School Transmigration: I, Chosen as the Saint by Dragons at the Start-Chapter 231 --The False World

Stepping into the eighth level, Owen braced himself for what was to come, yet the transformation before his eyes was wholly unexpected.

The walls vanished in an instant, the ground morphed into grass, and a forest appeared ahead.

With a sense of déjà vu, Owen entered the woodland.

It was as though he saw a horde of orcs leaping from the trees, roaring as they charged towards the small circle formed by Owen’s royal guards.

Under his command, the guards remained unflappable, their greatswords held steady.

As the leading orcs closed to within half a meter of their blades, the guards suddenly exerted force, stepping forward to pierce the heart of an orc with a single thrust, then stepped back to hold their position.

Every motion was as practiced, except this was no drill.

Drawn forward a few steps involuntarily, Owen felt his current standing point was exactly where the royal guards had been arrayed.

He sketched a circle in the grass with his Ice Sword, the nearby trees casting shadows by blocking the slanting sunlight.

Those shadows reminded him of the massive corpses of orcs left behind after the charge, serving as barricades.

The quietness of the forest made Owen somewhat fearful of orcs emerging from the trees, scared of those who, after regrouping, launched an even fiercer second charge.

He still remembered how those orcs, stepping over a meter-high pile of bodies, raised their axes high to strike at the royal guards, using the bodies of their comrades as shields in their assault.

He recalled with pride how his royal guards, though taken aback, each thrust their swords, piercing through the bodies to stab the orcs in the second row in the chest or abdomen.

Those orcs not instantly killed clung desperately to the greatswords or the wrists holding them.

Then the next row, and the row after that, of orcs charged relentlessly forward.

"Retreat, quickly retreat!" Owen found himself shouting involuntarily.

In his memory, upon hearing the order, the royal guards retreated, a few discarding their greatswords, and two injured by massive axes, but they swiftly regrouped around Owen.

However, the orcs hesitated only for a moment before discarding their comrades’ bodies and charging again.

"Attack!"

Owen murmured to himself, his mind drifting between the past and the present.

He seemed to see his royal guards spreading out, engaging the orcs with agility, using their greatswords to block the orcs’ axes and short swords to strike, never entangling in a missed hit, outmaneuvering the enemy with finesse.

Those wounded and disarmed fetched emergency medical supplies and spare weapons from the military supply and rejoined the battle.

The royal guards appeared to gain the upper hand, continuously inflicting casualties on the orc troops without sustaining injuries themselves.

Owen, standing in the middle of the forest, swung his sword, the Ice Sword cutting through the underbrush as if randomly slaying invading orcs.

With furrowed brows, Owen recalled his thoughts from that time: the leader of the demon army had yet to reveal himself, likely harboring some trickery.

To capture the thieves, first capture the king - a simple yet effective strategy, an inevitable choice under those circumstances, and he had not been mistaken.

Next, a series of soft thuds were to come from beneath the ground as earthwalkers prepared to emerge.

At that moment, Owen had cautioned his soldiers to be wary of their footing.

...

After reliving his past, Owen ascended to the final, ninth level.

Above him stretched a magnificent river of stars, a sight Owen had grown accustomed to.

He walked straight towards the witch who awaited him, her back turned.

Yet, the distance of less than five meters seemed infinitely long, as if he remained stationary no matter how much he advanced.

"You’ve arrived, haven’t you?" the witch turned around, her figure cloaked in black, her face veiled.

"Yes, oh," Owen found the voice somewhat familiar, slightly startled.

The witch gracefully approached him, "You’ve won. Won’t you lift my veil?"

Her voice was sweet, compelling Owen to reach out, but halfway through, he hesitated before the veil.

He felt certain he knew the face behind it.

After the painful experiences in the preceding levels, he was no longer sure if this witch was genuine or another guardian.

"Oh? Weren’t you eager to see my face?"

"I..."

"Now you hesitate?"

"Or are you afraid she’ll be jealous?" the witch clapped her hands lightly.

From the shadows to Owen’s side, a smaller woman emerged.

"Rose?"

Owen exclaimed in surprise, "How are you here?"

"I, I..." Rose stuttered, unable to articulate.

"Of course, she’s here. She’s my maidservant," the witch chuckled softly.

"Here, she is also your servant, after all, we are to be one family, sooner or later."

"So, she was sent by you to my side?"

"Not at all, she was appointed by yourself to yourself. Haven’t you found her quite useful these days?"

With a coquettish smile from the witch, Owen, frustrated, reached out and pulled off her veil.

The witch spun a few circles backward, retreating to Rose’s side, her eyes gleaming with amusement as she looked at Owen.

He stood rooted to the spot, his eyes wide with shock.

After a long moment, he managed to muster, "You...Anna?"

"It’s me. You haven’t forgotten me, then. Should I reward you for that?"

"Anna, the daughter of Lord Dawson?"

"You remember all that, huh? That’s great. I’ll reward you tonight."

Her flippant words continued to reach Owen’s ears, cooling his initial shock, reminding him of Dawson he had seen on the seventh level.

"Your father died in battle at Ironblade City, you know that, right?"

"Of course, didn’t you just meet him?"

Anna responded as if discussing someone utterly unrelated.

"The Anna I knew was cunning, not this frivolous and heartless."

"People change, you know. Besides, you like me this way, don’t you? A woman too cunning carries a strange aura about her, isn’t that very off-putting?"

Owen suddenly remembered, "strange aura" was exactly how he described his impression of Anna to Visto, solidifying his judgment.

"This entire world is an illusion, all of you are phantasms conjured from my own heart and memories."

After this assertion, Owen’s head suddenly felt as if it were about to explode, the pain so unbearable he even reached out to pull his Ice Sword.

But someone stopped him, and when he came to, he found himself lying in Rose’s arms, drenched in cold sweat.

Anna looked down on him with a cold, superior gaze.

"This is an illusion, that’s correct."

Anna didn’t bother with pleasantries like "You’re awake."

She went straight to the point, "But this isn’t merely an illusion. The foundation of this place isn’t solely your heart and memories. Here lies a world within a deep spatial-temporal rift."

"What does that mean?" Owen pondered before managing to ask.

"Boundary Rift, a realm between falsehood and reality, existing outside your own time and space."

"Boundary Rift, huh?"

Owen grasped only this term.

To him, it was somewhat tangible, but the rest of the explanation ventured into philosophical territory, which he had no desire to understand.

After all, he was nearly at a point where he couldn’t even be sure of his own identity.

Lifting his head, he saw Rose silently crying.

Gently caressing her face, Owen helped dry her tears.

"Isn’t this wonderful?"

Observing this, Anna commented, "You are in love with each other. I can love you too. You can enjoy the blessing of many. Here, you are the sovereign. No one can surpass you in strength, nor can anyone be happier or more respected than you."

"No, I don’t need it!"

"All of this is false. In the outside world, in reality, I still have much to do."

"No, don’t leave me," Rose cried again, kissing Owen’s lips for a long moment before letting go.

"You say this place is false." Anna pulled Owen to his feet, saying, "Look at Rose’s face. Is she false?"

Owen found himself at a loss for words.

"She has been my servant since our time in Ironblade City. You know what happened to Ironblade City, don’t you? Do you think she still exists in that world outside?"

Owen lowered his head, knowing that in the real world, Rose likely did not survive.

When Visto took Anna away from Ironblade City, Anna’s maidservants did not accompany them.

They remained behind in the inner city to assist with its defense, and it was feared that none survived the city’s fall.

Owen suddenly realized that the few people he recognized here were all those who had passed away, and perhaps only Anna was alive outside.

He couldn’t help but ask, "Are you still alive?"

"Outside, I suppose I am still alive, but whether I am alive outside does not matter to me. What matters is that I am here," Anna dismissed Owen’s question with a sneer.

She pulled out the Ruthlessness Blade with her left hand, and with her right, she yanked down the black robe she wore, revealing the clothes underneath.

She ran the Ruthlessness Blade across her right arm, uncaring as blood flowed down her wrist and fingers.

Looking into Owen’s eyes, she said, "Since you claim everything here is false, let me die like this then. After all, it’s just an illusion, and there’s a real me outside."

Owen lunged forward, embracing Anna and stopping the bleeding.

"You’re a good person," she remarked.

Anna attempted to kiss Owen, but he avoided it.