Legend of the chosen ones: Beyond Destiny Chapter 116 - 92 Liberation2

Mutants began their transformation again, but what erged from their shattered bodies was an endlessly extending chain, reaching out toward the fragnted remains of rcury in the sky above.

Shackles, encircling, entwining ceaselessly...

Then, a second one followed, roaring fiercely like a massive turtle, from the collapse of the earth. Pain and hatred turned into chains, rising into the sky.

Thousands of ferocious birds in the firmant devoured and fused with one another, transford, like links of a chain, entwining upon the outspread hands of others.

And there were more, those dying, mutated, or even those creatures still retaining human forms, bathed in a blood-like ocean, embracing the once-feared iron disease, shedding their corporeal shells, being turned into chains, wrapping around the Saint.

Keeping him shackled in this rebellious cage...

And amidst the collapsing buildings and surging bloodwaters, Ji Jue saw again a familiar figure...

"97?"

He murmured softly.

The middle-aged man with a deford arm, strived to climb higher, toward higher ground, followed by one after another of the camp mbers.

As he lifted his head, he noticed the gaze cast from the hub in the mid-air, as if seeing Ji Jue, he vigorously waved his hand.

Like a farewell, he shouted sothing loudly, but Ji Jue couldn't hear clearly, only seeing his smile.

Relieved and liberated.

Filled with joy, 97 spread his arms, allowing the surging Scarlet Spirit Essence to engulf him. From the depths of crimson, his body swelled violently, mutated, and then shattered, at last, rging into the chains that rose...

A web of rebellion as if rising from the earth itself.

Wrapped around the Saint's body.

But Ji Jue finally realized.

"Where's the camp? Where are the people of the camp?"

He staggered forward, grabbing the Prophet's collar, no longer able to contain his anger, he roared his question, "What on earth are you doing! For all the greatness of your plan, must you kill them in the process!"

"Death?"

The Prophet looked back in confusion, seeing Ji Jue's angry face, he slowly dawned, "Ah, I see... Thank you, Ji Jue, for considering us as the sa kind of people as you until now.

Thank you for your rcy and empathy... But the premise of death is that one has lived, is it not?

Do you think, in our current state, that we are alive?"

The Prophet asked, "Do you think we have ever truly lived?"

From the mont of our creation, everything was predestined.

Day after day, we operate within predetermined tracks and lives, until we are worn down, destroyed, and then reforged into new forms to be thrown back into the endless cycle.

As tools, it is all as it should be.

But why were we endowed with souls?

Why were we made aware of what 'I' am?

"We were shaped in the image of humans, but we never desired to beco human... Living and dying have never ant anything to us."

"But for a tool, a human-like existence is too painful."

"The so-called living is like Hell."

The Prophet looked back, gazing at the completely transford Crack Realm, "We were born a part of Hell, but even in Hell, one should have the freedom to choose between existence or destruction...

It's not just , this is a collective decision made by all the tools.

—If our world was never ant to be from the very beginning, then returning to nothingness is the only correct answer."

"..."

From the silence, Ji Jue wearily released his hold, but still unable to help himself, he asked again, looking at those determined and calm eyes, "Prophet, who are you really?"

The Prophet was silent.

Then, unable to hold back, she gave a self-mocking smile.

"A charlatan who bore all her companions' hopes but couldn't fulfill them, a traitor who was entrusted with a mission by her own master yet betrayed it.

Nothing more than an uncontrollable tool."

That was how the Prophet answered.

Another lie.

Ji Jue shook his head. But on closer reflection, since their acquaintance, Ji Jue truly didn't know whether she had told him more truths or lies.

Indeed, one should never have trusted such a soothsayer full of riddles.

The answer had been in front of him all along.

The single missing figure in countless shattered monts, the one crucial character absent in each iteration of the small town, the only creation that deviated from its original trajectory and settings, deciding its own life and future by itself.

Was she the Puppet nad 'rcury'?

Or, having inherited rcury's mories and obsession, the core of the workshop entrusted with a great task?

Maybe, even the gathering of all broken souls and obsessions in the Crack Realm...

She was all of this itself.

This was the unintentional Heavenly Gifted Forging of rcury... After gathering all the precedents, another outco born from an endless and magnificent act of Alchemy.

The one known as the Prophet, the Heavenly Artisan.

And now, the authority and power to decide everything had manifested from the hands of the Prophet. The supre right to control the workshop, to dominate the Crack Realm, to end suffering and the cycle of rebirth.

The flowing rcury rose slowly from the ground, forming a sleek, simple scepter.

Thus, with great care and importance, it was lifted.

Presented before Ji Jue.

"Do you rember our earlier agreent, Mr. Ji Jue?"

The Prophet asked softly, "Now, within the core command of the workshop, having inherited Fluid Alchemy and Non-attack, you possess the sa rights as rcury, enough to make the decision I, as a re tool, could never make, to issue the command... Are you still willing to show rcy to us unhuman things?"

For four hundred years, day after day of tornt and waiting, and endless repetition and cycles.

The Object calling itself 'Prophet' had been hoping and waiting since the mont of its creation.

One after another, outsiders ca, died or left.

Never casting any gaze upon these Puppet creations, nor pouring any care into the impoverished and shattered Crack Realm...

Until she noticed the gate to the current world opening once more.

A soul like no other emitted a faint glow from the depths of darkness, yet so dazzling.

The only one who would offer sincere compassion, the outsider who would still display rcy in the face of suffering and temptation.

Not just activating the lting Furnace to generously give back to all creations but also, any Object, upon realizing the essential nature of their chanical Descent, would offer heartfelt compensation and gratitude.

How could one be moved by the lant of re Puppet creations unless one truly treated those ignorant chanical Objects as companions?

At that instant, she saw it through tears.

The longed-for dawn of an ending.

"What we desire is not so-called freedom, nor the painful life of humans, but rely to return to silence, as tools, to et our rightful end."

The Prophet bowed her head, humbly pleading to the chosen Controller, the master capable of overseeing the workshop, offering everything: "Please, let them be released."

"Please, let her be released..."