Nihil lay on the cold roof of the opera building, each breath feeling like swallowing shards of glass. He could feel the holy mark Richter had left on his soul—a burning scar that pulsed, revealing his location to every tracking hound in the Empire.

[Aura Capacity: 1/40]

[Warning: Minimal regeneration active. Recommended to restore capacity immediately.]

In the distance, he heard the cries of Gryphon Knights. From above, several winged figures began descending toward him.

There was no time for thought. Only movement.

He forced his aching body to rise and run. He leaped from the opera building's roof to a lower city hall roof, landing heavily. The Gryphon Knights above unleashed spears of light. Nihil rolled behind a gargoyle statue, the arrows shattering the stone where he had stood seconds before.

He had to get down. The sky was a death zone.

He ran along the roof, then slid down using a giant silk banner, landing on a balcony several floors below. From there, he entered through an open window, finding himself in an empty luxurious apartment.

He didn't stop. He raced down the emergency stairs, finally emerging in a dark, foul alley. But the streets were no safer. He could hear the rhythmic footsteps of Inquisitor patrols.

He had to purge the holy mark. But how? It wasn't ordinary magic; it was a conceptual brand tied to his soul. Forcibly nullifying it with Void Grasp might damage his soul itself.

He kept moving, slipping from shadow to shadow. He was like a rat in a maze designed by gods. Every time he thought he'd found a safe path, his Void Sonar detected patrols ahead. The holy mark was like a homing signal for his enemies.

As he hid behind a pile of crates, he spotted an opportunity. A waste transport cart was leaving the academy. Its stench was terrible, but it was large enough to hide in.

He needed a distraction.

He spotted a small bell tower nearby. He focused the last of his consciousness. He had no energy for Void Grasp, but perhaps enough for a slight vibration.

[Using Atom Manipulation: Precision Vibration]

[Aura Capacity: 1/40 -> 0/40]

Inside the tower, the massive bell trembled slightly, producing a single soft chime. DONG.

The nearby Knight patrol immediately turned toward the tower. "What was that? Investigate!"

As their attention shifted, Nihil sprinted and leaped into the waste cart, burying himself among the leaking, pungent barrels.

His capacity was now completely empty. His regeneration had halted.

The cart began to move, carrying him past the academy gates. He had escaped the lion's den, but now he was in a wolf-filled forest. His destination: the Ambassador District. A gray zone where Imperial law wasn't absolute.

After what felt like an eternity, the cart stopped. Nihil slipped out, his body now soaked in the foul-smelling alchemical fluids. He was at the border of the district he aimed for.

But his path was blocked.

Under the streetlamp's glow stood a solitary knight. His armor was clean, his sword sheathed, and his posture upright. Sir Tristan the Valiant.

"In the name of the Academy and Imperial law, surrender, Nihil," said Tristan, his voice devoid of hatred, only sorrow and resolve. "Don't make this worse than it already is."

Nihil stood there, exhausted, without energy, and cornered. Before him stood one of the most talented fighters of his generation, the embodiment of order and honor. And behind him, he could hear the approaching sound of Inquisitor patrols.

"I can't surrender, Tristan," Nihil replied, his voice hoarse from fatigue.

"Then I must compel you," said Tristan, unsheathing his softly glowing sword. "I don't want to do this."

Nihil's words hit their mark. Tristan wavered for a moment. Doubt was clearly visible in his eyes. He was a man who lived by black-and-white ethics, and Nihil had just shown him a very large gray area.

"ENOUGH CHATTER, HERETIC!"

A thunderous voice shattered the tension. Grand Inquisitor Richter Von Braum arrived at the end of the street, flanked by a dozen elite Inquisitorial Knights. Holy light radiated from his body, turning night into day.

"Very good, Sir Tristan," Richter said, his golden eyes fixed on Nihil. "Hold him. Let not the venom of his lies stain your soul."

Tristan now found himself in an impossible position. Before him, a fugitive who might be innocent. Behind him, the highest embodiment of the law and faith he had sworn to serve.

Nihil saw the doubt in Tristan's eyes. And within that doubt, he saw his only chance.

He would not run. He would create a wave that would engulf them all.

He looked up. Above them, towering majestically, was the Great Aqueduct of Solara Magna, an ancient engineering marvel that carried part of the Aetherius River across the city.

Nihil closed his eyes, ignoring the approaching knights. He reached for the last remnants of energy restored by his Null-Capacity Condenser. Just a few drops.

[Aura Capacity: 3/40]

He gambled everything on one疯狂 act.

[Using Atom Manipulation. Target: Water Molecules within the Aqueduct.]

[Application: Focused Resonance Pressure Wave.]

[Aura Capacity: 3/40 -> 0/40]

All remaining energy drained away.

Above, nothing happened for a moment. Then, a deep rumbling sound began. The ancient stones of the aqueduct started to shake. Massive cracks appeared on its surface.

Richter looked up, his golden eyes widening in horror as he realized what Nihil had done. "STAND FAST!"

With a deafening roar, a large section of the Great Aqueduct collapsed.

A river fell from the sky.

Millions of gallons of water crashed onto the streets below, creating a massive tsunami wave. The wall of water swept everything before it—inquisitorial knights, carriages, even small buildings. Total chaos ensued in the district.

Nihil, Tristan, and Richter were all caught in the brutal current. Nihil was tossed like a ragdoll, his body slamming into debris, consciousness beginning to fade. Water filled his lungs.

As he was about to drown, as darkness claimed him, a strong hand seized his cloak and pulled him upward.

He coughed, spitting out water. He was inside something. A narrow, dark metal compartment. A submarine?

Before him stood a woman in a functional black uniform of the Dimensional Guild. He had never seen her before.

Above the now-flooded city, on the command deck of "The Wanderer," Elara Moonveil watched everything unfold on her monitors.

"The asset has been secured, Lady Elara," her agent's voice came through the communicator. "Critical condition, but stable."

Elara gazed at the destruction Nihil had caused. Floods, fires, chaos. She did not smile. Her face bore a cold expression of resolve.

"Good," she said. "Take him to Omega Base. The observation phase is over."

She paused for a moment, her eyes fixed on the small figure of Nihil on the screen.

"Now... the intervention begins."

[END OF VOLUME 1: THE BIRTH OF THE ANOMALY]

If you find any errors ( broken links, non-standard content, etc.. ), Please let us know < report chapter > so we can fix it as soon as possible.