Bonus chapter for the 50 powerstones
...
Above the icy plains, storms and lightning intertwined into a breathtaking spectacle—like a divine show of supreme majesty.
The citizens of Snezhnaya looked up, awe growing in their hearts at the magnificent sight unfolding in the heavens.
The Tsaritsa, watching from her seat, glanced at the sky. Sensing no further change, she returned her gaze to the ongoing wager.
A faint smile tugged at the corners of her lips.
Such overwhelming might—there was no doubt.
The golden figure floating above was now at or beyond the level of an Archon.
Though the top three Harbingers possessed Archon-level power—and The Captain was even hailed as the "strongest human"—they were, ultimately, only equal to the gods.
But right now, Shajin exuded a force that could crush low-tier Archons with ease. The Tsaritsa herself wasn't certain she could take him head-on.
…
Dottore stared at Shajin with maddened glee.
"To surpass the gods with the body of a mortal… Shajin, you never stop surprising me!"
His wild laughter rang out, a manic gleam in his eyes—as if he were witnessing a revelation that thrilled him to his core.
"Hahahahahaha…"
His cackles echoed through the air, sending chills down everyone's spine.
He stared at Shajin, obsession burning brighter with every passing second.
Arlecchino's crimson cross pupils shimmered, clearly calculating her next move.
Scaramouche watched the golden figure with a storm of envy and longing swirling in his eyes.
His jaw clenched tight as he fought back the unwillingness clawing at his chest.
Sandrone and Columbina stared unblinking at the figure hovering midair.
Childe lowered his weapons decisively and joined the ranks of spectators.
He was a warrior, not an idiot.
He knew—before absolute power, resistance was meaningless.
"To make this thrilling, everyone…"
"I've already bet everything I have."
Shajin's voice echoed across the battlefield.
"Come at me together."
"Only by casting away reason… can we have a real game."
He glanced down at the assembled Harbingers, his gaze sharp as a blade.
"You'll follow my lead, won't you?"
Rosalyne's flames, once proud and fierce, flickered pitifully in the golden brilliance, like a candle in the wind.
A trace of unwillingness flashed in her eyes, her heart filled with helplessness.
She had always prided herself on her cunning. But now, she realized—with such overwhelming strength—no amount of strategy could bridge the gap.
"This is your trump card…?"
Her voice trembled, her Crimson Witch form fading, revealing her true appearance.
But Shajin didn't answer her.
Instead, he turned to the others, gaze as sharp and cold as a hawk's.
"Remember—you are the challengers here!" His words boomed like a divine bell, shaking the very air.
As his voice fell, he tossed a "Mora" into the sky.
Instantly, a golden veil spread across the heavens.
Then, from the sky, began a grand Mora Rain.
These weren't coins, but energy constructs formed of Imaginary.
Each radiated terrifying energy, carrying immense destructive force.
The Mora Rain streaked down like meteor showers, slicing the sky with piercing howls.
They shone like falling stars—an apocalyptic torrent of golden death.
But The Captain didn't flinch.
He charged upward without hesitation, fists clenched, slamming into a descending Mora with a thunderous roar.
The impact shattered the Mora, but he was pushed back several steps by the recoil.
The Doctor reacted quickly, slicing several incoming Mora cleanly in two with invisible strikes—but more came immediately after.
Arlecchino raised her hands, summoning hundreds of scythe-blades to shield herself.
But the impacts were relentless. Even her defense wouldn't last long.
The other Harbingers were in similar peril, forced to dodge frantically under the relentless golden storm.
Shajin watched with arms crossed, looking almost bored. He hadn't even started fighting.
Toying with the Vision in his hand, he carefully controlled the power of the Mora Rain—killing any of them too early would ruin the fun.
But just then, the storm of Mora froze solid in midair.
The Tsaritsa's voice rang out, slicing through the tension.
Her tone was calm and absolute, like a glacier moving with quiet inevitability.
"That's enough, Adventurine. You have proven your power. There's no need to continue the display."
Her words fell like a hammer in everyone's hearts.
Her voice carried an irrefutable authority.
Shajin shrugged and lightly waved his hand.
Instantly, the Mora Rain dispersed like mist, vanishing without a trace.
The space returned to stillness—only the crackling tension in the air and the stunned silence remained.
Even the Tsaritsa herself was surprised.
She could clearly feel that Shajin had pulled back at the last second.
If he hadn't, even she wouldn't have been able to freeze that rain of despair.
This still isn't his full power, she realized.
"The Tsaritsa has spoken—I wouldn't dare go against her wishes. Which means…" Shajin smiled. "I'll be collecting the wager now~"
The Captain, The Doctor, The Knave, and Childe didn't hesitate. They bowed their heads in apology.
The Fair Lady bit her lip, reluctant, before whispering softly, "I'm sorry. I shouldn't have done that."
The Balladeer clenched his fists, eyes fixed on Shajin.
His apology came out slowly, one painful word at a time.
"Kneel, Scaramouche~" Shajin said playfully.
"You go too far, Adventurine!"
"Scaramouche." The Tsaritsa's voice echoed once more.
Even if he loathed it, her will could not be defied.
The Balladeer lowered his proud head.
"…Sorry."
"Hehehe~" Shajin smiled, satisfied.
_
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