Chapter 89: I Have a Reason to Stay Here

In the underground core cafeteria of Embers.

“P-please… don’t kill me…”

Amidst the foul air thick with the metallic tang of rust and the cloying stench of blood, a guard from the Yujin Organization trembled in the corner, eyes wide with terror as he stared at the figure before him—a silhouette like death itself.

Benjamin, a Second-Rank Stellar Envoy from the Stellar Envoy Association headquarters, known as Metal Blast Benjamin.

The man stood motionless, face blank, his mechanical eye scanning the trembling guard with cold precision.

In the guard’s mind, the nightmare replayed in horrifying detail.

First, every bullet fired at the man had detonated mid-air.

Then, the scattered fragments of molten metal—each one no bigger than a fingernail—had risen into the air, suspended as if guided by an invisible hand.

And then… the final horror.

The fragments surged forward with unnatural speed, piercing the skulls of every rebel in the room with flawless accuracy. A massacre, one-sided and merciless.

And those who somehow survived the initial assault? The metal shards still embedded in their bodies erupted violently—explosions from within, ending their lives instantly.

This man… he’s a living demon.

A human couldn’t stand against something like this.

Driven by sheer instinct to survive, the guard dropped his weapon, then fell to his knees, begging for mercy with a voice trembling like a leaf in the wind.

But his pleas meant nothing to Benjamin.

A being of logic, devoid of empathy, the machine-man saw only data—no fear, no guilt, no mercy.

To him, a man was no different from an insect.

Click.

Benjamin’s mechanical eye whirred softly. The data streams swirling in his iris pulsed like a silent calculation.

Then—without hesitation, without pity—Benjamin raised his hand, as if swatting away a speck of dust.

Boom!

In the guard’s final, agonized gaze, the metal fragments still clinging to his body detonated—engulfing him in a flash of fire and smoke.

Not long after, the wall behind him bore a grotesque masterpiece: a splattered, abstract painting made of blood and flesh.

The message it conveyed was simple.

One word: Death.

Another: Despair.

And around the cafeteria, countless other such “artworks” adorned the walls—shattered limbs of Stellar Beast test subjects, broken weapons, trails of blood from fleeing rebels.

Each one a silent, brutal testament to the same fate.

The once-bustling cafeteria was now a twisted, blood-soaked museum of death.

No laughter. No warmth. No life.

Just silence. And the stench of slaughter.

“This… this is beyond the mission parameters, isn’t it?”

A young Stellar Envoy from the Association whispered, voice shaking—not just from fear, but from a deep, unsettling moral unease.

What was happening here had nothing to do with the “justice” Benjamin had spoken of on the surface.

And though others in the group shared his unease, no one spoke.

Silence reigned.

Because the two Second-Rank Stellar Envoys—William and Isaiah—who might have been able to challenge Benjamin—had vanished without a trace in the Infinite Maze after entering the underground core.

Whether it was an accident… or a deliberate act… remained unknown.

“Move on. Next area.”

After standing motionless before a door for a full minute, Benjamin finally spoke.

His voice—cold, synthetic, devoid of inflection—carried the weight of command.

It was clear: Do as I say, or suffer the same fate.

Seeing Benjamin step through the door, the six First-Rank Stellar Envoys from the Steam Capital Branch hurried after him.

Not only was Benjamin a walking storm of death—but this labyrinthine underground core was a trap in itself.

One misstep, one delay, and they might never find their way back.

No choice. No escape.

They had to follow.

Slap—splash.

As they entered the new area, a sudden chill ran through them.

They looked down.

The floor was flooded with icy water, rising up to their ankles.

It didn’t take long to realize where they were.

A vast, silent underground drainage system—motionless, lifeless, save for the slow, echoing drip… drip… drip of water falling from the ceiling.

And at the far end, sitting on the edge of a massive drainpipe, was a silver-haired boy wearing a black eye patch.

He watched them descend into his domain, a smile playing on his lips—calm, serene, and utterly terrifying.

Drop… drop…

The power systems had been cut. The entire system had gone dark.

The water crept higher, inch by inch.

Yet the boy showed no concern.

He simply waited.

And when Benjamin’s group had advanced to within a certain distance, the boy raised his hand.

“Evening, everyone,” he said, voice soft, almost polite. “Stellar Envoy Association.”

Though his tone was courteous, every nerve in the room snapped taut.

Because Tian Dao—the one they thought was just a kid—had appeared at the most unnatural moment.

And his expression… too calm.

Too confident.

As if he didn’t see them as threats. As if he viewed them as nothing more than insects.

That arrogance, that utter disdain—radiating from every fiber of his being—sent a chill through even the most experienced Envoys.

Except Benjamin.

He didn’t care.

To him, a First-Rank Stellar Energy Value like Tian Dao was no threat to a Second-Rank.

And as Tian Dao spoke, the screen zoomed in on his face.

Even through the screen, the coldness beneath that smile was unmistakable.

Kill. Kill. Kill.

Meanwhile, the Dimensional Audience noticed something strange.

On Tian Dao’s forehead—nestled just above his brow—was a peculiar device.

A silver quantum collar, pulsing with streams of glowing data, swirling through its intricate circuits like liquid light, dancing with his silver-white hair.

“Whoa! What the hell is that thing on his forehead?”

“New gear? I’ve never seen him use that before!”

“The data flow… that’s top-tier tech!”

They were right.

That wasn’t just a piece of equipment.

It was a Portable Quantum Core—a rare, high-tier item acquired from the Popularity Store.

> [Portable Quantum Core]

> Allows the wearer to access limited AI-grade computational power.

> Popularity Price: 500,000

Drop… drop…

After the brief greeting, Tian Dao pushed off the drainpipe with both hands, leaping down with the grace of a falling feather.

The water parted beneath his feet, forming perfect, concentric ripples—clear and sharp.

He landed lightly, smiling like a harmless child.

“Two Second-Ranks… six First-Ranks,” he mused, voice calm. “You really gave me quite the challenge, didn’t you? The Ironcrown Family, or the Stellar Envoy Association—either way, you’re not exactly easy to ignore.”

He paused.

“If you pass through here, you’ll reach the base’s Quantum Center.

And that place…

I won’t let you pass.”

Benjamin’s voice cut through the silence, flat and emotionless.

“If I insist on going through?”

Tian Dao tilted his head, feigning thought.

Then—before anyone could react—his body vanished.

One moment he was standing there.

The next, he was right in front of a First-Rank Envoy at the back of the group.

His palm slammed onto the man’s face.

The smile vanished.

In its place—cold. Hard. Unyielding.

“If you insist on going through,” Tian Dao said, voice low, “then I’ll have to kill you all.”

He paused.

“Because I have a reason to stay here.”

Boom!

A sickening crunch. A wet, tearing sound.

The First-Rank Envoy flew backward like a ragdoll, crashing into the wall with terrifying force—his body embedded deep into the concrete.

Blood welled from the cracks, spreading through the water below in crimson waves.

And just as Tian Dao struck, Benjamin fired.

A torrent of gray metal shards erupted from his palm, aimed straight at Tian Dao.

The fragments exploded the moment they touched him—fire consuming him completely.

But then—

“Awakening control over metal manipulation? Interesting.”

The fire cleared.

And there, standing unharmed, was Tian Dao.

Not a scratch.

The crowd froze.

Benjamin’s expression didn’t change—but his internal systems were already analyzing.

How?

Tian Dao slowly removed his eye patch with his left hand, revealing deep, star-lit eyes—piercing, azure, etched with intricate celestial patterns.

Then, he slowly opened his right palm.

Inside it—several curved metal blades, glowing faintly with an otherworldly sheen.

If those blades had struck anyone else, even after surviving the initial blast, the second strike would have been fatal.

Benjamin had been exposed.

But he didn’t panic.

His electronic eyes scanned. His AI core ran through millions of data points in a fraction of a second.

And in that instant, he found the match.

“Vector Control,” Benjamin said, voice steady. “I didn’t expect you, a kid from Embers, to push this ability this far.”

Tian Dao just smiled.

Didn’t care.

He didn’t even flinch at the revelation.

He looked at the body still stuck in the wall. The blood. The silence.

Then back at Benjamin.

And the air—thick with dread—suddenly felt heavier.

Finally, Benjamin raised his hand.

“Kill him.”

“Yes!”

The Envoys surged forward.

Tian Dao’s smile widened.

But it wasn’t joy. Not excitement.

It was mockery.

Just as Benjamin had seen the Embers rebels as less than human, Tian Dao saw these Envoys the same way.

Because when they drew their weapons… they signed their own death warrants.

And he?

He was the one who would deliver the end.

“Vector… Reverse.”

And then—something impossible happened.

The water droplets falling from the ceiling… stopped.

Then—reversed.

They began to rise, defying gravity, forming a surreal, upside-down rain.

The water around Tian Dao flowed upward.

The gravity in the area had been reversed.

And for the Envoys who had gotten too close—their bodies betrayed them.

They couldn’t move. They couldn’t stand.

They were trapped in the inverted world.

The battle had just begun.

(End of Chapter)

Chapter end