Chapter Fifty-Five: Within the Range of Truth! (Please keep reading! Please vote!)

After the shockwave overturned the world, all seemed to fall into a deceptive “calm.” Yet Collin could feel it—a powerful terror, awakening anew within the pungent, sulfur-laced smoke and dust. It was not dead yet.

“Sir Collin, something’s not right…” Shana, too, watched the swirling mist. She was the strongest among them, her recovery far faster than anyone else’s. Thanks to her presence, those near Collin had suffered the least in the recent chaos.

“It isn’t dead,” Collin stated, wasting no time. He turned to Number One, who had just been promoted to the second rank. “Number One, have the team withdraw immediately as planned. Proceed to the next step!”

Number One hesitated only for a second before shouting, “Yes, sir!” His booming voice sent every squad moving swiftly out of the area. At regular intervals, the groups closed ranks, each Lamplighter setting down their lanterns to relay the signal through the darkness.

Soon, only Collin and Shana remained. They would serve as the final line of defense, ensuring the next phase would unfold as intended and that the outcome would match their hopes.

But not half a minute after the last Lamplighters began to retreat, Collin and Shana suddenly felt a heavy weight press onto their shoulders, their hearts gripped as though by a giant unseen hand. They turned in unison. Out of the thick, shifting fog, a colossal figure emerged—barely fifty meters away.

By the illumination of a solitary lantern left ahead, they could see it clearly at this distance.

Above the candlelight, a five-meter-tall, massive, bloated, misshapen humanoid stepped forth. Its head was wrapped in black cloth, its face hidden beneath a black metal mask. Naked save for a tattered golden ceremonial robe, it wielded a ritual object like a stone pillar—a three-branched candelabrum.

What made the flesh crawl was the monstrous body, crawling with twisted tumors and writhing, skinless crimson flesh. And there was the mental assault—an oppressive psychic interference impossible to ignore.

It did not stand so much as squat, moving in a hunched crawl, which explained the peculiar, uncanny way it advanced. Yet even hunkered down, they still had to tilt their heads to look up at it at this range. The sense of crushing oppression radiating from it was so intense it left one breathless.

Due to the earlier explosion, all the eyes Collin had seen before had burst and blackened. Blood poured from its wounds, with half its body stripped to bare bone and exposed viscera; fragments of stone and debris were embedded in its flesh, and its right arm had vanished without a trace…

Yet the golden ceremonial robe and the three-branched candelabrum in its left hand remained largely unscathed, only blackened a little by gunpowder smoke.

Astonishingly, the torn stump of its right arm was writhing, showing signs of regeneration.

It was still alive…

A wave of deep, uncontrollable despair surged through Collin’s heart. Countless distracting thoughts swarmed his mind. The guiding intuition faded amid the chaos.

Affected, Collin did not hesitate—he triggered the “Hunt” mode!

In an instant, his gaze turned cold, that of a remorseless predator on the trail of its prey.

[You realize this is the horror that drove you to the brink that day—the being spoken of by the “wraith” girl. Without a doubt, a lord-class aberration: the Mourning Watcher.]

[Upon careful observation, you find it has suffered grievous wounds from your previous plan. Its psychic influence is severely weakened, but it is recovering, little by little.]

[To seek its “weakness” is pointless now, because…]

[It stands within the range of truth! Caliber is justice! Artillery is the answer!]

“Open fire!”

Collin’s command echoed through the parchment communicator. Number One and his companions at his side bellowed the order with every ounce of strength.

Nine armored vehicles swung their barrels toward the monster amid the woods, less than five hundred meters away.

Boom—boom—boom—boom—

Thunderous blasts split the air as flames streaked out, nine shells soaring toward their mark. Four steel projectiles struck the Mourning Watcher directly!

Blood, bone fragments, and viscera flew, yet the creature did not fall. Stunned by the impacts, it paused only briefly before resuming its silent, relentless advance.

“Doesn’t Newton’s first law apply anymore? The force is supposed to be mutual! Why isn’t that thing blown away?!” shouted one survivor, squinting through the burning in his eyes, his frustration boiling over.

The very next second, he slapped himself hard across the face, trying to “clear his mind.”

“Open fire! Open fire! Open fire!” came the next order, and more shells roared forth, striking the lord-class aberration again and again.

Before the barrage, they had already soaked the ground with river water, so the earth beneath the armored vehicles raised little dust. Only the haze of gunpowder smoke obscured the field.

Yet the monstrous pressure radiating from the creature was so overwhelming that even with eyes closed, the gunners could find its direction.

The power it exuded became its own “coordinate,” its own “weakness.”

In the roar of the guns, shells forged of steel drove into its body with invisible speed, like nails into flesh, detonating great gouts of blood and tissue.

Only ten meters now!

Collin and Shana stood shoulder to shoulder. Collin’s face showed no fear as, with a crash, the creature’s long leg—little more than bone after the explosions—swung forward and landed a mere three meters from them.

The Mourning Watcher’s body, gushing blood, muscles writhing, and stinking to high heaven, followed right behind.

Collin saw the monster raise its left hand high, lifting the three-branched candelabrum, large as a man, above its head!

One more step.

With just one more step, it would strike, the candelabrum crashing down.

When it fell, Collin and Shana would be reduced in an instant to a nameless pulp.

But just then—

Boom—boom—boom—boom—

The earth-shaking artillery thundered again, striking its mark with even greater accuracy, halting the creature’s advance.

“Hanging on by a thread and still refusing to die, is that it?”

Collin hurled dozens of “fresh” barrels of explosives from his pack, tossing them only meters away. Shana helped by ripping several barrels open, scattering gunpowder over the rest.

Without hesitation, Collin drew a corroded triangular shield in his right hand. With his left, he swung hard, splashing blood from a lantern’s mouth.

The burning, tainted blood sprayed through the air.

Then—

“In the name of the Shield of the Just Knight, I beseech you—let me and this lady before me engage in a fair and honorable duel to the death!”

In an instant, the world around Collin and Shana seemed to fall away—

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(Note 1: If you don’t study hard, you too will unwittingly reveal your own ignorance.)