191: Viewers and Collections

The throne of Leviathan does not exist in physical space.

It is a "high-dimensional gallery" constructed of pure spirit and laws, existing between reality and illusion.

Here there are no walls, no ceilings, only endless, profound darkness as a backdrop. In this darkness, countless shimmering, varying-sized, faintly glowing bubbles float.

Each bubble is an independent world, a meticulously crafted, eternallycycleing prison tailor-made for a "collection."

Within these bubbles, the largest and brightest one is currently staging a lonely and desperate wait. Inside the bubble is a cozy Bridge, where a little girl in a cute dress is curled up, hugging her knees, beneath a cold throne, silently weeping. Her spirit, in the long wait, is slowly being worn away, dried up, and will eventually become a beautiful, soulless specimen.

Not far away, in another bubble, a cycle of blood and betrayal is repeatedly unfolding. A girl in black, again and again, experiences the extreme pain of seeing her loved ones die before her eyes. Her soul is repeatedly forged and tempered in the flames of regret and anger, finally emitting a nearly demonic, scarlet glow filled with destructive aesthetics.

A man in a black silk robe, with a face so handsome it was almost demonic, is walking slowly between these bubbles with his hands behind his back, like the gardener inspecting his garden. With every step he takes, circles of rainbow-colored ripples, composed of pure spiritual energy, spread out from the void beneath his feet.

He is the president of Leviathan, Casper. A "spiritual artist" who delights in manipulating, twisting, and collecting powerful souls.

"President."

A voice devoid of emotion came from the shadows behind him. A shadow, also composed of spiritual energy but indistinct in form, like television static, silently knelt on the ground. It was Casper's will extension, and also the butler of this "gallery," "Echo-7."

"How is the situation?" Casper did not turn around. His gaze was fixed with keen interest on the blood-red bubble belonging to Gu Zhixia. The intense despair and fury within it gave him a heartfelt, perverse pleasure.

"Reporting, President." Echo-7's voice remained flat. "Target codenamed 'Chef's' spiritual activity has dropped below the threshold. It is expected to enter a permanent 'dormant' state in seventeen standard hours. Her soul traits 'Creation' and 'Warmth' are about to crystallize and can be collected."

"Hmm, that child's mind is like a blank canvas, too pure, and thus most easily stained black by the simplest pigment, 'loneliness.' As expected." Casper nodded, his tone calm, as if evaluating the doneness of a dish. "What about the 'valkyrie'?"

"Target codenamed 'valkyrie' has shown unexpected resistance." Echo-7's tone finally showed a barely perceptible fluctuation. "Her will strength, under repeated mental assaults, has not only not collapsed but has been tempered to be... even sharper. Just now, she relied on her own strength to forcibly shatter our 73rdcycle dream, 'Butterfly on the Cliff,' which we set for her."

"Oh?" Casper finally turned around, a hint of interest appearing on his handsome face. "Shattered? With what?"

"A... law power that we cannot fully analyze. Preliminary judgment is a conceptual attack catalyzed by 'anger' and 'protection,' two extreme emotions. She directly erased the existence information of the key inductive node 'Chen Feng' in the dream at a conceptual level, leading to a chain collapse of the entire dream logic."

"Interesting, truly interesting." Far from being annoyed, Casper clapped his hands lightly, his eyes gleaming with fanaticism. "Like raw iron, the more you strike it, the harder it becomes, even capable of sparking 'steel.' Remarkable! This is precisely the collection I've dreamed of! Full of Life, full of indomitable anger! A thousand times nobler than those mediocre pieces that only know how to wail in pain!"

His emotions seemed a bit agitated, and the entire "gallery" space trembled slightly with his will.

Echo-7 was silent for a moment before continuing to report: "But... precisely because of this outburst, the 'valkyrie's' spirit showed a slight sign of 'resynchronization' with reality. We had to temporarily increase the output power of mental pollution and forcibly drag her into the backup dream number 9, 'Lightless Prison,' to barely stabilize the situation. This resulted in our energy consumption exceeding our estimate by three hundred percent."

"No matter." Casper waved his hand, as if swatting an annoying fly. "For a perfect work of art, any price is worth it. Now, is she quiet?"

"Yes, President. But her soul is like a volcano poised to erupt, extremely unstable. Moreover... the law core of the mech she pilots, named 'Thunder Dragon,' is deeply bound to her soul. Even if she herself falls into an illusion, the mech's passive defense system still instinctively repels our mental infiltration. We still cannot completely control that mech, let alone breach the warship named Natural Selection."

"What's the rush?" Casper chuckled, his eyes filled with the arrogance of having everything under control. "That ship's shell is indeed very hard. But no matter how strong a fortress, once it's breached from within, it's vulnerable. Now, their 'spear' and 'shield' have both fallen into my gallery. Weapons without their masters are just a pile of scrap metal."

He cast his gaze to the last, and most anticipated, bubble.

The color of that bubble was completely different from the other two. It was not pure white like Gu Nianqiu, nor scarlet like Gu Zhixia. It presented a deep, rational blue, as if containing the birth and death of countless stars.

But at this moment, this blue was being contaminated by a chaotic, mad gray.

"So, how is our last guest, Mr. 'Captain,' performing?" Casper's tone carried a hint of amusement, like someone enjoying a chess game. "The 'Endless Corridor' I prepared for him should keep him quite entertained, shouldn't it? I'm very curious to see how his proud rationality will shatter when a strategist who always believes he can control everything finds himself trapped in a paradox from which no amount of calculation or struggle can escape."

Echo-7 fell silent again, and this time, the silence was a bit long.

"What?" Casper's brow subtly arched.

"President..." Echo-7's voice, for the first time, carried an emotion called "confusion." "Target codenamed 'Captain'... he... he gave up resisting."

"Gave up? Very good." Casper's lips curved into a satisfied smile. "Did his spirit collapse in despair? Or did he self-destruct in madness?"

"Neither." Echo-7 struggled to organize its words. "He... stopped running, and he stopped attacking. He just... walked towards the 'embodiment of fear' we projected, and then... began to analyze the logical flaws in our illusion, and... issued a... provocation to you."

The smile on Casper's face froze.

He extended a finger and lightly tapped the void. The blue bubble belonging to Lin Mo was instantly pulled before him, magnified countless times.

He "saw" the final scene in the illusion.

Lin Mo was ragged and covered in wounds, yet he stood with his spine straight, facing the monster twisted from his deepest inner bonds, his eyes as calm as still water.

In those eyes, there was no fear, no anger, not even despair.

Only cold, absolute rationality, as if capable of seeing through all illusions.

And a hint of undisguised... contempt.

"...Wait for me to burn your 'collection hall,' along with your pathetic throne, to ashes."

Lin Mo's final words crossed the boundary between illusion and reality, clearly echoing in Casper's "gallery."

"Bang!"

Several smaller, already sealed "collection" bubbles around Casper shattered in response, turning into pure energy that dissipated into the darkness.

On his incomparably handsome face, for the first time, an expression named "anger" appeared.

"A mortal... a worm who by chance obtained a high-dimensional relic... dares... dares to look at me with such eyes?!"

His voice was no longer elegant, no longer playful, but filled with offended, tyrannical rage.

"Echo-7!"

"Here!"

"Increase the intensity of the erosion of his spiritual world! Drag him into the deepest 'Chaos Cradle'! I want to personally watch his ridiculous rationality be devoured by primal madness! I want him to kneel, like a dog, lick my toes, and beg for my forgiveness!"

"Understood, President!"

Echo-7's figure instantly vanished to carry out the order.

Casper stood rooted, his chest heaving violently. He stared intently at the blue bubble, his gaze so sinister it seemed to drip venom.

He had initially thought this would be a relaxed and enjoyable "collection" activity; three interesting souls would become new highlights in his "gallery."

But now, things seemed to have deviated from his anticipated, artistic script.

The "valkyrie" was a piece of quenched stubborn iron, growing harder with every blow.

And this "Captain" was an even more uncarvable stubborn stone. Not only did he refuse to perform according to the script, but he even wanted to smash the stage and drag the director down with him.

"Very good..."

Casper took a deep breath, forcibly suppressing the anger in his heart, and the cold, morbid smile returned to his face.

"Since you refuse a toast and prefer a penalty, then don't blame me for mashing your three souls together, creating a twisted, ugly 'Frankenstein' that will forever wail in mutual hatred and torment."

"That will certainly... be an unprecedented, magnificent work of art."