The Ninth Collision: The Slingshot's Fury

World collisions rarely end in outright victory or defeat. That might seem counterintuitive when watching Meteors bulldoze every opponent or the Holy Emperor Terasion grind through every injustice to claim ultimate triumph, but clean, decisive conclusions are actually the exception rather than the rule.

In this game, nearly seventy percent of encounters end in cooperation. There is simply no penalty for it. Players who commit to total war start out numerous, but once they fail to profit from conflict they get crushed by cooperation-oriented players. Their numbers have now dwindled to around twenty percent.

Even the most aggressive players rarely throw themselves into life-or-death battles the moment dimensional gates open. The standard approach is opportunistic: establish diplomatic contact first, strike only when a weakness appears, and otherwise do nothing at all.

Even forces like Meteors or the pirates, who have decided to destroy or exploit every opponent, achieve a clean resolution in only about five percent of cases. Cooperation-minded players keep growing stronger while warmongers whittle themselves down, so decisive early victories have become rare as the game progresses.

That leaves roughly twenty-five percent of collisions that are neither victory, defeat, nor cooperation. Both sides refuse to ally, yet neither can fully subdue the other. The conflict drags on until dimensional fusion begins, at which point survival is guaranteed for the loser by simply becoming a subordinate god of the winner. (The loser chooses; the winner has no veto.)

This outcome is actually the worst possible result for both civilizations. They have already devastated each other’s worlds through fighting, only to cooperate after the fact. “If you were going to cooperate anyway, why not do it from the start?” is the obvious question.

The situation is even worse during an elimination round. Once a player survives until dimensional fusion, they can negotiate: “I’m dropping out here, so take my world.” Absolute survival is assured. Unless the opponent is a complete lunatic like Meteors, they will at least pretend to accept the deal, because entering the protection phase increases divine power ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠recovery and allows time manipulation, letting them rebuild quickly.

Right now, the clash between Biin and Mitomok showed every sign of turning into a prolonged war of attrition. For Mitomok, who was willing to surrender once things got bad enough, this was ideal. For Biin, who needed a quick finish, it was disastrous.

A decisive weapon was required. Something that could truly break the opponent.

Just before the dimensional passage stage, I summoned Yogur-tosoth, the usual nectar-guzzling freeloader of my world, and gave him his orders.

“Yogur-tosoth. This mission is of critical importance. You understand that, don’t you?”

As always, the arrogant creature flaunted his power to the fullest.

His pride had clearly swelled because I was relying on him. I found it ridiculous, yet he really was my world’s core weapon, so the boasting was inevitable.

Yogur-tosoth was Level 11. His stats were overwhelming, and both his authorities and the breadth of abilities he ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠could wield were nearly complete. After passing the Ruler’s Ascension Trial, he was no longer merely a powerful weapon; he could now grant limited strategic and tactical initiative to the Dessert Legion.

He had also studied mind magic more diligently. While he could not brainwash enemies, he could issue commands to allies. In every sense, he had become a true legion commander.

Under his command were the Magic Sugar Lumps and the Yogurts. They manipulated flows from the sky and established strongholds on the ground. Every Magic Sugar Lump functioned as an extension of Yogur-tosoth himself.

They had already been widely deployed. Their task was to approach the enemy world, shatter the unbreakable morale of its defenders, then flood the remaining jungle regions with vast numbers of Gummies, the bread that thrived in jungles, Puddings, and Muscle Sugar Lumps. Once the locals were reduced to eating nothing but fish, Yogur-tosoth would drop every manner of water-polluting abomination into their rivers and claim victory.

That was the current plan. Even if it failed, I had backups, but for now this was sufficient.

At last the dimensional passage opened. Yogur-tosoth immediately connected it to the enemy’s upper atmosphere, specifically the region linked to the Great Firmament, and gazed down upon their capital.

Then he unleashed his signature ability, Yogur-tosoth’s Majesty, a power that crushed enemy morale across the entire battlefield.

Now, how would they respond?

Mitomok’s world had no idea Yogur-tosoth existed. How could they? He usually lounged at the Nectar Well with Abhojuth’s tentacles in his mouth, sucking away, while Mitomok had chosen to dry out the jungle with curses rather than rebuild camps constantly destroyed by Shuc-rimmurath.

The process by which Mitomok dried out the enemy world with curses was vicious. To push his curse-based mysteries to their limit, he employed human sacrifice. Remarkably, every sacrifice was voluntary.

“These accursed demons! My pregnant wife burst and died from the frog’s roar! Even if I die in rage, I will ruin your world before I go!”

With that cry, they slit their own bellies on the ritual altar and offered themselves, returning as concentrated vengeful spirits of pure curse. Because Mitomok’s world was also connected to the Great Boundary, he could draw upon the power of the underworld as well. (Without that connection, he would never have chosen the curse trait.)

The vengeful spirits gnawed at the land, rose into the sky to battle the Yogurt spirit beings, and savagely devoured the Creamland Biin had established, steadily draining his endless divine power.

Biin’s strategy was to stress the opponent, so the opponent had begun using that very stress as a resource, pouring it back as curses. He had not chosen the ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠curse trait for this purpose, yet the counter-effect was astonishingly effective.

Mitomok’s plan was simple: keep eroding the enemy territory with curses, twist every flow, and kill every living thing. The rate of erosion was slow, and the enemy world was abnormally vast, but the effect was sufficient. If the curse reached the Nectar Well or began rotting the Syrup River and Creamland, Biin’s ecosystem would truly be finished.

While thinking this, Mitomok collected his people’s grievances as prayers, granted them one by one, and steadily prepared an army to face Biin. Once the dimensional passage opened, he would never have to return, so he intended to spread his curses even more viciously.

That was why he failed to react at all when the dimensional passage suddenly opened in the sky.

A Level 11 creation possessed transcendent power. At this stage, stats were so high that ordinary beings could never inflict damage no matter what they tried. Only higher entities or overwhelming techniques and mysteries could possibly suppress one.

The magic Yogur-tosoth unleashed was not offensive magic. It was a powerful mind-attack spell projected through the dimensional passage, meant only to intimidate and shatter morale.

“U-uaaahhh?!”

Even the residents of Mitomok’s world, who had built resistance to the screaming frogs, had no defense against this. They could not help but take the attack.

A new calamity descended upon a world that had only just found peace through the Gummies and snakes.

Yogur-tosoth was ecstatic. This was a world his own god had been unable to subdue. Yet with a single spell he had sent them into panic. He released his Yogurts to prepare the stage for greater exploits, issued orders to the Sugar Lumps that served him, and poured more troops through the passage. He would now ravage the confused world to his heart’s content.

But as previously stated, Mitomok’s people had declared that if anyone wanted them to kneel, they should cut off their legs first.

While Yogur-tosoth was basking in triumph, his somewhat dull senses failed to notice a single figure hiding behind a building among the panicked residents, staring straight at him.

“Target’s big. Easy to hit.”

This daring champion was the strongest legendary Ascendant of Mitomok’s world. His stats sat at the peak of Level 10. He was Irsan, the slingshot hero who had shot down the enemy’s flying monstrosities with cursed iron stakes during the previous collision.

Because he used the elasticity of rubber, his weapon was called a slingshot, but its destructive power alone rivaled a siege ballista.

He loaded the weapon with an iron stake etched with every curse imaginable, took aim at Yogur-tosoth’s eye peeking through the dimensional passage, drew a deep breath, and prepared.

He poured mana into the stretched rubber and activated Slingshot Martial Art, a simple mystery that dramatically increased the already ballista-level range and power by pushing the rubber’s elasticity to its absolute limit. The tension grew so great that even Irsan, whose strength surpassed hundreds of grown men, struggled to draw it. The frame bent as though about to snap.

When he was certain of the hit, he released.

Shuaaaaaang!

The terrifying sonic boom was the sound of the slingshot projectile itself. It had instantly broken the sound barrier.

Yogur-tosoth did not react. He had no need to respond to enemy attacks. He was simply too strong. Who would dare touch him? It had never occurred to him that someone might attack through the dimensional passage in the sky.

So he allowed it.

Paaaaang!

That was the sound of Yogur-tosoth’s eye bursting.

That was Yogur-tosoth’s scream.

A wail. A great, terrible wail. The sound itself was smaller than a frog’s croak, yet it rang out with such piercing clarity that it seemed impossible.

‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠

Since the third collision, Yogur-tosoth had served as the main force without ever allowing a truly critical strike. He possessed nearly ten eyes, yet none had ever been destroyed.

Enraged and weeping bloody tears, Yogur-tosoth thrust another eye through the passage instead of the ruined one.

But Irsan snorted and boldly stepped into view, drawing his slingshot right in front of him. In truth, Irsan’s strength had dropped too low to hit Yogur-tosoth again, but the posture was purely threatening.

Nevertheless, Yogur-tosoth flinched, trembled, closed his eye, and was forced to retreat. It was a rational precaution, yet…

To the people of Mitomok’s world, the sight looked utterly ridiculous.

“That’s our Lord Irsan!”

“Look at that giant screaming!”

“Hey, you with all the eyes! If you don’t want to go blind, get lost!”

“Wahahaha!”

The morale that had plummeted from the earlier chaos instantly recovered. Cheers of “Irsan! Irsan!” rang out. For Irsan, who had exhausted a tremendous amount of strength with that single shot, it was a welcome boost.

Yogur-tosoth could not endure the humiliation.

“Shut your mouth and get lost if you don’t want every last eye popped, you filthy bubble spawn.”

Yogur-tosoth unleashed his authority to its absolute limit. The narrow dimensional passage suddenly expanded to an enormous size, tearing space itself apart as more than half of his colossal body emerged.

Even the people of Mitomok’s world could not help but swallow hard.

Yet they did not yield.

Irsan’s legendary trait — Spirit That Rises When Trampled: Grants complete immunity to all mind attacks. Whenever mind damage is received, recovers mana equal to the mind stat.

He merely glared upward and drew his slingshot toward the sky once more. The thirty elite slingshot soldiers under his command, the finest in Mitomok’s civilization, did the same. Not one of them trembled.

“Stop flapping your mouth and come at us. Next time I’ll tear that mouth open.”