Hummmm——

  A roar low enough to cause bone resonance came from overhead, overpowering the howling wind at the top of the tower, and also shaking Carlisle's carbonized left hand to sway with the wind.

  The three looked up simultaneously.

  Thick lead-gray cumulonimbus clouds were roughly torn open by an invisible giant hand. A silvery-white airship three hundred meters long descended slowly; it was like a steel mountain suspended in the air, obscuring the sky, enveloping the Serpent's Tongue Tower in a huge shadow.

  This was the steel beast of the Order of Syntax guarding the Western Parish, and also one of the "Twelve Aerial Fortresses," the flagship of the Seventh Purge Fleet—"Truth Adjudicator."

  Its surface had no rivets or seams but was covered with a layer of flowing magic armor like liquid mercury. Under the belly of the ship, dozens of huge ether focusing cannons were charging slowly, emitting palpitating blue glimmer.

  And behind it, four escort-class destroyers slowly broke out of the clouds, like a group of bloodthirsty sharks guarding a whale.

  "Holy sh*t..." Savage looked up; the iron pipe in his hand fell to the ground with a clang. Only at that moment did he truly realize what kind of behemoth he was fighting against. "These bastards brought the Entire 'Seventh Fleet' here? We just snatched a box; is it necessary?"

  "Necessary."

  Carlisle stared dead at the position of the airship bridge. In his Truth Vision, that airship was not just a pile of metal, but a massive and desperate aggregate of high-level mandates. Every shield generator, every turret, was maintained by thousands of rigorous True Script chains.

  That was the concrete manifestation of Absolute Order.

  [Warning: Wide-Area Spatial Blockade Detected]

  [Teleportation Spell: Disabled]

  [Flight Spell: Disabled]

  "The surrounding space is locked." Lyria's face was pale; she could feel the ether elements in the air becoming as heavy as solidified cement. "My natural perception tells me if I try to fly by magic now, I will fall directly from the sky and smash into meat paste."

  "Obviously, they want to catch us alive." Carlisle analyzed calmly. "Or trap us to death on top of this tower, like catching a turtle in a jar."

  At this time, the hatches on the belly of the airship opened, and countless black dots flew out like a swarm of bees. Those were "Purge Paratroopers" wearing heavy power armor; the jet packs on their backs dragged blue tail flames, diving rapidly toward the Serpent's Tongue Tower. The roar of engines connected into a scream of death.

  "No way out." Savage looked around desperately. The only exit (stairs) had been blown off by the battle just now, and overhead was the enemy's army.

  "There is a way."

  Carlisle walked to the edge of the platform, poking his head to look at the ground two hundred meters below. That was a black quagmire full of oil stains and industrial waste.

  "Jump down."

  "What?!" Savage and Lyria roared in unison.

  "Did your brain really burn out?" Savage jumped anxiously, pointing at that huge airship in the sky. "Didn't you hear that pointy-ear say? The ether environment here is locked! Flight spells, levitation spells are all red lights! Gravity is now under their control; jumping down means becoming a pile of meat sauce!"

  "That is for 'Ordinary Mages.' And also for me five minutes ago."

  Carlisle suddenly raised his left hand.

  This time, no violent electric current, nor uncontrolled energy overflow.

  Accompanied by a crisp hum, several extremely precise geometric inscriptions emitting silvery-white light emerged out of thin air at his fingertips. They no longer flickered uncertainly like before, but rotated steadily and uniformly like gears crafted by fine workmanship, emitting a palpitating sense of order.

  Lyria was stunned. As a sensor, she could clearly feel that distinctly different aura on Carlisle—a few minutes ago, he was a powder keg that could explode anytime due to mana overload, but now, that restless energy completely disappeared.

  Replaced by an absolute order that made her scalp numb. If the previous Carlisle was violent fire, the current him was like a scalpel just quenched from the furnace, cold, precise, and sharp yet restrained.

  Savage aside subconsciously took a half step back; this tower-like man's Adam's apple rolled, hand instinctively pressing on the battle axe at his waist—that was the trembling reaction produced involuntarily by the body when facing a top predator. He opened his mouth, seeming to want to say some dirty talk to ease the atmosphere, but under that oppression, finally just squeezed out a sentence dryly: "Holy... Boss, you look really creepy now."

  Lyria ignored Savage; her pale golden eyes stared dead at the structure suspended at Carlisle's fingertips, pupils constricting violently.

  "Mana turbulence completely disappeared; the originally violent ether elements are forcibly locked in this structure..." The elf's voice carried a trace of disbelief. She stepped forward quickly but stopped three steps away from Carlisle, as if dreading something. She no longer asked if it succeeded because the result was obvious; what troubled her was the form.

  "Is this the 'Source Quality Solidification' recorded in the High Elf heritage? No, wrong..." Lyria shook her head, denying herself. "That ancient art requires long chanting and guidance, absolutely impossible to form instantly like you, and this geometric structure... too 'Industrialized,' completely violating the natural curve of mana flow, yet achieved some weird perfect balance."

  She looked up, looking at Carlisle with complicated eyes: "Did you really just complete the First-Order Promotion? This absolute dominance over magic power, I have only read about it in the 'High Tower Mages' recorded by the family."

  "Maybe this is a special path belonging to me."

  Carlisle looked at that perfect geometric structure at his fingertips, clenched his fist gently, crushing the light in his palm. He turned around, a confident yet tired arc curling on the corner of his mouth:

  "Accurately speaking, I reconstructed the 'Underlying Logic' of magic power. I am now [The Inscriber]."

  He turned his head, looking at the bewildered Savage, explaining with a calmness unique to technical personnel:

  "Level 1 Awakeners can only guide power, like begging the wind to lift you up. The Order blocked this kind of 'Request,' so no one can fly."

  "But Level 2 Inscribers are different. I am more like changing to a more efficient set of magic output 'Core Valves.'"

  Carlisle clenched his fist abruptly; silvery inscriptions retracted into his palm instantly, compressing the surrounding air to emit a boom:

  "The Inscriber is defining rules. I don't need to beg the wind to lift me; I only need to modify the air parameters, making it as viscous as water, as syrup."

  "The Order blocked the concept of 'Flight,' but they can't block 'Fluid Dynamics' itself—that is the fundamental law of the world; even gods can't change it."

  "However, compared to simple 'Breakthrough,' I prefer to call it—Reconstruction."

  He waved his hand casually; the geometric body at his fingertips dispersed silently, turning into countless fine runes merging into the air. Like gears of precision instruments returning to position, the air began to become viscous and blurred.

  "I eliminated those redundant casting movements, rewrote the 'Underlying Logic' of mana flow. Now it no longer needs those cumbersome chantings as guidance, just a command, and it can reach the essence directly."

  "So..." The dwarf swallowed saliva. "You plan to turn the air into... syrup?"

  "More or less."

  Carlisle dispersed the magic in his hand, looking at the two teammates, speaking extremely fast:

  "Listen, my mental capacity is only enough to maintain a 'Local Correction Field' for about 10 seconds. We need to land within this time."

  "Correct what?" Lyria had an ominous premonition.

  "Correct the air resistance coefficient." A crazy arc curled on the corner of Carlisle's mouth. "I'm going to rewrite the viscosity of the air around us into a syrup abyss."

  Savage was stunned for half a second, then cursed loudly: "You f*cking want to drown us in the air?!"

  "If you don't want to be caught by those tin cans above and sliced, jump!"

  "Holy sh*t, again!" Savage howled in frustration.

  Carlisle didn't give them a chance to hesitate at all. He grabbed Savage's belt with one hand and clasped Lyria's wrist with the other.

  "Three, two, one... Jump!"

  The three leaped, jumping off the edge of the tower top platform.

  The whistling wind filled the eardrums instantly; the world turned upside down; weightlessness hit like a heavy hammer. The black ruins on the ground enlarged rapidly in vision; the breath of death blew on the face.

  Two hundred meters. Free fall takes less than 7 seconds.

  Wind pressure tore at their faces; hearts seemed about to jump out of throats. Just at the moment their falling speed was about to reach the fatal critical point, the silvery True Script array in Carlisle's left eye contracted suddenly, like a precise scroll.

  Love this story? Find the genuine version on the author's preferred platform and support their work!

  [Deploy Mandate: Fluid Dynamics Correction]

  [Target Area: Radius 3 Meters]

  [Parameter Tampering: Air Viscosity Coefficient -> MAX]

  Hummmm—!

  A miracle happened.

  The originally invisible air suddenly became visibly "Viscous" under Carlisle's will. The momentum of the three falling seemed to crash into a layer of invisible jelly, instantly changing from rapid fall to slow "Swimming."

  This wasn't flight, nor levitation.

  They were like bugs sealed in amber, sinking slowly in the viscous air.

  "Ugh..." Savage felt his internal organs squeezed by a uniform and huge pressure; eyeballs bulged. That feeling was more disgusting than riding a roller coaster. "I feel like I am swimming in... snot..."

  "Don't talk! Keep breathing rhythm!" Carlisle gritted his teeth; veins on his forehead popped up; fresh blood flowed down his nostrils. Maintaining this "Local Law Modification" violating common sense was a huge burden on his spirit. Every second, his brain felt like being polished madly by rough sandpaper.

  Overhead, those diving Purge Paratroopers obviously didn't expect this.

  They roared past the three; the airwaves of thrusters even messed up Lyria's hair. But because the diving speed was too fast, they had no time to brake at all, only able to watch helplessly as the targets floated down slowly like feathers within their reach.

  Ten meters left to the ground.

  Carlisle's vision began to blur; his limit was reached.

  [Warning: Mental Capacity Exhausted]

  [Mandate Collapse]

  "Hold tight! I'm canceling!"

  Snap!

  That "Air Jelly" wrapping them shattered instantly, restoring to normal, thin air.

  Gravity took over the body again.

  But this last ten meters distance, for three people with superb physiques—a mechanical modifier, an elf ranger, a mage just completed promotion—was not enough to be fatal, but absolutely choking.

  Thump! Thump! Thump!

  The three smashed heavily into that thick, rotten layer of black oil sludge on the ground.

  Sludge splashed full three meters high; stench assailed the nostrils. The huge impact force made the ground tremble a bit.

  "Cough cough cough..."

  Savage crawled up first; his only remaining arm became the best support point at this time. He wiped the black mud off his face, looking at that Serpent's Tongue Tower towering into the clouds overhead, then at the Order airship still circling in the sky like a headless fly, suddenly bursting into a burst of wild laughter:

  "Hahahaha! See that! Those bastards must be thinking, how did these three lunatics defy gravity!"

  Lyria struggled to stand up from the sludge pit wretchedly.

  That originally exquisite leather armor was now covered with black oil stains emitting stench; that proud pale golden long hair was stuck together like by some industrial slime, sticking wetly to cheeks, still dripping black water.

  But she didn't care to wipe even once, nor even care to sense if the surroundings were safe.

  The moment she got up, her fingers clasped dead tight on the metal suitcase in her right hand—that was what Carlisle stuffed into her arms unquestionably the moment before jumping down.

  "Not broken... seal intact."

  The elf sensor checked the corners of the box quickly; fingertips swept over those complex rune lock buckles, confirming no damage in the violent impact just now, then breathed a sigh of relief imperceptibly. She held the box to her chest with both hands, posture pious as if holding a sacred relic.

  However, she didn't know that this box she regarded as a treasure, even willing to use her body as a cushion to protect, was actually empty inside.

  It had only one cold footnote in Carlisle's tactical blueprint: Bait.

  The elf looked at Carlisle, a deep reverence added in her eyes, "You... really rewrote the rules."

  Carlisle lay in the muddy water, gasping for air heavily. That 10 seconds of "Inscription" just now was more tiring than staying up late calculating for three days and nights in the Star Gazing Tower.

  But he succeeded.

  This was not just an escape; this was a successful invasion of the underlying logic of this world by him.

  "Stop celebrating."

  Carlisle struggled to sit up; the glimmer in his left eye dimmed, restoring to normal black (to disguise).

  "The sewer entrance Val mentioned is nearby. We have to vanish before those paratroopers land."

  He glanced into the distance. There, dozens of parachutes were opening; the Order's ground troops were assembling.

  "Let's go. In this rotten mud pit, we have the home field advantage."

  Chapter 30: Ghost Protocol

  Savage pulled himself out of that pile of stinking industrial sludge like pulling a radish.

  "Ptooey! The smell of this damn place is stronger than my socks."

  The veteran shook the interface on his mechanical arm which was sizzling with sparks. He was about to look up and curse, but the voice got stuck in his throat. He saw Carlisle already standing by the mud pit—no panting, no wretchedness, that figure straight as a ruler.

  At this moment, the unstable mana fluctuations around Carlisle had completely disappeared, replaced by a palpitating absolute silence. If the previous him was a wild fire that could explode anytime, the current him was like a scalpel just quenched from the furnace, cold, precise, and sharp yet restrained.

  "Boss..." Savage subconsciously took a half step back, instinctively pressing on the battle axe. "You look really creepy now."

  Carlisle ignored him. He raised his head; his gaze penetrated the haze over the ruins.

  "We are not out of danger yet." Carlisle's voice was hoarse, carrying a heavy bloody smell. "They can't hear us speak, but they can see."

  He raised a trembling finger, pointing to the sky.

  Under the belly of that "Truth Adjudicator" obscuring the sky and sun, countless black dots were falling rapidly accompanied by the roar of thrusters.

  Those were "Purge Paratroopers," like a steel rainstorm flowing upstream.

  "First Battalion, all out." Carlisle's voice was steady without any fluctuation, as if stating a mathematical axiom. "Their visors integrate the Fourth Epoch's magitech thermal imaging spell. In this cold ruin, the heat radiated by the three of us is like lighthouses on a pitch-black sea."

  "Damn..." Savage's laughter stopped abruptly. "The entire First Battalion came down? Just to catch the three of us?"

  Lyria hugged that metal suitcase tightly, hiding behind a broken concrete slab. Her face was pale, not only because of fear, but also because of environmental discomfort.

  "My natural camouflage fails here." The elf's voice was a bit tight. "The environment here is all dead matter; no plants can cover our vital signs."

  "No need for natural camouflage. I have a better way." Carlisle took a deep breath, forcibly suppressing the dizziness in his mind. He bit the tip of his tongue, stimulating himself to stay awake with pain.

  His left eye lit up again; that silvery-white geometric pattern representing [The Inscriber] although dim, was still running precisely, beginning to deconstruct surrounding laws.

  "Since heat source is their hunting signal, then we hide ourselves in the silence of stones."

  Carlisle raised his right hand; fingertips tapped gently in the void. Originally violent mana was now smooth as flowing mercury, instantly constructing a seamless geometric structure.

  [Target Locked: Biological Surface]

  [Invoke Mandate: Thermodynamic Shielding]

  [Variable Setting: Surface Emissivity -> 0 | Entropy Increase Direction -> Involution]

  "Bear with it. I will rewrite your surface heat exchange logic temporarily."

  With his whisper, no cold air attacked, but Savage and Lyria instantly felt an extremely weird, suffocating "Sense of Enclosure."

  This feeling violated biological instinct—just like the body was suddenly wrapped in a layer of absolute insulating heavy rubber suit, and then stuffed into a pressure cooker being heated.

  "This is..." Lyria looked at her hands in horror. In her perception, she seemed to disappear from this world; all aura was locked inside the body, even pores on the skin seemed sealed by invisible power.

  "I cut off all your heat exchange channels with the outside world—including radiation, convection, and conduction." A thought intruded into the two's brains.

  Carlisle withdrew his hand, pressing on his own chest, face instantly flushing due to rapid rise in body temperature, explaining extremely fast:

  "The law of conservation of energy is iron law; heat won't disappear out of thin air. I just constructed an 'Adiabatic Singularity' on your skin surface. From now on, all metabolic heat, muscle friction heat, even heat generated by thinking you produce, cannot dissipate into the air, but can only reflux and accumulate constantly inside the body."

  "For the next five minutes, we are air, background, absolute zero ghosts on the thermal imager." Carlisle gritted his teeth; blood vessels on his forehead throbbed. "But in these five minutes, you are human-shaped self-heating reactors. Body temperature will rise exponentially; you will feel blood boiling, internal organs burning, but must endure dead tight! Even if fainted from heat, don't move!"

  Footsteps approached.

  That paratrooper holding an assault rifle walked over. Heavy metal combat boots crushed glass slags on the ground, making crack, crack crisp sounds.

  Distance less than five meters.

  Savage held his breath; that mechanical severed arm began to get hot due to heat accumulation, wanting to tremble, but was pressed dead tight by his right hand.

  Heat. Indescribable dry heat.

  This was not just summer heat, but a burning sensation backfiring from deep within the bone marrow. Savage felt every blood vessel of his turned into a pipe flowing with magma; every beat of the heart was like adding a handful of firewood to this closed furnace. Sweat just seeped out of pores, because unable to evaporate and dissipate heat, turned into boiling water pasting on the skin, bringing needle-pricking stinging pain.

  The red scanning beam like the Grim Reaper's scythe swept slowly over the mud pit where the three hid.

  The beam stayed on Carlisle's face for two seconds.

  At that moment, time seemed to stand still. Carlisle could even see clearly the worn number on the soldier's armor, and the residual heat emitted by that black muzzle—compared to the extreme heat approaching boiling point inside their bodies at this moment, that muzzle was simply cool as a block of ice.

  Beep.

  The scanner emitted a light sound representing "No Abnormality / Cold Background."

  "Sector A-7, heat source reaction disappeared." The soldier's muffled voice came through the helmet, carrying a trace of doubt. "Strange, clearly captured just now..."

  Just then—

  Beep beep beep—BOOM!!

  Fifty meters away, that wreckage where Carlisle stuffed the battery just now suddenly burst out a dazzling blue fire!

  That was a directional thermal pulse caused by ether battery overload. In the thermal imager's vision, that position instantly erupted with a high-temperature signal like a small sun, and the delay rune Carlisle deliberately set made that heat wave present an illusion of "Fleeing Outward."

  "Twelve o'clock direction! High-energy heat source detected! Target moving at high speed!"

  That paratrooper turned abruptly, thrusters roared to start, rushing toward the explosion point like a cannonball. "All units attention! Surround Sector A-9! Repeat, surround Sector A-9!"

  Surrounding heavy footsteps went away instantly; all firepower was attracted by that perfect bait.

  "Now!"

  Carlisle shouted in a low voice, voice becoming extremely hoarse due to throat congestion.

  He pointed to the sewer manhole cover underfoot—that was the last door to survival.

  "Quick! While now... I can't hold on much longer!"

  The three stuck to the oil-stained ground, enduring the high temperature almost exploding inside the body, crawling bit by bit toward the manhole cover. Lyria felt she was about to turn into a furnace about to explode; vision became blurred due to congestion; the world became shaking red light spots in her eyes.

  Finally, Savage's fingers dug into the edge of the manhole cover.

  That iron cover usually easy to lift was now heavy as a thousand jun. Because of the existence of thermodynamic shielding, heat generated by muscle exertion instantly fed back to muscle fibers, bringing severe pain like being scorched by fire.

  "Up..."

  Savage's eyes were red; throat let out a low growl suppressed to the extreme; arm veins popped up, lifting the manhole cover fiercely!

  The pitch-black entrance revealed before eyes; cold wind carrying rot smell blew up, simply like a gift from heaven for them now.

  The three drilled in sideways quickly, combined forces to reset the manhole cover slowly.

  As the last ray of light disappeared, darkness wrapped them.

  "Un... Undo!" Savage roared hoarsely; he felt his brains were about to boil.

  Carlisle snapped his fingers tremblingly.

  [Mandate Revoked]

  Whoosh!

  A visible heat wave erupted from the three instantly!

  Biological heat energy suppressed for a full five minutes was released in an instant; surrounding damp cold air was heated instantly, stirring up a layer of thick white fog.

  "Huff... huff... huff..."

  Lyria collapsed on the slippery ground, back clinging to the cool stone wall breathing heavily. The temperature difference shock just now made her dizzy, but that pleasure of heat leaving the body was simply indescribable. She was soaked all over, just like fished out of water; cheeks flushed terribly red, blond hair sticking messily to forehead.

  "This move... f*cking absolutely amazing..."

  Savage wiped the sweat off his face; the whole person was steaming, like a steamed bun just out of the steamer. "I've never suffered like this in my life... Kid, you are stewing us as meat in a pressure cooker..."

  "This was the only way."

  Carlisle leaned against the wall, panting violently; fingertips still retained the numbness after casting.

  He looked up, listening to the faintly heard explosion and killing sounds gradually going away overhead—the bait was still working; those paratroopers were fighting wits and courage with a pile of scrap iron.

  "At least... we survived."

  In the darkness, deep in the sewer only dripping water sound. Temporarily no shadow of Val, only endless depth and unknown darkness.

  But Carlisle knew, since this was the coordinate provided by Val, that greedy goblin must be hiding in some rat hole nearby, waiting to confirm safety before appearing.

  "Let's go," Carlisle propped up his knees to stand up barely. "Not time to rest yet."