Chapter 91
Amid the remnants of flickering light, the battlefield stood as a witness to the resurrection of Fides Regnat and to the faint traces of Theo Vkytor's presence, whose strike had sent uncontrollable waves of cosmic creativity into the heart of Aldraya's system.
"Theo Vkytor, how foolish you are to dare alter a scenario crafted with divine precision.
Inviting Aldraya to a fourth date, to a place she never visited even with Ilux, as though your personal will holds more authority than the architecture of fate itself."
Hhhh!
"And you, Aldraya, instead of following the scenario lines that were your obligation, chose to conspire with this monster.
The dormant seed of an Administrator within you should have guided you to refuse, to keep your distance, and to maintain your role.
Yet you allowed yourself to be dragged along by him, betraying the design you were meant to inherit.
Truly disgraceful."
The Son of Quorin, whose body had been overtaken by cold silver cracks of light, finally lifted his face from the destruction swallowing him.
His silver glow trembled.
Not from fear, but from the final effort to preserve the structure of his nearly-collapsed existence.
As he drew in a thin breath that sounded like the grinding of fractured metal, the battlefield responded with a faint vibration.
He spoke, his voice resembling the echo of an equation forced to remain intact amid a storm of mutually annihilating variables.
Every word he released carried shards of frustration and wounds, as though the logic he upheld had been betrayed by reality itself.
To him, Theo's greatest foolishness was not his power, but his idiotic decision to bend the scenario simply to take Aldraya on a fourth date.
He condemned the act as an insult to the design of Flo Viva Mythology, especially because in this scenario, Aldraya was meant to visit only three of the seven date locations purely by her own will, without anyone's interference.
For the Son of Quorin, altering a single point in the scenario was a threat to the entire architecture of reality, and Theo, whom he called a monster, had touched that point with filthy hands full of instincts that bowed to no law.
He did not stop there—he unleashed the curse he had held back since their attacks were crushed one by one.
His words sharpened like shards of glass, condemning Aldraya for choosing to cooperate with Theo.
To him, it was the highest form of betrayal, a painful irony that cut deeper than any cosmic wound on his body.
For beneath Aldraya's expressionless calm and her heavenly composure lay a dormant Administrator seed that should have placed her at their side.
He cursed Aldraya's decision to stand beside a being who should not exist, despite her potential to ascend to an Administrator throne like his own.
In his eyes, that choice violated not only the structure of the game but also tainted the cosmic lineage preserved by the Administrators.
To the Son of Quorin, it was an unforgivable moral failure, and his fractured expression reflected disappointment he could no longer conceal.
His words echoed, creating small ripples among the ruins of the Administrators' nearly-collapsed powers.
But none of them responded.
They knew those words were born from shame and the bitter awareness that their current state was nothing more than the shadow of authority that had been shattered.
They lowered their heads—not in submission to Theo or Aldraya, but to the reality that the system they believed unshakable had proven capable of devouring them without mercy.
"Understand this, Theo Vkytor, and you as well, Aldraya.
The wound you left on us will not fade easily.
Perhaps today you believe you have won, but every decision carries its consequence.
One day you will regret choosing to wound us, just as you will regret your stubbornness in preserving that date."
Fhhhh!
"The path you opened is not merely a deviation from the scenario but an invitation to consequences beyond your imagination.
Remember my words when the time comes for those consequences to demand their due."
Ssshh!
The nine Administrators finally withdrew.
Not in panic, but with resignation born from existential wounds they could not heal.
The Son of Quorin and the Daughter of Valthura led the retreat, though their bodies trembled softly each time fragments of light fell from their cracked surfaces.
The remaining seven Administrators followed, drifting slowly among the shards of cosmic illumination that once witnessed a grand battle.
In that process, their divine forms faded further, as though reality itself refused to remember their complete shapes.
And when they truly vanished, no trace of them remained in the eyes of Aldraya or Theo.
The surroundings, once trembling with surges of high-tier power, grew silent—but not a peaceful silence.
This silence held emptiness, a void of memory born from the disappearance of the Administrators from the storyline.
The realm that had screamed under the clash of their powers could no longer recall the sound, nor even understand that it had once shuddered.
Billions of Berkeley universes that should have cracked from the aftershocks now appeared intact, as though reset by unseen hands.
Yet this restoration provided no answers; instead it birthed a paradox that left an unsettling incompleteness.
Like a book whose pages had been re-glued but still carried the scent of a burned story, reality felt whole yet not entirely clean.
Worse still, the narrative and game code of Flo Viva Mythology showed no trace the nine Administrators had ever existed.
The logic lines that should have been maintained by divine entities of their stature were now empty, like a document missing an important chapter due to a synchronization error.
The game's narrative system could not detect the gap, for from its perspective, no abnormal activity had ever occurred.
The colossal battle, the rewritten fate, even the clashes of power that should have struck the game's foundational architecture—all vanished without record.
The code simply moved on, executing routine processes, ignoring the paradox that had just unfolded.
It did not understand that a logical catastrophe had occurred within it, and its ignorance only locked the paradox deeper.
'Their warnings cannot be taken lightly.
A single misstep could drive the scenario into a direction even the Administrators could not predict.
And if that happens, I am not sure who will crumble first—me or this world.'
And deep within Theo, the warnings of the nine Administrators could not be dismissed, for Theo's interference could push the scenario into unpredictable paths, and mishandling them would end terribly—whether for Theo or for the game itself.
'The stream of time has finally calmed.
No more forceful pull dragging days backward like a reversed recording.
But as the world hurried to fix itself, my eyes were drawn to the sun and moon erasing one another in a blink that defied reason.'
When the nine Administrators fully departed the cosmic arena, the Sa of Valthura and Quorin faded as well, and with the extinguishing of their Authorities, the reversal of time came to an end.
The world, which had been moving like reversed film, slowly freed itself from the coil.
The layers of reality that had been dragged toward the past began to loosen, like the tide receding from a shore battered too long by storms.
To be continued…