The Spectrum Prison
"As expected, even this isn't enough to stop him. Still, I've held him off for quite a while, so I've achieved my goal, right?"
Demian stretched as he muttered to himself.
Spectrum Prison was exactly what it sounded like—a prison of light.
It decomposed the negative mana supplied from the Spirit King's Crown through the spectrum.
This decomposed mana manifested in seven colors of light.
These negative lights fundamentally amplified hostility in living beings. They also each affected the mind in different ways.
Red light amplified rage, orange loosened mental barriers to induce carelessness.
Yellow brought laziness, green induced total forgetfulness. Blue showed desired illusions, indigo created longing.
Finally, violet mixed them all into chaos.
This prison of light drew out all the negative emotions inherent in humanity, pitting them against each other or driving them to despair.
Most terrifying was that each light had a different flow of time.
The outer red light flowed slowest, while the inner violet flowed several times faster.
Demian didn't know the principle behind it.
Dungeons were inherently beyond human common sense.
So he gave up trying to understand.
He just needed to use it well—no need to delve into the mechanics.
In any case, it would take Zeon considerable time to reach him at the core of the Spectrum Prison.
He had to pass through the remaining six light prisons to get there.
"By then, everything will be over."
"Graaaah!"
At that moment, a roar split the space.
Brickston, trapped in the violet space, revealed himself.
"You bastard! What the hell did you do? What did you do?!"
Brickston bellowed.
Covered in blood, eyes bulging, he looked terrifying.
But Demian remained calm, showing no fear.
"You're quite late."
"Don't even mention it. Felt like fighting a massive horned armored bear."
At that instant, Aleksandr emerged behind Brickston.
Aleksandr was bloodied like Brickston.
The difference? A victor's smile played on his lips.
Brickston showed no reaction to Aleksandr appearing at his back.
More precisely, he couldn't react.
His side was torn open like a monster bite, entrails spilling out.
No potion could heal that.
Aleksandr had inflicted the fatal wound on Brickston.
The moment Spectrum Prison unfolded, those closest to Demian—Alekandr, some White Bear Caravan Awakeners, and Brickston with his berserkers—were transferred to the violet astral space.
Aleksandr and the White Bear Awakeners didn't panic at the sudden shift.
They had prior experience breaking Spectrum Prison with Demian.
They knew how to turn the violet astral space to their advantage.
Inside, they clashed fiercely with Brickston and the berserkers—and ultimately won.
"Hah! Hah!"
"Ugh! Gonna die."
The White Bear Awakeners emerging behind Aleksandr were in wretched shape.
Even seizing the advantageous space, it had been no easy fight.
The berserkers were that fearsome.
Many White Bear Awakeners lost their lives to the death-fearing berserkers charging relentlessly.
The survivors who barely escaped the astral space were in poor condition too. But they stood firm through sheer willpower.
They knew they were Demian's last shield.
Then Brickston approached Demian.
Thud! Thud!
With heavy footsteps, blood and guts spilled from his torn abdomen.
Demian smiled brightly at the sight.
"As expected of a faithful believer. Such willpower—to move despite those wounds."
"Don't mock God, heretic!"
"Who is your god? Someone up in that yellow sky? Or that Yohan sucking blood from slum folk?"
"Urgh!"
"Never mind. I don't care to hear your answer."
"Worm!"
Brickston lunged, grabbing Demian's collar. But his grip had no strength left.
Thud!
After glaring while clutching Demian's collar, Brickston's massive body finally collapsed.
Aleksandr sighed, approaching Demian.
"Monster of a guy. Better to solo a dungeon boss. That freakish recovery..."
He shook his head.
He was exhausted by Brickston too.
Without the violet astral space, it would've taken far more time and lives.
After glancing at the corpse, he looked at Demian worriedly.
"You okay?"
"Still manageable."
"Demian!"
"Really, I'm fine. I was prepared for this."
Demian's forced smile was deathly pale.
"Haa! If it gets too tough, say so."
"Got it."
Demian gazed toward Neo Seoul as he replied.
Vitality returned to his weary face.
"Finally..."
"What?"
Aleksandr followed Demian's puzzled gaze.
Neo Seoul's gates opened, a group charging out.
Too far to recognize faces, but Demian instinctively knew their identities.
"Finally drew them out. The great queen of heteromorphs..."
Serion Olia couldn't comprehend the situation.
"So the Thorn Tree Assault moved on their own?"
"I'm sorry."
Borlin Stravach replied apologetically.
She'd just received the report herself.
The Thorn Tree Assault had moved stealthily.
"Who ordered the Thorn Tree Assault?"
"Well..."
"Ilai, right?"
"I'm sorry."
"Haa! Why apologize, Borlin? It's all Ilai's orders. Where is she now?"
"Believed to be at her residence."
"Bring her."
That was when.
"No need."
Ilai entered with a cold voice.
"Ilai!"
"Sorry. But I had no choice."
"No choice about what?"
"For everyone's sake, we needed the Spirit King's Crown faster than the others."
"Everyone's sake?"
"Yes! For us and all allied races, we had to secure the Spirit King's Crown. So I moved the Thorn Tree Assault without your permission, Your Majesty. I apologize, but understand it was unavoidable."
"Making excuses that it was for everyone's sake?"
"Yes."
Ilai answered without flinching.
Serion frowned at her bold justification.
She knew Ilai coveted her position, but not that she'd move troops unilaterally.
"Haa! Ilai."
"Yes, Your Majesty!"
"Can you take responsibility for moving the Thorn Tree Assault and elf warriors for 'everyone's sake'?"
"Of course. I, Ilai, don't shirk responsibility."
Ilai met Serion's gaze unflinchingly.
With everything exposed, evasion wouldn't help.
Borlin swallowed dryly between them.
Queen and vice-leader of the North District.
If their rift deepened, the entire North District could shake.
It was the last bastion for Neo Seoul's heteromorphs.
If it faltered, their lives hung in the balance.
Serion and Ilai knew this, always compromising at the line.
Borlin hoped for the same now.
Then.
Serion and Ilai abruptly stood, sensing something.
"Hm!"
"This is?"
Confusion etched their faces.
An ominous wave stimulated their senses.
They rushed to the rooftop without a word. First in view: seven lights rising far across the desert.
Serion muttered.
"Could that be Spectrum Prison?"
"What's that?"
"Then the Spirit King's Crown came from Spectrum Prison..."
Serion's face paled instantly.
Ilai just stared, clueless.
Serion said urgently.
"If the Spirit King's Crown truly came from Spectrum Prison, it doesn't seal the Spirit King. It's..."
"What is it, Your Majesty?!"
"No time to explain. Follow me."
Serion leaped from the rooftop.
Borlin, Blue Leaf Special Forces, and North District elites followed.
Left alone, Ilai muttered.
"Not the Spirit King sealed? Then what is?"
Conflict filled her face.
Serion's urgency suggested no ordinary entity.
Biting her lip, Ilai chased after.
Whatever the reason, she had to help resolve it.
"Damn it!"
"Save me!"
"Please!"
Desperate cries of agony echoed everywhere.
All were dying from deep wounds. But Zeon ignored their pleading eyes and voices.
They were all scavengers.
Moths to the flame of items, drawn to death.
No pity for those coveting others' loot, now fatally wounded.
"Fuck! Share a potion if you have one."
"Hey, you bastard! Just a..."
Scavengers vented frustration at the indifferent Zeon.
They reached out, but to no avail.
No strength left to extend their arms fully as they bled out.
Zeon glanced back suddenly.
An immense presence from afar.
"The elves' queen."
Like Demian, he sensed Serion without looking.
Her mana was that distinctive.
Clear, vast mana like embracing a blue forest.
Zeon had never sensed such pure, immense mana in any elf.
Serion charged with dozens of heteromorphs from afar.
At a glance, extraordinary aura and presence.
Undoubtedly North District elites.
"Everything's going Demian's way."
Zeon shook his head slightly and moved.
Six light astral spaces still blocked ahead.
Only by passing all could he reach Demian.
"Gotta hurry."
As Zeon moved, sand surged like waves in pursuit.
A sand tidal wave.
Rumble rumble rumble!
The sand wave crushed everything in its path.