Chapter 212: Paimon: Za Warudo!
"Hold your attack, warriors," Gnaeus's voice rang out, heavy with a weary sort of respect. "Perhaps... that peculiar power you possess does indeed have the potential to cleanse the erosion of the Black Tide."
"But the sheer volume of dark energy gathered here is too vast, almost infinite," he continued, gesturing to the suffocating miasma. "Your efforts are merely contending with the accumulated filth of the entire environment. The cost far outweighs the gain; it is ultimately a futile struggle."
His intention was to dissuade them, to prevent these kind-hearted individuals from wasting their strength on a hopeless cause.
However, to Paimon, who was already fuming, his words sounded less like a warning and more like a challenge—a dismissal of her power.
"You say it can't be done?! Well, I'm going to do it anyway!" she shouted defiantly, her small face flushed crimson. With unmatched vigor, she began to unleash her 'optimization' ability.
She frantically poured a massive amount of energy into the spell. A colossal, translucent silver wrench began to coalesce before her, its form shimmering with difficulty. It was far larger than any she had summoned before, nearly rivaling the monstrous Nikador in sheer size.
The light it cast was so intense that it forced everyone to shield their eyes.
To maintain the cohesion of this gargantuan construct, Paimon could feel her stamina draining away like water from a sieve. The exertion already surpassed what it took to cleanse the corrupted dragon, Dvalin.
"Paimon!" Lumine cried out, her voice laced with worry. She could sense the noticeable, dangerous drain on her companion's life force.
Just then, Zhongli, who had been observing the situation in silence, finally spoke. His calm, steady voice carried clearly to everyone's ears. "Stop, Paimon. Forcing this may cause you harm."
He paused, his gaze thoughtful. "Perhaps... the root of the problem does not lie in the quantity of the Black Tide itself."
His golden eyes shifted toward the colossal figure enveloped by the darkness, and then to Gnaeus standing beside it. "Nikador's soul is incomplete. Its reason is absent, leaving only an eroded instinct and an immortal shell. It is like water without a source, or a tree without roots."
"Even if your power of purification is miraculous, it cannot bestow an 'anchor'upon an'empty shell'to resist the pollution. Even if you temporarily dispel the corruption, a god-body without a'heart' will only be swiftly re-eroded by the surrounding Black Tide. It would be an endless, meaningless cycle."
Hearing this, a flicker of grim agreement flashed in Gnaeus's eyes. He interjected, "This gentleman is correct. The four fragments of its soul that returned—Glory, Courage, Sacrifice, and Resilience—have long been completely eroded and assimilated by the Black Tide over the ages. There is no possibility of redemption."
"Their current existence merely serves as fuel to intensify its madness."
He looked at Paimon and her glowing, muscular avatar, his gaze hardening with resolve. "There is no need to waste your efforts on us. This is my mission, and it is Nikador's inevitable end."
With that, Gnaeus hesitated no longer.
He walked forward with resolute steps, his gaze sweeping across the scarred land and the warriors watching him, as if to engrave this final moment into eternity.
His voice suddenly rose, carrying a solemn and mournful declaration that echoed above the shattered arena.
"Only through strife can civilization grow! Humans are born to detest suffering, yet only suffering can teach them to stand tall..."
To everyone's shock, he suddenly plunged his hand into his own chest.
There was no blood. Instead, his body began to radiate a pure, brilliant light.
"I am the Spear of Divine Retribution, Nikador—the envoy of troubled times, the embodiment of strife! Remember this—I am the necessary scar upon this world!"
The next moment, he pulled an incredibly pure core from his chest, a crystal radiating a clear, unwavering brilliance. It was the last fragment of Nikador's [Reason], and the very essence of Gnaeus's existence.
The instant this sphere of light left his body, it transformed into a radiant stream. As if summoned by its origin, it shot violently into the god-body of Nikador, which was still wreathed in the Black Tide.
"ROAR—!!!"
Nikador let out a roar entirely different from any before. The sound was no longer one of pure madness, but a complex chorus of ancient majesty and deep pain.
The smaller, phantom-like version of Nikador that had always hovered on its back instantly solidified, becoming whole and complete, as if it had become the true core of the being.
At the same time, high above the titan, a colossal war totem materialized from thin air, emanating a heart-stopping sense of oppression.
Nikador's aura began to surge wildly, breaking through its previous limits again and again, causing the very space around it to tremble. The materialized energy of the Black Tide seemed to recoil, retreating several steps under the sheer force of this new pressure.
At this moment, it truly revealed its complete rank and title as a Strife Titan: [The Bestower, Commander of a Thousand Armies, and Spear of Divine Retribution].
Gnaeus's fading will, a mere echo soon to dissipate, let out a final cry filled with a warrior's dignity and a desperate plea. "Give me... an ending befitting a warrior!"
However, at that very moment, the colossal optimization wrench in Paimon's grasp had also condensed to its absolute limit.
But looking at the complete form of Nikador, surrounded by the roiling Black Tide and emanating an overwhelming pressure, it was clear that getting close was no longer an option.
'I don't care!' Paimon steeled herself, a desperate measure forming in her mind.
She gritted her teeth, hugged the giant silver wrench, and flew a short distance forward. Then, she handed the immense construct to Paimon's Star, her muscular avatar, to hold.
With her arms crossed over her chest and a look of fierce determination on her small face, she shouted with all her might.
"Paimon's Star! Za Warudo!"
Everyone: "???"
The onlookers were stunned, completely unable to comprehend what Paimon meant by shouting such a bizarre phrase at this critical juncture. Nikador was now fully restored, its presence astonishingly powerful; what use could her wrench possibly be now? And why had she flown forward?
However, in the next instant, something happened that left everyone utterly dumbfounded.
It was as if time itself had stuttered, a momentary discontinuity in the flow of reality. Or perhaps it was merely a trick of the eyes, a delay in their perception.
With no discernible movement, the exaggeratedly muscular form of Paimon's Star appeared directly in front of the complete Nikador, with no warning whatsoever. It was as if it had been standing there from the very beginning.
At Nikador's feet, the golden optimization sigil flared to life once more, and the phantom of the rotating wrench appeared above its head.
All of this happened with a speed that defied logic, far exceeding the limits of visual capture.
"What incredible speed!" Phainon gasped, his eyes wide with disbelief. "That's faster than even a biplane, isn't it?! It's practically teleportation!"
Paimon's Star, having completed the strike, instantly returned to Paimon's side.
Paimon herself stood with her hands on her hips. Although she had clearly exerted herself, a triumphant expression bloomed on her face. "Heh heh heh! Stunned, aren't you! And it's not just fast, you know!"
She tilted her small head up, announcing boastfully, "This is my Paimon's Star's most amazing ultimate move—Time Stop! How about that? Impressive, right!"
Though the duration was extremely short, lasting only a few seconds, she had indeed interfered with the flow of time in that brief instant.
However, just as Paimon was showing off, the complete form of Nikador—which had been struck by the colossal optimization wrench during the frozen moment—began to undergo new, unknown changes...
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