Chapter 1149
[The False Emperor]
Chapter 1149 [The False Emperor]
Old Silver Mountain.
Saint Valentine, the first swordsman of the Kingdom of Heaven, slowly walked onto the city's main street, the old Silver Hill Market Street, which was wrinkled and rippled by the sea breeze.
He gently held a heavy black book in his left hand, the pages turning softly in the wind, while his right hand held a black umbrella, like a silent audience member entering a theater of the apocalypse.
A thick fog rolled in from the end of the street, obscuring half the city's sky. Broken tram tracks snaked and twisted across the ground, and severed cables hung in the air like withered branches.
The people on the street had already fled in terror due to the sudden space-based attack, and now the entire street was deserted, except for a strange blue shadow that traversed the pale landscape.
Saint Valentine stood on Market Street and saw the only person standing there—Norton I.
The other party was dressed in a specially made blue imperial military uniform, with golden tassels on the shoulders, and a completely distorted face was covered under the wide-brimmed military cap.
It was not a human head, but the head of a whale, dark gray, smooth and huge, its glossy skin reflecting a metallic sheen under the city's neon lights.
His eyes had no pupils, only a whole gray-blue sphere, like a deep-sea camera; they were the eyes of a whale, a creature that evolved not to possess language, yet now reflected a madness beyond human reason.
"--stop!"
A hoarse, high-pitched roar exploded like thunder across the empty street.
He raised his arms, as broad as oars, palms facing forward, fingertips gathering an ancient, frenzied, unproven power of command, his voice like an imperial horn:
"In my name, His Majesty Norton Abraham Joshua, as Emperor of Atlantos, Regent of Mohego, and Supreme Ruler of the Silver Mountains and the Islands of the Ocean, I command you to immediately withdraw from my Holy Imperial Capital!"
"Otherwise, the sky and the sea will collapse because of your rebellion, and every brick of the Old Silver Mountain will become a curse on your shameless feet!"
At that moment, the world seemed to freeze.
Saint Valentine stood on the shattered main street of the capital, his umbrella lightly open, its black surface trembling slightly in the cold wind.
The next moment, the world began to reject him.
Grayish-white light seeped from the cracks in the street bricks, converging like nerve endings into a huge, invisible local area network that surrounded him.
Language becomes the law, and commands become order.
This was the power of this false emperor; after becoming the emperor he had always dreamed of, Norton I issued many orders.
The order to abolish Congress, ban political parties and mediate partisan disputes, build the old Silver Mountain Bay Bridge, abolish the Supreme Court, and condemn harmful news and articles...
He also issued a series of decrees, such as appointing a governor, ordering Congress to comply with the repeal order, and demanding that his laws be recognized as law.
These commands were all carried out one by one after he was crowned emperor by the beast of falsehood.
This also caused Theodore Roosevelt, another king of abnormal history, great distress. After all, being a fellow miracle, he found it difficult to restrain this mad emperor from recklessly using this power.
Fortunately, Norton I remained on Old Silver Hill Market Street, or rather, he only possessed the full power of miracles when he was on Market Street. In addition, he was generally confused and lacked intelligence, so Roosevelt, if guided properly, was able to use the power bestowed by this beast of error to help consolidate the class order.
At this moment, Saint Valentine could feel the city beginning to rebound upon his presence.
One by one, the utility poles shattered, the flashing traffic lights transformed into warning pulses, and even the density of the air changed, as if the pressure of deep sea water was slowly rising, attempting to crush the intruder.
Even the clouds on the horizon seemed to be spiraling around the word "evacuation," as if the heavens themselves obeyed the emperor's divine pronouncements.
"World Bubble".
Saint Valentine murmured to himself, beginning to analyze the other party's abilities.
"Although it's just a historical bubble in a fictional narrative, it does indeed form a complete closed loop in terms of the structure of a miracle on this timeline, in the old Silver Mountain."
The enemy before us is a miracle... or rather, an anomaly, that is confined by space.
"His ability is the power of words, which allows him to have absolute command in the spatial domain... Physical violence is unlikely to eliminate him, so we can only try other methods."
Faced with the false emperor's orders, Saint Valentine gently turned an ancient page in the book in his left hand.
"A mirage" or "a reflection in a mirror."
【Domain Expansion: A Fleeting Illusion】
—Click.
Like gears meshing, the urban space appears visually displaced in that instant.
The street in sight looked like a cracked mirror, with the angle of light and shadow reflection suddenly changing.
The marble tiles beneath Norton I's feet stretched twice as far as they could go, while the area where Saint Valentine stood began to blur into two parts—as if there were two Saint Valentines, one real and one illusory, both real and illusory.
The original structure of the Word of Power, designed for exorcism, began to exhibit recursive logical errors because the target was no longer a specific individual.
"If you are my citizen, the order shall not take effect; if you are not my citizen, you have no right to impose your decrees."
This is the first realm that Saint Valentine unfolds in his Mirror Flower Water Moon. At the same time, he also uses the [High Orbit World Cannon] to bless his Mirror Flower Water Moon. Through the blessing of the High Orbit Bubble on his great spirituality, the scope of the Mirror Flower Water Moon directly covers the entire market street.
[World Bubble: Either This or That]
[A mirage: The negation of negation]
The world continues to turn, the streets remain unchanged, and the imperial banner of the old Silver Mountain still flutters in the wind. In the illusion, the emperor's commands are blurred, while at the same time, he uses his abilities to reshape the appearance and spiritual characteristics of his target—he twists Norton I back into a human.
This is different from simple visual illusions; it is a genuine control over perceptual input, including a mental synchronization and misalignment with reality, rather than just a visual trick.
The world was still turning, the streets were unchanged, and the imperial flag of the old Silver Mountain was still fluttering in the wind—but he suddenly felt that all of this was disconnected from him.
It's as if he is no longer perceived by the world as an emperor, but rather... some kind of alien existence.
His limbs began to spasm violently, and the whalebone structure in his skull seemed to be slowly ground away by some kind of file, gradually transforming and peeling away.
"Ughhhhhh!!!"
He knelt on the dilapidated imperial cobblestone road, his fingernails digging into the cracks of the stones, making a harsh scratching sound. His skin was peeling off, the scales were falling off, and the skin was thinning, turning white, and softening—becoming like human skin.
His head contracted violently, and the huge whale head gradually collapsed and curled up, like a piece of disproportionate soft plastic being remolded.
He was in unspeakable pain, but the most terrifying thing was not the pain itself, but the distortion and confusion of his consciousness.
His senses told him: "You are still the emperor."
His spirit told him: "You are a whale man."
But the projection of reality slowly and firmly delivers an answer: "You are just a madman."
In the midst of that tearing pain, he looked down and saw it.
water stains.
A small puddle of water had appeared on the floor tiles at some unknown time, reflecting its image.
His body trembled as he slowly lowered his head, revealing a man's face in the water—covered in stubble, gaunt, and looking dejected.
That wasn't Hai Si's deep blue skin, nor the imposing presence of an emperor, but an old man in tattered military uniform, with a mad expression, sunken cheeks, and deep wrinkles around his eyes—that was a human.
A madman.
His face.
"...What is this? Who is it?"
He murmured.
"This isn't me, no, no, this isn't me!"
"Ah...yes, yes, this is me! Is this...is this me? Is it me?"
His voice began to crack, and the structure of his beliefs began to shatter like glass.
Above the dilapidated capital, the wind and clouds suddenly swirled, and the sky darkened abruptly.
Saint Valentine slowly closed the old-fashioned book, its pages covered in mysterious patterns. But the book did not stop as he did; it began to turn its pages on its own.
Whoosh whoosh whoosh—
The pages trembled violently, as if some unbearable weight was pressing down on the spine of the book.
Each time a page is turned, it is accompanied by a creaking and twisting sound, like an old mechanism struggling to turn.
Saint Valentine frowned slightly.
He could feel the resistance across the entire world line.
After forcibly projecting his illusory visions onto Norton I's fictional narrative structure, his great spirituality and narrative authority began to suffer rejection from all sides of the world.
He essentially ignited an antimatter core within this distorted shark-like line.
A mirage is a form of structural violence.
At this moment, he is single-handedly overturning the realm of the false emperor, distorting, denying, and rewriting it.
Cracks began to appear in the sky, like glass, with broken lines spreading out from the heavens like a spiderweb. The city streetlights began to flicker inexplicably, and even the colors of reality began to distort, taking on a grayish hue.
The world line is struggling.
It was unwilling to have this charade exposed, unwilling to admit that Norton I was just a madman, and it was trying to burst the bubble created by illusion.
But Saint Valentine stands quietly, with just himself, an umbrella, and a book, erecting a spiritual wall strong enough to withstand the entire abnormal history.
He used his immense spiritual power to separate the malice of the timeline, then came before Norton I and spoke slowly, his voice distant and devoid of emotion:
"The a priori existence is not deception... but choice. In a world of either/or, one can only attain authentic existence by being aware of nothingness and making choices within it."
His gaze fell to the ground, to the madman who had already knelt down, draped in rags, staring blankly at his own reflection.
"You should wake up."
Norton I—no, Norton, the uncrowned madman, the vain emperor—raised his face, his eyes bloodshot and broken.
His lips trembled, as if he was trying to reconstruct himself.
“You don’t understand…” he murmured.
“I, Norton Abraham Joshua, am not some wretched human being! I refuse to be a piece of rotting flesh among nameless bones; I will become an emperor, even if I am a mad king!”
He raised his hands and opened his arms, as if to embrace that world full of cracks:
“I have stepped onto the stage, and even if the stage is made of paper, I will wear a gold and blue suit and proclaim my decrees to the world.”
“I told the pigeons that they were my air force.”
“I told the homeless man on the street that he was my Privy Councilor.”
"I command this city to be free from war, hatred, and exploitation!"
Even if no one hears these words, as long as I believe them, they are not lies; they are...existence!
He suddenly fell silent, lowered his head, and spoke in a low, prisoner-like tone:
"...Isn't that right?"
"And how do you know... what the difference is between a madman and a king?"
His voice trailed off completely, as if he were talking to himself:
"If everything is nothingness, then I am at least the only one who crowns nothingness with a crown..."
St. Valentine stood quietly before Norton, gently shaking his head, his voice slow and compassionate, like a priest chanting a dirge for a madman:
"But have you ever considered that this world has never truly given you the right to choose—are your choices really your own?"
"You claim to be an emperor, but the kingdom you rule is built on falsehoods."
"You say you want to escape reality, which is fine, but there are some things you can't escape."
"What you cannot ignore are those cries for help hushed in the depths of darkness, those souls treated like numbered objects, those whose names have been erased forever, leaving only their scent to be remembered."
“The real Norton Abraham Joshua was loved by his people because they knew that this emperor was speaking out for his own suffering; he was a madman, but he was willing to be mad for the people.”
"He proclaimed himself emperor in order to stand before power and speak for the voiceless people... Look at yourself now, do you think you are the real Norton I?"
He gazed at the self-proclaimed emperor, his voice slow but resolute:
"A crown makes the wearer stand out and is a symbol of status, but the true meaning of a crown is that when disaster strikes, I will protect you from everything and always let you see only golden hope."
"But what about you... Norton Abraham Joshua of this world, what have you done?"
"You are a complete fraud, you put on the crown of an emperor but hide yourself in the shadows. You dare not ask your people what their names are, you dare not admit that you were originally human."
He slowly lowered his head, and a clear pool of water reflected on the damp street surface.
It was a human face.
Broken and twisted, as if it had been burned by fire, soaked in water, and cut by time, leaving only a blurry, unrecognizable outline. It was neither an emperor nor a god, but a mortal—someone who had been forgotten, buried, and erased.
He stared blankly at the reflection, his throat seemingly choked by something, remaining silent for a long time.
Then, his lips trembled slightly—
"me……"
His voice seemed to be squeezed out bit by bit from the deepest part of his chest. He no longer sounded like a fictional emperor holding up decrees and reciting edicts in the street, but rather like a pitiful person who had just woken up from a nightmare, opened his eyes, and found that it was already dawn.
"What should I do? What should I do?"
The moment those words were uttered, Saint Valentine's eyes remained calm, and his right hand was slightly raised.
With a gentle twirl of his umbrella, "Mirror Flower, Water Moon - Negation of Negation" instantly enveloped Norton I. A spiritual ripple, like a transparent tide, spread out layer by layer, completely covering Norton's entire body.
Immediately afterwards—three unseen [miracle triggers], threads from the three Fates, descended from the void:
Clotho's spinning wheel descended first, reconnecting Norton's nearly severed thread of fate; Lachesis raised his measuring staff, beginning to measure his unfinished royal duty; Atropos whispered, her scissors lightly touching the end of the thread, but not cutting it, instead quietly awaiting the next choice.
The threads of these three goddesses, like a net, like an array, like a web of fate, slowly permeated Norton's entire world—that self-constructed system known as the "False Emperor."
The fabricated history, the erroneous information, the public's delusions, and the city's collective perception were all shattered like a mirror, peeling away piece by piece.
The true nature of the world is beginning to be revealed.
Saint Valentine slowly raised his head.
He sensed it.
The entire timeline of Extreme Shark Line is twisting, trembling, and filled with terror.
My account was hacked right in front of me?!
In the Extreme Shark timeline, it begins to backfire, frantically trying to stuff Norton back into "Abnormal History: The False Emperor" and forcibly rewrite this rebellious "plot".
My account was hacked right in front of me, and I absolutely cannot tolerate it!!!
Electrical wires crackled and popped on the street, billboards flashed wildly, and every copy of the Norton Decree pasted on the wall turned to ashes—this was the world struggling.
Saint Valentine remained unmoved, his blond hair fluttering slightly as raindrops dripped down the edge of his umbrella.
He looked at the kneeling man before him, his voice soft, yet seemingly able to penetrate every layer of narrative in the world:
"Go."
That was not an order, nor was it a plea.
That was an apostle of existence, a promise to return the spark of hope to fallen souls.
"The world wants you to shut up, but you can say it one more time. Not for a throne of your own imagination, but for those whose names were never spoken."
Norton I seemed to understand what he meant.
He slowly stood up, his body still hunched over, but his eyes were clear.
Amidst the interplay of wind, rain, and firelight, he walked step by step back to the center of the street.
He was like a madman, and also like a true emperor.
"I am human,"
He spoke softly, as if awakening the entire city. His voice was not loud, but it penetrated the space and reached the very root of the Extreme Shark Line.
"I am human, therefore I choose to die."
The next moment, he opened his arms to the sky.
In human form, I will ignite this distorted world line.
The threads of fate deep within his chest exploded like a high-voltage current, instantly piercing through the narrative backbone of the Extreme Shark Thread.
False history surged outwards like overflowing data, and the streets, cities, oceans, and everything in reality and logic built along this line exploded like a massive narrative engine.
And at the very end of this self-destruction, in the deepest structural layers, Saint Valentine saw it.
He was standing quietly in the rain, but the moment the Extreme Shark worldline destroyed itself, the reality before him shattered like glass.
He saw it, hidden at the root of the Extreme Shark Line, in the deepest layer of historical entanglement, that behemoth coiled at the boundary of falsehood and deception.
—The beast of error.
At that moment, He let out a painful howl.
The sound was like tearing apart the stars. He never imagined that the emperor within this bubble of worlds would choose to self-destruct—that was His most precious creation, the anchor point for His existence to maintain the false history.
But now, the anchor has broken.
That madman, that ridiculous man who was not taken seriously and who talked about imperial laws all day long, actually exposed himself at the root of his error with the most clear-headed attitude.
The world fell silent, as if drained of all color. The Old Silver Mountain began to collapse eerily, and Saint Valentine stood silently at the edge of the ashes and fragments, gazing at the treacherous beast hidden behind the world, its eyes filled with venomous hatred, and said:
"This is just a small gift."
……
……