Secret World: I Became a God Through Lies

Chapter 440 The Borrower and the Creditor
"Brother and sister who both wore royal robes: one borrowed life, the other was disappointed."

Fate's favorite trope: family becomes the weapon, cities become the debt.

As soon as Si Ming finished saying, "You are borrowing life," laughter rang out in front of the royal palace.

Medici laughed, tilting her head back, and tapped the stone steps with her scepter, her voice clear and crisp: "As long as Alleston is mine, as long as the Thirteenth Quiet Island is in my hands, I can borrow as many lives as I want. As for not being able to repay them?"

She pointed to the city: "Let the whole city pay for me. The Blood Moon will keep the books."

As soon as she finished speaking, she softly recited—

Not far away, a dozen or so Blood Moon followers simultaneously went limp, turning into blood that crawled towards her feet and was sucked in by the dark patterns under her skirt.

Medici raised her hand to brush her hair aside, and a strand that had just been frosty was now shining gold again.

"See this? This is the credit limit." She smiled. "I use a little, and they pay me a little more."

She stretched out her scepter, pointing it towards the enormous birthing chamber of flesh and blood deep within the royal palace. The outer membrane, like polished glass, became transparent.

Inside, Sophie trembled with pain, her knuckles turning white; the pulsation of the membrane wall was exactly the same as that of her belly.

Even more chilling was the sight of the baby inside the membrane, grinning at the outside world.

Medici spoke as if giving a lecture: "The King's Mandate, the Thirteenth Silent Island. It can cover the nation with an eternal domain and designate its citizens as scapegoats. Whoever is within the domain will pay for the King's life."

Si Ming clapped lightly, politely and calmly saying, "You recited the articles well. It's a pity you're not the master of Jing Island."

“Then place my master inside me.” Medici’s smile deepened, gesturing towards the delivery room.
“I am the Mother of Procreation, the mother of all things, and also the ‘mother’ of this little emperor. Before he comes of age, the regency is in my hands.”

She lightly tapped the transparent membrane with her scepter. The membrane and Sophie jumped simultaneously, as if in response to her action.

“So the conclusion is simple,” Medici said, her gaze turning cold, “If Sophie is in my delivery room, I won’t die. The whole city is paying for me.”

The blood rain fell in a fine, continuous stream, as if stamping this statement with a seal.

Beside the stone steps, the coat of arms of the Duke of Montenegro was washed away by blood—like an old credit card that had been maxed out, no one cared.

Si Ming glanced at the emblem, then back at Medici, his tone still gentlemanly: "A perfect statement. The truth should always be spoken by the one who pursues it."

He turned his head, facing the empty night, as if greeting something in the distance: "Your Highness Edel, did you hear me?"

As soon as Si Ming finished speaking, an invisible ripple spread across the sky above the royal palace, as if someone had drawn a line with their fingertip.

Amidst the ripples, two colossal ships slowly emerged from the night—

Port side, Saint-Trian Royal Rose, black and gold hull, rows of cannons on the side like cold iron teeth;
On the starboard side, the Doomsday Rose, with its red and black sails adorned with bone patterns, and the pirate skull and crossbones flag fluttering gently in the rain of blood.

Alison stood on the stern of the Doomsday Rose, holding a pool of mirror-like light in her palm.

The mirror-like surface rippled, as if pressing the entire royal city's reflection into the water—the Myriad Images Mirror Sea was still shimmering. She looked up and gave a brief salute to the royal palace below.

“Impossible…” Liseria blurted out, genuine surprise appearing in her eyes for the first time. “You… when—”

A voice came from the deck of the Rose, clear and restrained:
"Before you even stepped into the palace gates."

Edel walked to the railing, his cloak billowing in the wind.

He looked down at Liseria, his eyes showing no anger, only weary disappointment:

“I’ve looked at the steps you’ve taken, over and over again. Every single one. My father will be even more disappointed.”

There was a pause in the air for half a second.

On the deck, soldiers had their guns cocked, and officers were giving short, urgent commands.

On the other side, the sailors of the Doomsday Rose removed their grappling hooks and ropes and hung the gliders on their shoulders one by one.

Allison tightened the mirror's reflection in her palm and said to Edel, "He told us to wait. To wait for her to say 'borrow a life' herself. A mirror can hide a ship, but it can't hide a conscience."

The Commander looked up from below and nodded slightly to the two ships, like a commander who had arrived on time:

"Thanks for being on time. The lines are all ready."

He turned to the blood-stained door deep within the palace, then glanced at Sophie trembling in pain inside the transparent delivery room, and said calmly:

"Alright, the game pause time is over."

"First team breaks through the goal, second team cuts the line, third team lifts the bed!"

Edel raised his hand and gave a short, quick, and firm command.

The ropes of the Royal Rose slid down with a swish, and rows of gliders swept through the rain of blood;
Some people folded their wings and landed on the eaves of the corridor like eagles, while others used grappling hooks to slide along the wall. A giant fell straight down from a height, his feet smashing the stone ground into spiderweb patterns.

Alfred, carrying a battering ram, led the charge into the narrowest inner corridor, a black mark scalded his shoulder guard by the blood mist. With a muffled roar, he pressed the ram against the blood-patterned door, shouting, "Three, two, one—"

Smash! The door hinges shattered, and a spray of blood billowed out.

Lester and the second team climbed in through the side window. Lester's short blade reached out first and severed the throat of the first Blood Moon Priest behind the window. He then used his toes to push the corpse aside and make way for him.

Chanting began inside the room. Four monks formed a circle, palms facing upwards. A red line of blood was strung between their fingers, crawling toward the center of the delivery room.

"Tangent!"

Two sailors cast their grappling hooks—the red line was caught, and in the instant the tension was released, Lester's dagger slashed down.
With a snap, half of the blood-red light disappeared. The monk's chest dented as if struck by an invisible fist, and he collapsed to the ground with his eyes rolled back.

"The ground is sticky!" Someone stepped into the pool of blood and their calf was sucked in.

Alfred turned around, grabbed him, and with a flick of his massive arm, freed himself; with his other hand, he used the battering ram as a shield, taking the brunt of a jet of blood that shot up from the crack in the ground.

In the delivery room—

Sophie gripped the edge of the bed tightly, her knuckles white, her sweat and tears mingling together.

She saw the sailors rushing in, her lips trembling: "Save...the child...don't let her touch..."

On the other side of the bed, three thick blood vessels, like umbilical cords, stretched out from under the bed and connected to the blood pattern array on the wall.

"Target confirmed!" Lester pointed: "One, two, three—cut them all."

The second team nailed the sealing nail to the base of the blood vessel. Alfred swung his hammer and struck the first one hard. Before the nail reached the end, the blood vessel convulsed violently, and the bed almost jumped.

"Hold it down!" Two people from the three teams pressed down on the foot of the bed, while the other two tightened the straps around the edge of the bed.

Lester grabbed the second blade and pressed it down, "Slice it open!" A small arc of dark red blood spurted out, but it was blocked by the shield.

The third one is the thickest, like a living snake, winding and struggling on the ground.

Alfred brandished his hammer: "I'll charge! You bring down the knife!"

He crashed into the blood vessel, his muscles taut like ropes, and Lester leaned out from under the hammer handle, the blade striking flesh with a snap—it broke!

The entire delivery room fell silent suddenly, as if someone had unplugged the fan.

The bloodstains on the wall faded one by one, leaving only the transparent uterus beside the bed still breathing.

"lift!"

Two giants lifted the bed together, their shoulders pushing it off the ground. The three teams secured the slings to the corners of the bed, while the gliders outside the window tightened the traction ropes.

"Withdraw!" Lester glanced back at the transparent membrane—the baby inside smiled again, a quiet smile.

A low, drawn-out angry sound came from the outer corridor, as if the walls of the entire palace were hardening.

Alfred's brow twitched: "Let's go! Our queen won't let us get away so easily!"

At the entrance to the delivery room, two monks who had slipped through the net rushed forward. Before they could finish chanting, two cold blue beams of light swept across them from a distance, pinning them directly to the pillars.

Someone pointed inward from the masthead of the Doomsday Rose, offering a distant salute—Alison was on the deck, the mirror in her hand turning slightly.

The bed was pulled out of the window and placed on the outer movable pulley, sliding along the track towards the square.

Lester was the last to climb out of the window, turned around and kicked off the remaining blood vessel by the door, landed, and raised his hand to make a "take away" gesture in the air.

In the sky, ropes stretched taut into lines amidst the blood rain.

Sophie lay on the bed, panting as if she had just been pulled ashore, her hands still protectively covering her stomach. She whispered, repeating, "Don't let her—"

"Don't worry." Alfred turned to the side of the bed, shield facing the city. "Someone's settling accounts."

Edel stood by the railing, his gloves digging into his knuckles until they turned white. His lips were pressed tightly together, and his cheeks trembled slightly.

—Damn it…if only I hadn’t chosen to leave back then?

The image of his father, the fire of the capital, and his sister's tears flashed across his eyes. He took a breath of the cold air, swallowed the tremor, and raised his hand.

"Royal Rose—all ships, listen to my command!" His voice was harsh, as if squeezed out from between his teeth.
"Desperate Battle Mode activated. Targets: Blood Moon Queen Medici, Lamenting Singer Liseria. Five minutes—uninterrupted bombardment. Fire!"

"Firing complete at gun position number one—"

"Cannon position number two has reached zero cooling, requesting permission to fire!"

"Fire control observation in place, indirect aiming correction +0.3, wind deflection southeast, level 2!"

“Permission granted.” Edel nodded.

Boom! — Boom! — Boom! A row of cannons on the side of the palace simultaneously spewed fire, white light flashed across the eaves, and the stone beast's head collapsed on the spot.

The second column continued, and the blast blew the blood rain into a slanted mist. The blood film on the front of the royal palace wrinkled, collapsed, and then bulged up like hot glass.

"Target: outer wall of the Blood Palace, fire three volleys in quick succession—fire!"

"Load! Load quickly!"

"Gun position four, aim at the base of the Elegy Tower, angle down one degree—fire!"

The deck shook so violently it made one's chest feel heavy, and the breechblock made a sharp metallic clang as it returned to its position.

The sailors, their eyes red, said nothing but shouted out shorter and more precise commands.

Some people had blood seeping from their foreheads, yet their hands remained steady on the rope; others were biting the protective knot tied by their youngest daughters, their eyes like knives.

"Cannon positions 2 and 5 have completed cooling down. Requesting continued firing!"

"permit!"

"Fire control repeats: Target not down, continue coverage!"

The interplay of white and blue light tore fan-shaped gaps in the area in front of the royal palace.

Each time the blood membrane closes, it is then torn open by the next round of fire.

On the palace steps, Medusa's hand, which was holding a cannon, was jolted into a pause, and the blood on her golden hair was refracted by the cannon fire.

On the other side, Liseria tried to speak, but the cannon beam swept across the air, cutting off her first syllable.

"Press it down!" Edel growled. "Don't stop!"

He knew this wasn't something that could be solved with one or two shots. But this was his city.

"Ammunition belt number three has been replaced—fire!"

"An abnormality occurred during propellant loading at gun position number six. The backup pipeline has been switched. Firing continues!"

"Observation: The blood membrane suture is at the corner of the tower, slightly to the left half of the elbow!"

"Second row pivot—leftward, forward!"

The roar came wave after wave, like the sea crashing down in front of the palace.

The gunners cursed and roared, venting all their anger into the steel.

Someone gritted their teeth and whispered, "That street... is where my mother lives."

The person next to him only replied with one word: "Fight."

Then there was another boom!
"One minute and thirty seconds, continue coverage!" the fire control announced coldly.

"Cannon barrel temperature too high at position 8 - Requesting forced firing!"

"approve."

The flames of cannon fire burned a layer of white into the night. Half of the stone pillars in front of the royal palace were gnawed off, and the fragments tumbled and fell.

The blood film was like being hooked by a net, pulled back sharply, and then pressed back down by the next row.

Medici looked up at the sky, a smile playing on her lips—a smile that remained unshaken even in the wind and gunfire.

Liseria took a step forward, her skirt was lifted by the blast, and her shadow was cut in two by the white light.

"Two parts!"

"All secondary gun emplacements, move in!"

"Prepare fire-fighting equipment in case of a counterattack!"

Edel stopped thinking about "what ifs." He just stared intently at the stopwatch, at the front line of fire, and at the two figures standing in front of the ruins.

—We are not gods, but we are people of this city.

"Three points!"

"Press it down—again—press it down!"

The deck trembled beneath their feet, the gun barrels emitted a weary wail, and the gunners' voices grew hoarse.

Nobody stopped. Nobody wanted to stop.

"Four minutes and thirty seconds—"

"Thirty seconds left, all fire!" Edel's voice cleaved through the wind and rain. "Aleston's debt—written with cannons!"

"hair!"

When the final wave of pressure hit, a section of the outer wall in front of the royal palace finally collapsed. Dust, gravel, and tattered blood membranes looked like a torn flag being pulled downwards.

Five minutes later, I'll be there.

The cannon muzzles were red-hot, and the sailors' shoulders heaved, their chests like bellows.

The wind blew the blood-stained rain at an angle, and the smoke and dust in front of the palace slowly dissipated.

They were still there—they stumbled half a step, but remained standing.

Edel didn't relax; he simply raised and lowered his hand: "Prepare for follow-up shots—"

His knuckles were still white.

This time, there will be no retreat.

The wind in the inner corridor was stifled by the gunfire.

Alfred led the men carrying the bed at a brisk pace, the straps at the foot of the bed rattling on the stone floor. Turning the corner of the archway, a dark shadow flashed before their eyes—

He stood there.

The black heavy armor clung to his body, with a dark red glow seeping from the seams of the plates, like blood breathing.

The helmet's forehead ornament featured two sharp ridges, and behind the visor were a pair of charcoal-red eyes.

His mount was covered in blood and smoke, and with each hoofbeat, the stone bricks dented half an inch, leaving behind hot hoof prints.

Blood Moon Demon Shadow.

Alfred's fingers tightened, and he said in a deep voice, "...Duke of Black Mountain, Lucien."

The shadow tilted its head slightly, as if drawing attention back from a great distance. A deep, metallic voice came from behind the visor: "Black Mountain is buried."

He raised his blood-red spear, the lines on its blade flowing like life, a faint light creeping down its spine.

The air suddenly became sticky, the sailors' boots felt as if they were nailed to the ground, and the four men carrying the bed simultaneously felt their shoulders slump and their knees tremble.

Someone wanted to hold a gun, but their arm felt as if it no longer belonged to them.

The blood moon seemed to drip from the ceiling, pressing down on the back of everyone's neck.

The taste of iron crept up my tongue.

Lucien spurred his horse forward, brandishing his spear, the tip pointing lightly at Sophie on the bed. His voice was as cold as a knife buried under snow: "The mother returns to the womb. The debt is repaid by the nation."

"Back off!" Alfred held the battering ram across his chest like a long-handled weapon, gritting his teeth as he pushed it forward.

Two sailors behind him planted their shields in the ground, struggling to create a small wedge shape.

Blood Moon Demon Shadow slowly lowered its spear.

Wherever the gun tip went, the air hissed slightly, as if invisible threads were tightening.

"Change lanes! Change lanes!" Lester whispered from behind, trying to pull people away from the side corridor.

The four men carrying the bed were sweating profusely, their suspenders were clenched so tightly they turned white, and their heels felt as if they were sinking into stone.

Lucien's mount snorted, its breath turning red. He uttered a low, judgmental statement: "Kneel."

The momentum increased by an inch.

Alfred roared, putting all his strength into the hammer handle: "Hold on!"

—The spear fell.

Some people can't come back; some people don't want to come back.

Black Mountain is dead; the shadow of evil lingers in the long night.

—From "Night Chronicles of the Royal City: The Broken Gun Page"

(End of this chapter)