Chapter 131: The Ultimate Madman

Three days later, Cassel College.

This mysterious academy, nestled deep within the embrace of mountains, had recently welcomed a volume of human traffic that did not belong to it.

Hybrids from all corners of the world had gathered here—some for their own mysterious schemes, some summoned by Anjou to protect the academy where they had studied, some to witness the peerless powerhouse with their own eyes, and others simply to ensure that the glory of the hybrids was not trampled underfoot.

Nearly ten thousand people had assembled here, each possessing unique traits and unwavering self-confidence. Hybrids below Grade A did not even possess the qualifications to cross the threshold.

It could be said that this was the cream of the crop among hybrids. If they were to be broken, the backbone of the hybrid race would be snapped in half.

Normally, such a massive gathering would not have occurred, but Heaven’s use of the Dragon race had touched a raw nerve among the vast majority of hybrids. Possessing the "Sorrow of Blood"—a mindset that had always viewed them as superior and unworthy of mingling with ordinary people—they were even more reluctant to lose their current status.

Even now, with the proliferation of electrical current propulsion where superpowers could be attained without hybrid lineage, hybrids could do the same.

As long as they similarly unlocked animal abilities and electrical current propulsion, those with Spiritual Burdens still reigned supreme over ordinary awakeners. Moreover, due to the raised average standard, some hybrids with multiplicative amplifications soared far beyond others.

The new era did not merely narrow the gap between ordinary people and hybrids; it widened the gulf between powerhouses and mortals even further. Now, hybrids truly held power that completely surpassed ordinary mortals.

Anjou sat within the tallest clock tower of the entire academy, looking out the window at his entire world below—professors who had taught at Cassel College for many years, students who had rushed back upon receiving a notice even after graduation, enemies who had stood in opposition to him yet were still willing to slay dragons alongside him, friends of many years who were willing to come and help in the final hours, and a young girl who harbored a long-standing, age-defying crush on him...

Anjou took all of this into view.

He was currently situated in the finest vantage point of Cassel College, which was also the residence of Cassel College's Vice Principal, the Man in Black.

For days, this man of Anjou's generation, known as Nicholas Flamel, had been utilizing his Spiritual Burden, "Commandments," in conjunction with an alchemical matrix to suppress the hybrids throughout the academy, preventing them from utilizing their Spiritual Burdens.

The purity of Flamel's bloodline surpassed even that of Anjou, who had not used the special technique known as "Blood Rage." Under his suppression, even an academy housing a group of supernatural beings could "attend classes properly" just like a normal school.

"It's raining," Anjou said suddenly, leaning against the windowsill.

Following his words, the previously clear sky instantly flashed with thunder and lightning. First came a light drizzle, then a moderate rain, and finally, overwhelming drops of water fell like swords, pattering relentlessly against the world.

"With your current power, if you truly despised it, you could even alter celestial phenomena, couldn't you?" said Flamel, who, after physical internet disconnection, had been heavily drinking for three days, alternating between drunkenness and sobriety. "What is this? Will Hilbert Jean Anjou, whose heart has never held anything other than vengeance against the dragons that killed all his friends, and plans for slaying the Dragon Kings, also feel sorrow and sentimental grief?"

With that, Flamel poured another bottle of 1982 red wine down his throat. The blood-red liquid cascaded straight down to his stomach, and the few drops he failed to swallow immediately streamed down his cheeks.

"Yes, I shouldn't have feelings of sorrow and sentimental grief," Anjou closed his eyes. His cells frantically rubbed against one another instinctively, and tiny electrical currents gradually gathered into an ocean. An electrical current propulsion of up to one million volts erupted within his body. In a mere three days, he had naturally reached the ultimate boundary. "Since I have decided, I must do it—doing it with full of regrets yet without regret."

The Man in Black looked at his companion of many years. Sitting upright in the sofa before the floor-to-ceiling window, his silhouette was lean and hard. Though dressed merely in a suit, he radiated the majesty of a samurai clad in iron armor.

Ordinarily, looking at Anjou like this would only give the Man in Black a sense of reassurance, but at this moment, Flamel felt a bitterness that defied expression and a pain difficult to put into words, leaving him able only to pour himself drink after drink.

Silence fell upon the air, which should not have been the case.

For a hundred years, the two had gone from strangers to acquaintances, from enemies to friends, and finally to comrades-in-arms as principal and vice principal; never had such a situation occurred.

But now, Anjou no longer wished to speak, and Flamel wished to say nothing at all, merely pouring himself drink after drink, pouring himself drink after drink, pouring his damn drinks.

Finally, the Man in Black stood up and violently hurled the red wine bottle against the wall. Shards of broken glass splattered everywhere, and combined with the countless wine bottles he had already smashed, fragments of all sizes littered the tiny room.

"What are you still waiting for?" Flamel sneered, the corners of his mouth curling into a mocking smile. "Anjou, who the hell do you think you are? You're nothing more than a madman whose brain has been fried by the desire for revenge. Before that leader of Heaven initiated the new era, you were always wearing those black robes, carrying in your sleeve that folding knife forged from the relics of your friend."

"Over a hundred years have passed. Hangkong, who is of your age, is growing old and nearing death, and Beowulf has retreated to the second line, yet you remain as eager as a youngster. The desire for revenge, like the seed of a poisonous plant, took root and sprouted in your heart long ago, growing into a towering tree that completely envelops your entire soul."

"For so many years, you've had no family or children, no property, spending money like a hedonistic playboy living day-to-day, training like a machine. You numb your nerves with countless stimuli, and whenever news of the dragon species breaks, you charge forward even faster than Beowulf, whose obsession with dragon blood surpasses even my obsession with fine wine."

"Every single moment of these hundred years, you've wanted to kill people—no, to slay dragons. Hatred has long since filled your brain. To you, as long as you can have your damn revenge, your own life can be tossed aside, let alone the lives of others."

"And ever since awakening electrical current propulsion, you've grown crazier day by damn day—truly wonderful, something that uses emotion entirely as the source of its driving force is simply tailor-made for you."

"The more paranoid, the stronger; the stronger, the more paranoid. Others don't know what it means for you, at the ripe old age of 133, to surpass countless people by multiple stages, charging ahead to reach one million volts of electrical current propulsion while geniuses of prime age only reach three hundred thousand volts." As he spoke, nearly one hundred thousand volts of electrical current propulsion erupted on Flamel's skin as well. "But I know! I damn well know!"

"I damn well knew you were already crazy, I just didn't expect you to be crazier than I imagined!"

"I advised you before not to provoke Heaven, but you insisted on doing it anyway. I knew then that you had plans I hadn't anticipated."

"And it turns out to be like this!"

"Make your move! What are you waiting for?!" With that, Flamel threw a punch straight at Anjou's head. With the reinforcement of ten hundred-thousand-volt electrical current propulsion, even several meters of solid steel ahead of him could have been pierced by this single blow.

Yet Anjou—Anjou merely tilted his head, a streak of fresh blood trickling down from his nostril. The next instant, the splattering blood stained his face red.

Nicholas Flamel, the dear friend who had accompanied him for a hundred years, the close confidant with whom he could wear a tailored suit in this questionable hygiene and drink expired liquor while hurling curses at each other, had finally died by his hand.

Pain, pain born from the depths of the heart, pain originating from the depths of the soul, seized Anjou's brain. Without needing him to intentionally push it, the power that had already been lingering on the verge naturally smashed through that barrier.

For so many years, Anjou had believed he would never feel pain like that of the past again, but he was wrong. Although the scale differed, this pain was by no means inferior in concentration to the agony of a hundred years ago.

Anjou regretted it!

Yet just as he had said before, once this path was stepped upon, there was no turning back. There was no turning back!

To regret it, yet do it without regret!

Kill, kill, kill, kill, kill, kill, kill!

What friend! What mortal enemy! What student! What comrade! What professor!

Kill, kill, kill, kill, kill, kill, kill!

Time Zero fully unfolded. Anjou moved so fast that even he failed to react before the entire world shattered into pieces.

The water from the sky and the blood from the earth blended together like a river. The entirety of Cassel College was thoroughly dyed red, and fragments of human bodies could be seen everywhere.

Having finished all of this, Anjou collapsed to his knees, letting out a painful roar. Once again, he tasted the agony of the past—and this pain was one he had inflicted upon himself with his own hands.

Power, power magnified to the absolute extreme, surged like a torrent in harmony with his distorted and painful heart. In an instant, Anjou's already robust physique expanded by more than a circle, and his entire stature soared to nearly three meters tall.

"Hhe-he-he-he-he!"

"Ha-ha-ha-ha-ha-ha-ha!"

In the silent midnight, manic and utterly illogical laughter echoed across the ruined wreckage of the academy, and endless power erupted like a nuclear bomb.

Yet it was not enough, still not enough!

Tear-like battle scars emerged on both sides of his face. Anjou reached into his own chest and pulled out a crimson-gold eye—the third dragon eye of the King of Bronze and Fire, a dragon eye formed by compressing over eighty percent of the dragon blood within his body.

A substance of utmost venom, yet simultaneously a divine gift!

Anjou raised it high, laughing maniacally as he pressed it into the center of his brow, forcibly and thoroughly assimilating it. The power of intense magnetic field rotation completely subdued this impossible-to-harness power of the Dragon King, and massive wings unfurled behind his back.

The pinnacle of hybrids, a hybrid monarch possessing power inferior to no Dragon King—this realm, which had previously existed only in theory, was attained by this crazed man without relying upon the power of any other entity.