilian yelled, “Dragons? After the Union Grand Meeting disaster last year? How do we know they won’t kill us?” The crystal dragon bared its teeth, glaring, a low hiss escaping. Alister rested a hand on its head.
Alister narrowed his eyes and noticed a strange red aura around the person who asked that question.
’Something is controlling him.’
“My dragons only reacted because an assassin tried to kill me that day. They protected me—nothing more. I assure you, they won’t harm anyone here. They’re my will, and my will is your safety.”
Another reporter, voice sharp, said, “You expect blind trust? What if the red mist drives them mad as well? Those dragons could turn on us!” The dragon hissed, but Alister’s gesture calmed it. “Your choice,” he said, eyes narrowing. “A merciless disease that’s taken thousands, or my dragons’ claws, bound to protect you. Choose wisely.”