1559 Rose

While Paradise itself was destroyed, the regions dependent on it remained relatively intact save for a few unlucky ones.

This might be because the artificial realm was in a space-time domain of its own which served to block the neighboring regions from suffering crippling damage.

Originally intended to prevent any form of infiltration into Paradise, it ironically saved trillions of lives.

However, the living beings inside Paradise weren't lucky. Not a single one of them survived the catalsymic battle.

Varian recalled the few people he met there, especially Ingrid, that giant who was the captain of his town and sighed.

In his hands was a paper that contained a portrait of that man as well as bits of information that was confidential until yesterday.

Hell Faction, a group of survivors within and outside Paradise, who decided it's not right for trillions of lives to be subject for the whim of a sleeping god.

They weren't composed of strong beings, after all, even the best member of the team was but a toy who slipped out of Fabricator's grip.

But the faction continued its actions, in hope that they could achieve their goal someday.

"…It's fucked up."

Varian burned the paper out of existence.

He changed. There was no feeling of guilt except a feeling of pity for what happened.

If he had a choice to kill Fabricator and Icarus while not putting himself and his wives at a huge risk, he might've thought of evacuating Paradise.

But it's simply not practical. Fabricator tolerated a lot of things. But he would never tolerate someone affecting his stories. That naturally extended to affecting characters who would play important roles in those stories.

'I can't pretend to be sad when I'm not.'

Shaking his head, Varian walked into a narrow street, where scores of people were walking hastily, a hint of tension and unease ever present on their faces.

It's like they were given a notice of a criminal infiltrating into the society and would launch a massacre.

'So much fear, tension and worry.'

The power of soul captured these twisted emotions and unraveled them with ease. And it surprised Varian to find the emotion of 'anger' in the mix.

'Oh, yes. Paradise is not just hell. At least not for everyone. It's also hope, the grandest road to succeed in life.'

And that road was now cut off.

For some of these people, the ones who killed Fabricator was the brutal murderer who buried their hopes. Perhaps they also hated Ingrid and his colleagues with burning passion.

'People, heh.' Varian smirked as he waded through the sea of crowd.

The ten pick pocketing attempts on him had succeeded. The thieves would grin brightly while opening his spacepouch but it would disappear midway, throwing them into panic. The spacepouch would return to him in a second and would be stolen once again.

'Even though I don't need thing like a spacepouch…'

But if he had to maintain a lowkey identity, it was a good addition.

The muddy streets which were now wet because of the morning rain slowly grew deserted.

Varian walked through a few dangerous streets before turning right at a deserted corner and walking into an alley.

Knock! Knock! Knock!

There was a shabby wooden house at the end with a rotting door, looking like it no one stepped in for centuries.

But it opened smoothly and a thick smell of alchohol, drugs and sex hit his nose.

"Woohoo!"

"Hey hey!"

"Yo! Newboy! You look delicious!"

Varian couldn't stop himself from frowning. This place wasn't just filthy, it was also full of debauchery.

"Haa~"

He walked to a corner of the bar and waited.

"Yes?" The waitress was a young woman with a long spiky tail. Her vertical pupils gave him a casual glance. "Drinks for one?"

"Two." Varian gave a small smile. "My drinking buddy will be here soon."

Paradise's remains were stolen shortly after its destruction. Not much remained after facing destruction of such intensity. But conversely, whatever remained was able to survive that disaster, so it must be worth a lot.

A new gang stole the remnants from the world of 'Eternal Empress'.

Perhaps they too knew it's extremely precious. So, they evacuated their previous location and were now essentially in hiding.

Tracking them was one thing but they might've taken extreme measures to keep themselves safe. Measures that would ensure that the treasures would be thrown into anonymous locations the moment they're threatened.

In the end, Varian didn't decide to use his fist when his wallet could get the work done.

It's funny because the last time he was worried about anything materialistic was for his artifacts. And before that, it was for the points he got in his school.

'The damn points…'

"What's the order? There is a complimentary bomb and bimbo if you spend over a thousand murhams." The waitress said.

"Well, thank you. But I'd just like the Skull of Sean." Varian grinned.

It was the codename the leader of the gang who stole the remains of Paradise gave him.

"Ah, yes."

The waitress' gaze changed at his words and then motioned for him to follow her to the basement, where things that were considered too degenerate for the degenerate crowd above were being done.

Varian sighed and followed her to a small room. There was a black curtain dividing it into two and a life presence was felt from the other side.

"What's your price?" The voice was definitely modified but not like he cared.

"The one we agreed upon before." Varian replied without thinking and threw two glowing platinum tablets.

"It's three, not two."

"…"

He narrowed his eyes but didn't want to start a conflict here. So, he threw one more tablet.

"I changed my mind, it's ten."

Realizing that this bastard wasn't intending to trade at all, Varian lost his cool. "Do you really think you ca—"

The curtain split open and a powerful aura shot out.

A beam of red light fired up to the sky and then swept the entire planet. A moment later, everything and everyone exploded.

"Haa! Hah! Huff!"

Varian clutched his nearly severed head to keep it from sliding off his neck and gripped the large hole on his abdomen.