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ArabicChat Group Crossover: My System Simulates Infinite Anime Worlds — Chapter 51
Chapter 51: Star-Slaying
Sometimes, the aftermath of a skirmish required a personal touch, which on one occasion even led to an official investigation by the Ten-Lords Commission. You never quite understood what they were investigating you for, but you went, answered their questions, and were summarily dismissed.
As for your position, nothing of consequence changed; you remained a common soldier, a simple Cloud Knight.
And you were deeply satisfied with this life. A quiet contentment had settled in your bones, a firm belief that true happiness lay in appreciating what one already had.
One afternoon, just after finishing your daily patrol route, you returned to the training grounds with your sword in hand. You fell into the familiar rhythm of practice, swinging the blade in a series of practiced, repetitive arcs. Then, on one forceful thrust, you felt something shift. It was as if your blade had pierced through an invisible barrier, unleashing a silent wave of sword qi that shot forward.
In the blink of an eye, the vibrant blossoms in a nearby flowerbed were given a brutally uniform “crew cut,” and a sturdy, thick-trunked tree was sliced cleanly in half.
Just as you were mentally preparing to flee the scene of your accidental vandalism, a large, heavy hand landed squarely on your shoulder.
You turned, your heart sinking as you looked up into a broad, grinning face. You recognized that face all too well—it belonged to your boss, the General of the Xianzhou Luofu himself. In that moment, you knew. There was no escape. Your leisurely, “salted fish” existence was about to be ripped away from you.
As you feared, you were promoted. The promotion also came with a new colleague, a young man named Teng Xiao. He was insufferably arrogant, a complete brat who carried himself as if the world owed him everything. You found him utterly unbearable.
Your daily routine acquired a new, non-negotiable task: eat, sleep, and beat up Teng Xiao.
The most painful part of the promotion, however, was the paperwork. Before, your only duty was the daily patrol. Now, you were buried under an avalanche of reports and administrative tasks. You found it exceptionally difficult, a tedious hell that grated on your very soul. The only consolation was the significant increase in your salary.
That same night, as you were preparing for bed, the world dissolved. A star-dusted cosmos appeared before you once more, and in the void, you saw the majestic, centaur-like figure of Lan, The Hunt.
When reality reasserted itself, you were left feeling rather speechless.
You could feel the nascent Path Power of The Hunt stirring within your body, settling in alongside the others. Get one more, you thought with a grimace, and you could host a game of mahjong inside your soul. This had to be Aha’s doing, you mused. Yet, you found it strange that the Aeon of Elation hadn’t appeared personally to revel in your predicament.
After a moment of contemplation, you pushed the thought aside. Overthinking it would bring no benefit. Sometimes, blissful ignorance was the better part of valor.
No sooner had you settled on this conclusion than you were pulled into the void again. This time, a shimmering, golden miniature figure materialized before you. You recognized the divine form immediately—it was Mythus, the Aeon of Enigmata.
An instant later, a hazy, intangible shroud was draped over your being. It was a peculiar sensation, as if you were simultaneously becoming more mysterious and, paradoxically, more ordinary and easily overlooked.
Returning to reality, you felt the third distinct Path Power settle within you and let out a long, heavy sigh.
You had, on some level, anticipated the Aeon of Enigmata’s appearance; you just hadn’t expected it to be so delayed. With this new power, you felt you could now moonlight as a History Fictionologist or a Riddler, weaving puzzles with your very presence.
But you crushed that thought as soon as it formed. No. Thinking like that was falling right into Aha’s trap. This entire chaotic collection of blessings was undoubtedly the Joker’s grand prank.
Unwittingly, Aha shouldered the blame once again.
The years bled into one another, marked by the constant slaughter of the Followers of Abundance. With each campaign, your rank climbed higher and higher, against your will.
Your subordinates were all soldiers you had trained personally. You had led them into battle, and a deep-seated sense of responsibility demanded you bring every last one of them back whole. People form bonds, after all.
But the universe rarely adheres to one’s plans. Inevitably, some Cloud Knights would succumb to the Mara-struck madness during the prolonged conflicts, and it would fall to you to execute them with your own hand. After every battle, after the reports were filed and the wounded tended to, you would take several sheets of yellow paper and a brazier to a quiet corner. There, you would burn the paper, chanting the names of the fallen into the rising smoke.
Somehow, word of your private ritual spread. It connected with the other knights, and over time, it evolved into a fixed tradition for commemorating all deceased Cloud Knights of the Luofu.
As your name and deeds became famous—and as the old saying goes, “fame brings trouble”—problems began to find you with increasing frequency.
Through the General’s introduction, you met the current Vidyadhara Dragon-Venerable, Dan Feng. It was a title, you learned, passed down through generations. Though they were different individuals, different “flowers” from the same ancient tree, they were all essentially the same person in spirit.
Dan Feng, upon meeting you, wanted to spar. You sighed, a gesture of weary resignation, and drew the simple sword from your waist.
Your opponent produced a magnificent, ornate long spear, and the two of you took your positions in the martial arena.
He moved with a flourish, his spear a whirlwind of flashy, complex techniques. But for every dazzling maneuver, you answered with a single, brutally efficient sword strike that broke his form and scattered his momentum. Within a handful of exchanges, the cold steel of your blade was resting against his neck.
You regretted it almost instantly. Ever since that victory, he began to challenge you every few days.
At first, you were polite. You would humor him, drawing out the spars to ten or twenty moves before inevitably defeating him.
Eventually, you couldn’t take it anymore. His visits were far too frequent, bordering on obsessive. He would show up once a day, sometimes twice, and on a few memorable occasions, three times in a single day. It completely disrupted your sword practice and, more, your precious “slacking off” time. So, you started to get a little serious.
You defeated him with one move. From then on, it was always one move.
To his credit, he remained persistent, constantly seeking you out for a duel. And, you had to admit, his strength did seem to be improving, little by little.
Before long, the Luofu announced the Wardance, a grand martial tournament. You had absolutely no intention of participating.
Then that idiot, Teng Xiao, secretly signed you up. He even had the audacity to pat you on the shoulder, giving you a thumbs-up with a smug grin. You were left utterly speechless.
You promptly treated him to a few of his favorite “slaps to the face” before pinning him in a corner and giving him a thorough, private thrashing.
As you left for the venue, you shot a middle finger over your shoulder at the bruised Teng Xiao. “You little brat, just you wait. I’ll give you another beating when I get back.”
After you entered the arena, you caught a glimpse of Dan Feng and Teng Xiao huddled together, both wearing triumphant, “all according to plan” expressions.
You, of course, successfully won the title of Sword Champion. The representatives from the other Xianzhou ships, however, looked rather displeased with the outcome.
You didn’t understand it at all. You had even gone out of your way to save their face, deliberately sparring for about ten rounds with each of them before delivering the final blow.
It was only later that you found out the entire affair was Dan Feng’s idea. In response, you caught both Dan Feng and Teng Xiao and subjected them to some intensive, personalized “training.”
For a long while after, the Cloud Knights’ training grounds were filled with one blood-curdling scream after another.
In the blink of an eye, another ten years passed. In that time, you found your swordsmanship had improved significantly, even without the use of any Path Power. A single, ordinary swing of your blade could now slice the peak clean off a mountain. If you were to enhance it with the powers gifted to you by the Aeons, slicing an asteroid in half shouldn’t be difficult.
You still fought the Followers of Abundance from time to time.
Over one hundred years passed in this manner. Your pursuit of the Way of the Sword became purer, more refined. To this day, you had never been forced to use your true strength. Every time war broke out, a massive swarm of allied forces would descend upon a planet. Besides the enemy, there were often indigenous residents to consider. You couldn’t just solve the problem by slicing the entire planet in half with a single, decisive sword strike.
To be honest, you found this life of constant, unresolved fighting quite boring.
You had proposed your retirement to the General on more than one occasion.
But you were always brushed off. The matter even reached the current Marshal of the Cloud Knights, who personally denied your request.
Then, people from all the major Xianzhou ships—the very same ships whose champions you had embarrassed in the Wardance—were sent to persuade you not to retire.
You were completely baffled. What kind of logic was this? Wouldn’t it be easier for them to consolidate their own power and prestige if you, the reigning Sword Champion, were to retire?
You spent another few decades in a daze, slacking off whenever possible and inventing new ways to slack off when it wasn’t. The wars, however, were a different matter. You could never slack off then; if you did, people would die.
Your life settled into a strange routine: eating, sleeping, practicing the sword, and delivering daily beatings to the Dragon-Venerable and Teng Xiao.
At the end of Star Calendar 6300, a piercing distress signal blared across all channels, sent from the Xianzhou Cangcheng.
The Luofu, being closest to the Cangcheng’s last known coordinates, was the first to arrive on the battlefield.
The sight that greeted you was one of cosmic horror. The Xianzhou Cangcheng was being slowly swallowed by a massive, living celestial body. It was a monstrosity of writhing flesh and molten crust, its surface crawling with colossal tentacles that had wrapped around the city-ship. Half of the Cangcheng was already gone, its engine section completely consumed by the ravenous entity.
You knew what you had to do. You would use the Sword Intent you had been honing for over a century. Turning your back on the horrific scene, you strode into the General’s Residence on the command bridge.
Looking at the General, your voice was calm, devoid of any panic. “General, please organize the rescue personnel. I’ll handle that living celestial body.”
Without waiting for a reply, you turned and left. The General stared after you, not fully comprehending your meaning, but he trusted your judgment and immediately began assembling the rescue teams as you requested.
You made your way to the Sky-Faring Commission, walked onto the main hangar deck, and pointed at the nearest pilot. It was a young, white-haired Foxian girl, who looked up at you with wide, startled eyes.
“You,” you said, your tone leaving no room for argument. “Take me out there.”