Secret World: I Became a God Through Lies

Chapter 490 The Hall of the End: Old Enemies and Returnees

The place where the Star Calamity recuperates

It is not a peaceful harbor.

Under the weight of points and flags

The undercurrents are the true spectacle of the hall.

Travelogue Inside the Tower

bang
The crystal walls of the light staircase slowly came to a stop amidst a roar, and the almost transparent doors opened.

Isabel, Reinhardt, and Han Jin-ya, who was holding an Annabelle doll, came out.

Before me stood a magnificent hall that took my breath away.

The lower level of the Tower of the End's mission hall.

This place is neither a battlefield nor a temple; it's more like a combination of a gigantic airport and a shopping mall.

The dome hangs high, and the arc-shaped sky projects panoramic images of the tower's levels: the burning Hell Post Office, the collapsed tomb, the illusory labyrinth... like a series of live broadcasts, reminding all who enter that the Tower of the End will show no mercy.

The plaza beneath my feet is pieced together from shattered fragments of Mysterious Cards, each card still shimmering with faint whispers. Stepping on it, one can almost hear the sighs of players from the past.

The crowds were bustling.

Some people were loudly hawking their homemade potions; others were calling out in front of the team recruitment board; still others were pushing alchemy carts, selling black market potions with side effects.

In the very center of the hall, a towering leaderboard, tens of meters high, stands tall with flashing lights, divided into an overall leaderboard, a professional leaderboard, and a floor leaderboard.

At first glance, the names ranked higher shine brightly, as if looking down upon all living beings.

At the bottom of the rankings, those insignificant names are almost ignored by the crowd.

Noise, excitement, greed, and fear all converge here.

Reinhardt craned his neck, looking up at the dome, his eyes flashing with the light of war.

The mechanical furnace on his chest was still sparking, and the gears were still clattering.

"Damn it... I need to find a repair shop, or I might self-destruct on the next floor at any moment."

He chuckled gruffly, raised his mechanical hand, and patted Isabel on the shoulder.

"Walk slowly, don't lose your life."

After saying that, he dragged his half-metal body into the crowd and disappeared into the cacophony of steam and steel.

Han Zhenya quietly held the Annabelle doll, its head tilted to the side, a sickly smile appearing on its porcelain face.

"I can move by myself."

Her voice was stubborn.

The doll's limbs moved mechanically, slowly like a puppet, yet still maintained a sense of theatricality.

"Don't worry about me... The stage is right here, I won't be absent."

She carried her small body on her back and walked straight into the alley of the black market.

The crowd quickly engulfed her.

Isabel stood there, looking up at the leaderboard.

The light screen flickered coldly, and the players' names appeared one by one.

Her gaze didn't linger for long; she simply sighed softly.

Then, she composed herself, turned around, and walked towards the west side of the hall.

There, flags fluttered in the wind.

The design, consisting of a door, mysterious cards, and a mystery master, is printed on the flag.

That was a familiar sign to her.

Mysterious Tricksters Guild.

Her steps were firm.

Whether it's failure or disappointment, you must face it.

Her destination was that unassuming yet ancient tavern.

Evening Bell Secret Chamber.

The Mysterious Masters Guild, located in the Tower of the End.

On the west side of the Hall of the End, an ancient flag flutters in the wind.

On the flag, three symbols overlap: a half-open door, a flipped mystery card, and a bowed mystery master.

It was like a kind of announcement, reminding all passersby that this was not a shop, but the headquarters of the Mystic Guild.

The entrance to the camp was just an inconspicuous little tavern.

A rusty, bronze-colored clock hangs by the door, its low chimes ringing out with every gust of wind, as if tolling an evening bell for the defeated.

Isabel pushed open the door and entered.

There was no noise inside the tavern.

Under the dim light, the tables and chairs were neatly arranged, and ancient, mysterious patterns hung on the walls, as if reminding all who entered—this was a sanctuary of reason, but also a cold arena of calculation.

A woman was sitting at the bar.

She was tall and graceful, wearing an elegant long dress made of a fabric as dark and mysterious as the night in a foggy city, yet subtly revealing an extremely provocative and vibrant color.

It wasn't vulgar debauchery, but a shock that couldn't be ignored: elegance and passion coexisted, authority and desire were intertwined.

This is Ruoli, a director of the Mystic Masters Guild.

She turned her head, her eyes as cold as a mirror.

"...You're back?"

Isabel lowered her head, suppressing her weariness and disappointment, and spoke respectfully:

"Director Ruoli, mission failed. Si Ming...missing."

The air in the tavern seemed to grow colder.

Ruoli pursed her lips slightly, showing neither anger nor surprise, only undisguised disappointment.

"Missing?"

Her tone was calm, yet sharp as a blade: "So, you couldn't save him?"

Isabel took a deep breath and forced herself to look directly into those cold eyes.

"We encountered a Hell Post Office instance."

“Even… the postmaster’s true form appeared.”

"..."

Ruoli's brow twitched slightly, and her fingertips tapped lightly on the table.

"Hell Post Office...?"

She pondered for a moment, then raised her eyes and asked in a cold voice:
"So, what about Si Ming? Did he fail? Or... did he start all over again?"

Isabel remained silent for a long time before answering in a low voice:
"...He burned. He entered a negative value."

"But strangely, the report still states that he completed the dungeon."

The air solidified again.

Ruoli looked at Isabel quietly, her eyes offering no comfort whatsoever.

She simply shook her head slightly, as if silently reciting:
"...This is truly disappointing."

The tavern door was suddenly pushed open.

The copper bell was struck and shook violently, making an inappropriate tinkling sound.

A strange scent drifted in on the wind.

At the very front was a knight commander clad in silver armor.

A vertical eye was etched on his chest, and his armor gleamed with a cold light.

His steps were heavy, yet carried an undeniable sense of oppression.

Behind him, several priests bowed their heads and muttered incantations, as if praying to some deity.

Further back, two or three Japanese men dressed in Shinto attire, with short swords at their waists, had cold, stern faces and piercing gazes.

The arrival of this group of people silenced the entire tavern.

No one dared to mistake their flag.

The Brotherhood of the First Eye.

A colossal force pieced together from countless religious organizations from various worlds, believing in "the one true God in the beginning".

Their very existence makes them one of the most dangerous guilds in the Tower of the End.

Ruoli raised her eyes, her expression indifferent: "What are you doing here, Knight Commander of the Primordial Eye?"

The knight commander's lips curled up, his voice low and mocking: "Of course I've come to see how much strength the mighty Mystic Masters' Guild has left."

His gaze swept over Isabel, finally settling on Ruoli.

"I heard that your ace—that so-called Dream Weaver of Destiny—has burned out once again?"

The monks murmured in unison, as if echoing the knight commander's mockery.

Ruoli's expression remained unchanged; she simply said coldly, "This is the main hall; fighting is prohibited. If you wish to provoke us, please go outside."

"Hahaha!" The knight commander burst into laughter, his voice striking everyone's eardrums like a hammer blow.

"How ridiculous! Your Mystic Masters Guild was once renowned, but now you can only eke out a living by relying on the rules."

He raised his hand and pointed to the twenty or thirty huge leaderboards outside the hall.

"Look closely! The score of our Eye of Primordial has far surpassed your previous highest record."

"And you, now you can't even protect a decent newcomer."

Isabel gritted her teeth, her chest heaving, her eyes filled with rage.

Ruoli merely tilted her head slightly, her expression cold and stern, as if the knight commander's every word could not penetrate her shell.

"...There are plenty of knights in the tower who are good with words."

"But don't forget, this is not your church."

"This is the Tower of the End."

The knight commander snorted coldly, his eyes flashing with disdain: "The Tower of the End? Hmph. The Tower of the End is merely a primordial temple."

He turned around, his gaze sweeping over Isabel, his voice sharp and cold.

"And your Fate Master is ultimately just a loser."

"After forty-three cycles of reincarnation, the burning star was exhausted, and in the end, not even a single complete card could be preserved."

The monks and Shintoists let out low laughter.

The air in the tavern was so oppressive, it felt like it could burst at any moment.

The air in the tavern felt frozen.

The Knight Commander of the Primordial Eye sneered, raised the iron gauntlet in his hand, and tapped it lightly three times on the bar.

"Want to know why you encountered the Hell Post Office on the first level?"

His voice trailed off maliciously, as if he were enjoying some kind of cruel drama.

Ruoli's eyes flickered, her voice icy: "Speak."

The knight commander grinned maliciously: "It's simple—because we used a little trick."

The monks chanted in hushed tones, as if adding a sense of ritual to his revelation.

"We used a hidden item."

The knight commander raised his finger and slowly drew a rectangle, like an envelope.

"It can forcibly change the course of a dungeon and trigger special hidden dungeons."

He paused, a smug smile on his face.

"And we chose—the most difficult one."

Isabel's heart skipped a beat.

Her eyes were icy, and her voice was filled with disbelief: "How...how do you know the details of the dungeon? Even the Postmaster's avatar appears; this can't be an ordinary item effect."

The knight commander simply smiled and did not answer.

Just then, a Shintoist standing beside him suddenly raised his hand and slowly pulled down his hood.

In his arms, the familiar doll sat quietly.

Annabelle.

The doll turned its head, its porcelain face reflecting an eerie smile in the dim light.

—Han Zhenya.

Isabel held her breath, her pupils contracting sharply.

A faint hint of apology flashed in Han Zhenya's eyes.

But in the next instant, that light quickly went out, replaced by numbness and indifference.

Isabel's heart felt as if it were being gripped tightly.

She understood immediately.

The dungeon is not "the will of the tower".

Instead, it was forcibly manipulated by the Eye of Primordiality.

Han Zhenya was sabotaged by them during the process.

Ruoli gently closed her eyes and chuckled softly.

There was no joy in his smile, only helplessness and cold self-mockery.

"I was too naive."

She slowly opened her eyes, staring directly at the knight commander, her voice as cold as a blade.

"Let you succeed."

The knight commander spread his arms wide, like a fanatical missionary preaching in a temple.

"Hahaha—! This is the power of faith."

"Your Mystic Master Guild's pride and joy, the master strategist Siming—once again, has failed due to our schemes!"

"His star burned out and he fell into the rift. This cycle of reincarnation has come to an end."

He lowered his head and looked coldly at Isabel.

"And we, with just a little trick, have completely destroyed your hopes."

The monks and Shintoists burst into a chorus of buzzing laughter.

The lights in the tavern seemed to dim, as if the entire space was mocking the decline of the Mystic Guild.

Ruoli remained silent, the wine glass in her hand gleaming coldly under the lamplight.

Isabel's fists were clenched so tightly that her nails pierced her palms, drawing blood.

But she didn't say anything.

Because she knew that what the other person said was true.

Just as the knight commander's maniacal laughter echoed through the tavern, a clear system announcement suddenly came from outside.

The voice was cold and mechanical, yet more jarring than any mockery.

[Player: Si Ming]

[Through the dungeon: Hell Post Office]

[Number of levels cleared: 1]

【Points: 2009】

[Already logged into the leaderboard]

The tavern fell silent instantly.

The laughter stopped abruptly, the monk's whisper caught in his throat, the Shintoist's expression changed drastically, and even the Knight Commander's smile froze for a moment.

That cold, impersonal broadcast was like a bucket of cold water poured over its head, completely extinguishing all the smugness of the Primordial Eye.

Ruoli raised her eyes and slowly turned towards the tavern's door.

Ding-dong-

The copper bell rang as the door was pushed open.

A young man stood at the entrance.

He wore a white clown mask, and the bizarre smile on the mask appeared mocking and cynical in the dim light.

He looked exhausted and even yawned lazily.

A casual smile played at the corners of his lips.

"Did I go to the wrong place?"

"This... is the headquarters of the Mystic Masters' Guild, right?"

Isabel's heart skipped a beat.

She could hardly believe her eyes.

But when that familiar scent washed over her, she could no longer hold back and cried out in a trembling voice: