When the plot-skips players into the game world

Aiwass held the Light Spear high, poised like a javelin thrower ready to release.

The resplendent golden light, as brilliant as the midday sun, continued to condense in his hand.

What was parasitic within the "Ball Gown" was neither the complete Void Whisper nor the Pillar God of the Path of Nihility, at most, it could only be called the Son of Nihility.

—After all, it's just a derivative of something like an Angel Envoy.

Aiwass gazed at the Son of Nihility that had been pierced by the silver Moonlight Spear and threw the Heavenly Light Spear in his hand.

At the moment it left his hand, it completed a triple acceleration, its tail growing at the same speed at which it was thrown—thus, it appeared as if it had never left in front of Aiwass, only the front extended rapidly, morphing into a thicker, more menacing form.

The dark golden runes floated, coiling in circles outside the Light Spear.

There were three circles of runes, with more runes and larger rings the further back they went. It was like sectional rockets—the foremost part was only as thick as an arm, while the second stage was as thick as a bucket, and the final third stage was as thick as The Great Tree, which even several people joining hands couldn't encircle.

At this moment, the "Ball Gown" had already broken free from the Silver Moon Spear.

Her chest and right arm had been melted away by the power of the Blood Celestial Marshal and the Eternal Self, leaving only a head. However, because of this, the silver spear nailed to her chest also fell off.

But at this moment, the Son of Nihility took the initiative to shatter the last piece of the "Ball Gown's" body!

Time seemed to slow down at this moment.

No, it was not an illusion—

The world became increasingly and distinctly slow.

Colors collapsed, sounds distorted, and everything was gradually covered in a layer of dim yellow, as if sealed still in amber. Even the Holy Lance, thrown by Aiwass at great cost, was frozen in mid-air... It no longer shone, appearing instead like a malformed rune tree cast in brass.

And at the moment when the head of the Ball Gown completely shattered, a mass of pitch-black, lightless turbid smoke flew out.

It circled once in the arena—Aiwass clearly felt something sweep over him.

It was a slight tearing sensation. Not from the skin, nor the flesh... but a fleeting stimulus from the soul.

To put it another way, it was a bit like the slight fizzy sting felt on the tongue when drinking a soda full of bubbles.

Aiwass, Isabel, Sherlock—the gaze of the Son of Nihility swept past them, but it was obviously not interested in them. Or rather, it couldn't reside in them.

But Arsene...

The Son of Nihility seemed to have a slight interest in him.

Though not a great interest, apparently.

It was like walking past buckets of unappetizing food at a cheap buffet, reluctantly, only to unexpectedly find something still edible, or rather something that is hard to mess up—such as glossy roast chicken wings.

—When the mass of smoke looked at Arsene, its gaze was like it was looking at a bucket of roast chicken wings.

Whether it was Aiwass, Isabel, or Sherlock—their minds had left no gaps.

As they were now, there was no possibility of them falling into the Void.

But Arsene was different.

He just began to doubt the meaning of his existence and felt the void of life. Even more coincidentally, the sum of the Holy Numbers of his Path was exactly ten—

Arsene's eyes suddenly widened.

He tried hard to clench his fists, to avoid the Void. But in the still world, he could not even move his body.

—Is it me?

In just an instant, Arsene realized the truth.

The next host for the Void... is me?

To be parasitized due to meaninglessness and eventually die meaninglessly just like that.

To dissolve the glory of the past, to melt away the love endured...?

To die just like that—defeated due to weakness, alone turning to nihility?

But just as he was about to be touched by the Void, Arsene's pupils suddenly expanded.

His mind, abruptly recalled his past.

What a short, ugly, and utterly meaningless life that was—

In the beginning, he had done nothing wrong.

Working as a stevedore at the docks, selling his strength yet barely able to support himself. Later, he was ignorantly tricked onto a ship, only to find it was a pirate ship under the guise of a merchant vessel.

—The Sea Monster.

Smuggling, theft, murder... Of course, as just a child, he hadn't yet stained his hands with blood.

There was a saying at sea that "women are a bad omen," and bringing women on board might anger the Abyssal Celestial Envoy, thus causing tsunamis or storms. Therefore, long-haul cargo ships often had a sheep brothel to relieve the sailors' personal needs.

Of course, compared to real gold, such legends were nothing. If they really happened to capture some nobleman's daughter, after having their way, they would definitely sell her ashore rather than drown her. After all, this was a business for money, hanging the brain at the waistline, destined to go to Hell eventually, so there was no need to care too much about divine punishment.

—But that being said, avoidance was best, and there was no need to seek death deliberately.

Thus, there was another approach.

That was to recruit fair-featured, ambiguous-gender young boys as odd-job workers. They could be men, they could be women, or even beasts—surely, such odd jobs as moving things couldn't be done by the fighters, right?

Such days seemed endless. A pirate's life wasn't long; dying was never surprising.

So later, when docked, he secretly stole some money and quietly left.