Chapter 82
Tcuik – tcuik!
'Heat kept surging again and again from my armpit to my stomach.
Blood continued flowing without pause, but there was no time to check anything.
As long as I could still stand and move, that was enough.'
Fhhhhh!
'Should I use it now?
The Mesmerizing Technique. A blade born from sheer willpower, a dance that must keep its rhythm so the blade does not fade into memory.
If I misstep even once, my already-torn body might not survive.
But if I do not use it, the other nine Sa will regroup.
Which choice carries the greater risk?'
Fu – fu – fu
"Amazing. The foundation of your Resolve, Intention, Will, and Ambition as the writer of Last Prayer is more or less on par with the Sa released by each Administrator.
Achievements like this are extremely rare, even among our own ranks."
'Compared to all the possibilities I could imagine, Valthura's words carried no condescension.
Every pause she took felt direct and unclouded.
She seemed to be truly praising me, not mocking me.
And strangely, I could feel her sincerity clearly.'
A faint tremor from the devastating collision still hung in the air as Theo forced himself to remain upright.
His body throbbed like a network of short-circuited cables, yet a quiet sense of gratitude flowed through him because the One-Point Nine Acupuncture Completion Technique had managed to withstand the momentum of the nine Sa merging into a single plasma of destruction.
The dust of reality was still drifting down like a misplaced drizzle as his thoughts began to search for new possibilities.
He considered calling upon the Mesmerizing Technique, the sword art that allowed will to forge blade after blade while his body danced as the orbiting core of power.
The technique was far more dangerous, far more exhausting, but its explosive power was undeniable.
Theo briefly imagined it, how his body would spin again following the ancient dance pattern, how each movement would rewrite the world's narrative in luminous sweeping arcs.
But the thought dissolved instantly.
There was a vibration unconnected to the fractures of reality, unrelated to the fading vortex of energy.
It stemmed from a gaze and a sudden awareness that pierced into his mind.
He lifted his head.
Above him stood Princess Valthura, her figure wrapped in a light that had not yet regained its hues after the earlier clash stripped the world's elements of their natural properties.
Her gaze was gentle yet unwavering in authority.
Her presence felt like winter wind brushing the skin after a long storm—cooling, yet bearing an undeniable firmness.
Valthura looked at Theo as though seeing the core of his deepest resolve.
There was a shift in her expression, something no longer tied to the objective assessment of an Administrator toward a lesser being.
The light around her quivered softly as she conveyed her admiration.
She judged that the foundation of Resolve, Intention, Will, and Ambition of a Last Prayer writer—specifically the one named Theo Vkytor—could match the Sa released by all nine Administrators.
There was no hint of belittlement.
No gesture suggesting irony.
Only honest awe, born from acknowledging that something impossible had been achieved by a man who should never have been capable of it.
Theo felt it.
He sensed that sincerity was not formality, not divine diplomacy imposed to preserve hierarchy.
His eyes met Valthura's amid fragments of time that had yet to realign.
It was a silence unlike the silence left behind after an explosion.
This silence held the realization that he—a samurai of ordinary blood, standing on the edge of collapse—had indeed forged something even the Administrators were compelled to recognize in earnest.
'Praise like that should ease my mind, but something feels misplaced.
The way you all look at me has changed, especially after Valthura spoke.
There is an underlying intent, not merely acknowledgment of my achievement.'
"Do not misunderstand. I will not back down simply because you made progress.
Valthura will not either.
Even the other seven Administrators will never yield.
Admitting defeat is forbidden for those of us who guard the continuity code.
It is a line we must never cross."
'And in the end, all of you are doing this just to stop me from taking Aldraya on a date.
She has only visited three of the seven places she planned to visit with Ilux, yet you insist on blocking me as if that mattered more than the collapse of the nine Sa that almost destroyed the entire Flo Viva Mythology code.'
The sky full of fractured lights had not fully broken when Theo sensed something disturbing his calm.
A slight crease formed on his brow.
It was not because of the wounds still bleeding, but because of the odd tension growing among the nine Administrators.
There was a subtle note beneath Valthura's praise, as if her admiration did not stand alone—as though something was being withheld by all of them, something lurking behind the pale, returning colors on their faces.
Theo observed each silhouette floating above the fractured reality, and the longer he watched, the more obvious it became that there was a harmony too perfect, too controlled, as if every movement had been part of a decision agreed upon long before the battle began.
Then a deep, ancient voice flowed through the void born from the collapse of causality.
Prince Quorin stepped forward, following his sister's words as though ensuring not a single part of Valthura's statement would be misunderstood.
The light around him dimmed and then burst outward again, like a dead star reigniting after centuries lost in darkness.
From his gaze, it was clear he spoke not merely as a judge, but as the supreme overseer burdened with cosmic responsibility.
He asserted that aside from himself and Valthura, the other seven Administrators had never known the meaning of retreat.
Defeat was not an option, and acknowledging defeat was not merely forbidden—it was a taboo piercing the core of their existence.
They were not beings granted the right to bow, for they were the guardians of the code governing destiny in the game Flo Viva Mythology, souls entrusted to keep its narrative aligned with its creator's intent—ironically, a game inspired by the works of Theo Vkytor himself.
The light behind the Administrators began to coil like a storm awakening from a brief slumber.
Each of them radiated an aura signifying that the previous battle was only the beginning, that the clash between Theo's technique and the nine Sa had not been enough to shake their unwavering existence.
They prepared themselves not merely as individuals, but as a collective force standing against the narrative distortion Theo intended to create.
A distortion they believed had gone astray ever since Aldraya accepted Ilux's invitation for three consecutive dates.
In their eyes, Theo's decision to ask Aldraya out afterward was not a minor misstep, but a threat to the narrative structure crafted by the architects of code.
And to the nine Administrators, such a threat had to be extinguished before it evolved into a catastrophe far worse than the collapse of causality that had just taken place.
In the center of the converging gazes, Theo stood still within the swirling light that had yet to reclaim its shape.
His feelings were heavy, but his eyes remained sharp.
He knew Quorin's words were not mere warning, but a declaration of the next war.
'Now I understand the reason behind your behavior.You have chosen the Second Paradigm, a transformation from your base mode into a form a hundred times more ferocious.'
To be continued…