CHAPTER 175: CONFLICT, UNLEASHED

Charles hurriedly ran up to the clown, looking at the man whose face was concealed beneath his makeup. Blinking with anticipation, he asked, "How will the performance go, Mr. Clown?"

"No rush, no rush! Next, I'll show you and the audience the most beautiful world in everyone's hearts. After all, what people long for differs from one to another, and so too will that vision. Isn't that right?"

The clown's lips curved in a perennial smile. His cheerful words reached both the audience and Charles alike.

"That makes sense! Let's hurry up, then. I'm already getting impatient." Charles nodded, seemingly in agreement with the clown's words.

Meanwhile, he began silently reciting prayers to the Lady of the Night, linking his soul to the Tree of the Night—a construct that continued to function normally thanks to the mechanisms Wang Yu had left behind, despite the fact that Wang Yu himself could no longer access his mindscape. This was his precaution against potential mental contamination.

"Very well. Now, please witness this utopian world of ours."

The clown waved his hand, causing a cascade of petals to fall from above. They were merely colored paper, but under the influence of illusion magic, they appeared indistinguishable from real petals to the audience and even carried a faint fragrance.

Panels on the stage began to rise, forming a backdrop similar to the green screens used for special effects on Earth.

"Mana crystal panels...?" Although Charles kept an eager expression while looking at the clown, he had long since noticed the erected panels via his peripheral vision and mental energy.

A clever trick—background panels infused with mana crystals were indeed enough to create an illusion so realistic that it would completely deceive the ordinary spectators.

"I'm honored to have you up here on stage with me. You're a handsome young man! May I ask for your name? I'll prepare a unique gift just for you."

The clown glanced at the audience, who had already fallen into the illusions, utterly entranced. Then, he turned back to Charles and asked him a question with genuine sincerity.

"Ah, my name is Hugin Wilsbach." Charles gazed at the clown with equally innocent eyes.

"Very well then, Mr. Hugin. Do you often feel that life is unfair to you? Do you feel exhausted as you struggle for survival? Do you feel jealous and envious when you see the glamorous lives of others?"

The clown's voice was soft, slow, and hypnotic, with a power that made people relax. Under the influence of such a soothing tone, Charles would instinctively lower his guard.

"So this is why they chose the slums by the inner walls as their performance venue? No wonder this often leads to riots. I must say, they picked the right place—residents of the slums truly have miserable lives, so it's normal for them to be deeply affected by such words. And with the guidance of illusions..."

Charles listened to the clown's persuasive words with an innocent expression. At an opportune moment, he revealed a sorrowful look, his eyes shimmering with tears, as if truly reminiscing about a sad and terrible past.

In reality, he had been born into one of the most privileged backgrounds the capital had to offer. Tragic experiences?Ha!

Just as Charles was about to respond verbally and play along, the clown continued, "Imagine if there were such a nation. Would you be willing to fight for it? Would you be willing to give your life for it? Would you be willing to become one of us?

"There won't be any oppression. Everyone will be equal and enjoy a unique life. Resources shall be distributed according to need. The strong will fight for the weak. The wealthy will share their riches with the poor.

"And this is just the beginning. As this nation gradually improves, everyone will advance together and grow stronger together. The nation will become more powerful and more wondrous.

"Its magical research will reach new heights. Its economic development will surpass that in all existing kingdoms. Culture, nurtured in harmony, will in time rival—or even surpass—that of the ancient elven and draconic nations.

"When the nation possesses such greatness and power beyond imagination, it will be able to provide all citizens with the life they desire.

"Mr. Hugin, are you willing to contribute to our beautiful 'Utopia'?

"Look! Aleisterre's rule is so unfair. Look at those who live outside this district. Look at those who enjoy a better life. Don't you think this is unjust?

"You should stand up, voice your dissatisfaction, your anger—start by breaking free from their constraints!"

The clown's tone shifted from heartfelt passion to fervent excitement and finally to sorrowful indignation as he sympathized with the miserable life he fabricated for Charles. His emotions shifted skillfully, leading his listeners step by step down the path of rebellion.

"Hmm, I think what you're saying is..." Charles looked at the clown, seemingly in full agreement. Inwardly, he wasn't taking it seriously at all. He was no longer the idealistic child he once was—did they really think he'd fall for this?

He planned to catch the clown off guard at the last moment—pretending to agree, only to suddenly declare, "But I disagree!" just to see the clown's reaction. After that, he'd decide whether to blast him with a big fireball or attempt to subdue him.

"I..." Just as Charles was about to say "I disagree," his mouth refused to move. He could utter the first word, but the rest simply wouldn't come out.

"What's happening?! Something is stopping me from rejecting him? No, my body isn't being restrained—it's me!

"My soul refuses to say those words. A part of my consciousness is urging me to accept this utopia. Damn it, what's going on? Why isn't the mitigation from the Prayer Network working?!"

Shock spread through Charles' mind. Something was preventing him from saying no. This power came from—was it his soul? His subconscious? What was happening?

"Mr. Hugin, is something holding you back from committing to our utopia? That's not good, is it? This is what people long for—you shouldn't resist, should you? This is also your chance to atone, intruder."

The clown leaned close to Charles' ear and whispered to him. His tone remained cheerful, but the meaning and intent behind his words surprised Charles. Had his disguise been seen through?

He wasn't too worried, though—Wang Yu and Edward were here. Even if something was wrong with him, his two teammates were amazingly reliable.

Seeing that Charles was still hesitating, the clown suddenly conjured a long sword out of thin air, as if performing a magic trick. The blade gleamed coldly as he brandished it.

"Still unwilling? If you refuse any longer, I'll have to find someone else." The clown's voice remained cheerful, but his words carried undeniable killing intent.

"I'm still unable to move... This isn't mental contamination, but something else affecting my mind, preventing me from resisting... This 'Utopian Circus' really has something up its sleeves."

Charles could still think clearly, but something deep within him was influencing him and stopping him from rejecting the idea outright.

"Forget it, let's just switch to someone else. Young man, you who dare to destroy our utopian dream—please, don't get in our way."

The clown, seemingly having lost his patience, swung his sword swiftly at Charles' neck.

The blade moved with astonishing speed, slicing through the air with a sharp whistle.

Just as it was about to strike his vulnerable throat, his gaze suddenly changed. It was as if he had become a different person entirely. His sharp eyes locked onto the gleaming blade as he immediately conjured up a spell model—the third-tier spell Mire.

His body instantly collapsed as he turned into a puddle of mud. This defensive spell, designed to nullify physical attacks, allowed "Charles" to escape from harm.

However, even faster than that spell was the crimson sword that shot up from below—an unexpected longsword that burst through the floor of the stage and clashed violently with the clown's slash.

Even if Charles had failed to react, the blade would never have struck him. Sparks flew as the clown's sword cracked, its metallic blade trembling. Meanwhile, the newly appeared sword transformed into crimson liquid and withdrew into the hole from which it emerged. A faint scent of blood permeated the stage.

"Huh? Why did I freeze up just now? That shouldn't have happened..." As he emerged from the mire, Charles felt a bit dizzy. The events that had transpired in that critical moment seemed oddly blurry in his memory.

"It seems your companions also intend to hinder us... Utopia must not be stopped. None of you will be leaving here today."

The clown glanced at Charles, then at the hole where the crimson blade had retracted, before finally locking his gaze onto Edward and Wang Yu, who had risen up. A crimson thread extended from Wang Yu's fingertip into the gap between the audience seats.

"Don't just stand there, Charles. You and I will handle the others. Wang Yu, you take care of that guy with mental powers!" Edward's voice reached Charles, who was momentarily dazed.

From Edward's perspective, Charles had been controlled by the clown in some unknown manner, and Wang Yu had stepped in to block the attack.

However, Wang Yu, who was aware of "One's" existence, understood what had actually happened—"One" had taken control of Charles' body in the nick of time.

And because Charles couldn't be allowed to know about "One," every time "One" took over, Charles would end up in a daze for a while afterward. This was the result of "One's" influence on his soul.

"Here they come." No longer in a daze, Charles flicked a Star tarot card, vanishing and reappearing beside Edward.

Meanwhile, below the stage, a horde of magical beasts that had previously been seen in the performance began to swarm. Their papier-mache bodies, now inexplicably infused with some unknown power, gained tangible form. They prowled out from backstage, baring their fangs and dripping saliva, their ferocious expressions leaving no doubt about their hostility.

"Illusions combined with some kind of magical framework—not too difficult to deal with, but we'll need to protect the audience if we want to wrap this up quickly." Sparks of lightning crackled in Charles' hand, intertwined with flickering flames.

"Don't worry, I'll cover you too." As Edward spoke, the potential he had awakened upon becoming a full-fledged knight, Bastion, fully activated under the influence of his fighting spirit.

A translucent barrier expanded, enveloping Charles and all the audience members trapped in the illusion. Compared to Steel Sunlight, the coverage of Edward's potential was on a whole different scale.

"This is my first time seeing this potential of yours—it's a defensive one, huh? But will it be strong enough? My spells pack quite a punch."

"No problem. As long as I'm standing, this barrier will never break."

He pulled out his trusty shield and planted it firmly beside him. Fighting spirit surged, linking Edward, the shield, and the barrier into a single entity.

"I'm leaving that clown to you, Wang Yu!"

Charles flung his spell—a fusion of a bolt of lightning and a fireball—into the advancing swarm of magical beasts. The resulting explosion shredded them apart, scattering chunks of flesh—no, shattering the magical frameworks that held them together. Their paper-like husks turned to ash and crumbled.

The shockwaves from the explosion, along with stone fragments sent flying by the ruptured ground, were completely absorbed by Edward's barrier, ensuring not a single member of the audience was harmed.

Nodding, Wang Yu leaped forward, channeling his mental energy into the Spellweaver's Tome. Avia had prepared a specialized mobility spell for him, since he had lost his wizardry powers and could no longer perform mid-air maneuvers like double jumps. Instead, he now had the second-tier Storm Stride.

A storm gathered behind him, unleashing a powerful thrust that momentarily suspended him in the air before propelling him forward at high speed. With the aid of the wind, he instantly shot toward the stage and closed the distance toward the clown.

His hand swiftly reached for his holster as he drew Fury of the Forge. Without hesitation, he pulled the trigger multiple times in rapid succession. The alchemical revolver's cylinder spun at high speed, unloading six ordinary bullets almost simultaneously, all aimed at the clown below.

The clown responded with his signature grin. His body twisted violently, contorting in an unnatural manner to dodge the incoming bullets. Judging by the way he moved, he had predicted Wang Yu's firing angles in advance—his evasive maneuvers were disturbingly precise.

Wang Yu remained calm. His other hand, adorned with the Bloodbite Ring, made a tugging gesture. Fighting spirit rippled outward in waves as the stage erupted. Numerous blood-forged swords, all razor-sharp and unyielding, shot up from the ground beneath the clown, sealing off every possible escape route...