Chapter 71: Sometimes Even the Best Efforts Fail

  Micromegas's voice swept across the magnificent arena. A crowd of 300,000, including delegations from various dimensions and even the Observers, had gathered precisely for the ceremony’s commencement. All eyes were fixed on the leader of the 60th dimension as he spoke.

  "I will not waste either your time or my words. The Holy Pilgrimage of dimensions 60+ ended recently. According to old custom, the young generation must present what they learned during it."

  The introduction was met with a cheer from the multitude. In this harsh dimension, where daily life was dominated by the religion of the King of Names and Symbols, this period offered a long-awaited respite.

  "Their skills will be put to the test in 3 competitions. According to the teachings of the magnificent Lord of Hell, the first decides life, and the next two the reward."

  The bald Voivode smiled, his gaze sweeping over the gathered devils. Then, spreading his arms like a preacher, he shouted solemnly, addressing the crux of the matter.

  "Those who survive will be able to decide on recategorization!"

  Justinian, listening to the speech, felt a knot of dread tighten in his stomach. A quick glance at Seweryn’s paling face and Rudnicki’s frown confirmed that the news was worse than he had anticipated.

  The audience’s reaction was explosive. Devils shouted excitedly, and applause thundered through the stands. Cheers in honor of the Voivode and the Lord of Hell rang out. To the young man, the contrast between this fervor and the gloomy faces of the various delegations seemed grimly ironic.

  'Enthusiasm blooms best far away from danger.'

  At that very moment, a strange sensation disrupted his train of thought.

  "Do you feel that?"

  The Sarmatians turned toward him, confused. Clearly, they felt nothing.

  He, on the other hand, began to perceive... a gentle tremor beneath the arena?

  'No... it is just this place.'

  The vibrations intensified, harmonizing with Micromegas moving to the final portion of his address.

  "The first test is a test of devilishness! Each delegation must prove it in an ancient competition invented by the Lord of Hell himself!"

  At a gesture of his hand, the central area of the arena—around which the dimension delegations were deployed—rumbled loudly. The sand collapsed, revealing an expanding pit.

  Gasps of awe swept through the audience. Those present who had witnessed similar ceremonies in the past knew what was coming. Before their eyes, a platform was hoisted up from the pit, bearing a large, gray rock.

  It stood a little less than two meters high and about four wide. The stone was magnificently polished, marred only by three small scratches on its surface. Visibly, it was divided into several sections, with the first marker located at one-third of its height.

  "Each team must show their devilishness by attacking this particular rock. The qualification threshold is lighting up the level of the third whole, it will be monitored independently."

  This was a renowned ceremony, highly valued by the devils. It displayed the strength and techniques of the participants, which always provided excitement, but its true essence was something else entirely.

  It didn't take long for the audience to demand the truth.

  "What is the stake?!"

  "Reveal the stake to us!"

  Hearing the voices rising from the stands, Micromegas slowly looked at Envidius, who sat nearby. Then, arranging two fingers in a gesture specific to a sect of the hellish religion, he closed his eyes. Amplifying his voice with the full weight of his immeasurable cultivation base, he spoke three words.

  "The stake is death."

  After a silence that seemed to stretch into infinity, Justinian looked at the faces of his delegation. Everyone was paler than usual; even the Sarmatians, drunk on their horses, seemed deadly serious.

  'Only she is an exception.'

  He looked at Septima. She appeared unsurprised by this turn of events. Instead, feeling his gaze, she faced him confrontationally. Her look seemed to ask, "And what now, fool?"

  Justinian had no desire for verbal skirmishes. Earlier, when she suggested abandoning his companions, it was to avoid exactly this kind of scenario. He had suspected the situation might come to this, but witnessing it firsthand carried a much heavier pressure.

  He glanced at Bogna, who was sweating mercilessly despite her attempt to look tough. He saw Seweryn nervously clenching his hands in the pockets of his rich coat.

  All their lives now depended on him. Against this backdrop of heavy responsibility, Micromegas's voice rang out again.

  "Only pilgrimage representatives have the right to participate! Each team may undertake any attack or other attempt to show Devilish Virtues! There are two attempts, and the only forbidden act is attacking the audience and other teams!"

  The audience, previously stunned by the high stakes, now roared with joy, hungry for a magnificent spectacle. The devils began placing bets, and soon the order of the trials was drawn.

  Justinian watched as the other groups adapted.

  'The difference between us and the rest is downright ridiculous...'

  It was particularly striking that the other teams all had ten members, none below the first level of Foundation Stabilization. Alfons, meanwhile, still hadn't finished the marks of Ki Gathering.

  While the young man was immersed in these reflections, four flat crystals rose beside the platform with the gray rock, then soared upward. These were devilish monitors, similar to those used during the pilgrimage in the 66th dimension. Currently, they displayed the dry, ominous inscription: "Dimension under trial."

  Micromegas spoke once more.

  "Let us begin the drawing."

  Participants and spectators alike held their breath. A countdown appeared on the screen—3... 2... 1...—and upon completion, the number 63 appeared next to the inscription. It was the dimension of devils dressed in black, mourning leathers, whose Voivode was the only one mounted on a hellish horse.

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  They accepted the result by kneeling ceremonially, faces lowered before their ruler. With a contemptuous nod, he pointed to the center of the arena. Ten young devils emerged from their ranks. The tallest, resembling the Voivode, wore a high-quality fur coat with the skull of a dead dog attached to the right side.

  Darkness seemed to radiate from their steps as they approached the gray rock. Paying no homage to Micromegas, they deployed in a battle formation, waiting for the tallest among them to take the center. They began to whisper barely audible incantations, and their power manifested above them, slowly distorting the air into the form of a great, shadowy whip.

  With a pitiful scream, the tallest one reached for it and struck the gray rock!

  A huge boom resounded, drowning out everything else in the arena as a cloud of sand rose into the air. The devils in the stands watched with admiration, while the group from the 63rd dimension, clearly weakened, impatiently awaited the effect of their actions. It appeared on the crystal monitors before the dust even settled.

  "Result: ...."

  In place of the dots, a single digit appeared, shooting up and quickly changing into two. The value grew rapidly until, in a fraction of a second, it slowed dramatically, clicking through the final digits to reveal the result.

  Justinian exhaled sharply. He had seen the power of the attack and expected it to reach at least the 1/2 threshold. Micromegas's dry voice, however, confirmed the brutal reality.

  "The result is 25%. One attempt remains for dimension 63."

  The audience erupted in a loud tumult, and drops of icy sweat trickled down the temples of the 63rd dimension delegation. Their Voivode fixed his black eyes upon them, making the atmosphere heavier by the second. That was when the tallest of the attacking group took action.

  Paying no attention to the watching crowds, he began striking and kicking the brethren surrounding him. This elicited lively reactions from the viewers, but surprisingly... none of the beaten devils dared to even meet his eyes. They accepted the punishment, staring quietly at the sand at their feet.

  From the box of honor, Envidius commented.

  "Primitive, but it seems to wonderfully stimulate the devilish virtue of wrath."

  Micromegas nodded.

  "Although in this dimension they have not yet developed a precise method of achieving it, their brutality is slowly moving them in the right direction."

  Justinian watched with furrowed brows. After a few minutes, this "ritual" ended, and the devils repeated their attempt. This time the force of the strike was far greater. The devils, excluding the tall leader, collapsed from exhaustion the moment the whip lashed the rock.

  In the tension-filled seconds that followed, everyone waited for the crystals to define the fate of the 63rd dimension. Micromegas's voice resounded in the arena once again.

  "Your result is 35%, you are admitted to the ceremony."

  Silence shattered into thousands of pieces as the arena howled in wild excitement. Though the adepts from the 63rd dimension were exhausted, they returned to their designated area without a word or a trace of a smile. Their leader exchanged glances with the Voivode, and while it was clear the matter would not end there, for now, they were safe.

  The crystal screen swirled again. When the digits settled, Micromegas announced the next group.

  "Dimension 66.6."

  The atmosphere shifted drastically. Dimension 66.6 was represented by devils hidden in hoods and white robes. They emanated none of the typical devilish pride; their entire existence was defined by penance for having once provoked the Lord of Hell.

  As soon as they stepped out, jeers rang out from everywhere. Some of the more aggressive devils in the audience began spitting in their direction.

  "Disgrace!"

  "You bring shame to all hells!"

  These beings did not reply. They simply walked nervously forward, provoking even more insults. The tall adept from the 63rd dimension, having qualified earlier through brutality, joined the attack.

  "I will gladly see you lose those pathetic lives!"

  Huddled together, they did not answer his taunt either. As they approached the rock, their faces expressed absolute concentration. It was evident they had trained extensively, carrying the hopes of their people on their shoulders.

  Their strike carried all that synergy.

  The crystal's answer was a merciless 12%.

  As soon as the initial shock dissipated, the audience's reaction was brutal. Thunderous, unrestrained laughter rolled across the arena—cleverly incited by the tall adept. The robed beings looked at each other and, even more nervous than before, began to hum a sad song.

  Energy began to surround them. Growing paler, the devils began to cough violently, expelling dark blood. This particularly affected their leader, who spat out huge amounts of it. The coordination of the attack... cost him an arm! Nevertheless, their second strike ended in victory, ensuring them 34%—minimally above the threshold.

  Returning to their seats, they provoked no one, though blood loss had rendered their gazes slightly less nervous.

  Micromegas had no intention of stopping the ceremony, and another drawing took place.

  "Dimension 66."

  When Justinian heard his dimension called, he slowly exhaled. His legs carried him out of the group, with Alfons following in great distress.

  Inside, the young man knew he had miscalculated significantly. Before he took another step, Septima grabbed his forearm.

  "We have one chance to coordinate our attacks; if we succeed, then by sacrificing a large amount of life force, we will achieve a good result!"

  Justinian looked at her. She had been right earlier.

  'I thought that even without Devilish Virtues, my strength would be enough to survive here.'

  The truth was brutal. He doubted he could produce power similar to joing attacks shown earlier. He spoke his answer slowly.

  "No."

  His gaze clearly stated that this was his responsibility as he tore his hand from the deviless's grip.

  "Have you gone completely mad? This is no time for idiocy!"

  He simply shook his head and turned away, approaching the center of the arena alone, step by step. The audience, having previously met the Sarmatians, did not react enthusiastically.

  "So that human really is an adept!"

  "His whole dimension is a damn drunken mockery!"

  The crowd's hostility was picked up by the tall devil from the 63rd dimension. His area was located relatively close to Justinian's path, and he quickly began attacking the young man.

  "How dare you even appear here, human?! You have no qualifications to be here!"

  Justinian, torn from his thoughts by the comment, looked at him questioningly.

  "Qualifications?"

  The devil, seeing his brazen expression, grew even more agitated. Justinian, however, had no intention of listening further and simply shook his head. The sound of his footsteps resonated against the inflamed crowd.

  Up above, Micromegas asked Envidius for his opinion.

  "I sense no Devilish Virtues in this human. His cultivation is strange, but if he tries to rely on strength alone as source of devilishness, he will not succeed."

  The bald Voivode looked at the young man without a word. He recalled his discussion with Boruta about the unique adept of the 66th dimension. He perceived a high-quality cultivation base, but Envidius was inevitably right about the Devilish Virtues.

  Justinian, meanwhile, walked calmly up to the gray rock. His thoughts returned to the choice Septima had placed before him.

  'I underestimated the devils. Everything that happens in this dimension is solely my responsibility.'

  From nearby came the voice of the outraged deviless. She probably hadn't expected him to actually try to handle this alone. Ignoring her remarks for the last time, his lips began to move in a silent whisper.

  "Hmm?"

  "Is he casting some spell?"

  "Maybe it is the secret magic of the 66th dimension?"

  The devils in the audience were visibly confused; in truth, no one had any idea what he was doing. But then, it began.

  Amidst the raucous devilish atmosphere, it suddenly became terribly dark! The uproar only rose in response, and Septima froze mid-sentence. Justinian... slowly began to reach out his hand toward the rock.

  The pressure in the air increased significantly, and the audience began to sense that something was very wrong.

  The young man did not stop; he kept whispering. Suddenly, his hand accelerated, and the moment it touched the gray stone... death struck from the sky!

  A powerful lightning bolt tore through the arena, unleashing a massive shockwave and kicking up a colossal cloud of sand! The crowd screamed in terror, unaware of what was happening, while inside the obscuring cloud, representatives of other dimensions began to scream as if under attack!

  This particularly concerned the 63rd dimension, which was located very close, its adepts already exhausted.

  Now, the tall devil who had led their attack slid out from under a heavy object that had crushed him, spitting blood.

  "What... what the hell?!"

  Before he could comprehend what had happened, Justinian emerged from the darkest part of the dust cloud right next to him. He was entirely unharmed. A strange smoke drifted around him, reminiscent of an ancient pipe. When he looked at the young adept, there was no arrogance in his gaze.

  There was only pure decisiveness and cool confidence as he stood over the kneeling, terrified devil.

  "These are my qualifications."

  Then, Micromegas's voice pierced the air of the arena, and for the first time today, emotion could be heard in it.

  "Dimension 66... 100%!"