Episode-932
Chapter : 1863
Lloyd opened his eyes. The blue rings in his irises began to glow with a terrifying, calm light. He looked at the giant demon and sighed. It was the sigh of an engineer looking at a machine that was making a lot of noise but doing no work.
"You really don't get it, do you?" Lloyd said softly.
The black tendrils slowed down. Rubel paused, confused by the lack of fear.
"You think you are a god because you made yourself big in a dream," Lloyd continued, his voice cutting through the wind. "But size in a mindscape doesn't represent power, Rubel. It represents insecurity. You made yourself huge because you feel small. You shout because you are afraid no one is listening."
Lloyd took a step forward. The liquid mirror floor rippled outward from his boot, calming the chaotic waves.
"And you made one fatal mistake," Lloyd added, a cold smile touching his lips. "You invited an engineer into your operating system. You think this is a battle of souls? No. To me, this is just data. And you are just a rogue file taking up too much space."
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The giant projection of Rubel froze. For a moment, the thunder and the wind in the mindscape stopped. The demon looked down at the small human figure, sensing a shift in the atmosphere. The prey was not acting like prey. The fear Rubel had expected to taste was completely absent.
"Data?" Rubel scoffed, his voice regaining its booming quality. "You speak nonsense. I am power incarnate! I am the nightmare that eats you!"
Rubel raised a massive clawed hand, preparing to crush Lloyd flat. "Enough talk. I will squash your mind like a bug!"
The hand descended, a mountain of black scales and green fire falling from the sky. It blocked out the light, promising absolute oblivion.
Lloyd didn't dodge. He didn't summon a shield. He simply looked up at the falling hand and visualized a command.
"System," Lloyd whispered to his own mind. "Initiate the Void Wood Protocol. Target: Conceptual Entity. Mode: Aggressive Deletion."
Usually, the [Void Wood] was a physical power—grey roots that burst from the earth to consume mana. But here, in the mental realm, physics did not apply. Willpower was the only law. And Lloyd’s willpower was a razor-sharp blade honed by two lifetimes of struggle.
He visualized the power not as wood, but as code. He imagined the grey roots as algorithms of consumption, designed to eat entropy and disorganized energy.
The liquid floor beneath Lloyd exploded.
It wasn't a splash of water; it was an eruption of grey light. A massive, spectral tree burst from the "ground" of Lloyd’s consciousness. It grew faster than the eye could follow, shooting upward with the force of a missile.
The trunk of the tree was not made of bark; it was made of static and grey fire. It was wide as a castle tower, solid and unyielding. Its branches were not leaves and twigs; they were hundreds of grasping, skeletal hands made of grey light.
BAM!
The tree slammed into Rubel’s descending hand. The impact shook the entire dimension. The demon’s hand didn't crush the tree; it shattered against it. Rubel screamed—a sound of genuine, shocked pain—as the grey branches lashed out.
"What is this?!" Rubel shrieked, recoiling. "Get off me!"
The grey branches moved like vipers. They wrapped around Rubel’s wrist, then his arm. They shot upward, coiling around his chest, his wings, and his throat. The "Tree of the Mind" wasn't just holding him; it was rooting itself into him.
"It's gardening," Lloyd said, his voice amplified by the mindscape, echoing louder than the demon’s roar. "Hold still, Uncle. This might sting."
Lloyd raised his hand, and the tree obeyed. The roots dug deep into Rubel’s projection.
Rubel tried to fight back. He summoned his green mental fire, trying to burn the wood. "Burn! Burn, you cursed weed!"
But the Void Wood didn't burn. It pulsed. It drank the fire. The green flames were sucked into the grey bark, vanishing instantly. The tree glowed brighter, feeding on Rubel’s attack.
"You can't burn hunger, Rubel," Lloyd explained calmly, watching the spectacle with detached interest. "The more you fight, the more energy you give it. This tree eats egos. And you have such a big, juicy ego."
The consumption began in earnest.
Chapter : 1864
It was a horrifying sight. The twenty-foot-tall demon began to shrink. The vibrant, terrifying details of his armor blurred. The green fire in his eyes flickered and dimmed. The tree was literally sucking the "self" out of him. It was stripping away the layers of his personality, his memories, and his stolen power.
"No! I am a King! I am chosen!" Rubel wailed, his voice shrinking along with his body. He sounded less like a monster and more like a frightened old man. "I am the future of the Ferrum line! You cannot do this!"
"You are a snack," Lloyd replied mercilessly. "You are just a battery with a bad attitude."
The giant form collapsed inward. The wings dissolved into grey mist. The horns crumbled to dust. Rubel was pulled down, dragging his heels, screaming in a silent psychic frequency as he was deconstructed. The tree condensed his massive form, pulling all that sprawling, chaotic energy down through the branches and into the trunk.
Within seconds, the giant was gone. The mindscape fell silent. The red and violet storms calmed down, leaving a quiet, grey sky.
Lloyd walked over to the spectral tree. On a lower branch, right at eye level, a single fruit had grown.
It wasn't like the red fruit from the city trap. This one was small, about the size of a plum. It glowed with a soft, eerie violet light. It pulsed gently, like a small brain.
"The Psyche Fruit," Lloyd murmured. "All of Rubel’s knowledge, his plans, and his secrets... compressed into a zip file."
He reached out and plucked the fruit. It felt warm and tingling in his mental hand. He didn't hesitate. He crushed it in his fist.
The fruit didn't squish; it exploded into a mist of violet light. The mist swirled around Lloyd’s hand and absorbed directly into his skin.
Instantly, a flood of information rushed into Lloyd’s brain. It wasn't mana; it was pure intel. It played like a movie in fast-forward behind his eyes.
He saw the map of Gator City. He saw the secret tunnels beneath the palace. He saw the layout of the Inner Sanctum—a fortified bunker buried deep underground.
He saw more. He saw Rubel’s memories of the last few days. He saw Rubel kneeling before a massive, bloated figure—Beelzebub. He heard the terms of their deal. He saw the passwords to the remaining traps in the hallway. He saw the exact location of Rubel’s physical body, sitting on a throne of bones, hooked up to a life-support system of dark magic.
"Found you," Lloyd whispered, his eyes snapping open.
The violet mist faded. The grey tree dissolved. Lloyd stood alone on the liquid floor.
He had the map. He had the keys. The trap had failed completely. Instead of breaking Lloyd’s mind, Rubel had inadvertently handed him the blueprints to the entire fortress.
"System," Lloyd commanded. "Exit simulation."
He raised his hand and pulsed his [Blue Ring Eyes]. He visualized the weak point in the Mirror Fold spell—a flaw he now knew existed because he had just eaten the memory of the man who cast it. A ripple of blue energy shot out from his hand, hitting a specific point in the empty air.
CRACK.
The sound was like a gunshot. The red sky shattered. The liquid floor cracked like a broken mirror. Shards of the mindscape fell away, dissolving into nothingness.
Lloyd stumbled forward, landing hard on solid ground.
He blinked, his vision adjusting to the dim light. He was back in the physical world. He was standing in the dark corridor of the Inner District. The air was cold again. The smell of ozone and old dust returned.
He looked around. Ben was gone. The trap had worked in one regard—it had separated them. Ben was likely fighting for his life in another part of the maze.
But Lloyd wasn't worried. He knew Ben. The Ironwood Knight was stubborn. He wouldn't die easily.
Lloyd straightened his coat and dusted off his sleeves. He looked down the dark hallway. Before, it had been a confusing maze of reflections and shadows. Now, thanks to the intel he had harvested, it looked like a straight line. He knew exactly which tiles were trapped. He knew exactly which mirrors were illusions.
He adjusted his gloves, his face setting into a grim, determined expression. He moved with a new, frightening speed. He was no longer an explorer cautiously navigating a dungeon; he was a hunter who knew exactly where the wolf was sleeping.