Silent Crown

Translator: Nyoi-Bo Studio Editor: Nyoi-Bo Studio

The moonlight seemed to freeze everything.

There was only the sound of panting.

But soon the silence was broken.

The purple-eyed griffin stared at its prey. A curved blade slipped out from the cuff and landed in the hand whose fingerprints had once been filled with chalk dust.

The grip tightened.

The blade whistled, just like the roar of a fierce griffin before a hunt.

He stepped towards Charles step by step, slowly and steadily, as if he had to make each step precisely and carefully, leaving no gaps.

The same slaughter had happened over and over again, leaving behind only a skill as natural and spontaneous as flowing water. He took no superfluous steps, walking forward coldly and solemnly.

He was death.

Death was slowly approaching.

But Charles still stood firmly in place, staring at him, watching the familiar shadow coming towards him. His expression twitched back and forth. Sometimes it seemed like he was crying, sometimes it seemed like he was smiling.

He didn't know if it was fear or ecstasy.

He felt like he was returning to his childhood, where every evening he would sit outside his door and wait for his only family member to come down the road.

Sometimes he would bring a present, sometimes he would bring nothing.

But just seeing his shadow would make him shout and jump for joy.

Just him waving at him from afar… would make him shed tears.

"You're back, teacher?"

The child would rush forward and reach out to hug him.

Scrape! The sound of scraping steel burst out. It was like he had suddenly leaped forward in time, and the most critical scenes had been cut out, leaving everything scattered and broken.

A blade hovered in the air.

It was right in front of Charles.

A blade that could pierce through metal and stone was frozen in the air. Fine notes lit up in the arrays on the edge of the blade by some invisible force, but they dimmed and snuffed out before that eye.

At that moment, the silent crystal eye in Charles's chest glowed with miraculous power and blocked the killing attack.

Then all was once again silent.

The blade fell to the ground, and the steel collided with the crushed ice, making a harsh sound.

Then the smile broke.

Fear and joy were mixed in his face, and in the end, there was only a hole that was difficult to call an expression.

A fog rose from the purple-eyed griffin mask.

It was like he was sighing.

"I wanted this to be faster, Charles." The old voice rang out from the mask. So familiar. It was like the hand holding the blade, calm and cruel. "At least that way it wouldn't hurt you too much."

Charles looked down at the blade that had fallen at his feet. There was still a silky line on it, which was pure enough to interfere with the killing intent of the original material.

The smell of blood was on the wind.

This was the ultimate insight.

So that's how it was?

Yes.

"Have you come to kill me, teacher?" He nodded suddenly and studied the ferocious beast mask, wanting to see the face behind it. The first thing he felt was not fear, but an indescribable sense of absurdity, followed by a feeling of uncontrollable joy, like this was the best absurd drama.

His seemingly eternal illusions were so comically shattered.

He woke from his warm dream and stared at the cruel world before him. "Even you… don't want me to live?" he whispered.

The purple-eyed griffin was silent, saying nothing. He just raised his hand, and with the sound of scraping steel, two lines of sharp iron light condensed in his hand. Mottled rust drifted off the blade like scales, giving it a clear killing intent.

Abraham advanced, step by step.

This was the final answer, breaking all his luck and fantasies, and taking away the last bit of Charles's courage and strength.

It was as if there was a real phantom pain making havoc of his organs and destroying his lungs, making him bend over awkwardly, nearly falling on the ground. Tears fell as he choked.

"If that's the case, why did you bring me back?" Charles watched him come towards him, holding a blade, but he did not want to flee. "Why did you waste so many years on me? Shouldn't you have let me die from the beginning? You didn't need to rack your brain over how to raise a dead child. You didn't have to lie to him to give him hope for the future. You didn't need to let him have expectations for others. Since my life wasn't good for this world, you shouldn't have let me live." He was kneeling on the ground, begging, choking with sobs, until in the end, he wailed hysterically, "Please tell me, teacher, why did you save me??!!"

Like a beggar, he begged for Abraham to answer.

Even a single sentence, an "involuntary" false revelation would have let him embrace death willingly and end this long torture.

It would be a welcome relief.

But from beginning to end no one answered him. There were only silence and merciless attacks.

Say something, teacher, I beg you.

I beg you, don't kill me.

I don't care who it is…

As long as it's not you.

As long as it's not you…

No one answered.

Only the iron light fell and collided with the invisible barrier with a terrible scream.

Even when he had lost all the will to resist, the eye still persistently protected his life. It was hot like aether burning in a state of overload.

The layers of the barrier unfolded as they were violently shocked trying to block the griffin's claws.

One instant the iron light was broken, but in the next it reappeared. The terrible counter-shock was like nothing else, and it grew more and more cohesive.

The aether's quality changed!

Then the screaming sound of the steel rang out again.

The griffin was ferocious.

Cold light glowed from its purple eyes.

The iron light smashed forward, tearing through the sixteen layer barrier and tearing it aside like weeds. Eventually, the iron light tore off Charles's face, leaving his hollow eye sockets broken and leaving a hideous gap.

Blood burst forth.

His once handsome face was torn apart as scarlet flowed over it, becoming painful and hideous. His sorrow was interrupted by severe pain. He raised his remaining eye, and it could not be said whether within it was despair or resentment. It was just empty.

It was like an abyss.

His bones grew painfully with a sound like a stone growing. They pierced through his broken flesh, filling his empty eye socket. His flesh and blood were regrown, and in the end, only a bit of silver light like condensed iron was left.

It was the residual iron light entangled in the wound.

It was iron tears.

Charles lifted his hand and made Abraham's iron light stop in mid-air. The iron light that was formed by accumulated aether was essentially a formless blade formed by the innumerable thought lines formed by Bolero. After being infused with killing intent that interfered with its nature, it became a sharp blade.

Countless "little destructions" overlapped in one place, forming a "huge destruction."

It was enough to wound a catastrophe and torture everything.

Originally, it would have been enough to open up a small abrasion, and countless lines of thought would interfere with his nature and completely evaporate his body. But now, even though he had lost his divine power, Charles still had an undying nature that rivaled that of a god.

Normal things could not kill him.

They could only wake him up from his illusion of having been born a human.

The crystal carved eye broke in his hand and dissipated into dust. It was replaced by the glow of the hollow eye.

It was like the flame of the gods.

It was a desolate flame of fury.

A burning wind burst out of thin air with a heat that was hot enough to evaporate anything. It swept out in all directions, melting the ice and snow, evaporating the water and drying up the earth.

Under the eye's gaze, heaven and earth were turned into a furnace.

Among the fire, the Son of God whispered softly.

"Why is it you, teacher?"

"You still like to say such weak things, Charles?" The griffin looked up at the iron wings that seemed to be burning. He finally said hoarsely, "Haven't you made up your mind?"

"I have." Charles smiled self-deprecatingly as he stared at his teacher before him, his adoptive father. His enemy.

The last bit of the illusion was cut off.

"Teacher," he said, "I want… to kill you."

"Good." Abraham nodded approvingly. "Come on, Charles! This is your graduation ceremony."

…

The iron light rushed forward.

A flood of mercury swept out.

A terrible force like a Silver Tide once again manifested. It was not a terrible wave that would destroy the world, but a sturdy iron light that gathered in his hands. A burning light flowed under Abraham's skin, igniting him and turning him into an inhuman. He truly became a purple-eyed griffin, once again turning into the catastrophe teacher who could destroy everything.

Even if the enemy before him was his child.

A huge array that had never been seen before was engraved on his chest.

Inscribed in the format of the Silver Tide and interpreted through the interpretation method, the Church had modeled it after the Net of Aether and had awakened the artifact implanted within him.

A heavy ion emission generator.

It was a precious relic from the Age of Dark, the only surviving weapon from that world, created purely for killing and destruction. It was a monster that would leave not even ash in the world in order to destroy its enemy.

When it started up, the iron light that burned in his hands soared up, gathered into a narrow bundle, and was contained in an invisible force field.

Obviously, killing was something both ugly and despicable, but at that moment, the light was so brilliant that one could not even look at it directly!

It was aether that had been accelerated to the speed of light, wrapped in the torrent of ions that remained after matter had been broken down as much as possible. It was not limited to the shallow physical world. It broke free of its restrictions under the support of the aether and rushed out from the higher dimensions to completely destroy all music theory.

This was the only weapon that could threaten the Holy Cauldron. Before it, even the Three Pillar God and the Three Wise Men would be as fragile as bubbles.

In the past, the Kings of Red had removed the weapons sealed away in the arsenal in order to prevent humans from destroying themselves in their struggles. Now they had once again appeared in the world.

A weapon strong enough to kill a god was now held by a man strong enough to kill a god.

He would completely destroy the coming god!

Charles closed his eyes.

The illusion of Eden reappeared behind him, and countless elements emerged from the Kingdom of Heaven. Numerous movements flashed out from the illusion. Both the secret inherited movements of the Three Kings and music theory whose inheritance had been cut off in the past quickly rose from the realm of aether according to his will and quickly dissipated.

In the end, there was only one line left.

It was a melody that had been inherited from the King of Yellow, a movement that originally no one besides Ye Qingxuan had been able to master, the core music theory of the Requiem.

Day of God's Fury!

A crystal sword full of pure killing intent grew from Charles's hand. He held it and it seemed as if all the light in the world was gathered there.

But the blade was no longer transparent. It had become dark.

The Abyss was contained within it.

The unparalleled power of the King of Yellow's authority was coming.

The terrible wave that it formed swept out across the entire world. Even far away in the Sacred City, they could observe a terrifying radiance like a star exploding.

The blades collided.

The ripples from the aftermath tore the sky apart.

The string of gravity was broken, and the ground collapsed without it. Countless sandstones detached from the shaking plate and rose towards the sky, dancing in the mourning melody, burning, and finally turning into a rain of fire that fell back towards the earth.

It was as if the day of judgment described in the Holy Bible had come.

As a result, Charles was pressed hard.

He had been put into a weak position by the person who understood him best.

The weapon for killing the gods did not disappoint those who had released it. At the moment of collision, countless cracks appeared in the black blade of fury, and it fell apart unexpectedly. It was not aether that supported its existence, but the darkness of despair and burning madness.

The flowing beam of iron wrapped around the flame that burnt on it continuously, making it very hot and burning Charles's face and body. But in the burning, his fierce body regrew quickly as sacred light flowed above his rugged bones.

He was the one who would kill, not the one who would die.

Unless all of his tissue was completely vaporized in an instant, nothing could kill him. It could only make him stronger.

At that moment, his burnt face looked up from within the flames. "You're getting old, teacher," he said hoarsely.

Bang! Abraham leaped back and a bloody mark appeared on his chest. His fluttering flesh was like a lip curled up in sorrow or madness. The wound opened up over his broken sternum. He vomited blood, twitching and finding it difficult to breathe in the hot air.

There was another sword.

The crisp sound of growing crystals came from Charles's open left hand. A dark and slender shadow grew from it, slowly expanding until, in a flash, the dagger grew to a ridiculous size.

If the previous one had been pitch black, then, in this one, no color could survive within its hollow outline, as if it were a crack that led into the Abyss.

The phenomenon that chilled all observers had finally happened.

This was completely different from the recent movements. Now Charles was able to create matter and distort reality through only his own wanton thoughts.

Only his resentment and pain were enough to create an artifact that was above even the gate of heaven.

No, not only this.

This alone was not enough to cover the anger and pain contained within his soul.

That was just a small part of it…

Just above the earth, countless clusters of crystals extended out of tiny cracks. They grew like sorrow, expanded like pain, proliferated like the Abyss, and widened like despair…

It was an ocean.

A wild ocean.

Among a myriad of profound rainbows, the dark crystals covered the earth. They distorted reality above that piece of land, easily reaching to the level that people in the past had only dreamed of and bringing the Abyss to earth. However, this was more purely alien than the Abyss, a Flame of God's Wrath more crazy than the evils of man.

Blood crusted over and crystallized, pain condensed to form a desperate and turbulent rainbow that turned into air.

It was like the world had been wounded!

Malice and pain poured out from the Originator like a waterfall.

A single thought would be enough to send everything to hell.

And in this hell, the flow of iron sprinkled down, and two thin beams of light passed through it, shattering all the proliferating crystals destroying both the earth and the new hell that had formed.

Weapons created by human malice could not bring redemption.

But at least they could bring eternal nothingness.

Before destroying itself the enemy would be completely destroyed.

"Old? I'm still very young, Charles!" Abraham gasped hoarsely under the broken griffin mask. He stroked his chest, and the sound of steel wedging into bones rang out. The iron light closed his open wound, stitching it up with what looked like nails. Finally, it was completely whole again.

Then, the griffin's flaming wings unfolded yet again.

The rushing flow of iron tore through everything.

It turned into a shooting star and rushed forward.

It cut through all light, destroyed all power, and buried everything.

It made everything return to nothingness!

Only in a battle like this could the purple-eyed griffin's true worth be shown. Only this kind of situation could show Abraham's value.

The executioner who had once taken the power away from the people, who had become entangled with countless sinners and monsters, had finally found a stage for himself.

Even in the face of a god he could advance step by step!

In the frenzied glow, the griffin's face smiled crazily.

One step, two steps, three steps.

Half his body was covered in blood. He was wounded in numerous places, but each wound was immediately pierced by iron, riveted and stitched up. The sea of despair was also opened, torn, and cruelly cut in two.

Charles's expression became distorted.

He was completely mad!

"You want to kill me like this? Teacher!!!"

With a roar, numerous crystal trees shot up from the earth into the sky like spears of enmity, desperately growing, spreading wildly and turning into countless dark cracks that closed towards the purple-eyed griffin.

Growing! Growing! And growing some more!

But the closing trees were broken by the iron light and split open!

The iron light was blazing.

Abraham, who had been pierced by countless spears, rushed out of it. Half his body was broken and he had lost an arm, revealing his broken internal organs. But his footsteps still did not stop.

Three steps!

Scarlet blood burst forth from the one remaining purple eye on the griffin mask.

After three steps he would kill a god!

He covered the distance with a leap.

He held the iron light up high, aimed it at Charles's face, and struck!

Charles roared, but he couldn't hear his voice.

At that time any speech would have been meaningless.

Only endless resentment and anger erupted from his thin body. His face twitched fiercely, like that of a god that had degenerated into a demon.

The resentment and pain that he held in his hands trembled violently, and his dark power swept out. All the darkness of the world gathered there without hesitation.

It struck forward!

It struck towards the one he had once respected, the one he had once esteemed, the one he had once treasured, the one who had thought he was so important, the one who he had thought would not spare anything for him—his enemy!

And so, let everything be finished!

His hatred and the iron collided.

Blazing light swallowed up everything.

Ripples of destruction spread out for thousands of miles. The suffocating pressure could be felt even far away in the Sacred City as it screamed in the hurricane.

Numerous bells tolled.

They announced the beginning of a funeral.

…

The flames of the burning earth were extinguished, and dust shrouded the moon.

When all the light dissipated, Charles stood upon the hole-riddled ground, stiffly bowed his head and then looked at the man before him.

He hugged him.

The blade of pain and anger pierced him, completely ruining him inside and out.

At the last moment, just when it had been enough to kill a god, the iron light had dissipated.

He stopped.

Facing his own child, the griffin that seemed like he was dying opened his wings.

This was an embrace that had come too late.

He embraced his child, and he embraced his death.

"It's good to see you, Charles," he whispered. "It's really good."

Charles finally saw the familiar face underneath the broken mask. It was so calm, as if welcoming his release.

"Teacher… you…" Charles turned away dully, falling into a state of loss and fear.

In that moment, he finally understood.

In that moment, he was finally enlightened.

In that moment, he finally realized what he had done.

"I'm sorry I let you down. The Sacred City… doesn't have… an amusement park." The old man wearily leaned into his son's arms, whispering as if he was talking in his sleep, "I'm sorry there… there's no… place for you to go. I'm sorry, Charles. I'm sorry…" He gave an embarrassed smile, just like he had in the past.

Charles, please forgive me.

"What… what… what is this, teacher??!" In his despair, he let out of powerless cry. Charles trembled. Although he was a god, he could not support the meager weight of an old man.

He had been struck by fear and could barely breathe. For so many years, he had been proud of his intelligence and talent. But now he realized that he had been… a fool!

Why?

Isn't it simple, Charles?

Just think about it and you'll understand.

Isn't this your only weakness?

Even though you are a god, as long as you cling to this old man, you'll hang your head like a dog.

Aren't you willing to do anything for him?

Everyone knows how weak you are, how pitiful!

He has but to open his mouth, and you are willing to run around all over the world.

Even if he wants to kill you, you will kneel down and cry as you let him cut off your head.

It's very simple, Charles. It's really very simple.

As long as you hold onto this weakness, he can take from you whatever he pleases.

As long as this continues… as long as this continues…

You will never be free!

"Flee, Charles!" The old man hugged his child and used all his strength to whisper hoarsely, "Go far away, go somewhere where they can't find you, and don't come back. Never trust anyone again."

And with that, he pushed him forcefully far away.

For he had already said farewell.

There were no tears to be shed.

As he was pushed, Charles staggered back. He stared dumbly at the old man on the ground. Cracks appeared in his broken body as he slowly fell apart.

His empty brain finally understood what was happening.

He wanted to pounce, fall down, and get up again like a dog, using both his hands and feet.

He started forward.

He screamed and shouted words that he couldn't understand and picked Abraham up from the ground, but this only made him more broken. He was at a loss. He cried desperately, trying to put him back together, but his fingers touched only dust.

Until he saw his hands and felt that he had power.

"Don't die, teacher, I can save you! I have power, teacher, I can save anyone… Don't die, don't die!" He choked and pleaded like an abandoned child. He cut his hand and scraped it across Abraham's lips, squeezing out the blood.

His blood fell upon the dry lips.

But the miracle did not happen.

He continued to break apart.

He's going to die, Charles.

This is fate's cruelest irony.

A god's salvation offers no defense from being destroyed by a god. Everything is already fated. It is too late.

In the trance that came before death, Abraham seemed to feel the warmth of his hands. A pleasant smile appeared on his simple face. He wanted to embrace him, but he did not have the strength. He could only lean on his chest.

Just by listening to his heartbeat he was put at ease.

"Charles, will you still have those nightmares?"

"No, teacher," someone answered with a familiar voice.

"Will you be lonely all by yourself?"

"No, teacher." Someone was trembling and couldn't hold back their sobs.

"Will you cry like a little child?"

"No, teacher."

The statement was so determined, but then why was there water falling on his face? Was he lying again? Was that child like this? Would he lie to him and say that it was raining? He was always like that, it was so hard to leave him…

But he could finally see the child's face clearly.

So handsome, so warm, so loveable.

"You've grown up, Charles," Abraham whispered with satisfaction. "That's great…"

That was the last sound he made before his vocal cords broke.

There was still so much he wanted to say, so many promises he wanted to make. He wanted to embrace the children, to keep on living, to find a world that he could understand. He wanted to go to a wedding, wanted to take one child's hand and give her over to another child…

He wanted to make them happy.

But now he felt there was nothing he could ask for.

Is it still not enough, Abraham?

Isn't it enough?

Has your once empty soul not been filled?

Have you not found the meaning of life that you once sought?

To die while raising a child, is that not a miracle for an executioner like you?

Yes, it was enough.

It was just like all those years ago when he had seen him for the first time.

Abraham smiled and raised his broken hand to say goodbye to the crying child.

Their fingers intertwined, closed, opened up, and then overlapped again.

Before he broke, he told him…

Charles, I'm very blessed.

This was the end of Abraham.

He dissipated in Charles's arms.

The dust blew away in the wind.

Charles looked down at his empty hands, trying to hold onto it, but he could not grab the last traces of Abraham.

He kept trying in vain.

In the end, none of him could be saved.

His father was dead.

In that moment, he suddenly remembered something Gaius had once said: "Charles, death is serious," that cruel voice had whispered in his ear. "One day you will understand."

Yes, one day, Charles.

That day was now.

He covered his face, wanting to scream. He tried to cry, but though he gave it his all, he did not make a sound.

Then there was a quiet noise.

It was his last desperate cry.

To commemorate the collapse of the world, he let the nonexistent river of blood wash over him. He watched the earth being covered by hideous flesh as the embryo of a deformed monster grew out of the soil. In its mourning, everything was trending towards corruption, showing him his own ugly nature.

There was no medicine that could cure this world.

So, anyone would do.

Charles knelt on the ground and mourned silently.

Anyone would do.

I beg you all.

Kill me.

…

In that moment, the cruel god finally heard his prayers.

A light that would burn the world fell from the sky!

…

Far away in the Sacred City, in the Church of the Holy Resurrection, the red-robed old man looked away hopelessly at the moment of Abraham's death.

After the plan that they had put all their hopes in had failed, he closed his eyes, opened the piano cover in front of him and played the four initial notes.

He called for Symphony Destiny to come.

The majestic movement slowly unfolded under his fingers. Such a grand melody did not work in concert with aether but turned into pure echoing sound.

Wreckage buried in the deepest parts of the earth was awakened. An icy glow lit up the King of Red's eyes, and countless letters flashed to life. In the end, only a bunch of the simplest letters were left.

"Verification complete."

In that moment, high up in the highest part of the sky, in the blackness behind the blackest night, in a place impossible for humans to reach, in a place where countless pieces of steel debris floated in orbit, something huge opened its wings.

The god that was made of steel was awakened from its long slumber, shaking off its armor that was covered in holes from many impacts. It slowly started up, and 16 black "wings" opened up. It pointed at the far away earth.

That was the last creation that the North American colony ship had released before it was destroyed.

It would be the end of any war. After it had fully powered up, it could pierce through the stars and destroy an entire world of steel satellites.

Symphony Destiny.

Mankind's ultimate weapon of self-destruction.

Even though it had waited for centuries, and its residual energy was less than five percent, it was still enough to change the continental plates, violently fill in the oceans, create new land, destroy everything. With a little carelessness, humanity would face a new extinction.

It could also completely destroy a god!

"God, please send me to hell. Grant me eternal punishment." The last King of Red closed his eyes and prayed softly as the final note rang out.

At that moment, tens of millions of people were sleeping soundly. No one could be heard crying. Tens of millions of people were tossing and turning, but it was impossible to detect any despair. The golden retriever in the Anglo Kingdom looked up into the distance, the flames of war continued in Asgard, the lights of Burgundy were bright, and the Great Wall of the Empire of Aurora deteriorated from the inside out, erupting in an unprecedented stream of aether that swept across the entire world.

Someone was angry and unwilling to sleep, and someone got what they wanted and got revenge on their enemies. Someone was waiting for the woman who had saved them after 15 years, and someone was waiting for the redemption of humanity.

And someone was kneeling on the ground, praying for death.

At the frequency of self-destructive overload, the final weapon of mankind released the light of death.

Fate descended!

It brought with it fire rain, earthquakes, mourning, and death.

The earth trembled, evaporating everything. The light scattered out nothingness and disaster, burning everything within hundreds of miles, causing lava to flow.

A terrible depression appeared on the earth.

The sky above the Commonwealth of Caucasian burned. Countless people woke up, knelt down, and prostrated themselves before this terrible destruction, praying for some small measure of peace.

Fortunately, the destruction came to an end just as suddenly as it had started.

…

Nothing could be seen in the darkness.

He couldn't feel his body. Pain and sorrow seemed to be far away in the destruction.

Was this death?

Had his punishment begun?

There was a moment of peace in his heart, but soon he heard a faint sound.

"…he still shows signs of activity. It's terrible."

"Don't be afraid, he's been destroyed. There's still a bit of recovery power left, but his nerve tissue can no longer regenerate. Even if he lives he'll be a vegetable."

"Should we kill him?"

"No, he's still useful," someone said. "At least we can use him to destroy someone else."

The voices disappeared and he fell into an endless dream.

It was still not over.