A Madman’s Guide to Traveling the World Chapter 118: Before the Nation Falls, the King Cannot Be Def

Kolimon sensed Celt's actions, glanced at him, but paid him no mind at all.

He simply reached out his empty left hand and grasped at the air before him.

A scale appeared in his hand.

Kolimon held the scale in one hand and the golden longsword in the other, floating beneath the inverted palace, raising his sword high.

Imdiately after, both Celt and Samuel saw golden specks of light appearing above their heads.

Above their heads wasn't just the single inverted palace.

Just as Samuel had initially sensed, this proto-Divine Realm wasn't enclosed.

Beyond that palace, the entire capital city of Reins was visible, and on the outskirts of Reins, even more regions could be faintly seen.

The entire Kingdom of Liastan was hanging upside down above their heads.

At this mont, within the inverted Liastan, golden specks of light flickered from streets, houses, and carriages.

In this upside-down world, they looked like a sky full of stars.

"You have to admit, it's quite pretty," Samuel comnted, holding his head to keep it from falling off his neck.

At that mont, Celt, standing on the flat sky, flapped his wings, lifted his feet off the ground, and flew toward Samuel.

Though it felt a bit strange to say it, he was rising from the sky and flying toward the ground.

In this inverted world, the laws of physics no longer seed to apply to common sense.

He released his grip on the umbrella handle, and this umbrella, lacking its ribs, began spinning on its own, not stopping even after he let go.

Celt had modified its inertia so it would keep spinning forever, floating above his head without his holding it.

After a brief mont of thought, Celt removed the handle, leaving only the canopy.

Paired with Celt's current appearance, it looked like a halo above an angel's head.

Soon, he flew to Samuel's side, and the "starry sky" above their heads changed as well.

It cast down projections one by one, shining onto King Kolimon's body, layering him in gold.

This gold slowly took shape, becoming a golden armor with a cape.

The scale in his hand, though holding nothing at all, began to sway left and right, sotis sinking on the left, sotis on the right, as if judging sothing.

The golden longsword in Kolimon's hand grew brighter and brighter, finally becoming a pure blade of light, with no visible patterns, only blazing golden radiance.

Kolimon looked at Samuel and Celt not far away, appearing unhurried, showing no concern that the two might attack him while he was preparing.

It seed, as Samuel had guessed, that Kolimon could draw power from his subjects.

"Ah, phase transition," Samuel said with certainty. "This is the boss entering phase two."

"Then why didn't you try to stop him just now?" Celt asked casually.

"How was I supposed to know if he's invincible during his transition? And what if his phase-two special effects deal damage?"

Samuel grabbed his hair, lifted his freshly severed head from his neck, and shook it with a grin.

"See? His execution just now had that delayed strike pattern and turned into this battle-damaged version. What if I charged in and got oneshot?"

"The way you talk, you don't even greed for hits, so how do you expect to fight a boss?" Celt took less than a second to accept the situation. "That's not how you play a Soulslike ga. You're supposed to roll around on the ground like a loser during the boss's phase transition, rolling forward to try and attack, then get knocked back by the special effects and lose another half your health bar."

As he spoke, Celt casually plucked a feather and tossed it like a dart at Kolimon.

Kolimon didn't block or stop it at all.

He just stood there, letting the feather hit him.

The feather struck Kolimon directly, embedding itself into the golden armor and cape. Then, as if it had lost all its special properties and turned into an ordinary feather, it didn't even leave a scratch, drifting slowly downward before dissolving into pure spirituality.

Celt narrowed his eyes.

His attack had worked; he was certain of that.

The situation just now might have looked like his ability had been nullified.

But in Celt's perception, it felt more like the damage had been transferred.

Samuel shook his head again, still holding it in his hands.

"See? This boss is a piece of garbage. The chanics are disgusting—invincible during transitions and locking your health cap."

He had tried several tis, using several thods, but he just couldn't reattach his head.

None of it worked—whether it was repair, regrowth, healing, or simply cutting off the damaged part of the wound.

He couldn't even grow a new head.

This was the first ti he had encountered such a situation.

Seeing that he couldn't reattach his head, Samuel simply let go, letting it float up like a balloon, hovering lazily above his neck.

His toy hamr disappeared, and Samuel's right hand reached out to feel the cross-section of his neck.

At that mont, King Kolimon's preparations were complete, and the scale in his hand had stopped swaying.

"Ah, looks like round two is about to..."

Before Samuel could finish his sentence, Kolimon instantly appeared before him.

This ti, it was genuine teleportation, not him being knocked flying.

The golden ritual longsword thrust forward, aid at Samuel's chest.

His teleportation distance was perfectly controlled; the mont he appeared, the sword tip was nearly pressed against Samuel's chest.

Samuel instinctively leaned backward, simultaneously grabbing his own neck with his off hand, pulling, and swinging.

*Pfft!*

His neck, along with his spine, was yanked out in one motion. His right hand, gripping the neck, swung forward, using the spine like a whip to lash out at the thrusting ritual longsword, knocking it off course so it missed him.

The spine instantly stiffened, becoming a spine-blade.

He had enchanted his own bones in an instant, turning them into an Extraordinary Item.

This was the enhancent of the "Absurdity Clown" on the "Toymaker."

The deflected longsword didn't stop; it angled upward in a diagonal slash.

Samuel's body, now lacking its spine, flopped limply to the side, his boneless fra easily twisting into an impossible angle to avoid the attack.

Though "boneless" probably wasn't quite the right word anymore, since he literally had no bones.

Then ca faster and faster thrusts, slashes, chops, and cuts, all easily blocked by Samuel.

Amidst a series of clashing sounds, the two began trading blows.

"Hey, what are you doing? Don't you know you're not supposed to be attacked during a cutscene?"

"I didn't even sneak attack you when you entered phase two, so how can you do this to ?"

Samuel's floating head began chattering incessantly, condemning Kolimon's shalessness.

The forrly floating head started growing its own limbs. Two short little legs sprouted beneath it—proportionate if the whole head were considered a body—and a pair of equally proportionate hands grew beside its ears.

"Damn, this look of yours is seriously grotesque," Celt couldn't help but complain as he flew nearby.

Even if the head was quite good-looking, this form was still way too bizarre.

It looked even more grotesque when compared to the figure beside it.

One was a redeeming angel with flowing hair and white wings; the other was a head with limbs.

No matter how you looked at it, it was just strange.

"So what?" Samuel didn't care at all. "And it's not like I can grow a body right now. Just make do with the look."

The close-quarters battle between Samuel and Kolimon grew increasingly intense, both of them speeding up.

Gradually, they fought lower and lower, descending from midair down to the flat sky.

Who would have thought? Kolimon's swordsmanship was quite impressive.

Steady and powerful, with perfect control over tension and release. Every swing and thrust carried the air of a true master.

And it wasn't just flashy moves—it clearly bore the blood-soaked grit honed on the battlefield.

Clearly, this king was never just an armchair commander sitting behind the lines.

Samuel, on the other hand, was pure reaction.

His reflexes were fast, his speed even faster. He easily blocked all of Kolimon's attacks, and on the rare occasion one slipped through, he would simply twist his body to dodge, leaving only the faintest of scratches.

Celt, hovering above, occasionally tried tossing down a few feathers, but they dealt zero damage. Instead, he relied more on the "Tuner's" ability to manipulate the gravity, buoyancy, and air resistance around Kolimon, throwing his movents off balance. Using the "Tuner's" observation of "rhythms," he discerned Kolimon's habits and weaknesses, analyzed his next moves, and fed the information to Samuel.

The "Judge" was completely useless. The "ssenger's" and "Prisoner's" telepathy and cri techniques were also of little use in this fight.

Even the "Angel of Redemption's" Law Rhy was useless.

Still, as the "Morning Star," his very existence was a symbol of fate.

Fate would, to so extent, favor Celt and Samuel, bringing them good luck and bringing Kolimon misfortune.

This was actually quite effective with infinite spirituality.

He was essentially a top-tier support.

But soon, Celt, who had been observing, noticed a problem.

The sword in Kolimon's hand was similar to the guillotine that had beheaded Samuel earlier—the wounds it caused couldn't heal.

However, the wounds it was currently inflicting on Samuel were minor. For such small cuts, Samuel could simply knead his skin like dough and push the wounds into his body.

The only reason they remained on Samuel now was that he thought the "battle-damaged" aesthetic was pretty cool.

That wasn't the important point, though. The important thing was that Samuel couldn't inflict any damage on Kolimon at all.

It wasn't that he couldn't land a hit; it was that when he did, it didn't create a wound or leave a scratch on the armor.

Samuel would occasionally pull out one or two Extraordinary Items, or even make them appear out of thin air.

From a falling rubber ball, a suddenly appearing hula hoop, an exploding gift box, a vibrating pole, to pistols, grenades, and floating turrets.

He had them all.

But whether they hit Kolimon's armor or his exposed skin, which glowed faintly gold, none of them could cause any damage.

*Boom!*

A loud blast rang out.

The doll Samuel had thrown exploded in midair.

The massive shockwave even sent Samuel tumbling several tis, flying a great distance, but Kolimon stood there, completely unhard.

He didn't even take a step back, quickly bursting through the smoke and charging at the headless Samuel, who had just finished rolling, thrusting his ritual longsword repeatedly.

Celt frowned slightly, sensing sothing suspicious.

The two were roughly equal in strength, and Kolimon didn't seem to specialize in defense.

Looking at the seemingly invincible Kolimon, Celt seed to have an idea, and the smile on his face faded a little.

He lifted his head, gazing at the inverted palace above and the equally inverted Reins, staring at the "sky" that connected the entire Kingdom of Liastan.

Finding patterns and seeking lodies—this too was part of the "Tuner's" ability.

Soon, Celt confird that things were indeed developing as he had suspected.

Every ti Kolimon and Samuel clashed, if Kolimon blocked Samuel's attack, either nothing happened in the sky above or one or two "stars" instantly winked out.

If Kolimon failed to block Samuel's attack, then dozens of "stars" would instantly go dark.

He looked down again, at the flat sky beneath his feet, at the scales faintly visible within the clouds.

Just like before, within this absolutely open sky, he could easily find the scale he was looking for.

This was probably also a rule of this proto-Divine Realm.

But Celt didn't feel particularly happy about having guessed the rules so easily now.

He just stared at the scale beneath his feet.

On the left side of the scale rested the king's protection over his subjects; on the right side rested the subjects' support for their king.

The mont he saw the scale, Celt understood what it represented.

It ant that, in peaceti, the king would protect the subjects of the Kingdom of Liastan.

But when Kolimon himself was hard, any damage exceeding what he could withstand would be randomly transferred to any of his subjects.

If one person couldn't bear it, it would be shared by two. If two couldn't bear it, it would be shared by ten.

It wasn't a one-to-one transfer of the damage Samuel could inflict, but each ti Kolimon tanked one of Samuel's attacks directly, it would cause one or two people to die.

And if he didn't block at all, taking the hit fully, that ant the deaths of dozens, even hundreds, of people.

It all depended on what attack Samuel was using and how much force he put behind it.

He might not be able to affect all the Law Seekers, but ordinary people definitely couldn't escape.

As long as soone was within Liastan and sincerely acknowledged their identity as a citizen of Liastan, they would beco one of the targets for Kolimon's damage transfer.

Celt opened his mouth, wanting to say sothing, but closed it again.

If one looked only at raw strength, Samuel was no weaker than Kolimon—perhaps even stronger.

Without this damage-transfer thod, Kolimon would probably have died a dozen tis by now.

But this was the rule of Kolimon's proto-Divine Realm, the effect of his proto-Divine Realm.

Before the nation falls, the king cannot be defeated.

Samuel had no similar proto-Divine Realm thod to sever the connection between all of Liastan and Kolimon.

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