Chapter 775
Belial: Poor Old Cui
The EDF base's canteen was filled with the aroma of food, the clinking of metal plates echoing throughout. Belial sat at a long table in the corner, an energy replenishment meal gleaming with a faint blue light before him. He rested his chin on his hand, his fingertips unconsciously tapping the tabletop. Lately, he felt a restless power stirring within him, especially the power seed Noah had given him, burning like a living fire in his veins.
The image of Belial, radiant in his dream, still lingered before his eyes—his silver armor shimmering with golden light, the tremor of his punch shattering the asteroid belt, the heat that burned even to his very bones. "Such immense power," he murmured to the air, the fork scraping against the food container with a harsh sound.
"What's wrong, Boss Belial?" Three thugs in cleanup unit uniforms approached with trays of food, their military boots scraping on the floor. The leader, a blond-haired man, slammed his tray on the table, his greasy fingers poking Belial's arm. "Looking all gloomy, like Red King who didn't get his energy bars."
These guys have been hanging out with Belial for so long that they've lost all respect for him. A while ago, they even helped him dismantle the watchtower that was in the way of the training ground and use it as target practice, euphemistically calling it "clearing the field for the boss."
"Nothing, just reminiscing about my powers." Belial glanced at them, then mashed the energy gels in his plate into a pulp.
"Hiss—" The blond guy gasped, almost dropping the energy bar he was holding. "The power that can bring back your memories? That's more exciting than blowing up three planets, isn't it?"
“Yes, an incredibly powerful force.” Belial smirked, recalling the eyes of Noah that saw through the chaos when Noah handed him the seed; just thinking about that power made his chest feel heavy.
“Speaking of Belial,” another tall, thin man said, picking at the synthetic meat on his plate, “I heard that Storm One is still fighting monsters to the death in other worlds.”
“That’s right, and my old rival has his eye on him too.” Belial chuckled, poking a hole in the lunchbox with his fork. He couldn’t help but laugh at the thought of Cui Ming; that guy was incredibly unlucky—before, he’d at most dream of chopping down Star Guides, but now, his dreams were filled with all sorts of monsters and demons having parties, with swords flashing and shadows clashing non-stop.
"Tsk tsk tsk, that's terrible, Old Cui!" Yellow Hair chewed on an energy bar, shaking his head. "He has to beat the game even to take a nap. If it were me, I would have given up long ago."
Belial didn't reply, simply pushing his plate aside. Although the EDF energy meal didn't look particularly appealing, it tasted surprisingly good—nutritious and perfectly suited to his palate. Belial was quite content with his time with EDF; his life was simple and straightforward, nothing but fighting. He didn't need to bother with complicated schemes, which made him feel very comfortable. In his heart, the Star Guides deserved to die, and he felt no remorse for his hands being stained with their blood.
but
"By the way, is that seed plan that your human high command prepared really okay? Can Old Cui handle it?" Belial suddenly spoke, his gaze sweeping over the few thugs in the cleanup force, a rare hint of worry in his eyes.
"I don't know, we don't know much about Storm One either," the blond-haired guy scratched his head, looking blank. "But I think that's what the Norma people who were rescued called them. Anyway, they seemed pretty enthusiastic."
"Tsk, Old Cui's in for a rough time." Belial shook his head, the image of Cui Ming's tired yet resolute face flashing through his mind. That kid Cui Ming, when he's down on his luck, it's truly endless. With this plan, his days ahead are probably going to be tough.
Poor Cui Ming, Belial couldn't help but sigh. In this dog-eat-dog universe, everyone was struggling desperately for survival and power, and Cui Ming was no exception. However, Belial could understand the situation on the human side. After witnessing the horrific destruction caused by enemies with bizarre time mechanisms, the human leadership was afraid. They were afraid of falling into that kind of desperate situation again, so they took a desperate gamble and created the "Seed Project," placing their hopes on Cui Ming.
Meanwhile, in Choi Myung's workshop, which was filled with all sorts of strange tools and mysterious ores, Choi Myung was intently helping Saeko Busujima forge a new weapon.
On the ground, fragments of the longsword that once belonged to the Terorist aliens lay quietly, radiating a chilling light.
This Blade of Trollist, 20 meters long, is forged from a special cosmic metal. Its sharpness is terrifying; it has slain over 10 aliens while roaming the universe, making it a truly deadly weapon. But for Saeko Busujima, this blade couldn't be more suitable.
Saeko Busujima possesses a unique side. In junior high, she was assaulted by a pervert on her way home from school. Using a wooden sword she carried, she not only successfully defended herself but also broke her assailant's leg and shoulder blades, demonstrating her ruthlessness. Subsequently, in countless encounters with "dead bodies," she unleashed her bloodlust to the fullest.
She possessed a unique sensitivity to killing; the thrill she derived from battle allowed her to find her place in a bloody world. Therefore, in her hands, this deadly blade seemed to have found its true home.
Cui Ming paced around the fragments of the Blade of Trolls, the instrument in his hand flashing with strange light as it scanned every detail of the blade. What did it matter how vicious the blade was, since Saeko Busujima was imbued with Cui Ming's aura?
Cui Ming's hands are stained with the blood of his enemies in countless battles. From ferocious monsters to cunning aliens, none have been his defeated foe. The cruelty of the battles he has experienced and the bloodshed of the killings far surpass what this sword can match. His ferocity comes from his very bones, forged through countless life-and-death trials.
“Saeko, this sword has immense potential. I will reforge it to better suit your power,” Cui Ming said to Saeko Busujima, who stood beside him, without looking up. Saeko nodded slightly, her beautiful eyes fixed on the long sword, filled with anticipation. In her heart, Cui Ming was like a god; as long as he took action, this sword would be transformed, becoming her most powerful partner in battle.
The fragments of the Blade of Tarrrist lay beside the furnace, still retaining a hint of ferocity, but now seemed drained of all strength, silent and still. Each fragment trembled slightly, as if silently expressing its inner fear.
"This is terrifying! What on earth are these two humans?!" the fragments screamed inwardly. Especially the man who was adjusting the smelting equipment; the aura emanating from him was a hundred times more terrifying than the combined blood and gore of the hundred thousand aliens they had been tainted with! It was a pressure that had accumulated from countless killings and battles, pressing down on the fragments like a tangible force, preventing them from even releasing the most basic energy fluctuations.
The fragments vividly recalled the moment they were struck by Cui Ming's sword energy, the feeling of being utterly crushed still fresh in their minds. They simply couldn't imagine how many creatures this man had slaughtered to possess such a terrifying aura. Just standing next to him was like standing in the center of the darkest, bloodiest slaughterhouse in the universe, enduring a soul-searching interrogation every second.
The woman beside them, Saeko Busujima, while not possessing the same suffocating aura as Choi Myung, still sent shivers down the spines' spines with the excited glint in her eyes as she looked at the fragments, and the faint, yet similar, aura emanating from her. These two—one exuding a despairing, murderous aura, the other with an almost obsessive thirst for killing—fell into the hands of such people. How could the fragments dare to harbor even the slightest thought of causing trouble? They could only obediently remain where they were, awaiting their fate of being melted and reshaped. (End of Chapter)