Taming the Protagonist

Volume 2

Chapter 105 : Fate’s Checkmate

Time passed silently.

Nearly a month had gone by since Helen and Mingfuluo’s soul surgery ended.

In that month, little of note happened in the Imperial Capital… except for an explosion at one of the Alchemical Association’s central workshops.

—Based on the detailed methods and ideas Mingfuluo provided, three top alchemists, at the cost of one’s life and another’s sanity, finally created an Ether Armament surpassing Material Armament.

That day, Ivora’s wild, arrogant laughter echoed over the Imperial Capital.

No one knew what power she gained from the Ether Armament, but for her to dare ignore Ephithand’s authority so boldly… her gains were surely extraordinary.

Flamel was still working on his final creation, with Elnilisa by his side constantly, while Helen, who had seized Mingfuluo’s soul, was preparing a gift for Anselm.

At Anselm’s suggestion, Hitana and Marina were visiting family in Chishuang Territory and wouldn’t return for at least half a month.

In the vast Hydra Mansion, Anselm seemed almost alone.

But Anselm never felt lonely.

Compared to the six years he had endured, being alone in form was trivial.

The young Hydra was lounging on a chair on his bedroom balcony, eyes half-closed, resting peacefully.

He was slowly, meticulously recalling and reviewing everything he had done and gained since returning to the Imperial Capital.

“It ends here.”

Anselm opened his eyes, sighing softly: “What a long and grueling journey.”

This four-year taming process had concluded.

A former friend had become his daughter now.

Anselm felt a pang of regret but had no remorse.

In truth, he still harbored one lingering doubt: Helen’s feelings for him were… too intense and vivid.

This was why, even though Helen had defeated Mingfuluo, he hadn’t immediately told her about fate.

But on closer thought, it wasn’t hard to explain: Helen’s soul came from the same source as Mingfuluo’s.

Her outpouring and dependence were merely Mingfuluo’s suppressed feelings for him from three years ago.

Because of this, Anselm had hoped Mingfuluo would lean toward him, but in the end, he didn’t get what he wanted.

Nothing was perfect in this world.

Just as he gained Hitana but planted a seed of instability for his future, he gained Helen but forever lost a former friend.

…Perhaps, there would never be such a person again.

But what was lost was lost.

As long as it added leverage against fate, such sacrifices were inconsequential.

After all, Anselm had long resolved to face far crueler decisions.

The young Hydra opened his pocket watch, glanced at the time, and the corner of his mouth twitched slightly.

—It seemed he meant to show his usual warm, spring-like smile, but some inner emotion kept his lips from curling.

“You have six hours and fifty-seven minutes left.”

He closed the watch, looked up at the sky, a surge of darkness passing through his deep sea-blue eyes.

“I know you must have other methods, other preparations… Is it some detail I failed to account for, or have you, who always pursues perfect rationality, finally abandoned that arrogant principle?”

“…No matter.”

Anselm stood, tightly gripping the cane named Gleipnir, crafted by Flamel for him after Elnilisa’s death, and said softly:

“I know you won’t sit idly by as I gain the power to ascend to the sixth tier a full decade early.”

Not just the Contract Heads he needed, not just a hero to overturn the Empire, in that desperate future, Anselm, endlessly searching for a breakthrough, had long ago found a critical node.

It was the moment his father, Flamel Hydra, after nine years of gathering unimaginable materials, completed the greatest creation of his life.

This node was, after countless analyses, the key Anselm determined could change everything, requiring little effort or energy to achieve.

But though it required little effort or energy, it demanded Anselm’s cold, cruel, abyss-dark resolve.

After six years of walking a long, painful path, Anselm was now ready to make that resolve.

The resolve to sacrifice everything.

“Helen’s side should be nearly done.”

Muttering to himself, Anselm left the bedroom, heading toward Helen’s alchemical workshop.

His steps were slow. Always unhurried, Anselm walked unusually slowly now.

His gaze lingered on the wall’s paintings, the corridor’s decorations.

Spotless, as if brand new, these ornaments seemed devoid of stories, yet Anselm’s eyes lingered long, as if picking up fragments of the past, scattered memories.

The Hydra Mansion in the Imperial Capital had stood for nearly a millennium.

Though past Hydras rarely resided here, even the Empress had to show them respect.

Anselm had lived in the Imperial Capital for two years at age eight.

Back then, he hadn’t yet sifted through the vast sea of memories about this world.

He was proud of his talents and gifts, delighted by his parents’ love and gentleness.

In that young Hydra’s eyes, everything was beautiful.

He had the opportunity to change the world and the ability to do so.

Just looking at these ornaments, Anselm could recall past joys and happiness… but the past was just the past.

His life now was solely about opposing fate, nothing else.

Walking along the second-floor corridor, Anselm reached the staircase landing, seeing a large painting on the wall below.

In it, a woman with youthful vitality yet mature elegance folded her hands, smiling gently and graciously.

“…Mother.”

Anselm murmured softly, gazing at the painting silently for a long time.

It was a gift from Flamel to Elnilisa.

Every drop of paint was made from unimaginably precious materials, yet Elnilisa wasn’t particularly fond of it, as she didn’t understand it.

The painting hung in such a prominent place only because Elnilisa thought that if she weren’t home, Anselm and Flamel, seeing it, would feel she was still welcoming them.

After staring at the painting for a long time, Anselm continued forward.

Along the way… he saw too many traces of Elnilisa.

Fresh flowers in vases, pressed flower specimens on the walls, various ornaments bought to her taste… For years, almost alone in the Imperial Capital, she must have felt bored.

Perhaps she thought that when Anselm or Flamel returned, seeing such a beautifully arranged mansion would make them happy, so she tirelessly devoted herself to it.

But Flamel was busy with his own matters, and Anselm, since leaving three years ago, hadn’t returned until now.

Anselm silently ran his fingers along the wall, his expression dazed, his mother’s smile flashing in his mind, his eyes lowering slightly.

He rarely let emotions touch the softest parts of himself, but at this moment, Anselm followed his heart.

Because he knew he probably wouldn’t have such a chance again.

“…Father.”

The young Hydra, for some reason, murmured his father’s name softly.

This mansion, clearly built for the Hydras, bore little trace of Flamel.

Anselm’s life after age ten had little of Flamel’s presence either.

His father was busy handling matters for the Empress and pursuing his ultimate creation.

After Anselm turned ten, he hardly looked after him, their meetings rare.

From this view, he didn’t seem like a good father.

But in Anselm’s eyes, no one was a better father than Flamel, just as no one was a better mother than Elnilisa.

But…

He wasn’t a good son, neither to Elnilisa nor Flamel.

Not only was he not good, compared to the love they poured into him, he was… utterly deplorable.

But just as he could coldly and cruelly commit heinous acts, becoming a villain entangled in tyranny, Anselm was ready to bear this sin and move forward without looking back.

Until either he or fate was utterly destroyed.

At the door of the alchemical workshop, setting aside all chaotic thoughts, Anselm placed his hand on the door, channeling ether to announce his arrival to those inside.

He was ready to place the Contract Heads’ ring on Helen, no matter what she was working on; it couldn’t be delayed any longer.

But after half a minute, no sound came from within.

“…Exhausted and collapsed?”

Anselm didn’t, and wouldn’t, probe inside deliberately.

He forcibly opened the workshop door and stepped in.

But the moment he entered, he froze.

…Nothing.

In the vast workshop, there were no running machines, no burning furnaces, no… people working.

Helen, who should have been here, was gone.

Anselm’s grip on his cane tightened slowly.

He narrowed his eyes, invisible waves spreading out, and in an instant, he noticed something unusual in the workshop.

On a neatly arranged workbench with tools and ornaments, three items remained.

A Shadow Crystal, a gray bracelet, and a pair of… gray-white glasses.

All three bore traces of Helen… no, of both Helen and Mingfuluo.

“What’s going on…”

The young Hydra’s brows furrowed deeply: “Why is Mingfuluo still with Helen?”

That day, when concluding things with Helen, Flamel had Anselm stay with the sleeping Elnilisa. When he returned, Helen was gone.

Flamel told him the soul “surgery” was complete, that Helen had gone to the workshop to prepare her “gift.”

Anselm hadn’t thought much of it; Flamel had no reason to hide anything.

“…Is this your countermeasure?”

Anselm’s lips twitched: “Is there some trap you left in Helen or Mingfuluo that I don’t know about?”

He picked up the Shadow Crystal, activated it, and said coldly:

“Let’s see what you’ve prepared for me.”

The next second, Anselm froze.

Because on the projected light screen… two identical petite women stood side by side.

“When you see this recording, whether I succeeded or failed, I’ve already done what I wanted, Anselm.”

Their expressions and tones were indistinguishable.

Anselm, who could usually tell Helen and Mingfuluo apart easily, couldn’t find any difference between them now.

“First, I must apologize to you, Father… Anselm.”

The Mingfuluo on the right slightly bowed her head: “I never meant to betray you, but I still brought you… lies.”

This should be Helen, but why was she talking about… lies?

Anselm’s hand, gripping his cane, trembled unconsciously.

His mind raced, searching for answers among all the vigilance and anomalies he’d held in his heart, swiftly weaving possible scenarios.

Had Helen betrayed him?

No… that was impossible.

She had no reason or stance to betray him, but lies… Could everything she told him have been lies?

After experiencing such despair and destruction, was Helen still not Helen but Mingfuluo?

That was even more impossible… The original Mingfuluo had been destroyed by him, that was certain.

The lies… when did they start…

…From the moment Helen fully recovered her memories?

Had she secretly connected with Mingfuluo?

By what means?

But even if she recovered her memories, how could she align with a Mingfuluo who purely despised him?

She clearly—

In an instant, the faint vigilance lingering in Anselm’s mind was completely pierced.

Mingfuluo’s inexplicable absolute hatred, Helen’s overly intense and fiery emotions, and… everything from three years ago.

“Lies.”

His deep blue eyes trembled slightly.

The boy stared fixedly at his former friend on the screen, his voice already somewhat distorted.

“Mingfuluo, was your… display of hatred a lie?!”

At the same time, the Mingfuluo on the left spoke:

“To make you believe everything we’re about to say, that pair of glasses, my Data System, contains everything I recorded over these three years. I’ve removed the encryption; you can browse it freely.”

“You’ve probably guessed my issue by now.”

“…I’m sorry, Anselm.”

The Mingfuluo on the left also lowered her head slightly, speaking softly: “For these three years, I couldn’t be by your side.”

The large machinery in the alchemical workshop began to emit a wail of twisting metal.

An invisible, terrifying force field distorted everything in the workshop.

The young beast from the abyss breathed more rapidly, the darkness in his eyes surging intermittently. It took him nearly four or five minutes to calm down.

After a deep breath, he reached for the glasses.

The Data System was something Mingfuluo created with her unimaginable talent, its underlying structure incomprehensible even to Anselm—likely only Flamel could understand it. Anselm only knew how to use it.

Silently, he put on the glasses and found, in the Data System, what Mingfuluo had placed most prominently.

It was… a diary composed of data, impossible for anyone in this world to pry into.

If encrypted further, it would be an ultimate secret no one could know.

The diary was long, but for Anselm, who could read vast amounts effortlessly, it was nothing. He read quickly… very quickly…

Soon, it became slower and slower.

“…”

The light flickering on the lenses, the words formed from data, every character, every punctuation mark, pierced Anselm’s eyes like swords, slicing into… his heart.

It was… an indescribably long silence.

In this silence, the young Hydra turned into a statue.

His ever-deep blue eyes, now as if frozen, reflected only the fleeting streams of light, reflecting his friend’s three years of solitude, three years of effort, and… her true intentions.

At this moment, as Anselm was nearly frozen, the two Mingfuluos on the screen spoke again:

“After returning from the Zero Point Labyrinth with Mr. Flamel, Mingfuluo used the remaining Nidhogg she deliberately left me to mark a code.”

“That code’s pattern was unique in the world, known only to me. When Mingfuluo first attacked me, I already grew suspicious—how could there be someone in this world who understood and controlled Nidhogg better than I did?”

“So, I entered that code into the Data System and found that diary.”

“I truly saw… myself.”

In the screen, Helen’s eyes were no longer lifeless; her calm detachment was identical to the Mingfuluo beside her.

“Then, through Mingfuluo’s assassination attempt on me, I pretended to fully awaken my past memories.”

“In reality, Mingfuluo, through that assassination, left trace amounts of Nidhogg in my body, establishing a connection between us.”

Under Mingfuluo’s modifications, Nidhogg had been reduced to nearly the smallest ether units, undetectable unless moved or operated in large quantities—this was how Mingfuluo had silently assassinated Helen under Hendrik’s nose.

But this feature was never meant for assassination.

“I knew clearly,” Mingfuluo said now, “even if Helen’s eyes were filled only with you, you wouldn’t fully trust her… Only after she and I settled our conflict, only after she could kill her past self, would you entrust your trust.”

“And in this process… the more I hated you, the more you favored Helen’s dependence; the more selfish I appeared, the more secure you felt in Helen’s loyalty.”

So, in that confrontation… there was that dialogue, seemingly from the same soul yet almost entirely split in opposition.

So Mingfuluo had acted so stubbornly, hating Anselm to a degree he couldn’t comprehend.

“In this confrontation, the only uncertainty was how you would help Helen. I couldn’t be sure if… you wanted me to win.”

“So,” Helen continued, “Mingfuluo and I used Nidhogg as a self-destruct program to let me win.”

—Having studied countless texts in darkness for three years, becoming unimaginably powerful and able to modify Nidhogg to such an extent in a short time, how could Mingfuluo not notice Helen’s tampering?

It was only because Helen needed that victory.

“Both Helen and I worried you’d notice this slight inconsistency, but you didn’t. It means we… both performed well.”

Whether it was Helen’s dependence or Mingfuluo’s hatred, they performed excellently.

“But you still didn’t give me your full trust,” Helen said softly.

“Anselm, when I asked who your enemy was, you only said, for now, to treat it as the Empress.”

“You were still hiding something… but I already guessed a possibility from your anomalies.”

“You claimed the threat came from the Empress, yet you had no demands for power. Normally, there are only two possibilities: either you’re certain the Empress won’t act, or Mr. Flamel will surely resolve this for you.”

“But I,” Mingfuluo and Helen said simultaneously, “thought of a third possibility.”

“That is… you gained the power to ascend to the sixth tier before the Empress could react.”

Like a statue, Anselm’s cane trembled sharply in his hand.

“I didn’t think of this possibility at first. I was only thinking about how to uncover the truth, how to help you. But as that day approached… I reached this unbelievable answer.”

“That day at the theater, you tried to test Helen’s resolve with that pianist lady, wanting to know if she still retained her core… You wanted to find that part of Mingfuluo in her. I was glad, Anselm, glad that you still hoped for, longed for me.”

Mingfuluo sighed softly: “But I couldn’t feel any joy at the facts I saw.”

“Your maid Marina inadvertently revealed that the pianist lady was once just an ordinary person.”

“There are many ways for ordinary people to become transcendent, but Anselm… the power you revealed to me then, showing how you made her transcendent, was extraordinary.”

“That… power as if the abyss itself had descended.”

“And coincidentally.”

“Coincidentally, Marina told you the Empress was plotting against you.”

“Why would the Empress do this? Everything she did was to preserve herself. So, obviously, what benefited her preservation was… the power you displayed. It made me think… Was this power what the Empress coveted?”

“This power, like the abyss descending, since it could elevate mortals to transcendents, could it… advance transcendents further?”

The sorceress who, in the destined future, wielded wisdom to discern truth, her two identical souls, her selves, spoke simultaneously:

“But you’re not that foolish, Anselm. If your Spiritual Essence had such an effect, you’d know you’d be targeted by the Empress. You’d do everything to hide it, to prevent her from making a desperate move against you.”

“But you didn’t. Instead, you openly sent that pianist you influenced to the Imperial Capital, right under the Empress’s nose, as if telling her—‘I have this power, I have the potential to advance you further.’”

“Why… would you do this?”

Mingfuluo stared straight ahead, her gaze seeming to pierce the screen, landing on Anselm’s face, as if silently questioning.

“You wanted to use this to pressure Mr. Flamel, your father, to force him to make a choice.”

“A decisive battle with the Empress ahead of time? No… he wouldn’t, because he knew you despised destruction, knew you wanted change, so he wouldn’t leave you… a scorched earth.”

“His best choice was to take his own life, and then…”

“And then… entrust his power to you.”

She fell silent for a long time, closing her eyes, pausing before speaking with difficulty:

“Anselm, you were using your father. You were using… his love for you.”

Boom!

The entire alchemical workshop turned to ruins in an instant amid a deafening roar.

The advanced alchemical equipment, sturdy enough to forge transcendents, was like paper toys in a child’s hands—easily ravaged, crushed, twisted, distorted, obliterated.

Anselm, veins bulging at his neck and temples, gripped his cane tightly, not saying a word.

Terrifying, eerie black tendrils emerged from the void, writhing like a frenzy of snakes, chilling to behold.

Anselm, his eyes now fully steeped in darkness, stared fixedly at Mingfuluo and Helen on the screen, the madness in the darkness so vivid.

“I didn’t come to this conclusion without basis… From that trip to the Zero Point Labyrinth, I already sensed the anomaly between you and Mr. Flamel. You were deliberately avoiding him, while he kept saying things… as if settling his affairs.”

“Anselm, at that moment, I was truly despairing.”

Hearing this, Anselm raised his hand to destroy the Shadow Crystal, but Mingfuluo had already spoken: “But I also knew I had no right to speak of despair before you.”

Pure destruction halted before the Shadow Crystal.

Anselm, his shadow twisting at his feet as if some monster were about to emerge, panted and struggled… then withdrew his hand.

Mingfuluo said: “I shouldn’t think, how could you be so cruel?”

Helen said: “I should think, what… forced you to be this cruel?”

After a brief silence, they asked in soft, pained voices simultaneously:

“Was it fate?”

“…”

Anselm was stunned.

His entire body began to tremble, along with the cane he had pressed into the ground.

The dark color in his eyes receded like a tide, revealing the original deep, vibrant sea-blue.

And within… only bewilderment remained.

Was it fate?

Those four words pierced his consciousness, his soul, all the anger from Mingfuluo’s and Helen’s lies, the madness from having his deepest pain exposed.

Clang—

When Anselm came to, the cane he’d been gripping had fallen, and he himself… was shaking, nearly collapsing to the ground.

That diary, Anselm had read so slowly, so slowly, he hadn’t finished it, hadn’t seen Mingfuluo’s guesses about fate, and now Mingfuluo had spoken those two words herself.

At this moment, he heard her say them aloud.

“I wasn’t one hundred percent sure of its existence until you revealed the truth to Helen when she completed the final conclusion.”

“…I’m so sorry, Anselm.”

Mingfuluo and Helen held hands, stepping forward, each holding the Shadow Crystal as if cradling Anselm’s face.

“If I could’ve noticed your anomalies sooner, if I could’ve been honest with you earlier, if I could’ve…”

“I clearly could’ve done more, I should’ve done more, but I still… couldn’t help you.”

“I’m sorry.”

Why didn’t Anselm want to be close to Elnilisa?

Because every time he saw her, he’d recall the despair that made him want to destroy himself.

Every time he saw Elnilisa, he’d remember he was the one who killed his mother.

Why didn’t Anselm want to be close to Flamel? Because every time he saw him, he’d recall he was using his father’s love to gain greater power.

Every time he saw Flamel, he’d remember how despicable and vile he was.

Every time he saw his parents, Anselm was met not with warmth or joy, but unpayable sins and…

And endless pain.

Anselm finally collapsed shakily, leaning against the ruins’ debris, his fingertips still trembling uncontrollably.

No one in this world had ever understood his despair.

Who could he confide in? His father?

Tell his already maddened father that there was a higher existence controlling everything in this world, and that it was because of It that I caused Mother’s death?

He had told Hitana, and Hitana, without the slightest hesitation, entrusted her resolve and faith to Anselm, saving him from the cage of self-imposed isolation.

But even Hitana couldn’t delve deeper, couldn’t reach into the pain slowly gnawing at his heart, formed from the six long years of suffering under his self-protective shell.

She could envelop Anselm with pure love, but she couldn’t penetrate within.

Yet at this moment, someone, before even knowing of fate’s existence, had asked him: Was it fate?

Someone apologized to him with such sorrow, saying, I’m sorry, I couldn’t do better, I’m sorry, I came too late.

“Until now… I finally understood why we could resonate so deeply, Anselm.”

Mingfuluo on the screen murmured softly:

“Similarly desperate childhoods, similarly willing to sacrifice everything for a purpose, similarly committing unforgivable mistakes, similarly…”

“Similarly having our existence and lives designed.”

“The world in our eyes was already a lifeless gray.”

After Erlin’s death, Mingfuluo’s life lost its color and hope. Her grandfather bound her with death to live only for ideals.

After Elnilisa’s death, Anselm’s life similarly lost its color and hope.

With fanatical conviction, he resolved to fight fate to the death, nothing else remaining.

All the world’s beauty drifted far from them; all its good and evil became irrelevant.

The world… The world was just a meaningless shell, a cold, hard cage.

They lived only for their obsessions.

Until—

“Until I met you, Anselm.”

Under Anselm’s vacant gaze, Mingfuluo and Helen on the screen, perfectly synchronized, said:

“You let me see color.”

They reached out, as if to touch Anselm’s… eyes.

“A color clearer and bluer than the sky.”

Mingfuluo loved the sky most, but now she realized she had long preferred Anselm, preferred his eyes.

Those bright sea-blue eyes held possibilities and hopes vaster and broader than the sky.

“So, I won’t let you fall deeper into hell, Anselm.”

Mingfuluo and Helen declared, word by word:

“You must not… absolutely must not continue using Lord Flamel, using your father, using his willing death for you.”

“If you do this, there’s no turning back.”

“That Anselm Hydra, deeply loved by Lady Elnilisa, the pride of Mr. Flamel, cherished by Hitana, the Anselm Hydra who brought me color, would die in a cold, heartless abyss.”

Then, a fourth-tier sorceress and a third-tier sorceress uttered utterly fantastical words:

“If you need the power to oppose the Empress, to oppose fate, then… I’ll give it to you.”

Though their words seemed like a joke, they spoke without hesitation or fear, with such resolve, such confidence.

“I want to see that brilliance in your eyes again.”

The great sage, the source of truth, the founder of the new world, the eternal reformer… Mingfuluo Zege didn’t have these titles now.

She had only one title she acknowledged.

That was Anselm’s friend.

“Anselm.”

The devil’s friend said resolutely:

“Trust me.”

***

“…That should be enough.” Shutting off the Shadow Crystal, Mingfuluo sighed softly, “I hope Anselm can feel my conviction.”

“He will.” Helen picked up a bracelet, saying calmly, “Next, it’s our matter.”

Mingfuluo nodded silently, about to speak when Helen said:

“You know too, everything we’re doing now is part of fate’s calculations.”

Helen lowered her head, rubbing the bracelet, murmuring: “Without us, Anselm could seize this chance to gain sixth-tier power. With his intellect and disposition, wielding power that could crush the Empire, plus his knowledge of the future… he could achieve so much.”

“Fate fears such an Anselm, so it…”

“Fueled the process, letting you so smoothly become Helen, letting me clearly discern all this.”

Mingfuluo continued, her expression cold: “And finally here, shaking Anselm’s already resolute will.”

“Long preparations, concealment, waiting, all… just for this node’s arrival.”

“Yet it feels so reasonable, so… natural.”

That was… fate.

Anselm must have made even more preparations for this day.

His Spiritual Essence’s exposure must have been planned long before… that pianist was just one of the triggers.

Though it wasn’t clear why he chose this node, clearly… Anselm knew everything, including how the Empress would act upon discovering his Spiritual Essence, when she would make her move, and when Flamel would resolve to take his own life to pass his power to Anselm—all surely within Anselm’s grasp.

But fate… so naturally, so lightly, placed Mingfuluo, fully on Anselm’s side, before him.

This time, it wasn’t the beast king craving evolutionary sustenance yet so attached to him.

It was… a friend willing to do anything to help Anselm.

Even if Anselm won, even if fate lost one of its four heroes, It might gain a greater outcome—

Not only might Anselm abandon the chance to become sixth-tier at sixteen, but if he did, and if Mingfuluo failed, if the power she provided wasn’t strong enough, how could he resist the Empress?

And if he couldn’t resist the Empress, Anselm’s fate…

Fate’s checkmate not only had a chance to shatter Anselm’s winning move to reverse the situation but might even… completely eliminate this dangerous unstable factor.

“So, will you give up?” Mingfuluo asked Helen. “Because this is fate’s push, will you watch Anselm send himself into a hell of self-destruction and heartlessness?”

“…You already know my answer.”

“Heh, true, you are me after all.”

Mingfuluo and Helen exchanged a glance, showing identical faint smiles.

Part helplessness, part resolve.

Helplessness at fate’s truly, undeniably overwhelming power, forcing them to follow Its gaze even when fully aware of Its purpose.

Even so, Mingfuluo couldn’t watch Anselm sink deeper into the abyss.

“As long as we’re strong enough,” Helen said.

“Exactly. I prepared for three years, you laid the critical foundation, and…”

Mingfuluo looked up at the sky, saying softly: “And the vital guidance and help from the divine species.”

Then, she looked down at the ring in her hand, exhaling gently: “All preparations are complete. Now… the final step.”

“Me first, or you?”

“I’ll go first,” Mingfuluo said calmly. “If I succeed, you won’t need to continue. Anselm probably prefers you anyway.”

“What are you talking about?”

Helen frowned slightly: “Is there any difference between you and me?”

Though she said this, she handed the bracelet to Mingfuluo.

“The difference is, I won’t call him father.”

“…”

Helen was silent for a moment, then said very seriously: “You will eventually, I guarantee.”

Mingfuluo put the ring on her wrist, the corner of her mouth twitching almost imperceptibly:

“I hope so.”

The next moment, an iron-gray sheen… no, an iron-gray substance, something unknown, surged from the bracelet, enveloping Mingfuluo’s body.

“Guh!”

Mingfuluo’s throat immediately let out a pained groan.

Helen moved to help, but Mingfuluo stopped her.

“Don’t… mind me… record… record the data!”

After saying this, her cries of pain could no longer be suppressed.

The iron-gray substance wasn’t covering her skin—it was…

Replacing it!

Bit by bit, inch by inch, consuming her skin, flesh, blood vessels, bones, nerves… then filling and replacing them with that iron-gray matter.

As it spread visibly across her body, as every inch, every fraction of her flesh and nerves was eroded and devoured, no matter how much Mingfuluo endured, her pained shouts turned to wails.

It wasn’t just the pain—the fear of shedding her flesh, transforming into something “inhuman,” tormented her will at every moment.

She collapsed to the ground, her curled-up body twitching uncontrollably, her throat emitting shrill, hoarse screams.

Yet Helen stood by her side, her face unwavering, as streams of light flashed through her glasses, murmuring:

“Stability still above eighty percent, soon… it’s almost succeeding, if it continues like this…”

Mingfuluo’s entire body, below the neck, had been completely replaced by the iron-gray substance, which was now slowly creeping up her neck, bit by bit consuming her face, skull, even… her brain!

“Shatter the shell protecting the soul, and then…”

Staring fixedly at Mingfuluo, entirely covered by the iron-gray matter, Helen clenched her fists, her hoarse voice tinged with excitement:

“Touch the abyss!”

Boom!

In an instant, Mingfuluo’s body, eroded by the iron-gray matter, disintegrated.

It first scattered into the finest iron-gray particle cloud, then couldn’t even maintain that form, completely collapsing, dissipating into nothingness.

“…”

Helen’s breathing stopped at that moment.

“…Mingfuluo.”

“Me?”

“Did you succeed?”

“Or can you just not interfere with reality now?”

“…”

Then came three days and three nights of waiting.

Yet nothing happened.

Having reviewed all the data in the glasses countless times, Helen decoded the diary, marked it specially, and calmly removed the glasses, placing them on the workbench.

She meticulously tidied everything, then placed the Shadow Crystal beside the glasses.

Finally, she picked up the bracelet.

“Before making Anselm believe in you—”

Helen, or perhaps Mingfuluo, murmured softly:

“You have to believe in yourself first, Mingfuluo.”

She put the bracelet on her wrist.