"We need to work now before it’s too late," William said, his eyes glowing with a terrifying brilliance. "We need to save you from dying here!"
"What?!!" Bernard exclaid, his scepticism turning into a defensive posture. The masters around him exchanged glances of pure bewildernt.
"I bet you weren’t just roaming this world looking for a way to kill the bears," William said, his hands moving in a blur as he began pulling items out of his rings—spears, needles, potions, and elixirs.
"You were looking for a way out! You are trapped in this world, and you can feel the walls closing in. Your precious origin stones are being exhausted by constant use, and the blue mist is being depleted faster because of the relentless, infinite swarm of Scarlet Bears at your castle! I bet your leaders have already calculated the exact hour these stones will fail. They know exactly when you will all die."
The silence that followed was deafening. Even though they had initially dismissed him as a crazy youngster, every word William spoke was the cold, hard truth. They were entrapped.
The Purgators’ special stones derived their potency from the high-density, refined spirit power prevalent in the upper realm. Being trapped here, in a world fundantally linked to the low spirit power of the lower realms, had completely severed that cycle of replenishnt.
Their stones were no longer self-charging artefacts; they couldn’t replace the blue mist they were emitting. No matter how many reserves they carried in their storage rings, the special stones were bleeding out at an alarming rate.
What exacerbated the crisis was the sheer, mindless aggression of the Scarlet Bears. The more the blue mist had to incinerate the encroaching darkness, the faster the stones were pulverised into useless dust.
In fact, the Purgators leaders had spotted William’s isolated struggle hours after their own arrival. Seeing the only other human being in this alien wasteland, they had decided it was a worthy risk to move their castle closer to him and send a vanguard to retrieve him.
They hoped to gain intelligence—perhaps a map or knowledge of a hidden exit. Everyone in this hundred-man group was acutely aware of the expiration date looming over their heads, yet what they couldn’t fathom was how a youngster from a lower realm could grasp the details of their nightmare with such accuracy.
On top of that, they were utterly baffled by his current actions. In front of their bewildered eyes, William began unloading a massive amount of useless equipnt. He moved with a blurred speed, hamring needles into the rocky valley edge and sketching complex lines, digging holes and filling them with different materials.
"What exactly are you doing?" Bernard asked, stepping forward. He was trying to maintain the dignity of a commander, but the sight of William ticulously aligning dozens of long, tallic spears and needles while the world was literally screaming with the roars of the bears was too much to ignore.
"I’m saving your lives," William said, not even looking up from his work. He snapped a series of monster cores into the base of a central array.
"I know your first instinct is to destroy the monster gates and fight your way back to the upper realm. But as you can see, no matter how many you strike down, the world is saturated with these gates.
They gush out a scary amount of Scarlet Bears per minute. No matter how formidable your Blue Spore Origin is, the math is against you. You will fail in the end because you are trying to fight a tide with a bucket."
"And?" Bernard crossed his arms, deciding he would no longer allow himself to be surprised by anything this boy said. "How do so useless-looking spears and needles—paired with formations that seem to focus only on producing localised drilling pressure—help us? How does making a hole in the dirt save the Blue Purgators?"
He and the other masters recognised the fundantal components of the arrays and formations William was constructing. They were high-pressure piercing formations, typically used in deep-earth mining or for breaching subterranean dark master bases. To them, it seed like William was preparing to dig a well while a forest fire was consuming them.
"First of all, if you plan to leave here using one of these existing gates, you are going to fail," William said. Per his habit, he didn’t give a direct answer; instead, weaving a web of seemingly unrelated facts that left everyone more confused than before.
"You ca here from the upper realm, but this world is a dium World tuned to a lower-realm spirit power level. Your powers have decreased drastically. The spirit power in this world is low-quality spirit power.
Your techniques cannot manifest their forr devastating might. Fighting your way out without the blue mist is suicidal, yet the mist is already being eaten away by the bears."
William jumped from point to point, his hands never stopping as he finalised the layout of the arrays, formations, spears, and needles. Bernard motioned for his n to remain silent. He sensed a profound, hidden logic beneath the youngster’s rambling.
"So," William continued, "trying to crush this world using your might alone won’t do it, and depending on your blue mist will only accelerate your downfall. The only exit is through a gate, but I bet the mont your Floating Castle tries to enter an existing gate, that gate will either collapse under your weight or a storm will hit you."
"A storm?!" one of the masters exclaid, unable to keep his scepticism in check. "We’ve been here for days and haven’t seen a single drop of rain, let alone a storm."
"But I have seen it," William said, finally raising his head. His eyes were cold, reflecting the tallic sheen of the spears.
"I have secured a gate elsewhere, and my guild masters are working to secure more as we speak. But I know how these monsters think. If we tried to move you through the gates, the controllers of this world would activate the planetary defence deadly storms. It is sothing I currently cannot stop, nor do I have the confidence to defend against it."
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