Chapter 209
Ilux's survival instinct ignited instantly.
His body spun with sharp reflexes, facing the incoming threat.
In a fraction of a second, an extraordinary transformation occurred in both of his arms.
Skin and muscle seemed to melt and reconfigure, transforming into heavy, gleaming tank cannon barrels, seamlessly integrated with his body.
Without hesitation, the twin cannon arms split the air with a thunderous roar.
He fired four times.
Four projectiles—either dense energy or invisible conventional shells—shot forth, leaving trails of smoke and shockwaves.
All four found their target with lethal accuracy.
The ten-meter-long metal pillar shattered violently in midair, before it could come within an arm's reach of Ilux's body.
A deafening explosion shook the area, leaving behind clouds of metallic dust and fragments that scattered like a rain of ash.
'Focus. One wrong step could be fatal.'
The thick cloud of dust severely obstructed his vision, limiting it to only a few inches ahead.
However, the obstruction did nothing to dampen his spirit, instead driving his adrenaline even higher.
Ilux continued to advance with burning resolve, pushing through the gray haze that filled the air.
Every step was measured and alert, relying on hearing and instinct as his eyes struggled to pierce the irritating barrier.
Slowly but surely, the massive silhouette of the male students' dormitory outer gate began to appear faintly.
He groped forward, his steps becoming slower and more cautious.
Suddenly, the tip of his foot struck something solid and heavy, blocking his path.
With a spontaneous and highly alert reflex, Ilux immediately leapt backward, retreating swiftly to create distance.
From behind the dust curtain that had begun to thin slightly, the shape of the obstacle became clear.
It was not rubble or furniture.
It was the body of a young man, lying motionless on the ground.
Judging by his appearance, he was around thirty years old.
'So many.'
Instinctively, Ilux rubbed his eyes with the back of his hand, trying to force his vision through the dust still swirling in the air.
He focused his sight, pushing himself to see more sharply than usual.
When the scene around him finally came into clear view, his breath caught in his throat.
He froze, struggling with all his strength to keep panic at bay.
To his left and right, countless people lay scattered, utterly helpless.
They were students, perhaps also some staff, victims of something horrific.
Their chests rose and fell in irregular rhythms, indicating broken, gasping breaths.
The color of their lips and fingertips appeared pale, even tinged with an alarming bluish hue.
Cold sweat soaked their temples and foreheads.
The muscles around their necks and jaws were tightly clenched, a futile bodily effort to cling to consciousness as it slipped away.
Their hands moved weakly, fingers trembling as they tried to grope at the ground around them, as if grasping for something while lacking all strength.
Their bodies occasionally arched in reflexive pain, shoulders or chests forced upward each time they attempted to draw a deeper breath.
Their eyelids were only half-open, revealing glassy yet vacant gazes that did not truly see.
Long, heavy exhales filled the air, exactly like the sound of people suppressing deep internal injuries.
Their breathing was ragged, sometimes cutting off abruptly as if choking.
Silent screams could be seen, mouths stretched wide with no sound emerging.
Weak coughing occasionally echoed, accompanied by thin splatters of blood staining their mouths and chins.
Their clothes were torn and filthy, caked with dust and soil from the fractured floor.
Bruises, scratches, and contusions covered their bodies.
Some even bore injuries that appeared fatal, yet strangely, none of them seemed to have died from those wounds themselves.
The positions of several bodies were unnaturally twisted, as if they had been hurled to the ground with cruel and pitiful force.
Many clutched their chests or abdomens tightly, a strong indication of severe internal trauma.
'Too orderly to be called chaos, too measured to be called rage.'
Ilux could only shake his head slowly, revulsion and disbelief washing over him.
His eyes swept over the tragic scene around him, silently questioning what had happened in this place.
What kind of power could hurl so many people into such a humiliating, fragile, and nearly helpless state?
His gaze was then drawn across the field, piercing through the rubble and the fallen bodies.
There, in the distance, a strange mist churned violently.
Its color was silvery yet bleak, like ionized metallic smoke, slowly swirling with an energy that felt wrong.
The mist roiled and seethed as if alive.
Then, with a controlled and authoritative motion, the silvery fog began to part at its center, drawing back like a curtain.
From behind the divided veil of mist, someone stepped forward.
Their steps were firm and measured, unhurried.
They continued to walk closer, cutting through the remnants of the writhing fog, until their figure gradually became clear to Ilux, who stood frozen in place.
"What have you endured for the world to treat you this cruelly?"
Instinctively, Ilux covered his mouth, his body erupting in violent goosebumps.
Aldraya, his young teacher—stoic and firm, who had taught him so many things—had never been imaginable in such a horrific and broken state.
The shock struck so deeply that, for a moment, Ilux doubted the reality before his eyes.
Could this be nothing more than a deception?
Yet after rubbing his eyes repeatedly, hard and desperately, the vision did not fade.
He could no longer deny the undeniable fact before him.
Burning questions ignited in his mind, fiercely scrutinizing what had happened to Aldraya when she returned to her hometown, enough to transform her into something so monstrous.
The surrounding environment seemed to confirm the abnormality.
No insects or small creatures dared approach Ilux's vicinity, as if an invisible barrier stood in place.
This meant that the stench filling the air was not merely ordinary biological rot, but something far deeper and more threatening.
A smell that signified an existential aberration, a violation of the natural order.
The aroma possessed a distinct, piercing quality.
There was a sharp sting like rotting flesh mixed with heated metal, yet it felt cold rather than warm, unlike normal decay.
That unnatural coldness made the surrounding air feel frozen and damp at the same time.
Its effect went beyond the physical, striking at the psyche.
Anyone who inhaled it seemed to breathe in the very essence of death itself, the most naked and alien version of reality.
Aldraya's once expressionless and monotonous face was now gone or structurally ruined.
It had transformed into a fusion of failed forms, as though it could not decide what shape it wished to display.
Her eyes had lost their symmetry, turning into something resembling fractures of dark shadow.
Her skin looked like sheets of melting wax, barely covering something beneath that constantly pulsed and writhed.
Her entire body was shrouded in an aura reminiscent of ravenous tumor flesh, yearning to crawl outward like a starving child in pitiful desperation.
Her body proportions had surpassed all biological logic.
Certain parts were unnaturally elongated, making it difficult to determine whether they were bone, sinew, or merely malformed conceptions of pure energy.
Her movements did not follow human joint anatomy.
She moved in a horrifying manner, like a dark shadow merely wearing a body as a loose cloak.
To be continued…