Chapter Forty-Seven: Self-Deprecation and Abandonment Opposed to Love

If anyone truly understood what had just occurred, it could only be the esper himself.

In the instant before the spiral lance struck the woman with black hair, it unraveled in midair, splitting into six sharp spikes that pierced her body.

Gongsun Ce’s right fist shot upward with ferocious force, landing squarely on her chin—a flawless uppercut that ended the battle.

“Hss... ah! It hurts, hurts, hurts...” The violent movement tugged at the wound on his left arm. Gritting his teeth, he stooped to pick up his severed left hand from the ground and pressed it against the exposed white tissue.

It barely hung in place... but to restore it fully, he would need to visit the operating room after this fight.

Gongsun Ce opened his pocket watch and glanced at the time. It was 10:11:30—six and a half minutes since the Curse of Heaven had taken effect.

The battle with Ling Shiyu had lasted a total of five minutes and fifteen seconds.

“You tried to tear out my heart, so I returned the favor with a punch and six holes. Ah, how invigorating! Now we’re even, Miss Shiyu.”

Ling Shiyu lay sprawled across the dragon’s scales. She was now gravely wounded—by any professional standard, she was only marginally better than the brink of death.

“...Heh. If you really like your big sister so much, why not just finish me off?”

“Whatever happens to you after this has nothing to do with me. Thanks to Yan Qi, you didn’t harm any innocent bystanders this time, so I only took back what was mine. If you’d caused mass casualties with this dragon disaster, I’d have torn you to pieces myself. That’s all.”

“Still the same self-serving man! I can’t even decide my own life or death—how pathetic I’ve become!”

Ling Shiyu laughed loudly, her wounds bleeding anew, yet she didn’t stop.

“Tell me, Esper! Why is it that when I take revenge on those who deserve to die, I—the victim—am hunted down? Why, when all I want is true freedom, do I end up in this pitiful state?”

“Why don’t you tell me instead, Lawbringer of Impermanence? I helped you out of the goodness of my heart, yet you tried to rip out my heart. The people of this city were just living their lives, but almost ended up petrified corpses—why?”

The esper adjusted his glasses. “Let me guess your answer: ‘That’s just how unreasonable the world is,’ right?”

“Ah... we really are alike, aren’t we?”

Was he truly similar to this woman?

In confidence in himself, in his abilities, in his intellect—perhaps, yes.

“We’re alike in our arrogance,” he said.

He waved his left arm at her—his hand, crudely reattached, dangled precariously as if ready to fall off at any moment.

“But I’m not as attached to myself as you are.”

“Hahaha...”

With a knife-hand strike to her neck, her laughter abruptly ceased.

Qin Qianbai crouched beside Ling Shiyu. She raised her hand, hesitated a moment, then knocked her twice more for good measure.

“Hey, any more and she’ll really die.”

“She deserves it,” Miss Qin replied with a tilt of her head. “Need a hand?”

The gray-haired youth shook his head. “No need. Please clear the area for me—I’ll be done soon.”

“Alright, I don’t know what you’re planning, but good luck.”

With the black-haired woman in tow, Qin Qianbai leapt from the dragon’s head, stepping through the air as she departed.

Now, only a half-dead man and a battered dragon remained high above the City of the Sky.

Just as it had been three years ago, at the end in Supebia.

“...Hoo.”

He controlled his body to float before the massive golden dragon’s head.

His gaze lingered on the dragon’s broken necks, like two shattered bridges.

Unlike three years before, the glass dragon now had but one head remaining.

He knew all too well the cause of its pitiful state.

The two lost heads had been severed by his own hand three years ago.

—What is your wish?

—Step into the world of Konghua.

He heard a voice speak within his heart.

—I will grant your wish.

—The Glass Dragon will grant everyone’s wishes.

I want all those who died three years ago to return to life.

I want everything everyone lost three years ago to be restored.

For a moment, he almost spoke these words aloud.

But he was neither a dragon-worshipper nor a Lawbringer driven by a lust for power.

Gongsun Ce could not allow himself to indulge in impossible dreams as they did.

“I want to bring the events of three years ago to a true end.”

Thus the young man spoke.

He reached forward, summoning a power not his own.

“Come, O black sword of the end, calamity of the silent star.”

From deep within the dragon’s belly, a bloody fissure opened at the center of Gongsun Ce’s heart.

Something far greater than any piece of flesh began to emerge, as if drawn out by invisible hands.

A twisted cross-shaped spike, a hilt wrapped in blood-red cloth, and a blade as sharp and ominous as the concentrated darkness of night.

It was a sword—a jet-black sword.

It tore through the dragon’s spine, landing in the gray-haired youth’s grasp. Golden dragon’s blood traced a brilliant arc across the sky, like a dazzling river of stars.

The heartless dragon roared in agony, louder even than when pierced by a thousand blades.

Gongsun Ce gripped the hilt tightly.

This was not his sword; this weapon had never belonged to him.

Once, it had been wielded by a golden-haired knight in silver armor, charging a one-eyed dragon. Then, it was a mighty, silver-white weapon.

After that, the weapon changed hands. What he now held was no longer a weapon of protection, but one of destruction—powerful, yet powerless to defend anything.

Self-mockingly, the esper thought, He truly was not meant to be a hero.

Had he been a true knight, he would have slain Ling Shiyu outright. If he were a hero of justice, he would have prevented the disaster from the start. If a cunning strategist, he’d have seen through every scheme. If a cautious tactician, he’d have avoided being ambushed.

He was still indecisive, still hesitant, still emotional, still arrogant, still careless, still quick to anger.

Gongsun Ce was an esper, an unusual student—nothing more.

If his existence held any meaning, it was what he was about to do.

He coated the blade with white matter, reshaping it into a form reminiscent of three years ago.

He could not recreate the massive silver sword; what he made was merely a pure white shell wrapped around the black blade, glaringly imperfect, like a shoddy prop.

A poor imitation, nothing more.

He mimicked the movements of the woman in his memory, gripping the sword with both hands and cleaving down at the heartless dragon.

Gongsun Ce murmured softly,

“Falling Arc of Light.”

From the sword’s tip burst forth a cross-shaped flare.

That light was icy and sharp, piercing the evil dragon’s skull and dyeing the night a bloody crimson.

Crimson flames enveloped the bleak black light, forming a cross etched into the Glass Dragon’s body. Two ancient scars flashed, tearing the dragon asunder, its divine flesh unraveling in the sky and falling upon the city below—scattering over the corpse of another god.

—Has your wish been granted?

He watched as the final dragon’s head was torn apart, hearing a faint voice within his heart.

“Yes, it’s done. Farewell, Glass Calamity.”

The voice spoke no more.

The dragon’s head dissolved into light.

·

On the night of February 13th, everyone in the City of the Sky turned their eyes to the heavens.

From the prominent figures in their high towers to the ruffians in the streets, from espers to Lawbringers—whether they knew the truth or not—all were but fragile, insignificant humans. Before such grandeur, before powers beyond the mortal realm, all were equal.

They saw the crimson-black light rend the Glass Calamity asunder; a massive cross appeared upon the dragon’s ruptured body, like the judgment of an unknown god upon an evil beast.

A mysterious light blanketed the entire sky, as the dragon’s blood and flesh turned to radiance and scattered. The process was awe-inspiring, yet silent—magnificent, but soundless.

Everyone gazed at the crimson-black night, and only when the light faded and darkness returned to shroud the city again did voices finally rise to break the silence.

There came the jubilant cheers of the citizens, and the sighs of relief from the powerful.

In the conference room on the 66th floor of Elder’s District, everyone unconsciously paused what they were doing. Liu Zhongwu and Onovir watched the scene unfold on the screen, sighing in succession.

“It’s over.” “It’s over...”

At the end of an alley in the Steadfast District, several barely-breathing Anyushi lay collapsed on the ground.

A man in a long robe sheathed his blade.

He strode past them, emerging onto a wide street, and joined others in admiring the cross-shaped light in the night sky.

Smiling, he reached a hand skyward.

“Beautiful.”

Elsewhere in Steadfast District, in a garden-style residential complex, a sweat-soaked young man clutched his chest as he struggled to his feet.

He ran into the courtyard just in time to witness the dragon’s dissolution.

“Well done... Ah Ce.”

At the border of Thorn District and the Central District, atop a certain tower, Yan Qi flicked his brush, retrieving the prison that had bound the dragon.

He extended his hand to catch something falling from above—a glass bead, descended with the dragon’s death.

With an arrogant laugh, he shouted,

“Well done, Gongsun boy!”

·

More voices erupted across the city.

Their sounds echoed through the streets, but could not reach the heights above.

To Gongsun Ce, floating alone in the sky, there was only silence.

Time to go home and rest, the esper thought.

“...”

But then, a strange weariness welled up in his body. He could still lift his sword, still breathe, could probably fly until he landed. But he was exhausted, spent, wanting nothing more.

He needed to return before the ten-minute limit. But first, just a few seconds’ rest...

“...”

Just a few seconds.

Gongsun Ce closed his eyes. Gravity drew him down.

Three seconds more, no—four.

As he fell, the silence faded.

With eyes closed, he could hear the whistling wind. Below, faint shouts and laughter and sobs—citizens reacting to all that had just happened.

As he fell, darkness brightened behind his closed lids.

He could still sense the presence of light. The City of the Sky shimmered beneath the night, windows glowing in residential towers, floodlit billboards on skyscrapers, streetlights burning on every avenue.

“...”

This was what Yan Qi had defended, what Qin Qianbai and Shi Yulian had protected, what powerful and humble people alike had preserved—and, perhaps, what he had protected as well.

Sometimes, it’s okay to be gentle with yourself, he thought. Maybe it wasn’t all meaningless; maybe he hadn’t failed at everything.

At least this time, the dragon’s calamity had not destroyed the city.

How long had he rested? He’d forgotten how much time remained—maybe it was time to open his eyes...

Just then, he felt himself land upon something.

Not the hard ground, but caught in someone’s arms.

A faint tickle, like hair brushing his face—a familiar feeling, as when she had carried him from the underground before.

“Where’s Ling Shiyu?”

“No idea. I tossed her somewhere.”

You’re actually quite petty, aren’t you.

But what happened next was no longer his concern...

“I’ll just—”

“Mm, rest a while, Ah Ce.”

Would she smile at a moment like this?

Most likely, as always, she’d reply with an expressionless face.

In Qin Qianbai’s arms, the young man smiled and drifted into sleep.

She carried her friend across the night sky.

Toward the city’s warm and welcoming lights.