Chapter 387 Veylan’s Wrath and the Rise of the Golden Witch
In the ruins of the Failed Artificial Spiral,
Veylan stood amidst the remnants of the Failed Artificial Spiral, his golden eyes gleaming as if the setting sun cast a halo around him. A gentle breeze whispered through the ruins, creating a silent symphony that echoed among the crumbling walls. All around him, shadows of the past danced softly, reminiscing the beauty that once was. Wild plants bravely grew, challenging the arrogance of the fallen structure, singing a song of resilience and hope.
"If you reject perfection... I will no longer impose the outcome. I will manipulate the process instead,"
"I will create a Spiral where everyone thinks they are choosing, while in reality... all their choices are already designed by me,"
Spiral of Control: Veiled Harmony.
(Spiral of Control: Veiled Harmony)
Before the Spiral Control expanded, the original Joanna and the Artificial Joanna stood side by side, resisting the whispers from the ripples of history radiating around them. Both felt a mixture of sadness and hope, like two sides of the same coin. The rumble from the sky reminded them of the storm lurking nearby, while the tempest in their hearts was equally tumultuous. They felt a magnetic pull toward the desire for freedom but were hindered by the relentless passage of time. The air around them vibrated, laden with unspoken desires and a longing for liberation.
"I no longer wish to be a ruler or a guard," said the Artificial Joanna, her voice trembling as if every word sought to break through the constraints imposed by fate. Cold sweat trickled down her temples, casting a shadow of regret across her face. Each sigh that escaped her lips was an acknowledgment that she had hidden behind the mask of power forced upon her by the Spiral.
"I will surrender all my will to you, Joanna,"
Joanna nodded, her true self shining through. In that moment of tranquility, it felt as if time had stopped, and both of them realized that even in this world filled with illusions, there were still seeds of hope waiting to bloom. The atmosphere around them was imbued with a magical aura, as though the very air was responding to the bond they had forged. A gentle breeze danced through the space, carrying the faint scent of night-blooming flowers, reminding them of the true beauty that lay behind all their pain.
"Let us turn our wounds into threads to fight against the Spiral of Control."