svetikya Page 446
Page 446
"Damn it! What the hell is that guy who plotted against me?!" Another certification has been collected, and the achievement has increased. This complaint is mainly because Belial is desperately observing this bizarre world.
The buildings in the distance are bizarre and fantastical.
Some of them look like they were randomly stacked blocks, floating against gravity.
Some are transparent soap bubbles, with blurry and distorted silhouettes of people working inside. The tallest tower is entirely constructed from a giant deck of cards that is constantly shuffling automatically, with the card designs changing in an instant.
"Is this...is this a madman's dream?!" Belial felt dizzy; his dark aesthetics seemed so pale and powerless at this moment.
The "vehicles" are not made of metal, but rather huge, round, and fluffy dandelion balls. Driven by clusters of fireflies inside, they drift silently along fixed airflow tracks. Occasionally, a "passenger" is thrown out, landing lightly on the ground, then grumbling and chasing after another dandelion.
Do not know why.
All the big trucks are like cotton candy.
It's as if my whole body is a buffer zone.
There wasn't a single hard spot on the vehicle's body, subtly revealing the creators' enigmatic feelings towards large trucks.
Not only that, the streetlights on the roadside look normal, but if you get closer you will find that they are actually giant lollipops, emitting a soft halo.
The streets are not paved with asphalt or flagstones, but rather with huge, smooth, colorful crayon shavings that have been compacted, giving them a slightly soft feel and a waxy aroma when stepped on.
It's like a fairy tale.
Weird.
A bizarre fairy tale.
Ian's understanding of utopia is clearly different from that of ordinary people.
Even Belial, who was also extraordinary, found it difficult to accept.
The X-Men escorting him were used to it.
Colossus swept past like a gust of wind, casually breaking off a lollipop from a tree and popping it into his mouth. Iceman snapped his fingers, freezing a drop of syrup that was about to fall onto Jean Grey's hair. Wolverine impatiently kicked aside a whining, whining cloud of emotion blocking his way.
The clouds immediately turned from white to black, and rain that smelled like vinegar began to fall.
"What the hell is this place?!"
Beria felt like he was about to have a mental breakdown. Finally, he was escorted into a seemingly normal, grand building—the Citizens' Court.
The building resembles a collection of enormous, crooked, three-dimensional fairy tale books stacked together, with gold dust shimmering on the edges of the pages, and a badge of "justice" woven from crooked yarn hanging above the door.
Inside the courtroom, the judge's high-backed chair is a huge, dozing teddy bear.
The clerk's seat was occupied by a fox wearing a wig and holding a pen with its tail, while the jury consisted of twelve clay dolls with different expressions.
Beria was pinned to the dock.
A spring bed that keeps trying to bounce him up.
He stared intently at the judge's bench, waiting for the sinister boy to appear. However, the side door opened, and the person who stepped out surprised Beria once again.
A boy did indeed sit in the judge's dock, but he wasn't that cunning, sly, vicious, insidious, despicable, shameless... drama queen boy whose true nature should be omitted.
It was a smaller boy whom Belial had met in the library before.
They look exactly alike, but they feel... slightly different. The one in the library has deep, calm eyes, while the one in front of me is cracking sunflower seeds, idly swinging his legs, and glancing occasionally at a floating screen next to me playing "Tom and Jerry," making him seem particularly unreliable.
"It can create clones?" This thought flashed through Belial's mind instantly.
Just then, the judge, who was eating sunflower seeds, seemed to finally notice the new face in the dock.
Franklin raised his eyelids.
He glanced at Belial lazily.
His gaze lingered for a moment, particularly on his dark skin and exoskeleton. Then, he spat out the sunflower seed shells and spoke in a casual tone, as if deciding what to eat for dinner.
"Oh, you have dark skin."
He scratched his head.
It seems that some kind of "rigorous" judicial thinking is being conducted.
Then slap the lollipop armrest.
"Alright, the labor reform for dark-skinned people will definitely be sent to 'Southern Siberia' to grow cotton! No doubt about it! I heard they're very good at it."
This was clearly a tool created by Franklin to better understand Ian's thinking and to better grasp the "Sacred Heart," and the verdict was also a direct result of Ian's teachings.
It's true what they say, those who know how to flatter always seem to do well. Ian, witnessing this, was delighted and decided to bring Franklin under his wing once he came of age, making him his personal favorite. As for why he had to wait until adulthood, it was because the position of Grand Eunuch would be difficult to approve if a minor were used.
"It's such a happy decision!"
Ian had a plan in mind.
The kid was completely unaware of this.
Having said that, without giving Beria any chance to defend himself, the child judge picked up a chocolate gavel and banged it down.
"This case is adjourned! Courtroom adjourned!"
He announced this, then immediately lowered his head again and continued to eat sunflower seeds and watch his "Tom and Jerry" with great relish, muttering things like, "Jerry, run! Tom's so stupid!"
Two X-Men law enforcement officers stepped forward expressionlessly, dragged the completely bewildered and blank-minded Belial from the dock, and headed towards the portal at the back of the courtroom.
Beria was being dragged along like a puppet.
The absurd verdict still echoed in my ears—"South Siberia," "growing cotton," "very good at it"... No, of course my skin is a bit dark!
But I still have so many red areas on my skin!
Beria protested loudly, but in such a solemn place as the courtroom, even if he shouted, "Who does the presiding judge think he is? I'm not afraid of you, presiding judge!" it was still more effective than silence.
Nobody paid any attention to them.
And so, Belial was brought to the portal, a vortex composed of countless spinning penitent emoticons and dried paint residue, at the center of which was the bottomless cry of "Labor is the most glorious."
"No! You can't—" Belial's roar was swallowed by the vortex. He felt as if he had been thrown into a passageway made of faded dreams and forgotten fairy tales.
The world is spinning.
Finally, the Dark King crashed heavily to the ground, raising a cloud of dust.
"Damn it! What kind of torture are they trying to inflict on me?!"
He shook his dizzy head and struggled to open his eyes. Before him stretched an endless, desolate, greyish-white field. The sky was a low-hanging, oppressive grey velvet cloth, with a few non-shining stars sewn onto it, made of buttons. The air was dry, filled with the smell of old newspapers and dust.
In the distance, a few figures were scattered about, all mechanically and numbly bending over to work. They held various strange tools in their hands: some were using huge combs to groom the ground; some were using sieves to scoop something up from the ground; and others were using air pumps to "inflate" grayish-white plants that looked like giant dandelions.
A man who looked like a foreman walked over.
He was a man wearing a tattered suit, whose head was a huge, ticking alarm clock.
"Newcomer? Black model?" The alarm clock emitted a shrill, bell-like sound and poked Belial with its cold, metallic pointer.
"Come and get your tools! Your task today is to grow one million cotton plants."
The alarm clock's cold, metallic pointer almost poked Belial's enormous eyeballs, a sight even among Ultraman, the ticking of gears carrying an undeniable command.
"The inspection will be completed before sunset. If you miss even one flower, you'll have to eat one less bite of dinner—according to the rules, if you're missing too many, you'll owe us dinner too."
The alarm clock's sound was like a rusty saw cutting through the air.
That's heartbreaking.
"?????"
Belial's狰狞 (zhengning, meaning ferocious or hideous) face froze instantly. He even wondered if his powerful hearing had also been malfunctioning due to assimilation into this bizarre world.
"How...how much?" he asked almost instinctively, his voice trembling with disbelief. "How much cotton do you think I need to plant today?!"
"One! Million! Fluffy! Clouds! Are your hearing receivers glued shut with earwax?! Do you need me to clean them out with a cleaning rod?! Blackie 114514!" On the glass face of the alarm clock, the red second hand, representing "anger," suddenly jumped to its highest point.
It emitted a piercing "ding" sound! The entire alarm clock seemed to vibrate due to overload, and the sound suddenly rose eight octaves like a long whistle.
The supervisor was furious.
After confirming that he hadn't misheard, Belial also felt a surge of blood rushing to his head, and his long-suppressed rage and humiliation erupted like a volcano!
"Damn it!!!" He slammed the rusty, broken comb in his hand onto the gray-white ground, his sharp claws pointing at the smiling sun in the sky.
"When I enslaved an entire planet! When I enslaved the Giant of Light! When I enslaved the monster army of the Dark Nebula! I wasn't this outrageous! A million cotton balls?! Why the hell didn't you let me polish the stars?! Why didn't you let me comb the black hole's hair in the middle?!" Belial roared deafeningly.
The voice was filled with a sense of absurdity and extreme resentment.
His roar echoed across the plains, drawing the attention of a few abstract figures toiling numbly in the distance. They quickly lowered their heads and resumed their planting work with even greater effort.
"hehe."
The alarm clock overseer seemed accustomed to such reactions. Far from being intimidated, it brought the metal case closer to Beria, and the ticking became increasingly rapid and loud, almost like a roar, its shrill sound piercing eardrums.
"Outrageous?! Who are you calling outrageous?! Huh?! Don't forget that the One God created Rainbow Pony for you, and not just one, but one for each of you!"
"Ingratitude coupled with crime—whose fault is that?"
"I'm an alarm clock! I absolutely will not allow anyone to ignore the facts when speaking to me!"
"You criminals, instead of producing more low-grade materials, where does the factory of the One God get its raw materials to produce intermediate-grade products in another universe?"
"Without raw materials for production, what will the millions of hungry angels eat and drink?! The angels will starve to death! They will grow thin! They will lose their radiance! How can the One God possibly have the mind to spread His grace?! How can He possibly have the energy to maintain the fairy tales and fantasies of this world?!"
"Tell me! Can you take responsibility for this?!"
A series of soul-searching questions, interspersed with incredibly "noble" reasons and utterly absurd logic, slammed down on Belial's already crumbling understanding like a series of heavy hammer blows.
"??????"
Beria opened his mouth.
I found myself unable to utter a single word in rebuttal.
He discovered that the once-silent King of Ultra was wrong; he was definitely not the most insane person in the world. Every life form in this universe seemed to be much more insane than him.
Beria's chest heaved violently a few times, and finally, as if all the bones had been removed, his shoulders slumped. He bent down with difficulty to pick up the planting tool that had been knocked to the ground.
When you're under someone's roof, you have to bow your head... Endure humiliation and bear heavy burdens... Sleep on firewood and taste gall... It's never too late for the Great Emperor to take revenge... As the Emperor of the Universe, my greatest skill is forbearance.
Belial nodded to himself, his resolve strengthened, but he still tried to regain some of the rhythm of the negotiations.
“Overseer… sir, if I… after working for three years… will my debt of fifty million be wiped clean?” Belial raised his wrist, revealing that damned watch.
Hear the words.
The alarm clock emitted an extremely grating, metallic, sneer.