Chapter 116: The magic fell on me, and not even a spark came out
A purple magic vortex spun rapidly on the obsidian floor.
The inverted runic characters flickered with blinding light.
A powerful suction force surged from the center of the vortex, like a miniature black hole forcibly placed in the office.
The paper documents closest to it were pulled directly into the vortex.
Not even a scrap of paper was left behind, instantly disappearing into the void of another dimension.
Zatanna gripped her magic wand with both hands.
Her chest rose and fell slightly, and a thin layer of sweat seeped from her forehead.
High-tier Backward Magic consumed a massive amount of energy, but looking at the tyrant about to be swallowed before her, she felt it was worth it.
There was a confident smile on her face.
Her red lips curved into a victor's arc.
Within the rules of magic, no matter how many nuclear bombs your physical body could withstand,
as long as you were locked on by the spatial laws, you would still obediently become a lonely ghost exiled to another realm.
She waited for Shen Che, along with his chair, to be torn apart by this irresistible force.
However,
One second, two seconds, three seconds passed.
Shen Che sat in that genuine leather swivel chair.
He did not even raise an eyelid, nor did he look at the frantically spinning purple vortex beneath his feet that was enough to tear space apart.
His gaze remained fixed on the tablet on the desk.
Even more, he leisurely picked up that cup of Blue Mountain coffee,
brought it to his lips, and took a sip.
His crossed long legs remained completely motionless under the reflection of the purple light.
That magic power capable of sucking a skyscraper into another dimension,
the moment it made contact with Shen Che's suit trousers,
was just like a gentle breeze blowing across a solid steel plate poured into the earth's core.
There was no sense of tearing, no trace of pulling.
Not only Shen Che's body,
but even the chair he sat on and the bone china coffee cup in his hand
were firmly protected in place by the high-dimensional absolute force field emanating from within his body.
There were no sparks, no earth-shattering energy clashes.
It was simply a pure, unreasonable "immunity".
The smile on Zatanna's face slowly froze.
She widened her eyes, looking at the man in the center of the vortex.
"What is going on..."
She muttered in a low voice, her voice carrying a trace of panic.
Did the magic lock-on fail?
Impossible. Backward Magic was a rule-tier spell where words became reality. As long as the opponent was still in this three-dimensional Universe, it was impossible for them to escape.
Just as she was about to increase her magic power output,
the purple vortex at Shen Che's feet
suddenly, like a jammed old motor,
flickered twice and emitted a "bzzzt" current short-circuit sound.
Immediately after,
"Puff."
with a very soft muffled sound,
that spatial banishment magic array constructed by expending most of Zatanna's magic power
like a cheap, dud firework,
shattered directly on the obsidian floor into hundreds of purple speckles of light.
The light spots drifted in the air and, a few seconds later, completely disappeared without a trace.
Peace was restored in the office.
Only the steam from the coffee was still leisurely drifting upwards.
The smile on Zatanna's face completely stiffened and died.
The magic wand in her hand shook violently, almost dropping onto the carpet.
Her legs under the fishnet stockings involuntarily took half a step back.
Her high heels stepped on the wooden floor, making a creaking sound.
She stared fixedly at Shen Che.
That was spatial banishment! It was a banishment curse whose edge even the lords of hell had to avoid!
Falling on him, it could not even rub out a single static spark?
This was no longer a matter of physical toughness.
This was directly rubbing the causality law of magic into the ground!
Shen Che put down the coffee cup in his hand.
The bottom of the cup hit the stone surface with a soft "clack" sound.
He finally moved his gaze away from the tablet.
He raised his head.
His pitch-black eyes looked at Zatanna standing ten meters away.
"Have you played enough?"
Shen Che's voice was very calm, exuding a numbness-inducing coldness.
"Running all the way to my office just to perform a magictrick of stepping on lightning for me?"
Zatanna's breathing instantly became rapid.
Her chest rose and fell violently, stretching her tailcoat taut.
Fear, like tens of thousands of ants, crawled crazily up her spine.
The panicked expression of that charlatan John Constantine when he was running away
at this moment, finally became concrete in her mind.
This was simply not an opponent who could be measured by conventional logic.
But she was a magician, the dignity of the orthodox magicworld.
She bit the tip of her tongue, forcing herself to wake up from the extreme trembling.
Spatial banishment was useless? Then she would use the most direct destructive magic.
As long as it was matter, it could always be destroyed.
Zatanna gripped her magic wand tightly with both hands.
The white metal at the tip of the magic wand lit up with a blinding red light.
Her speech was extremely fast, like rapid-fire artillery, as she continuously chanted several of the most lethal Backward Magic spells.
"Fire burn!" ("Burn, fierce fire")
"Bones break and tendons snap!" ("Tendons and bones fracture")
"Thunder fall from the sky!" ("Heavenly thunder descends from the sky")
Chapter 117: Silver Age Superman immune to both physical and magic, Zatanna breaks down and cries bitterly
"Fierce Fire burn!"
"Bones fracture and tendons snap!"
Zatanna's voice cracked.
She chanted two high-tier Backward Magic spells that consumed the most energy in one breath.
The tongue-twisting Latin syllables were spat out backwards from her red lips.
Carrying a terrifying rule-breaking force that distorted reality.
The air in her lungs was sucked dry, her chest heaving violently.
Large beads of cold sweat seeped from her forehead, droplets rolling down the bridge of her nose.
Sweat flowed into her eyes, stinging painfully, but she didn't dare raise her hand to wipe it.
Her hands tightly gripped that black and white magicwand.
Her knuckles turned an alarming pale white.
A blinding orange-red light burst open on the ceiling above her head.
The Fire conjured out of thin air was larger than a water vat, the heat wave instantly drying out the office's constant-temperature air conditioning.
The mahogany wall panels directly blackened and carbonized, emitting thick, scorching smoke.
Immediately after.
A blue lightning bolt as thick as a bucket tore through the air.
Carrying a pungent ozone smell and a deafening thunderclap.
Struck straight down at the man behind the obsidian desk.
This was the most violent elemental strike in the orthodox magic world.
"Boom!"
The Fire slammed fiercely into Shen Che's chest.
Lightning struck the top of his head at the same time.
The berserk magic completely exploded in the area where Shen Che was located.
Flames rolled, and blue current scurried wildly on the ground like thousands of poisonous snakes.
The paper documents on the desk instantly turned into flying ash.
Zatanna gasped heavily for air.
Her calves under the fishnet stockings were trembling.
This wave of attack drained a small half of her magic pool.
Even a thick-skinned great demon crawled out of hell would shed a layer of skin taking this blow head-on.
The smoke and dust mixed with the firelight slowly dissipated.
Zatanna stared dead at that charred area.
Then, she swallowed a dry gulp mixed with a bloody taste.
Her vision cleared up again.
Shen Che was still sitting in that leather swivel chair.
He was holding that cup of Blue Mountain coffee.
The rim of the porcelain cup pressed against his lips, and he took a leisurely sip.
His Adam's apple rolled up and down, swallowing it down.
His brows frowned slightly.
The coffee was a bit cold, and the taste was sour.
As for that raging Fire that slammed into his chest.
The flames were still licking the collar of his pure White shirt.
But not even a trace of fabric fiber could be ignited; the White shirt remained immaculate.
That fierce lightning struck the top of his head.
Slipping down his black suit jacket into the floor.
The obsidian floor was struck with a two-foot-long charred crack, and gravel flew off.
But Shen Che's neatly groomed short hair.
Not even a single strand was made to stand up by static electricity.
"This is impossible."
Zatanna bit her lower lip, and the bloody taste spread in her mouth.
She refused to believe it.
The magic wand waved wildly in mid-air, bringing out a sharp wind-whistling sound.
"Space tear!"
"Gravity crush!"
Forbidden spells capable of altering the terrain were roared out by her.
Red light, purple glow, transparent space blades.
Smashed overwhelmingly toward the man in the swivel chair.
This was a hysterical bombardment.
But those magic energies, upon colliding one foot in front of Shen Che.
It was like hitting an invisible higher-dimensional iron wall.
The space blades directly shattered into messy air currents.
The gravitational field was forcibly smoothed out by an invisible barrier.
Various dazzling high-level magic smashed up, failing to even spark a glimmer of static electricity.
Shen Che put the coffee cup back on the tabletop.
The ceramic knocked against the stone slab.
"Click."
Making a muffled, crisp sound.
He sighed.
This sigh was very light amidst the remaining magicroaring, yet it clearly drilled into Zatanna's ears.
Carrying a deep boredom of watching monkey shows until sick of it.
Shen Che stood up.
His long legs strode forward, walking against the sky-filling magic light spots that had not yet dissipated.
The residual Fire automatically diverted in front of him.
The lightning glow dimmed and went out under the soles of his shoes.
Treading on a ground of charred debris, he walked in front of Zatanna.
The sense of oppression poured down like a mountain.
Zatanna retreated in fright.
The heel of her left high heel stepped on the burned-through edge of the carpet, twisting slightly.
She staggered and almost fell to the ground, a heart-piercing pain coming from her ankle.
She barely stood firm.
Raising the magic wand with both hands, her wrists trembled so much she could barely hold the wooden handle.
Wanting to use the tip of the staff to stab Shen Che's throat in a final, pointless struggle.
Shen Che extended his right hand.
Two slender, fair fingers.
Casually pinched the middle section of the magic wand.
Zatanna pulled back hard.
She couldn't pull it out.
That magic wand was like being embedded in the rocks deep in the crust, motionless.
Shen Che shook his wrist.
"Snap."
The black and white magic wand snapped crisply from the middle.
The wooden thorns pierced Zatanna's palm.
The magic core sealed inside emitted a sizzling leakage sound.
A faint purple light burst open.
Blasting out the two floor lamps in the corner of the wall.
The broken half-stick fell onto the carpet.
Rolling into a pool of charred ashes.
Shen Che lowered his head, looking at the bloodless female mage.
"magic?"
He casually threw the remaining half-stick in his hand beside his feet.
"Borrowing some different-dimensional energy to modify low-level physical rules."
"Do you think this is called a miracle?"
Shen Che inserted both hands into his suit pants pockets.
He looked at Zatanna's shoulders trembling like chaff.
"You tricksters have too narrow horizons."
Shen Che's voice was cold and hard, like ice cubes hitting a steel plate, without a shred of temperature.
"This body of mine."
"Physical damage is ineffective, magic causality is immune."
He closed in half a step forward.
"In front of this out-of-dimension panel, those tongue-twisting Backward Magic you chanted."
"Cannot even count as street magic tricks that deceive children."
Zatanna's breathing stagnated.
This sentence was crueler than breaking the magic wand just now.
The magic belief system she established since childhood.
Those heavy black magic classics, those truths passed down by generations of mages with their lives.
At this moment.
Was casually torn into a ground of useless waste paper by this White shirt man.
Even causal weapons that modify reality like Backward Magic.
Could not even touch a single hair of his.
Then what else in this world could hurt him?
Nothing.
In this Universe, no power can ever stop this tyrant.
The glory of magic turned into an inferior magicperformance.
The bones in Zatanna's legs seemed to have been hollowed out.
She couldn't support the weight of her body and collapsed limply.
Her knees knelt heavily on the carpet full of glass shards and scorch marks.
The fishnet stockings were cut open by sharp fragments, and bright red blood oozed from her knees.
She couldn't feel the pain.
She lowered her head, looking at her trembling hands.
Those hands that had once released countless miracles now didn't even have the strength to make a fist.
The suffocating feeling of collapsing faith tightly choked her neck.
Zatanna tightly covered her face with both hands.
Her shoulders began to heave violently.
"Woo..."
A suppressed crying sound leaked out from between her fingers.
Then, this crying lost control.
Turning into uninhibited, loud crying.
Tears washed away the remaining mascara on her cheeks.
Black water trails flowed down the back of her hands, dripping onto the charred floor.
She completely broke down.
The arrogant orthodox female mage turned into a pitiful worm crushed by despair, crying bitterly in the mud.
Shen Che stood in front of her.
Looking at this woman convulsing all over from crying on the ground.
He didn't lift a hand to kill her.
Killing a mentally collapsed waste would dirty his hands too much and had no value whatsoever.
He turned around, his leather shoes stepping over the broken magic wand.
Walking to the obsidian desk.
Pressing the extension button on the corner of the table.
"Security Department."
Shen Che looked at the still gloomy Manhattan sky outside the window.
"Two people come up."
Hearing Zatanna's heartbreaking crying behind him, he frowned, finding it noisy.
"Drag this mourner on the ground out."
Two minutes later.
The freight elevator door opened.
Two fully armed Vought security personnel rushed into the office holding guns.
They saw the charred marks all over the floor, and then saw Zatanna kneeling on the ground crying loudly.
Stunned for half a second.
Then walked over quickly, supporting her arms from left and right.
Zatanna did not resist.
She was like a boneless rag doll, letting two strong men crudely lift her up from the ground.
The tips of her high heels dragged two long marks on the corridor's carpet.
She was still crying, her tears wetting the front of her clothes.
The security personnel stuffed her into the spacious car cabin.
Pressing the button leading to the first-floor lobby, the elevator door slowly closed.
Chapter 118 Forcibly dragging Zatanna into Walter, showing me magic tricks.
Security personnel grabbed Zatanna by the arm and dragged her into the lobby on the first floor.
The high heels left two harsh scratches on the polished marble floor.
Zatanna was still crying. Her black eyeliner smudged with tears, leaving two muddy black lines on her cheeks.
The fishnet stockings had several large holes. The blood on her knees had scabbed over into dark red crusts.
The tuxedo hung wrinkled on his body, like a black crow whose feathers had been soaked by a downpour.
The lobby on the first floor was brightly lit. The crystalchandelier overhead was dazzlingly bright.
An internal dinner for Vought Company executives is being held here.
Those politicians and tycoons who survived this storm and naturally seized the core of power and wealth.
Wearing an expensive haute couture suit and evening gown, holding a glass of champagne.
They gathered in twos and threes, chatting and laughing.
The music was melodious. The air was filled with the aroma of fine perfumes and foie gras.
The security guards suddenly burst in, and this disheveled woman.
It disrupted the rhythm of the dinner.
The conductor's hand trembled, and his baton froze in mid-air. Cellist Jean emitted a dull, dissonant note.
Everyone stopped what they were doing and turned around.
All eyes turned to Zatanna.
Those things that are usually so high and mighty on TV, like My Lord, are now just objects of curiosity and vulgar spectatorship.
Someone recognized her.
"That's... that magician from the Justice League?"
A banker with a beer belly leaned closer to his colleague and whispered something.
"How did you get into such a mess? You look like a prostitute on the street."
My companion covered his mouth and laughed. A little champagne spilled on the back of his hand.
Zatanna kept her head down.
Listening to these buzzing whispers, embarrassmentoverwhelmed her like a tidal wave.
She clenched her teeth. Her teeth dug into the soft flesh of her lower lip, drawing blood.
Humiliation. Humiliation worse than death.
On the circular corridor on the second floor of the lobby.
Shen Che leaned on the white jade carved railing with both hands.
He rolled up the cuffs of his white shirt to his elbows. He looked down at the group of hypocrites below.
The gaze finally fell on Zatanna, who was being supported by security.
"Bring her onto the stage."
Shen Che spoke. His voice wasn't loud, but it traveled clearly to every corner of the hall through the hidden sound system.
The hall fell into a deathly silence.
Even the faintest clinking of wine glasses disappeared.
Everyone looked up at the man on the second floor. No one dared to breathe.
Two security personnel received orders.
He immediately dragged Zatanna and strode towards the semi-circular performance stage that had been temporarily set up for the banquet in the center of the hall.
"Go up."
The security guard roughly shoved her forward.
Zatanna's legs gave way, and she collapsed onto the wooden stage.
My palm rubbed against the rough wooden floor. It stung.
She looked up.
Hundreds of eyes were staring at her. There was no pity in those eyes.
It's the same kind of excitement as watching a monkey show.
"Everyone."
Shen Che's voice rang out again.
He had one hand in his trouser pocket. In the other hand, he held the broken black and white magic wand.
"Smack."
He threw the broken stick down from the second floor.
Half a stick fell at Zatanna's feet. It rolled twice.
Let me introduce myself.
Shen Che twitched the corners of his mouth, revealing a cold, mocking smile.
"This was once a powerful figure in the Justice League, a high-level magician who claimed to be able to alter reality."
"From today onwards, you are officially joining Vought Company's Entertainment Division."
"Become our exclusive resident artist."
The wealthy people in the audience looked at each other in bewilderment.
A few seconds later, someone started clapping.
The sparse applause quickly spread, eventually turning into thunderous cheers and whistles.
They enjoy this kind of spectacle that tramples on the sacred.
They turned a high-ranking monk into an actor to please them. This greatly satisfied their perverse vanity fueled by their fear of Shen Che.
Zatanna stared intently at the broken half of the stick on the ground.
His hands were clenched into fists. His fingernails dug deeply into his palms.
Humiliation dried up her tears.
Her inherent pride was rebelling fiercely. She wanted to stand up and, even with the most basic Fireball technique, burn these filthy pigs to ashes.
She suddenly raised her head.
His gaze was fixed on Shen Che on the second floor.
His lips parted slightly. The inverted Latin spell was already swirling on his tongue.
But Shen Che only glanced at her indifferently.
In those dark, unwavering eyes, there was no warning, only a boredom that seemed to see right through her.
There was also a hint of undisguised impatience.
That look in his eyes was very clear.
As long as you dare to pronounce even half a syllable.
Not just you. Everyone here, including this building.
They will all turn into ashes in the next second overManhattan.
Zatanna's mouth opened. She froze.
My throat felt as heavy as if it were filled with lead.
She recalled the despair she felt on the 112th floor, when her high-level magic couldn't even produce a single WaterFlower in front of this man.
She is not afraid of death.
But she couldn't drag hundreds of people down with her. Besides, her resistance was nothing but a ridiculous joke in this man's eyes.
Despair. Utter despair.
It bent her straight back.
She slowly closed her mouth, swallowing the incantation back down.
His Adam's apple bobbed. He swallowed a mouthful of bloody saliva.
She resigned herself to her fate.
Before this unreasonable tycoon god, there is no other way but to bow down and become his dog.
Zatanna supports herself on the stage with both hands.
He slowly stood up.
She sprained her right ankle. She couldn't stand straight and could only hunch over slightly.
She reached out and touched the hidden pocket inside her tuxedo.
There was also a spare deck of ordinary playing cards there. A tool used for practicing techniques.
She pulled out the cards.
He held it in his hand. His fingers were still trembling slightly from the humiliation.
Shuffle the cards. Cut the cards.
The movements were clumsy. The fluid, graceful movements they usually displayed when casting spells were completely gone.
"Bang."
She tossed a red Ace of Hearts into the air.
She forced a stiff smile.
On a face streaked with tears and with smudged makeup, a smile was forced out, more painful than crying.
Forced smile.
She began performing the most basic, low-level magic tricks on stage, such as making a rabbit appear out of thin air.
There were no magical fluctuations. There were no dazzling light effects.
It's just pure street magic. A scam disguised by sleight of hand.
The wealthy people in the audience burst into laughter.
Some people raised their champagne glasses and cheered loudly. Some even threw a few crumpled US hundred-dollar bills onto the stage.
The US dollar bills landed at Zatanna's feet.
She didn't pick them up. She just mechanically repeated the shuffling motion.
She's like a real Joker, flaunting her ridiculous self-esteem on the stage of capital.
Second floor.
Shen Che leaned against the white jade railing.
Looking at this absurd and boring farce unfolding below.
There was no pleasure in his eyes. Only a dullness, a superior looking down upon a lower dimension.
The so-called "magic" belief. After stripping away its mystical veneer...
It's nothing more than a topic for these politicians and tycoons to discuss over tea and drinks.
He straightened up, turned his head, and refused to watch the awful show anymore.
My gaze traveled through the floor-to-ceiling windows on the second floor, looking out at the Manhattan night sky.
The rain has stopped, but the clouds are still thick, obscuring the moonlight.
In the midst of this deep night.
Shen Che's pupils contracted slightly.
The distant clouds.
A person named Shadow, wearing a golden helmet, is silently suspended in mid-air.
Even in the moonless night, the helmet still gleamed with a cold, metallic sheen.
Like a giant, one-eyed creature lurking in the darkness.
They are several kilometers apart.
He was staring intently at Vought Tower, at the location where Shen Che was.
Chapter 119 Destiny Dr. Puts on the Helmet and Observes My Future
The golden helmet gleamed with a cold metallic sheen against the gloomy night sky.
That is the helmet of Naboo, representing the supreme will of the Universe order.
Dr. Fate is suspended thousands of meters above the clouds in New York.
The blue and yellow robes of the mage fluttered in the cold wind.
His hands hung naturally at his sides as he looked down at the brightly lit Vought Tower.
As a messenger of the god of order.
His job wasn't to catch thieves in Gotham's LowerWaterway like Batman did.
It's not like Superman blocking bullets.
He only maintains the balance.
He will descend when the scales of Universe tip. He will eliminate the weight that caused the imbalance.
Just a few hours ago.
He is still meditating in the temple of another dimension.
Suddenly, he sensed a violent disruption of the magic rules on Earth.
Zatanna's Backward Magic was forcibly nullified.Constantine's divination directly burned the scroll.
There was also the terrifying heatwave in the Atlantic Ocean that nearly boiled the sea.
These forces intertwined, like a blunt knife, cutting a huge gash in the causal web of Earth.
That source. It's on the 112th floor of Vought Tower.
That man named Shen Che.
"An anomaly that transcends dimensions."
The voice of Dr. Fate echoed inside the helmet, carrying a cold, emotionless, mechanical metallic tone.
"A malignant tumor that must be eradicated."
He didn't care what rules Shen Che had set on Earth, nor did he care about the lives of those mortals.
All he knew was that this man's existence severely disrupted the Universe order planned by Naboo.
But unlike Steppenwolf or those inhumans, he didn't foolishly rush down and smash the glass.
He is a mage. A top-tier mage.
Before taking action, one must first understand the cause-and-effect relationship of the target. Find that fatal weakness.
Even gods, as long as they exist in the river of time.
There will inevitably be ups and downs, declines and the moment of death.
Once that specific time point is found.
At the right time, with the right magic, you can wipe this so-called tyrant from history as easily as crushing an ant.
This is how the God of Order kills.
Dr. Fate raised his hands.
Hands clad in gold metallic gloves slowly grasped the sides of the helmet, near the ears.
"Buzz—"
A deep, majestic hum of magic echoed from above the clouds.
The churning black clouds around them were forcibly dispersed by this force, forming a vacuum array with a radius of one hundred meters.
He began to activate the primordial power belonging to the God of Order.
On the helmet visor. At the two narrow slits for the eyes.
Suddenly, a dazzling white light shone.
The beams of light, like two sharp swords, pierced the night sky, shooting straight towards Vought Tower.
This is not light in the physical sense.
This is the vision of Naboo.
Fate, Dr., closed his eyes.
His consciousness instantly detached from his body. Following the white light, he stepped directly into a higher-dimensional river.
The river of time.
Here, the past, present, and future no longer develop linearly.
Instead, they resembled countless luminous threads, intertwining and entwining in the dark void.
This has created a massive, complex three-dimensional network that is so intricate it makes one's scalp crawl.
This is the destiny of all humankind.
Each thread represents a person. Each flash represents a choice.
Fate Dr. weaves through these densely packed threads.
He was searching. Searching for that thickest, brightest, most out-of-place thread.
That lifeline that belongs to Shen Che.
Found it.
At the future juncture of New York.
That thread wasn't ordinary white or gold.
It was a deep, dark red, like a river of lava flowing through the void.
It was so thick and powerful it was unnerving.
This dark red thread brutally pierced through the fates of thousands upon thousands of ordinary people around it.
Wherever it passed, other threads were forcibly torn off and assimilated.
It didn't follow the predetermined path. Instead, it was like a runaway beast, rampaging through the river of time.
"I've found you."
Dr. Fate's consciousness stopped before this dark red lifeline.
He began to follow the silk thread, looking downstream.
Towards the future.
Five years later. Ten years later. One hundred years later.
He wanted to see the thread thinner. To see it fade in color. To see the moment it finally broke.
Once that point of fracture is found, he can trigger the causal chain of destruction in the present.
Time flew by in his field of vision.
A hundred years have passed. The dark red silk thread has not only not become thinner, but has instead grown thicker.
It even devoured several branches of the surrounding parallel Universe.
A thousand years. Ten thousand years.
Dr. Fate's consciousness began to feel weary.
Even the power of the God of Order would be greatly burdened by excessive travel through the river of time.
The surface of the helmet began to get slightly warm.
But he didn't stop.
He refused to believe that there was an eternal Eternitywithin this Universe.
There must be a fatal flaw.
He gritted his teeth and pushed his magic output to the limit.
The perspective spans a period of 100,000 years, jumping directly to the more distant future and its ultimate outcome.
finally.
At the very end of the river of time. In the depths of nothingness where all the threads are about to dissipate.
Dr. Fate's gaze fell upon the point that represented Shen Che's ultimate future.
That was a scene.
It is not composed of energy threads, but a clear and realistic visual image.
When Dr. Fate saw that scene clearly.
His soul, weathered by thousands of years, had long since become still and undisturbed.
In that instant.
It felt like being pierced by a rusty icicle.
He couldn't help but tremble. **Chapter 120: The helmet shattered, even the God of Order was stunned.**
That is the very end of the river of time.
There was no firelight from a planetary explosion. There was no deathly silence from a desolate galaxy.
There wasn't even a trace of material remnant that should belong to the Universe.
In the vision of Fate Dr.
He originally thought he would see Shen Che grow old, be wiped out by a stronger force, or die from genetic breakdown over a long period of time.
But there was nothing in the picture.
There were no corpses. No broken threads of fate.
There was only emptiness.
A boundless expanse of pure darkness that swallowed all concepts of dimension.
That wasn't just ordinary black.
It is a void left after light, time, and even causality itself have been completely crushed.
And in the center of that endless void.
A colossal, chilling black shadow stood there, a sight that sent shivers down one's spine.
That black shadow broke free from all dimensional frameworks.
Beneath his feet, he was not treading on the earth, nor on the stars.
Rather, it is the entire dried-up and broken river of time itself.
It's like stepping into a dead, drained ditch.
That black shadow... that's Shen Che.
He didn't perish in time. He simply used time as a stepping stone.
Dr. Fate's consciousness froze before this scene.
He felt like an ant.
I'm peering over the glass tank, trying to observe someone standing outside with a magnifying glass.
That absolute crushing power of a higher dimension over a lower dimension instilled in his divine nature an uncontrollable fear.
Just then.
That enormous black shadow in the void seemed to have sensed something.
Black Shadow was originally facing away from Dr. Fate's gaze.
Now, he slowly turned his head.
That cold, stern face became crystal clear in the void.
His dark eyes held no emotion.
Just casually. Heading in the direction observed by Dr. Fate.
I glanced back.
"boom--!"
It was just a casual glance.
This gaze ignored the span of ten thousand years in the river of time.
It ignored the obstruction of causality.
It resembles a giant steel cone, red-hot and tens of thousands of light-years long.
Following the glimmer of consciousness extended by Dr.Fate.
Going against the current.
It shattered all the branches of fate along its path with overwhelming force.
Hard. Direct.
It collided with the original consciousness of Dr. Fate, which was suspended high above the real world.
"ah--!!!"
The night sky thousands of meters above New York.
Dr. Fate let out a scream so shrill it was inhuman.
He clung tightly to the golden helmet with both hands.
His body convulsed violently in mid-air. His blue and yellow mage robes were torn to shreds by the rampaging magic.
That higher-dimensional force, flowing backwards along the timeline, was incredibly domineering.
It's simply beyond what the body can withstand.
That golden helmet, a symbol of absolute order, was forged by the god Naboo and is said to be indestructible.
At that moment, it let out a painful cry.
"Crunch. Click."
The surface of the helmet. That layer of golden metal that hasn't faded even after millions of years.
Instantly, it was covered with countless black cracks.
It looks like a hard-boiled egg that has been dropped on the ground.
A blinding white light shone through the cracks. It was the power of order leaking out wildly.
"Bang!"
A muffled explosion resounded through the clouds.
That divine helmet couldn't withstand the dimensional pressure brought by that gaze.
It exploded on the spot, shattering into several large and small metal fragments.
Debris flew everywhere, falling into the New York night.
Without the helmet's protection, the host inside was directly exposed to the air.
Fresh blood gushed out of his seven orifices.
That force not only shattered the helmet, but also turned his brain, as a mage, into a complete mess.
The host immediately fainted.
The body lost its levitation magic. It was like a tattered sack.
It plummeted straight down from a height of several thousand meters towards the ground in free fall.
At the same time.
The realm of the gods.
This is the Universe, beyond matter. It is the abode of all the Old Gods and the deities of Order.
In a sacred, white space.
The God of Order sat on his high throne.
The throne is woven from pure lines of law, radiating a soft golden light.
He held a staff that symbolized balance in his hand.
With eyes closed, I sense the orderly operation of the various parallel universes.
Sudden.
"Click".
A crisp sound of shattering glass rang out in front of the throne.
The God of Order suddenly opened his eyes.
Before him stood a colossal celestial mirror, suspended in mid-air, used to connect the human world and observe the movements of believers.
On the mirror surface. Without warning.
A huge crack appeared that ran through the entire mirror surface.
At the edge of the crack, a trace of black aura still lingered, sending chills down his spine.
That wasn't the smell of sulfur from demons. Nor was it the stench of the abyss.
It was a remnant of a pure, unreasonable, high-dimensional force.
The God of Order stood up directly from his throne.
The golden robe trailed on the ground.
He was stunned.
For the first time, a look of astonishment appeared on that face that had never changed its expression in millennia.
It even carried a hint of barely concealed panic.
Naboo's helmet is broken.
The messenger he sent to cleanse Earth of this scourge didn't even manage to touch the hem of the other's clothes.
Just because I glanced at it in the timeline.
The magical artifact was shattered by a single glare from someone.
How is that possible?
On Earth, when did such a monster, defying all rules, appear?
The God of Order gripped his staff tightly. The golden light on the staff flickered erratically.
He stared at the cracked celestial mirror, utterly bewildered.
Waiting for more chapters on WTR-Lab