Immortal Paladin

489 Project Seven

[POV: Ru Qiu]

Ru Qiu stood amid the wreckage of what had once been a battlefield, the air still trembling from the aftermath of overwhelming force. The ground beneath him had been torn apart repeatedly, reduced to broken stone and scorched earth, with remnants of combat scattered in every direction. Before him, the last of the Six Queens remained.

“You are the last one,” he said, his voice steady as the white flame burned in his grasp.

The fire was unlike anything he had wielded before. It did not flicker with ordinary heat, nor did it behave like any element he had known. It carried a quiet dominance, something that pressed down on everything around it simply by existing. The moment he had awakened his Supremacy Trait, the flame had come with it, as if it had always been waiting.

“Be honored that you fell to the hands of the Supreme Fallen.”

Cherish knelt before him, her body barely holding together. Her once elegant form had been reduced to something fractured, her porcelain-like skin cracked and splintered in multiple places. Large sections of her clothing had been torn away during the battle, revealing the unnatural structure beneath, something that blurred the line between constructed beauty and something far more artificial.

“I have information on the Supreme Death,” she said, her voice strained but deliberate. “Let me live, and you may hear it.”

Ru Qiu narrowed his eyes slightly, the white flame intensifying in response to his intent.

“And why should I believe you?”

She lifted her head just enough to meet his gaze.

“The name ‘Cherish’ bestowed to me by the Origin Faith is not my real name,” she said. “Allow me to reintroduce myself. My name is Gao Fu, one of the many daughters of the Supreme Death.”

That gave him pause.

Her voice steadied as she continued.

“Let me speak with the Supreme Bearer, his Holy Majesty, the God Emperor of the Hollowed World.”

Ru Qiu clicked his tongue quietly. Being referred to as nothing more than a subordinate left a faint irritation lingering in his chest, though he did not show it outwardly. Recently, everything seemed to circle back to Da Wei, and while he understood the reason, it did not make it any less grating.

Still, the timing of his breakthrough softened that annoyance.

After so long, he had finally awakened his Supremacy Trait.

That alone was enough to let the rest slide.

The white flame in his hand dimmed, then vanished entirely as he released it. His silver hair faded back to its natural dark color, and the eclipse-like manifestation with the silver eye dissolved from the sky above.

The battlefield came back into focus.

It had been a complete rout.

That outcome had never been in doubt. The Guardians, with their reliance on the Transcendent Path, operated largely independent of qi, making them exceptionally effective in this environment. Their access to resurrection spells further tilted the balance, allowing them to return even after fatal blows.

Alongside them, the Player Alliance moved with chaotic unpredictability, their refusal to remain dead turning every engagement into a war of attrition that the enemy simply could not win.

Ru Qiu looked back at the kneeling woman.

“Gao Fu, is it,” he said, his tone neutral. “You’re coming with me.”

There was no resistance from her.

The outcome had already been decided.

…

..

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[POV: Da Ji]

Da Ji stood amidst a frozen expanse, her expression carrying a faint trace of disinterest as she surveyed the battlefield. What had once been a thriving forest, along with portions of the surrounding plains, had been reduced to a landscape of ice. Trees stood locked in crystalline stillness, their branches encased, while the ground itself shimmered under a layer of frost that refused to melt.

“I’m bored,” she remarked lightly.

For someone like her, conflict was little more than a distraction, something to pass the time when nothing more engaging presented itself. The moment she heard there was a war, she had decided to attend, if only to stretch her legs.

She had not come alone.

Her son accompanied her, along with what she had come to recognize as her “fan club.” The term still felt unusual, but the concept itself was simple enough. These beings known as players held an almost excessive admiration for her, one they expressed without restraint.

Behind her, a wave of them surged forward.

“For Lady Da Ji!”

“For the glory of her beautiful tails!”

Their voices overlapped in chaotic enthusiasm as they charged into what remained of the enemy forces, completely unbothered by the danger.

Da Ji watched them with mild curiosity.

Their devotion generated a considerable amount of faith, which made them useful enough to keep around. Even so, their behavior often bordered on the incomprehensible.

She exhaled softly, then shifted forms.

Her body expanded and transformed into her Immortal Beast state, her presence intensifying instantly. With a single breath, she released a wave of frost that swept across the battlefield a second time. The cold was absolute, devouring everything in its path. Enemies caught within it froze instantly, their bodies reduced to lifeless sculptures of ice.

Those who survived did not last long.

They were weakened to the point that even the least capable players could shatter them with ease, turning the remnants of resistance into little more than fragments scattered across the frozen ground.

“This mana,” she murmured to herself, returning to her humanoid form. “It remains a curious thing.”

She had spent time studying it, attempting to understand how it functioned and how it could be applied. The knowledge would be useful for her brother, especially given the nature of the forces they faced.

That thought led to another.

“…Where is he?”

Da Wei had taken the role of chief commander, and his presence on the battlefield had been undeniable. In many ways, he embodied the concept of a war god, his influence shaping the flow of conflict wherever he appeared.

Before she could dwell on it further, a familiar presence approached.

“Lady Da Ji,” Ox-Head greeted, his tone carrying a casual familiarity that suggested prior acquaintance.

He was not alone.

Chen Wei stood beside him.

Da Ji’s gaze shifted immediately to her son. His growth was evident, not just in strength but in the nature of his abilities. The space around him felt subtly distorted, the influence of void and spatial manipulation lingering with every movement.

That alone was concerning.

The Supreme Void remained an enemy, and any alignment with similar concepts warranted caution.

Chen Wei, however, seemed entirely pleased with himself.

“I’ve slain many Children of the Origin,” he said, his voice carrying a clear note of pride.

Da Ji regarded him calmly.

She understood what he meant. These were not literal children, nor were they the manufactured beings created by the Heavenly Temple in the recent war. The Children of the Origin were descendants of the Origin King, inheriting fragments of his Shén blood.

Chen Wei continued without prompting.

“They’re not so different from cultivators at our level,” he said. “But their connection to creation gives them advantages. They cast faster, hold more quintessence, and their abilities are… unusual. Their Origin Arts, especially, are troublesome.”

Da Ji gave a small nod in acknowledgment.

That aligned with what she had observed.

Her attention then shifted to Ox-Head.

“Do I know you?” she asked, her tone neutral.

He inclined his head slightly.

“We have spoken before,” he said. “Long ago, when the Lost Gods still roamed the stars.”

Da Ji held his gaze for a moment, then shook her head faintly.

“I do not remember anything from before the Hollowed World was created,” she said. “If we have met, then I have forgotten.”

There was no hesitation in her voice.

“I apologize.”

Ox-Head’s expression dimmed slightly, a trace of sadness passing through his features, though he said nothing further.

The past, it seemed, remained out of reach.

…

..

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[POV: Alice]

Alice stood amidst the aftermath of battle, the land around her littered with the fallen. The bodies of the Origin King’s soldiers lay scattered in every direction, their forms still smoldering as faint embers clung to what remained of them. The marks left by Santelmo had already faded, the punctures from drained blood erased as if they had never existed, leaving behind only lifeless husks returning slowly to ash.

Beside her stood Gu Jie.

She wiped the blood from her mouth with the back of her hand, her expression composed despite the strain lingering in her eyes. For a moment, she looked older, her presence carrying a weight that did not belong to her age. Then, with a subtle shift, destiny itself seemed to bend around her. Her form softened, shrinking, returning to that of a child as if time had reversed its hold.

She glanced at Alice and spoke quietly.

“Thank you… for keeping it a secret from father.”

Alice watched her, the words settling heavier than they should have.

“He will find out sooner or later,” she replied, her voice calm but firm. “We cannot keep hiding this forever.”

Gu Jie’s gaze sharpened slightly, her response coming without hesitation.

“Then will you tell him about yourself?”

Alice stilled.

Gu Jie continued.

“The taint in your soul is still there. You may have lost the hunger for blood, and the monster that defined you may be gone, but it was only replaced. Now you crave something else.”

Gu Jie’s voice remained steady, though the words carried an edge that cut deeper than any blade.

“You crave his affection. The monster is gone, but what remains is something different. Something… worse in its own way.”

Alice did not interrupt.

“We are only able to maintain this lie because of my Origin Art,” Gu Jie continued. “These eyes allow me to bend destiny itself. Even father’s Ophanim cannot see through it. His ability to discern truth from falsehood is blinded.”

She stepped closer.

“Mother, this is for his sake.”

Alice’s expression shifted slightly, something conflicted surfacing beneath her calm exterior.

“How much have we already hurt him for his sake?” she asked quietly. “And how do we know any of this is even worth it?”

Her gaze drifted briefly to the burning remains around them before returning to Gu Jie.

“How do we know that, at this very moment, we are not already being controlled by the Origin? My world keeps expanding,” she continued, her voice softening. “More layers, more truths, more things I cannot fully grasp. I cannot keep up anymore.”

She looked directly at her daughter.

“Da Wei is the same. You can see it too, can’t you?”

Gu Jie’s expression tightened slightly.

“Mother… that is the Origin speaking.”

Alice did not look convinced.

“And what about you?” she asked in return. “How do you know it is not the Origin speaking through you?”

Gu Jie faltered.

Alice pressed on.

“I helped you smuggle your real body here,” she said. “I made your father believe you were nothing more than a clone. You move behind his back, you act without his knowledge, and I allow it. I know it’s not the first time, but that is not an excuse, but the reason why should stop now, if you truly love your father.”

Her voice grew firmer.

“This cannot continue.”

Gu Jie’s gaze dropped for a moment, conflict clearly visible now. When she spoke again, her voice was quieter, stripped of its earlier certainty.

“Mother… I do not trust myself.”

She looked up again.

“That is why I came to you. I need you to decide. In the end, your choice is the one that matters.”

Alice studied her in silence.

“I understand,” she said at last.

Around them, the battlefield remained still, the only movement coming from the slow disintegration of the dead. The heat from the lingering flames brushed against her skin, but she barely noticed it.

She had already crossed too many lines.

What was one more?

In the end, she chose to believe her daughter.

“Before it is too late,” Alice said quietly, “I need to find a way to kill myself.”

The words did not waver.

When she had been remade, reborn into what she was now, she had felt it immediately. Something was wrong. Something fundamental had shifted in a way she could not correct. She had tried to tell Da Wei, more than once, but every attempt had failed. The words would not come, something unseen stopping her before she could speak them.

The same happened when she tried to tell anyone else.

Only Gu Jie knew and she understood.

“If I continue like this,” Alice went on, “I will hurt him eventually.”

That much felt inevitable.

Gu Jie listened, then spoke again, urgency threading through her voice.

“Then you have to convince him to keep the Key.”

Alice’s eyes narrowed slightly.

“We need it. And we have to hope… that he has not already done something reckless with it.”

…

..

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[POV: Old Man]

The Old Man sat on a plain rattan chair, one leg crossed over the other, a fishing rod resting idly in his hand. The line hung slack, untouched by anything beneath the still surface of the water. At some point, he had stopped paying attention to it entirely. The quiet ripple of the lake no longer held his interest, and the act itself had long since lost whatever novelty it once carried.

Fishing had become a habit rather than a pleasure, and even that was beginning to fade.

His gaze drifted elsewhere.

Far beyond the small, peaceful setting he occupied, his awareness stretched across the artificial world he had created long ago. Losten unfolded before him in its entirety, every continent, every ruined landscape, every lingering echo of the war that had just concluded.

He watched it all in silence.

The conflict had finally ended, its scale and consequence etched deeply into the structure of the world itself. Entire regions had been reshaped, civilizations broken and reborn, and the balance of power had shifted irrevocably.

Under the rule of the Supreme Bearer, Losten would likely not see another war of that magnitude for at least a thousand years.

That was the projection, at least.

A faint, almost amused thought crossed his mind.

If Da Wei truly understood what he was, would he attempt to take his power as well?

It would not be the first time someone tried.

The Origin King had sought it. The Yellow Emperor had reached for it. The Supreme Void, the Mother Goddess, the Great Sage, the Divine Farmer. All of them had, at one point or another, attempted to claim what was not theirs.

Every single one had failed.

The reason had never changed.

They lacked the authority.

As the only child born of both the Source and the Origin, he alone possessed the right to sit upon the Throne of Creation. It was not a matter of strength, nor of cunning, nor of accumulated power. It was something far more absolute, something that could not be replicated or stolen.

It simply was.

His attention shifted again.

This time, it settled on Alice.

He observed her closely, his expression remaining calm, though his thoughts deepened.

She was close.

Not complete, not yet, but closer than she had ever been.

As the Game Master of this constructed reality, he bore responsibility for everything within it. That included her. Especially her.

At present, she was still just Alice, still operating within the boundaries of her current identity, still far from what she was meant to become.

The truth of her existence was far more significant.

She was the vessel of the Origin.

The Lost Gods and the Shén had always misunderstood the nature of this world. They believed the Hollowed World to be a burial site, a place where the destined vessel of the Origin had been hidden away.

They were not entirely wrong.

But their understanding was incomplete.

The burial site was never a place.

It was a person.

Alice herself had been designed as a grave, a container meant to hold what could not yet be realized. An unfulfilled vessel, sealed away until the conditions for her completion were met.

And now, those conditions were approaching fulfillment.

Even so, she was not ready.

Not yet.

When he first realized that the Origin had been tainted, he made the decision to delay her development. Allowing her to progress as intended at that time would have resulted in something unstable and unacceptable.

So he let her live.

Let her grow.

Let her become something more than a mere construct.

What he had not anticipated was the influence of Da Wei.

That connection had stirred something within her, something primordial, something tied to her original purpose. Through that relationship, she had advanced further than expected, accelerating toward completion at a rate that even he found noteworthy.

His gaze shifted once more.

Da Wei stood within the Hollowed World.

And then, in a moment that carried more weight than it seemed, he destroyed the Origin Key.

The fragments dispersed, their authority collapsing under force.

The Game Master watched without interruption, though the result registered immediately.

It was a setback.

The Key had the capacity to accelerate the incarnation process of the Origin. In the right hands, under the right conditions, it could have shortened the time required for Alice to fully awaken into her intended state.

Now, that path was gone.

Da Wei himself had been designed with a purpose as well.

Like those before him, he was meant to become an incarnation of the Source. If he had used the Key on himself instead, half of the overarching objective would have been fulfilled in a single step.

Instead, he chose destruction.

The Game Master did not interfere.

He simply observed.

After a moment, he leaned back slightly in the chair, his grip on the fishing rod loosening further.

It was likely time to leave.

Despite everything, he had grown somewhat fond of this place. The world, its inhabitants, the unpredictable variables that had emerged over time, all of it had provided a degree of engagement that he did not often find elsewhere.

Even so, his objectives here were largely complete.

The removal of the Origin King had been one of the more difficult aspects. The Supreme Void’s final act before imprisonment had been particularly troublesome, hiding Losten within the Hollowed World and placing it beyond direct interference.

That move had forced him into a position where he could only observe and influence indirectly.

The agreement between the Six Supremes and the Lost Gods had reinforced that limitation, preventing him from acting within the Hollowed World entirely.

Even so, the outcome had aligned with his intentions.

The space beside him shimmered slightly.

Another presence emerged.

The Supreme Heart.

He looked as he always did, composed yet faintly irritated, as though dealing with something unnecessarily complicated.

“Hey, Project Seven,” he said, his tone carrying a hint of impatience. “We’re having a meeting. For the sake of everything that still functions properly, could you attend this time?”

The Game Master turned his head slightly, offering a small, polite smile.

It was an expression he had practiced well.

They had no idea.

To them, he was simply another Shén, albeit an unusually powerful one who had aligned himself with their cause. An unofficial Seventh Supreme, a convenient addition to their already unstable hierarchy.

Only the Supreme Heart showed any real suspicion, and even that fell short of the truth.

“How far along are you, anyway,” the Supreme Heart continued, folding his arms. “I’m still curious whether your idea even works. Turning a Shén into a Supreme Being is not exactly a trivial process.”

His gaze narrowed slightly.

“So, have you unlocked your Supremacy Trait yet?”

The Game Master’s smile did not change.

“In that case,” he said calmly, “you may address me differently from now on.”

There was a brief pause.

“From this point forward, call me the Lost Supreme.”

The title carried weight.

The Six Supremes had long feared the existence of such a being, one foretold in a prophecy that threatened their position. In an attempt to defy that destiny, they had chosen to create it themselves, believing that control over its origin would grant them control over its outcome.

Their first attempt had been the Supreme Void.

It had nearly succeeded, until the Lost Gods intervened, turning the situation into something far more complicated. Their surrender, betrayal, and subsequent enforcement of a non-aggression pact had disrupted everything, leaving the Supremes with an incomplete solution.

Project Seven had been born from that failure.

A second attempt.

A controlled variable.

The Supreme Heart stared at him for a moment, then exhaled, clearly unimpressed.

“That’s way too wordy,” he said flatly. “I’m just going to call you old man. Or Game Master. Both fit better.”

The Game Master said nothing.

He simply continued to smile.