Chapter Forty-Two: Beast

Mo Wen did not know the name of the man standing before him.

He might have possessed a resonant title, performed feats worthy of being etched into history, and been celebrated in song; but now, to Mo Wen, he was merely an enemy.

There was no need to remember an enemy’s name, no need to recall their justifications, and no need to ponder their righteousness. One only needed to visualize their death and then bring it to fruition.

A silent, smoldering fury burned in Mo Wen’s chest, driving him to unleash his most frigid and lethal strike. He could see the man’s shock and sense his terror, yet this blow was not as effective as the last.

The enemy’s thoughts outpaced the speed of light. His body transformed into radiance, dodging instinctively, and thanks to the power derived from Number Zero, he truly escaped the strike. A surge of ecstatic relief, followed by a bottom-feeding contempt, blossomed in the enemy’s heart. Having surpassed Mo Wen’s speed, he felt there was nothing left to fear.

Mo Wen felt a similar sense of joy.

Ha, of course. The most elite agents of "The Syndicate" had already been scattered and slaughtered by him earlier. These remaining obstacles were not combat-oriented; they were merely stationed at the orbital fortress, barely wielding psionic powers borrowed from Number Zero—if not already possessed by their own nature.

Although the enemy could enter a light-speed state, he could not sustain it, nor could he break out of this sector. His reaction time was lightning-fast, yet he still had to consciously decide to move. And as for his methods of attack...

They emerged before Mo Wen’s eyes like savage beasts from legend, summoned by the manifestation of psionic energy and the enemy's call.

Cunning, brutal, greedy, tyrannical... there were so many words that seemed to have been created solely to describe their forms. Man-eating beasts that were not quite human, cruel hunters patrolling forests and mountains, colossal monstrosities that supported the heavens and the seas...

Things similar to these had killed Mo Wen before—more than once. The scars they left seemed to linger on his body, aching with a dull, phantom pain.

The enemy grew excited, speaking incessantly. "Do you see? I have recreated those creatures that should have gone extinct, and optimized them!"

"They existed in that ancient era, before humanity had formed complete organizations, before tribes evolved into kingdoms. These were the masters of this land, beasts born with the mastery of psionic energy."

"Psionic power is not a modern discovery, nor is it exclusive to humanity. They have always coexisted with us. Any sentient being could potentially become a psionic, but most who possessed this potential have already been wiped out by us."

"Those beings we once called gods or demons, those monsters recorded in legends—they all truly existed."

"We once prayed to them in caves, built altars for their worship, and sacrificed our own kind to them. Yet, we also forged the weapons to slay them, severed their heads, and displayed them as trophies, because they hindered our survival and our ambition."

"Progress is always accompanied by slaughter, just as all great things require sacrifice to be forged."

"Humanity is a cruel species. We eradicate any creature that threatens us, whether it is a god or an unexpected guest."

"I can understand why the ignorant, gripped by fear, seek to destroy the great Project Zero. I imagine you, too, can understand why I must kill you."

"And now, driven by ambition and pride, I shall resurrect these monsters, study them, and command them in battle."

"After you die, I will reintroduce them into the ecosystem to create an environment better suited for psionics."

His pride was nearly overflowing, his contempt clearly visible. He believed that in a one-on-one duel, with no interference from others, Mo Wen could not kill him, and that these monsters he had temporarily recreated would be enough to kill Mo Wen.

He even saw Mo Wen trembling.

Though these were not the exact same monsters that had once killed him, using these substitutes for revenge was, to Mo Wen, a unique experience.

So, he began the slaughter.

The giant serpent capable of crushing mountain peaks had its head severed; the beast that summoned icy winds was carved into two; the pack of hunting demon-wolves was cut clean in half...

Cascading blood gushed from the severed stumps, turning into clouds and rain that drenched Mo Wen, staining him in crimson. The blood fell into the golden waves beneath his feet, yet it did not dirty them; it simply sank to the bottom.

The enemy marveled at Mo Wen’s resistance, but the moment Mo Wen’s silhouette was obscured by the monsters, the enemy’s consciousness plunged into total darkness.

Suddenly lowering his presence to complete the assassination, Mo Wen shook off the corpse hanging from his dragon-blade and struck directly at the black rift at the edge of the sector.

The cut and twisted space was slashed open, returning to its normal state and revealing another enemy behind it, who had been flashing an arrogant expression toward the other psionics.

Then, once more, a strike, a death.

Mo Wen paid no mind to the comrades he had saved; he simply repeated the process.

Severing the rift, striking, killing...

"Don't you dare!" A violent psionic surge crashed into Mo Wen’s mind like a tidal wave against a reef. It did not shake him in the slightest, though it sent up a spray of psychic static.

The sensation was quite familiar, reminding Mo Wen of an acquaintance.

"The Faceless."

Though the entity had always worn the appearance of Ren Sisi, and Mo Wen had never seen its true face, he had remembered its psionic signature.

Versatile, secretive, and equally resolute.

And now, there were over two hundred thousand such psionic signatures appearing...

Angels—or rather, beings with pure white, steel wings sprouting from their backs, breathing out radiance—shared the same face. They were arrayed like a legion before Mo Wen, clad in armor, holding a spear in one hand and a sword in the other.

They held weapons, yet not for the sake of wielding them; they used them to arm their minds, making them sharper. They wore armor, yet not to block the enemy’s attacks; they wore it to declare that they had become warriors, no longer human.

The will of this enemy far surpassed the weaklings he had just slaughtered. His frustration at being obstructed was about to erupt.

Mo Wen did not know how he had transformed into this state, but he had no need to delve into such things.

Between enemies, words were unnecessary. There was only the need to harbor twelve-fold hatred and act with the sole goal of completely erasing the other.

Swarms of angels flew toward Mo Wen’s sides. They were not hard to kill. Even as they died in droves, causing more agony to the other "Faceless," it was not enough to deal Mo Wen any effective damage.

But their power was not limited to this.

"Vanish into ash!"

More angels gathered in the sky. They channeled the power of a halo that had appeared above Number Zero, aiming their attack at Mo Wen.

A premonition, identical to the one he had felt when the war satellite launched its light cannon, surfaced in the depths of Mo Wen’s heart.

A strike capable of leaving a permanent scar upon the earth erupted in an instant.