Chapter 505: Chapter 20: The Lost Path
In the boundless darkness, golden raindrops danced and tumbled, gliding gracefully under Belli’s command, tracing paths, extending, and twisting like molten gold.
Belli picked up the bottles and jars from the cart, opening them one by one, and casually tossing the prepared alchemy materials into the air.
At this moment, the concept of gravity seemed to disappear; the alchemy materials didn’t fall but floated mid-air, free for Belli to manipulate.
Aimou stood to the side, assisting Belli in her work. Having participated in numerous implantation and ascension rituals back at the Alchemy Workshop with Teda, she considered herself quite experienced, yet facing Bologue, she couldn’t help but feel nervous.
"One hundred grams of Moon Dust, thirty grams of Red Mercury, a suitable amount of Star Antimony..."
Aimou meticulously placed the alchemy materials into the air, looking much like a nurse, arranging them, while saying to Bologue, "Relax, quite a few of the alchemy materials are ones I refined myself, there’s definitely no problem."
Bologue now understood what Aimou had been busy with, she had been tirelessly working day and night for his ascension ritual.
Luckily, Aimou’s essence remained that of an Alchemy Puppet, otherwise, she might have had to be admitted to the Border Sanatorium by now.
Various alchemy materials floated, engulfed by materialized liquid Ether, burning and surging, crushed and recombined into a new substance.
Dark residues emerged from the liquid gold as substance transformed, subsequently shedding. This was the mundane material being eliminated.
At an unknown time, Aimou had already left the ritual platform, disappearing into the boundless darkness, her task now complete, leaving the rest to Belli.
Bologue tilted his head upward, he never liked this feeling, like a corpse under a cold light, as if angels would descend and reach out to him.
Celestial Kingdom?
Bologue never pondered matters post-death; an Undead considering death? It all sounded rather amusing.
Even if he were to truly perish, Bologue doubted he’d reach the Celestial Kingdom; he was a villain punishing villains, a greater villain, his self-perception unwavering.
The villain’s destiny shouldn’t be the Celestial Kingdom but Hell... or someplace akin to Hell.
Bologue recalled his dear friends, they should be waiting for him in the Celestial Kingdom; thinking of not reuniting with them made Bologue somewhat sad, yet considering the villainous fate, he felt elated.
Bologue vowed to eternally torment those villains, this time, they’d have nowhere to escape.
The liquid Ether, mingled with alchemy materials, began to agitate, dazzling light erupted within the liquid like colorful glass, faint arcs of electricity could be glimpsed.
Belli waved her hand, the liquid seemingly imbued with Life Force, split into sections cascading down, a cold sensation spread across Bologue’s skin as if snakes crawled across him, cold dense scales rubbing, he could distinctly feel the uneven texture.
"Remember, stay awake, don’t succumb,"
Belli reminded him again. Bologue wanted to respond, but before he could speak, all light vanished.
Bologue didn’t understand what happened; this abrupt change occurred in an instant, and where Belli had just been before him, now darkness enveloped his sight.
Confusion didn’t trouble Bologue for long; he promptly realized this was the start of the ascension ritual.
According to data, the ascension ritual from Condenser to Prayer Believer was the least risky and simplest; most Condensers experienced nothing odd during the process, besides approaching the Secret Source for recognition, the other parts felt as ordinary as a general anesthesia surgery.
Bologue stood alone in the pitch-black world, noise from unknown darkness emerged, reminiscent of the sound of wind and snow, conveyed from a distant place.
"Is it the gathering of souls?"
Bologue mused aloud, Belli’s final hypothesis necessitating his serious contemplation.
After humans die, where does that Golden Soul ultimately return?
Might it relate to the Secret Source; if so, then in the grand cycle of this world, what role does the Secret Source play?
If the Secret Source is the amalgamation of all souls, then the so-called "lost" might be an individual glimpsing the memories within the storm, mistakenly perceiving them as their own life, thus succumbing?
This isn’t impossible; within the Philosopher’s Stone there are projections of past lives, even faded into the void of souls, echoes should exist.
Bologue didn’t understand but thought he soon would experience it firsthand, the sound of the wind and snow grew louder, closer, until faint light tore through the darkness.
Cutting cold engulfed Bologue as dim light touched him, covering his body in thick ice; accompanying the arrival of the light, he saw many frozen figures like him in surroundings.
"Is this my body?"
Bologue suddenly wondered; his true body should be on the ritual platform within the Sublimation Furnace Core, and what stood here should be the manifestation of his spirit.
Are these frozen figures the same as well?
Bologue didn’t ponder for long; familiar scenes were replaying before his eyes. Through the hazy glow, he saw the storm, which carried countless gales and waves, slowly advancing. It was like the fierce sun of the storm, banishing darkness wherever it went.
The darkness he was in earlier was merely too far from the storm. Now, it was coming towards Bologue, driving away all shadows.
Everything was replaying.
All that Bologue had experienced during the Triple Test was being replayed before him; he had returned here once again.
He once thought it was some kind of hallucination, but Bologue didn’t think a hallucination could replay so precisely, leaving only one answer.
Bologue was in "迷失" (Lost). He still had clear self-awareness, not yet fully submerged.
What to do?
Bologue tried to move his body. After several painful struggles, he shattered the ice that bound him, struggling to move. But compared to the advancing storm, he was like an escaping ant, unable to escape the crushing wheels.
With his back to the blazing white storm, boundless darkness unfolded before him. Eerie, disorderly laughter came from deep within the darkness. One by one, scarlet eyes opened in the darkness, densely packed, forming clusters, piling into mountains, transforming into figures like mountain ridges.
They were high above, watching Bologue’s futile struggle.
Bologue couldn’t tell what those shadows were, but he was sure they were nothing good. Even though he couldn’t see them clearly, he instinctively felt intense disgust.
If Bologue had to choose an end, he would choose to throw himself into the blazing white storm behind him rather than join these shadows.
A crisp cracking sound rang out, like the sound of glass being pulverized. Bologue looked at his arms; this sound was coming from his body. The cracking sound became more frequent, and fissures appeared on Bologue’s body, like afterimages.
The cold shell froze in place, while the illusionary body continued to struggle, slowly separating the two.
Bologue repeatedly reminded himself that his body wasn’t here. What he could see now was merely the manifestation of his mind...
Trinity.
This word suddenly arose in Bologue’s mind. It was often mentioned during the Triple Test.
"Salt, sulfur, mercury," Bologue muttered to himself, "body, mind, soul..."
At the moment, Bologue’s body wasn’t here. The body he observed and could interfere with was more like the embodiment of the mind and soul, the manifestation of spirit and soul. Looking at his continuously separating afterimages, was his spirit and soul being divided?
Those who sunk into "迷失" (Lost), they hadn’t died, yet they never woke up. Their bodies and souls were intact, but their spirits no longer existed.
"Am I so unlucky?"
Bologue couldn’t help but question his luck. He was just advancing to Prayer Believers, yet encountered such troublesome events. If it were future Negative Power Users, Defenders, what awaited?
Struggling to move his body, Bologue didn’t think about distant things; if he couldn’t escape the current predicament, he had no future to speak of.
Bologue ran with all his might, trying to distance himself from the blazing white storm, but no matter how he struggled, the distance between them continued to decrease.
At a certain moment, Bologue suddenly felt his body become much lighter, as if it had detached from the freeze. He took several steps forward and looked back, only to see another familiar face.
His own face.
Another self was frozen into an ice sculpture, standing right behind him, the resolute face carved with incredible detail.
At that moment, Bologue suddenly realized that the shattering sound that had been accompanying his ears disappeared. Then, Bologue was startled to realize it wasn’t that the sound had disappeared, but that he had completed the division.
The ice sculpture frozen in place was Bologue’s soul, and standing before the ice sculpture was the spirit that struggled out from within.
The blazing white storm was close, leaving Bologue no way to retreat. His body felt so light, and as the storm approached, he could no longer maintain his stance, as if in the next second, he would be drawn into the storm.
Dark shadows spread over; a hand completely constructed from darkness appeared next to Bologue. It opened its palm to Bologue, scarlet eyes splitting open in the palm, staring bloodily at Bologue.
Bologue’s serious gaze took on a hint of disdain. He waved away the dark hand, his scornful voice drowned out by the wind and snow.
"I refuse."
A powerful suction captured Bologue, and in an instant, the blazing white storm engulfed Bologue, leaving only the cold sculpture standing in place for a long time.