Secret World: I Became a God Through Lies

Chapter 172 The End of the Movie
"On the stage woven by fate, true freedom often comes from a single word: no."

A bloody mist rose, and the Haiyuan Theater continued to roar. The stage was like a huge black coffin, sealed by lights and ignited by blood.

Calvino was half-kneeling on the edge of the stage, his shoulders tilted and his right arm dislocated.

Blood slowly slid down from his shoulder blade, dripping onto the wet stone floor, splashing tiny drops of water.
The red reefs exposed after the tide receded are shocking.

His breathing was short and his chest rose and fell with each breath as if he was sinking into the deep sea.

Baroque's body was half stained with blood, and his body was covered with knife marks. His axe fell to the ground, his knuckles turned white from clenching his fist, and his chest was heaving violently.

Every breath seemed to carry fire and salt, pouring out from the lungs.

On the stage, ghost actors transformed into "old sailors" were slowly walking around the stage, their voices mournful, like the howling of someone sinking to the bottom of the water:

"traitor--!"

"hypocrite!"

"Captain, you've abandoned us again..."

This is no longer a theater, it is a torture and hanging of Calvino's soul.

The ghost audience stood up like a tide, clapping, cheering, and screaming, as if the entire abyss was rejoicing for the climax of this tragedy.

Their applause was like waves, one higher than the other, splashing not water but painful memories and a torn past.

Sabellius finally emerged from the depths of the theater.

He walked slowly, each step seemed to be on the page of the script, and his robe dragged on the ground like ink staining the stage.

He wore a long gown woven from the death of plays and characters, with a wide collar that swirled like the tide.

His eyes flashed with a green and blue luster, like the cold eyes of a poisonous jellyfish in the deep sea.

He held a scepter, the top of which was not a gem, but a page of a play stained with blood, slowly dripping with residual ink.

He stood in the theater's highest arcade, like a god watching the wailing and destruction in the center of the stage. He opened his arms and smiled intoxicatedly:
"Wonderful, so wonderful!"

"Tragedy is the most perfect art. Your pain, your anger, your struggle, here—are they real."

His voice swept through every corner of the theater like a tsunami, as if swallowing up all the actors and audience members.

"Calvino, it's over! Plug your sword into his heart!"

"This scene is the most anticipated climax of the entire theater!"

Calvino lowered his head, the corners of his lips trembled, and his breath flickered like a candle.

He did not respond immediately. Baroque stood leaning on his axe, his face covered in blood. His axe blade touched the ground, but his eyes were like burning flint.
He stared at Calvino intently, like an angry bear that was injured but refused to fall down.

The thunderous applause in the audience seemed like a tide rushing into Calvino's eardrums.

High in the sky, the script automatically turned pages, and a huge scroll slowly unfolded in the air:

——[Act 10: The End of Loyalty].

Calvino closed his eyes, slowly and gently touched his chest and took out a card.

——"The Lost Scholar".

That was what Sima Ming secretly gave him before he entered the Sleeping Sea City.

"He'll be what you need."

These words rang in his ears again, like a final anchor rope, pulling him back to reality from his deep sea slumber.

Calvino murmured:

"It's time to take a bow."

Sabellius' eyes flashed, and the corners of his mouth curled up, like a director who finally saw his audience cry.

"You finally...finally chose to obey! Yes, obeying the script is the true awakening!"

Calvino raised his head slowly, but his eyes were no longer tired.

A sneer flashed in his eyes, a cruel gleam that belonged to a pirate captain:

"Do not."

"I mean—you are about to take your final bow."

He whispered the spell:
"The Lost Scholar."

At that moment, Baroque, who had fallen to the ground, suddenly turned into an inky black shadow.

Shadows surged like waves peeling off a disguised body.

Suddenly appearing was the familiar faceless figure - "Scholar", covered in a phantom of drama ink, peeling away from the illusion.

He had no eyes, but he held a script in his hand. The pages burned in his hands, and the ink turned into hundreds of sharp paper blades, spinning in the air like thorns, pointing directly at Sabellius.

A single blow flips the script—actors who don't follow the script are the most deadly villains. The dome trembles, and the theater is silent.

Blood mist, fragmented light, and shattered dreams mixed together in the water, swirling like the last whisper from the mouth of a god—at this moment, silence was louder than roaring.

Calvino stood in the center of the half-collapsed stage, the blood on his shoulder had dried, and there was still smoke from the muzzle of his musket.

His figure was no longer straight, but more determined than ever.

The remaining light from the theater's screen fell on the side of his face, outlining his eyes that were soaked in coldness and fire with exceptional clarity.

Sabellius staggered, raising his scepter to pry open the loop of rules, but before he could chant, Calvino raised his hand and two lead bullets flew straight into the air.

“Bang—bang!!”

The bullet pierced through the light curtain in the center of the stage, and the broken traces of rules swirled in the air.

Sabellius dodged in panic, and a corner of his robe was torn, and blood splattered in the air, creating a glaring red in the deep blue sea of ​​light.

He roared: "You can't hit me - Calvino!"

"Of course I can't hit you."

Calvino spoke in a calm tone, as if he was just stating a fact that had nothing to do with him.

But the next moment, he curled his lips slightly and whispered:
"But—he can."

A wave of water suddenly exploded from the dome of the theater, and a shadow wrapped in flames fell from the light, crashing down on top of Sabellius.

That is not a shadow, it is the embodiment of anger, an out-of-control storm, and the most violent reverse scale under the oppression of fate.

The real Baroque has arrived.

The giant axe broke through the air, and the waves roared, as if the entire dream sea was flooding back at this moment.

His four life stars blazed fiercely on his right arm, and lines like waves and reefs appeared on his bronze skin.
The shadow of a sea giant loomed faintly behind him, as if the god of the entire sea had risen from the abyss.

Life-related intermediate secret card "Tide Giant".

He did not fall from the sky, he was a raging tide torn out from outside the script and from the cracks of fate, a monster that came to break the deadlock.

Sabellius finally showed horror in his eyes. He blocked with his scepter and chanted a spell rapidly, trying to activate the core node of the script.

But it was too late.

Baroque roared, "Sabelius—this is not your script!"

"This is my execution platform!!"

With a loud bang, the axe fell between heaven and earth.

Sabellius's defensive curtain lasted only half a second before shattering into thousands of black lines, and his scepter broke like a hollow dead branch.

His body was hit by an axe in the chest, and he was smashed to the ground along with his unfinished chant.

The theater began to collapse.

The auditorium burned like pieces of paper, and the echoing script that sank to the bottom of the sea shattered page by page.

The ghostly applause stopped, the illusion disappeared, and the tide once again covered this dream-like stage.

Sabellius fell apart like a puppet, his last whispers tinged with incomprehensible confusion:
"Why...is the script no longer responding to me?"

Calvino slowly approached, picked up the card that was still floating in the dim light on the ground, and touched it lightly with his fingertips.

Card Number: No.618
Star rating: High

Category: World
Real name: Dream Script Builder

False name: Sabellius the Predestined

He gently put the card away, his eyes deep.

Baroque walked over on the broken curtain, grinning, his axe blade still dripping with blood.

"Hey, Captain, how much is this play worth?"

Calvino chuckled softly, his voice slightly tired but still clear:

"This play... is worth an entire destiny."

They walked side by side to the end of the theater, towards the door that had already been half-open.

The curtain has fallen and the final chapter of the script has been torn off.

Ahead, only one person is left.

——The battle of destiny is waiting on the other side of the sea of ​​dreams.

"The true script is never written by fate, but by the rebels, written in blood."

(End of this chapter)