Chapter 120
Upon hearing the question from their leader, the captains did not answer immediately.
A long pause followed, filled with exchanged glances among them, with deep breaths being drawn, with doubts carefully concealed behind expressions that tried to remain firm.
At last, one captain with a dried wound on his temple opened his mouth, his voice emerging like a whisper forced into strength, yet still carrying a tremor that could not be fully hidden.
He began by explaining that they had not merely sat idly, scribbling on paper without taking real action.
That in between observation and analysis, some of them had conducted various small experiments, trials carried out in the hope of finding a more tangible opening than mere theories on paper.
The exorcism items they possessed, objects that had long served as both protection and weapons in their battles against sacred forces, had been thrown toward the boundary, toward points that, in their observations, appeared devoid of the presence of Holy Beings.
Another captain then continued, his voice heavier, deeper, as though every word had to pass through layers of bitterness settled within his chest.
He described how those objects, before they could even reach a meaningful distance, before they could touch the ground beyond the boundary, had collapsed into dust in the blink of an eye.
Not because they were struck by a direct attack, not because they were cut down by slashes of light like before, but because of something more subtle, more unseen, more terrifying.
The gaze of an Angel that happened to fall upon the point of the throw, or perhaps merely the natural aura that radiated from the surrounding Holy Beings, was already enough to turn solid objects into fine particles carried away by the wind.
There was no explosion, no flash of light, no observable resistance.
There was only destruction so swift, so perfect, so utterly silent, that the captains who witnessed it could only fall into silence, realizing that the enemy they now faced operated on a level of reality entirely different from anything they had ever confronted before.
The third captain, who appeared to be the youngest among them, added an even more horrifying detail.
That the experiments had not stopped at exorcism objects imbued with dark power.
They had also tried throwing objects that were more neutral, more ordinary, more innocent.
Dust gathered from the ground beneath their feet, small pebbles scattered around them, even a dry leaf carried by the wind to their vicinity.
All of those objects, upon reaching a certain distance from the boundary line, upon entering an unseen yet palpable radius, met the exact same fate.
They crumbled into dust, into nothingness, into absolute nonexistence.
As though reality itself possessed a boundary that could not be crossed by any form of matter without the consent of the power that stood guard there.
As though the Holy Beings and Angels did not need to move, did not need to attack, did not need to exert any energy at all, because their mere existence was enough to act as a filter that crushed anything attempting to approach without permission.
"..."
Fhuuuuh!!
"Enough, cease all actions. No more experiments, no more throwing objects, no more incantations directed at the boundary."
Hiiiih!
"To the Orbit Severance Line… and to all of you, the Satanic Elites under my banner. We will restrain ourselves. For now, we remain still. Not a single step. Not a single movement. Until I personally revoke this order."
Silence followed the captains' confession like water seeping into every gap of emptiness.
Zhulumat Katamtum did not move immediately, did not speak, did not give the response that everyone in that council circle might have been waiting for.
He simply sat still, his upright body like a rock that showed not a single tremor or shift in posture that could be read as a reaction.
His dark eyes stared at an empty point among them, not at anyone in particular, but at something only he could see—perhaps into his own mind working at a speed no one could follow, perhaps into the past where similar strategies had failed or succeeded, perhaps into the future where the decision he would make in the next few moments would determine the fate of thousands of subordinates still waiting faithfully around them.
Seconds passed in a silence that grew thicker, heavier, more suffocating, like a physical weight pressing upon the shoulders of everyone present.
No one dared to speak, no one dared to move, no one even dared to breathe too loudly, because they all felt that something significant was unfolding within their leader, something that must not be disturbed by any form of noise.
The Satanic Elites seated on one side of the circle exchanged brief glances, glances filled with unanswerable questions, glances searching for certainty amid uncertainty, glances asking silently whether this was the moment to speak or the moment to retreat deeper into silence.
Some of their fingers twitched slightly, old habits when thinking or feeling uneasy, but they quickly realized and stopped, afraid that even the smallest sound might disrupt their leader's concentration.
On the other side of the circle, the captains of Team Xirkushkartum from the Orbit Severance Line appeared more restless, despite their efforts to conceal it.
Some of them still held the scribbled papers that had earlier borne witness to their hard efforts, yet now those papers felt foreign in their hands, as though they belonged to someone who had never truly understood what they were facing.
The wound on the temple of the first captain who spoke seemed to redden further, perhaps due to rising blood pressure, perhaps from the friction of his robe, but no one paid attention to such a minor detail, as all focus was fixed on the one figure still frozen at the center.
When the silence reached a point where even the air itself seemed ready to shatter, Zhulumat Katamtum finally moved.
The movement was not grand, only a slight adjustment in his seated position, a subtle straightening of his back that had been slightly hunched, a small lift of his chin that had been lowered.
Yet even that small motion was enough to make everyone in the circle tense, enough to halt their heartbeats for a moment, enough to make them realize that the awaited moment had arrived.
Zhulumat's voice emerged neither loud nor soft, but carried a weight that made every word feel as though it were carved into stone, carved to be remembered, carved to never be forgotten.
That voice spoke to the Satanic Elites under the Banner of Zhulumat, spoke to the captains of Team Xirkushkartum within the Orbit Severance Line, spoke to everyone present that for now, for the time being, all actions must cease.
No more experiments, no more throwing exorcism items, no more dust or pebbles cast toward the boundary.
No more movements of any kind that could attract the attention of the Holy Beings and Angels guarding that place.
To be continued…