Secret World: I Became a God Through Lies

Chapter 362 The City of Illusion: The Night the Theater Burns

"This is a city that can be rewritten by imagination. Its walls are beliefs, its streets are illusions, and its destiny map is a script."

—Excerpt from the opening remarks of the chapter "The Illusory Corridor" in *The Strategy of Illusions*

On the bridge of the Lost One, the core of the Dream Star Map trembled slightly, like a distant and invisible sigh echoing from the depths of the ocean.

Lilia stood quietly before the Whispering Altar, several slender, gossamer-like whispering sprites swirling around her fingertips, emitting soft, dreamlike murmurs as they gracefully swirled and danced.

She gazed silently at the dreamlike, dark sea, her thoughts wandering through every corner of Areston.

The entire bridge was immersed in an ancient and mysterious "information chant," like some kind of ancient ritual slowly unfolding.

She spoke in a clear but barely audible voice:
"The coded message has been transmitted. Baroque has confirmed the target. Edel has activated the Saint Trean Royal Rose, and the Doomsday Rose will immediately engage."

Suddenly, the silver outline of the Edel fleet appeared in the dream projection, and the star map of the royal capital port separated from the main urban line, forming an independent space belonging to the war.

On one side of the bridge, Allison's gaze was sharp as she silently stared at the distant, raging fire in the harbor. A slight smile played on her lips as she whispered:

"Finally... things are proceeding as planned."

However, before she could exhale the last breath of anxiety from her chest, Lilia's next whispered message made her brows furrow suddenly, and an ominous glint appeared in her eyes.

Lilia continued her report, her tone calm yet tinged with a hint of unease:
"Secret message update: The iconic armed force of the Sons of Mirror Lake has appeared simultaneously in Broken Tower Street and the Black Market. They are gathering, looting, and rapidly taking control of the street's lifeline."

"They call themselves—'This city is offered to the King of Reflection'."

Allison whirled around, her expression turning cold and gloomy, and said, enunciating each word clearly:

"It's Arthur and Victoria."

Lilia's voice rang out again, colder and heavier, pressing down on the air of the bridge:
"The second coded message: The Church of Our Lady sacrifice ceremony has entered its second phase, and Medusa's calamity has entered the 'divine echo' period."

In an instant, the air on the bridge seemed to freeze into cold amber, and no one dared to make a sound.

At that moment, a weak and flickering light suddenly pierced through the secret array and appeared, revealing the figure of a young man in the center of the bridge.

Blood seeped from his forehead, and he was breathing rapidly. It was Alanhwin projected into him in the form of a dream lamp, his voice urgent and strained as he spoke:
“Afra just brought out a group of her night class companions from the back alley... but we are already short-handed.”

"Pota Street... is on the verge of complete collapse!"

At this moment, Si Ming, who was sitting in the shadows of the bridge, slowly raised his head, his dark eyes revealing a calmness as deep as the ocean.

He looked at Celian and spoke calmly:
"Go, Celian."

Selene took a light step forward, her gaze unwaveringly fixed on the street on the dream map that was gradually being swallowed by blood, and softly replied:
"Leave it to us."

The next instant, she and Alan Herwin's light and shadow simultaneously vanished into the void as lightning, leaving only Si Ming, Allison, Lilia, and Calvino on the bridge.

Allison stared at the tactical map before her, her voice losing its usual calm and restraint for the first time, revealing a chill she had never felt before:

“We… have no one left to use.”

This was the first time she had admitted this fact—in countless plans and schemes, she had never expected it to come to this.

Lilia sighed softly and reported in a low voice:

"Number of available support personnel within the whisper coverage area: four."

Calvino couldn't help but grit his teeth, muttering angrily and helplessly:
"It seems... in the end we still have to rely on ourselves."

Si Ming chuckled softly and slowly stood up. He stepped towards the core of the dreamscape at the center of the bridge, casually removing his outer robe, revealing a hazy, slumbering phantom in his palm:

"Then let me fill their place."

“I will personally summon—a city of illusion.”

As he spoke in a calm yet resolute whisper, the life line band on his left wrist slowly slid off, revealing a swirling and intertwined star chart structure.

The eleven destiny stars, like awakened ghostly flames, quietly shone with a faint and profound light, as if the boundaries of reason were slowly crumbling.

He took out a card with edges like shattered mirror. The black and white chessboard on the card extended into an endless void corridor, and a hidden inscription was engraved at the top:
The Corridor of Illusion - A high-level world system

Empty Name: Elostia, the King of Falsehood.

Si Ming slowly chanted the incantation that was already engraved deep in his soul, and the star-patterned destiny chart trembled violently in response:
"The fictional realm has descended into the real world."

In an instant, a smooth, mirror-like boundary of the domain appeared beneath the bridge, and a black and white checkerboard corridor unfolded on the dreamlike sea.
A path of illusion leads to every corner of the capital, plunging from the depths of fantasy into the very foundations of reality.

An unnamed whisper echoed between the bridge and the entire city, like an invisible interrogation from another world:

"Who are you...where are you going...and what is the meaning of everything you hold onto?"

Lilia's eyes held a deep wariness as she whispered a warning:

"The Corridor of Illusion...Are you really going to use it?"

Calvino gritted his teeth, but a cruel expectation appeared on his face:

"With your eleven-star chart, can you withstand it?"

Si Ming merely smiled calmly, his expression radiating an unparalleled composure:

"The stage is ready, but there aren't enough actors, so I'll have to take on more roles."

As soon as the words were spoken, along with the simultaneous ignition of the natal stars on the star map, three extremely realistic illusory figures quickly condensed in the center of the domain:
The Holy Knight, Fairvina, once single-handedly killed six traitors to the church;

Recio, the Red-Gold Shield Guard, was once the captain of the inner guard of the Trelian nobles, but he died in the previous turmoil.

And Medici, an image materialized based on the impressions of Medici in Si Ming's memories.

Although they are lifelike, they are merely realistic reflections of battle fragments in Si Ming's memories, belonging to the cognitive stand structure of "illusory clones."

It can only activate corresponding memory abilities at critical moments and possesses a brief period of "autonomous consciousness logic".

The voice of the God of Fate was calm and profound:
"They are not the real them."

"They were just the impression of 'I've seen how they should have fought.'"

"Today, the understanding of everyone in this city will help me to bring this drama of fate to its final act."

Lilia silently activated "Shared Whisper" and "Speech Interference," her fingertips gently moving...
The whispering sprites, as if drawn by the threads of fate, swiftly scattered, traversing various key locations within the palace, quietly connecting with Ian's whispered spells.

At the same time, Calvino pressed his hands onto the secondary guide disc of the star chart, and subtle fluctuations of his life lines emanated from his fingertips.

Precise "tactical navigation nodes" were injected into the bodies of those illusory clones.

In an instant, the morning mist in the south corridor of the palace quietly stirred, revealing dozens of faint red and gold figures.

Their steps were perfectly synchronized, their armor gleaming with the unique solemnity of the Church of Our Lady, and the insignia of destiny shimmering on their shoulders.
Like a real and devout "Knights of Grace," they slowly approached from the depths of the mist.

At this moment, inside the palace, Ian slowly opened his eyes, his gaze filled with a calm and profound light.

He heard the whisper of the wind, the voice of fate, as quiet yet powerful as destiny itself:
"You don't need to actually defeat them, you just need to make everyone believe that you have defeated them."

A cold smile appeared on Ian's lips. He precisely embedded the wind whisper into the destiny chart, leaned forward slightly, and responded in a low voice:

"The curtain has risen."

Beyond the southern defense line, the thin fog gradually receded, and those illusory knights became increasingly clear.

Their steps were steady and solemn, and with each step they took, the paving stones cracked and crumbled under the invisible "singing and shaking".

The powerful pressure of the life runes swept over the frontline soldiers like a silent wave, making them feel an involuntary sense of suffocation.

However, in Ian's true perception, this imposing and awe-inspiring enemy army—did not exist at all.

Ian took a deep breath and activated the World-type card in his palm:
Mysterious Card: "Wind Whisper Fantasy Realm", a high-level world-type wind domain.

In an instant, three wind walls formed in succession: one to block the enemy, one to precisely guide the attack trajectory, and one to create a real camouflage to show that the defense had been breached.

He simultaneously activated the "Wind Whisper Channel," subtly embedding the "illusory enemy shadows" constructed by the God of Fate into his own and the soldiers' perceptions.

In this war, Ian wasn't really fighting; he was acting in a drama that "had to appear real."

As the illusory clones of the Holy Knights constructed by the Fate Master were activated, the first wave of attack, "Divine Punishment Wave," was suddenly unleashed, with the three clones simultaneously unleashing their illusory and mysterious skills:
Holy Flame Strike.

The seemingly illusory flames and force fields unleashed a powerful illusionary shockwave in the real world.
The soldiers felt the illusion of being "forcefully repelled" and retreated in droves, causing the defensive line to collapse.

Ian retreated with the soldiers. His left arm appeared to be severely injured, with blood spurting out, but it was actually just the result of a pre-arranged blood vial exploding.
The realistic blood mist even incorporated a special scent to enhance its realism. His voice, deep and resolute, resonated within the wind-whispered incantation:
"Retreat five meters and deploy the second barrier!"

The soldiers reacted swiftly and precisely, but Ian seized the opportunity to leap backward, tumbling heavily down the slope, deliberately vomiting three mouthfuls of blood.

The whispers, subtle and precise, quickly spread the information that "Ian is putting up a desperate fight" to Orion's Golden Guard network.

The life runes behind him suddenly fluctuated. When Orion personally led his guards to the scene, the sight before him caused his expression to change drastically—Ian was kneeling on the ground.
His face was covered in blood, the mysterious wind barrier was on the verge of collapse, and the royal palace's defense line was almost completely destroyed.

Ian struggled to his feet, his sword and staff deeply embedded in the ground, his breathing heavy, his voice hoarse yet resolute:

"Your Highness... I have done my best."

“I saw it with my own eyes…she was among them. Your Highness, I saw—the figure of Princess Medea.”

Orion's cold gaze swept over the horrific battle before him, his face so grim it sent chills down one's spine.

The guards around them all knelt down, their faces pale and their eyes filled with fear and uncertainty.

They saw it too—or at least, they thought they saw it—the figure dressed in the red and gold armor of the Church of Our Lady.

Medici. Her illusions, like sharp daggers, pierce the deepest rifts in everyone's hearts, slowly twisting their most basic logic and loyalty.

Orion's voice was low and cold; he was almost gritting his teeth.
Are you sure you saw her?

Ian, his hand gripping the Wind Whisper Scepter, struggled to raise his head, his eyes filled with resolve and bitterness, his tone like a heavy vow:

"Your Highness, how dare I speak presumptuously?"

"But the luster of that red armor, the pulsation of the life runes, and the structure of that 'Holy Flame Impact'... only her knights can achieve that."

He said no more, made no attempt to persuade anyone, and simply stated a fact that was beyond doubt.

Someone among the Golden Guards immediately echoed in a low voice:

"Your Highness, those were no ordinary church soldiers..."

“I have seen Princess Medici’s personal guards with my own eyes, and the attack formation is exactly the same as it was back then.”

Another person spoke up even more vehemently:

"If it weren't for Lord Aesop's desperate defense, the royal palace would probably already be..."

He suddenly fell silent, not daring to finish his sentence, but the most terrifying image had already surfaced in everyone's minds.

Orion's fist clenched suddenly, and the life map in his palm trembled violently.

He had certainly expected Medici to make a move, but he never anticipated that she would dare to so boldly storm the royal palace head-on.

Medici made no attempt to conceal her tracks, nor did she hide her ambitions—

This is no longer an ordinary struggle, but a complete and blatant act of contempt and provocation.

The wind whipped Orion's cloak, and his gaze, as dark and unpredictable as the ocean before a storm, slowly rose, a dangerous glint in his eyes.

He didn't speak again, but everyone in the air felt an invisible pressure—a harbinger of the real start of war.

At this moment, Orion understood that this theater of power and destiny was about to spiral completely out of control.

von Het stood beside Orion, remaining silent for a long time.

Finally, he spoke slowly, his voice steady and cold, like a precise and chilling annotation on the edge of a page in the book of fate:

“Your Highness, if she were only after the throne, she would never have acted so rashly.”

"But now, she is no longer a 'candidate'."

Orion turned his head slightly to look at the strategist, who was as calm as iron.

Feng Hete's gaze was fixed on the crimson shadow above the capital city's sky, on that eerie moon that was slowly trembling.
It was as if an indescribable giant eye from the depths of the sky was slowly opening:

"What she is now plotting is to become a god."

A flicker of disbelief and surprise crossed Orion's eyes, but he did not rush to respond.

von Het then whispered, his voice growing even more sinister:
"If she successfully completes the divine guidance during the Cataclysmic event, then the royal palace we protect today, and the destiny chart we rely on, will be safe."
Even the throne you so desperately desire will become nothing more than a die tossed about at will in her hands.

"She doesn't want your life, she wants the entire empire to kneel before her divine name."

Orion gritted his teeth, his voice betraying suppressed anger and confusion:

"If that's the case, why did she spare my life?"

A glint of light flashed in von Het's eyes, piercing straight to the core like a razor's edge:
"Because of your existence, the illusion of 'the throne being undecided' continues to exist, and you are the last veil covering her true plans."

Orion fell into a deep silence.

His beliefs began to waver, and the Destiny Chart subsequently fell into a dangerous state of stagnation.

Just then, Ian suddenly spoke in a low voice, calm and weary, yet carrying a hint of resolute courage. He slowly rose, leaning on his sword, his gaze icy:
"Your Highness."

"Our goal is not to completely eliminate her."

"All we need to do is cut off her source of power."

This simple statement was like a steel needle piercing a pool of blood, instantly breaking through the quagmire of hesitation in Orion's heart.

Orion gazed silently at Ian—the mysterious commander he had personally promoted, a defender who never retreated even when wounded.

This calm and simple statement is more reliable than any tactical trick.

That's right, there's no need to kill Medici or openly wage war against the Church.

All he had to do was destroy the key structure upon which she relied for her sacrifice.

von Het nodded slightly and echoed softly:
"We only need to destroy her 'scalpel' without directly confronting her."

"If the Star Calamity truly fails, there's no need for us to take any further action."

Orion closed his eyes, and opened them again after three breaths.

The star chart flickered slightly in his eyes, and the lines of fate, like fragmented incantations, intertwined and reshaped his decision.

His voice was calm and icy:
"Send the order to the Third Personal Guard Brigade."

"Immediately—destroy her altar."

On the bridge of the Lost One, the body of the Fate Seeker hovered in mid-air, several small Dream Whales slowly circling around him, whimpering mournfully.

Like an actor firmly nailed to the center of a stage by fate.

His eyes were unfocused, and he murmured incoherent and eerie words between his lips:

"...Did you hear that? She's saying...her blood is made from roses."

"I didn't write the script...it wasn't me...but they all say that I arranged it this way..."

Lilia suddenly looked up, and the Whispering Sprite trembled violently, issuing a startled warning:
"The tenth star has been ignited!"

Calvino rushed forward, grabbed Siming's arm tightly, his face ashen, his voice trembling with suppressed anxiety:

"If you keep burning yourself like this—you'll never be able to come back."

Si Ming turned his head to the side, his face as if it had been repeatedly polished by the shadow of illusion, his eyes filled with the last glimmer of light before the collapse of the destiny chart.

He chuckled softly, his tone so gentle it sent shivers down one's spine:
"Since that's the case, then I'll just have to leave behind the only part of me that's still somewhat real."

On the other side of the bridge, Allison stood quietly, never turning around, only silently staring at a point in the feedback from the Dream Star Map.

Selene's whispered message came quietly:

"The situation on Pota Street is temporarily stable. Alan and his night students have formed a defensive line, which can hold for at least an hour."

Allison nodded slightly, her voice calm yet cold:
"enough."

Rex's voice followed closely, his tone carrying the suppressed tension of "the eve of silence," his incantation lines sharp as blades:

"I am ready to take the stage, Si Ming."

"It's time for me to make my appearance."

Si Ming nodded slightly, like a theater director, signaling the protagonist of the next scene to make his official entrance.

The feedback from the capital's destiny map indicates that the entire city has been divided into three major areas:
Chaos Zone: The Church Front is in complete chaos, with clergy chanting incoherently within the sacrificial circle, and even clashes breaking out between them and the Mirror Tide imposters;
Standoff Zone: Orion's personal guards are launching a powerful sweep of the church's outskirts, and local conflicts are escalating.
Infiltration Zone: Mirror Tide, disguised as a priest, quietly infiltrates the church's central headquarters, attempting to perform a "reverse sacrifice," completely reversing Medusa's sacrificial image into a reflection of the sacrifice.

At this moment, the "Medes illusion" within the illusory clone began to slowly retreat, employing a precisely designed "failure-style retreat."
This created the illusion that the "true source of mystery was undetectable," further boosting Orion's confidence and determination.

Rex stood on the edge of the parish, where the Mirror Tide Priests and the Apostles of Our Lady were already locked in a direct confrontation.

He slowly drew the Devil's Curse Gun, a cold smile playing on his lips:
"Don't rush, my show hasn't reached its climax yet."

In the port area, Edel is urgently recalling the fleet to reinforce the municipal district, preparing to intercept the mysterious squad of the Mirror Tide forces invading from the sea.

At this moment, the fluctuations in the destiny chart within the port are becoming increasingly violent, and the capital city is like a cursed talisman being scorched by high temperatures, which may be completely burned at any moment.

The last illusory avatar of the Fate Master slowly descended atop the royal palace, its crimson robe billowing like blood.

Starlight poured down from his shoulders like water, as if a curtain had been drawn directly from the star map.

He gazed at the city—a city that no longer belonged to the order of human civilization.

His whispers, like the wind, traversed dreams and reality, settling in the hearts of Lilia, Ian, Allison, and Rex:
"This scene was acted realistically enough."

"It's time to let them—"

He looked up at the blood moon hanging high in the sky. It was not the moon, but a huge eye of inhuman will, looking down on all things in the world, ready to completely rewrite fate.

The illusory clone of the Fate Master smiled faintly:

"He tore up his own destiny chart with his own hands."

"This city was not destroyed in the war, but collapsed in the theater."

Its enemy is not the enemy army, but the stage beneath its feet.

—Excerpt from *The Chronicle of Dreamy Schemes: The Final Act of the Theater - Annotated by Si Ming*

(End of this chapter)