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"Let's wait until we get back to the clinic."
"Before that, I imagine you have something else you want to do?"
Fran did not refuse her offer to treat him; instead, she almost happily accepted.
She never rejected receiving medical services from other doctors; after all, once she experienced something firsthand, she could memorize the doctor's techniques, the types of instruments used, and even the drug ratios. In a way, this was also a form of academic exchange…
Under this premise, being able to reduce one's workload is truly a rare and wonderful thing.
"Other things..."
Upon hearing Fran's words, Xitia's azure eyes narrowed slightly.
After a moment's hesitation, she stirred the tassels beneath her feet and slowly walked towards Melvis. The surrounding sea of blood began to surge and churn, boiling violently. From within the rapidly swirling vortex, a longsword gleaming with a pale light appeared out of thin air.
The next moment, it fell into Xitia's hands on its own.
【S-200. Moonstone Silver】
The whole process flowed smoothly and naturally, as if the master had handed the sword hilt to her. 4'←∥.%
The Moonmark Silver Orb carries the will and imprint of past kings since the beginning of time, its existence being almost as ancient as, or even more so than, the Abyss Clan. Only the lord of the Abyss Clan is qualified to possess it.
As the only remaining member of the Heil noble family, it was almost inevitable that Shitia would be chosen by them.
"The lingering poison of the dead in the abyss has been cleansed, and the mad long-cherished wish of the Tide Listeners has been dashed. All my compatriots who were once connected by blood, let us witness this together... witness that the traitors of the old oaths have turned into dust of history."
"Witness the final moment when all grudges are severed."
"Everything...everything."
Her whispers were like a lament, and the once dim and lifeless blade in her hand now burst forth with a dazzling pale light.
As she spoke, Shitia plunged the Moonmark Silver into Melvis's headless body.
It penetrates through the gap in the neck, then completely pierces through from top to bottom.
Whipping Melvis's corpse may have been an act of venting hatred, but Shitia's intentions went beyond that. After all, strictly speaking, it was the ancestors of the Lost Era of the Listening Tide people who launched the War of Destruction, and they had all perished over the long course of time.
If that were not the case, this nobleman from Heyer would probably have killed his enemy no matter what.
However, the successors of the Tide Listeners inherited the arrogant ideals of their ancestors and cruelly carried them through to the very end. Therefore, Xitia not only has reason to settle accounts for that betrayal, but will also forever extinguish the desires of the betrayers.
Under the infusion of Xitia's own spirituality, the light of [Moonlight Silver] grew even stronger.
The corpses pierced by her sword were quickly covered with a layer of pale, translucent salt frost. The salt spread with each breath, gradually enveloping the entire sea of blood centered on Melvis.
About half a minute later, the shattered bone and stone palace no longer contained any mutated blood and flesh, only the precipitated white salt crystals. This was the deprivation of life, a transformation from organic to inorganic matter.
Even the bloodstains on Fran's robes and cheeks turned into salty powder and peeled off at this moment.
This was a research project to which the former King Hyjal had devoted almost his entire life, capable of neutralizing the pollution originating from the depths of the ocean. However, betrayal came before the completion of this unfinished ritual.
The intense spiritual depletion caused Xitia to gasp for breath, but she was no longer concerned about the physical discomfort.
So, did she feel joy?
Yes.
Even though she didn't kill Melvis with her own hands, she participated in and contributed to the destruction of the Tide Listeners... This made her feel genuinely relieved. It was as if her body and mind had been freed from shackles, no longer bound by the remnants of the past.
She had the same feeling when Mordway killed the glandular scale that Karmion had transformed into, only now it was even more intense.
Hatred is a strong and direct emotion. It is etched into the marrow, burning the heart and searing the throat; one wishes to lie on the flesh and tear the corpse to pieces.
What can enable people of different classes, identities, and stances to set aside their past prejudices and form a close bond?
—Hate, the same hatred.
But the hatred buried deep in Shiodia's heart had been worn down by time for so many years that this emotion had become complex. Whether it was joy or sorrow, it came unusually slowly, requiring more time to savor.
Fran, who was being supported by Haida, clapped his hands and peeled off the salt frost covering them.
Although being covered in salt crystals wasn't pleasant, it was still better than being covered in sticky blood.
In a way, the Star Abyss Society did good deeds despite its ill intentions. The [Feast of the Vanishers] is inherently a taboo—the act of a mortal touching something sublime—but in its execution, it dismantled the remains of the Abyss that remained in the material world…
This also meant that when the creation of the ritual was killed by the Decapitation Throne, the remnants of the curse and taint contained within it were also greatly obliterated. Otherwise, it would have been difficult for Shitia to use Moonmark Silver to cleanse the remaining parts.
Although the waves of the Abyss remain dark and cold, and the ancient curse from the Dark Ages still lingers, at least... its spread has ceased. There is no longer any need to worry that the sea will one day be polluted and swallowed up.
The legend of the Abyss has come to an end, and the final curtain has fallen.
Currently, Haida still needs to organize and coordinate the cleanup efforts of the suppression forces, so she remains temporarily at the Star Abyss Society's research facilities. Xitia also needs to retrieve some relics and esoteric documents that originally belonged to Hail here.
Finally, Fran, accompanied by Sigrid, returned to the Fog Street Clinic first.
Today's work was too heavy and exhausting, so the doctor needed to find a bed immediately and, like a koala, take at least twelve hours of intense sleep to relieve his increasingly heavy eyelids.
……
With Haida's permission, Master Zoparos, who had been pacing anxiously outside the Bonestone Sanctuary, was finally allowed to enter.
Forbidden ritual formations, the remains of evil creatures, ancient relics used as mediums…
Oh, none of those.
All that could be seen was a clean, pure white salt frost; nothing else.
"Damn it."
After taking three deep breaths, Zoparos quickly and skillfully took out a bottle of light-proof white pills from his pocket and swallowed one.
He felt he was about to have a heart attack if he didn't do that.
Although it was a place visited by that crazy brat Yaheng, at least he would have left behind some headless corpses before, but now he didn't even leave himself a corpse. This is a first-class ritual that transcends the norm, its level of secrecy even rivaling that of old man Grantham's research...
If it weren't for the affectations of a cryptic scholar, he would have wanted to prostrate himself on the ground right now.
Out of a desire to experiment, Zoparos even dipped his index finger into the salt frost on the ground and tasted it, trying to determine if there were any traces of spiritual essence.
The conclusion was that it was so salty it tasted bitter, clearly indicating that it was untreated sea salt.
—— Dance
-
Soup! (Strain)
Chapter 199 The Grand Massacre
When drowsy, Fran typically displays a feline-like, almost docile demeanor.
This manifests as a dulling of language skills, a preference for leaning on close companions, and an instinctive search for the most comfortable place to lie down. Sigrid was so comforting that even her support made it difficult to resist the overwhelming drowsiness.
During his brief stroll along the misty path, Fran almost fell asleep several times.
After finally making it to the Foggy Street clinic, the doctor didn't even bother to change into his pajamas and go back to his bedroom as he usually did; instead, he immediately sprawled out on the velvet sofa in the living room. Sigh.
As the soft, plush fabric enveloped her body, her consciousness gradually rose, eventually falling into a deep, dreamless sleep.
This was all thanks to Syldia's mysterious saltification ritual, which transformed all the blood splattered on Fran's body into salt frost. Otherwise, she would have had to go to the bathroom to wash off the sticky residue.
Although she has an extremely high tolerance for blood and gore, and even eating or sleeping next to piles of corpses doesn't really affect her much... when conditions permit, she still has a high demand for the comfort of her resting environment.
Looking at Fran, who was now soundly asleep, Sigrid lowered her gaze slightly and pursed her lips with a hint of unease.
She was pondering what a competent maid should do at this moment.
After some deliberation, Sigrid, drawing on her experience of caring for others at the Tower of the Sun, retrieved a summer-sized thin blanket from a storage cabinet next to the main hall.
Before draping the doctor with a summer blanket, Sigrid first untied the straps of her thick-soled leather shoes, then pulled them down to her ankles, revealing black cotton socks stained with a little salt.
Oh, it's like the usual practice when taking care of someone who's sleeping soundly after drinking; you take off their shoes and socks first so they can sleep more comfortably.
However, when faced with the question of whether or not to help the doctor remove his cotton socks, Sigrid remained reserved. While it wasn't a big deal, there was a strange sense of embarrassment about it...
After that, Sigrid lifted Fran's neck so that her head could rest comfortably on her lap. Then she draped a summer blanket over both of them.
Of course, it remains to be seen whether these two people actually need this thing to keep warm.
Sigrid had previously experienced the high-intensity spiritual energy infusion from the [Blazing Cone] during her direct confrontation with Melvis. Although it did not affect the stability of her alchemical form, she still needed some time to adjust and maintain herself.
-
Star Abyss Society Research Facility, Bone Stone Sanctuary.
The Grand Master, Melvijus, is utterly dead and has been stripped of any possibility of being resurrected a fourth time.
Without his influence, even if the remaining Tide Listeners regroup and resist by all means, it will ultimately be in vain.
When facing adversaries who are still human, the hunters of the Funeral Court often deliberate for a longer period before making a decision. After all, they adhere to the commandments of the Dust Order and maintain a basic level of restraint when inflicting violence on others.
However, now that we have entered a close-quarters battle, it is somewhat of a luxury to talk about "mercy".
Once the decision to resort to violence has been made, all emotions become superfluous and superfluous.
What the purge team needs to do is to cleanse all the filth in sight, eradicate its budding seeds, burn away its breeding grounds, and restore everything to purity with the ashes.
As compensation to Master Zoparos, the final stages of the work were to be handled entirely by Haida. Meanwhile, Danfas, the head of the White Cup's security department, led the Exorcists to provide firepower and equipment support.
At this moment, Zoparos leaned against a half-collapsed pillar, maintaining a facade of calm.
However, that melancholy and gloomy aura was almost impossible to suppress, visibly overflowing. Those hunters who knew him carefully kept their distance to avoid upsetting this esoteric scholar who was in a bad mood.
“Mr. Zoparos”.
Just then, a calm, unwavering female voice quietly sounded behind him.
"……What's up?"
"If it's official business, there's no need to call me. Sister Heda and the scholars in the White Cup will handle it. If it's personal, I'm not in the mood to talk about personal matters right now. My heart isn't feeling too well right now, let me catch my breath."
After a few breaths, Zoparos regained his composure and responded in a tired and aged tone.
“Swelling is not a big deal.”
The one who spoke was Shitia, who was collecting lost documents.
"I found some academic documents written in the Lost Age in the archives of the Bonestone Sanctuary, but I have some questions about certain details. Since Mr. Zoparos is not willing to answer, I can only try to negotiate with Mr. Danfas of the White Cup."
"After all, the deniers and the listeners of the tide share a common origin in an even more ancient era, so I think he should have profound insights."
Upon hearing her words, the old man, who had been looking weak and listless, suddenly straightened up, and his eyes regained their light.
"and many more!"
"Please forgive my rudeness, esteemed Ms. Sydia. If I may be so bold, Danfas is the head of the Security Department, and his research focuses on weaponry, weapon applications, and war planning. He has very little knowledge in the esoteric arts to offer you any answers."
"As for the field of encrypted messages, I do have some insights..."
Zoparros used rather modest language.
Perhaps it was because the person before him was a genuine aristocrat from the Abyss, a mythical creature from a lost era. Otherwise, given his temperament, he would probably have said, "No one here can match my mastery of ciphers."
Even if he really said that, it wouldn't be wrong.
After all, Child, who embodies the Grantham personality, has not yet arrived, and Fran has already stepped into the Fog of the Door and left the Bonestone Sanctuary. At present, the only one who can compare with Zoparos in the Cipher Realm is Shitia, who is standing in front of him.
“In that case, please follow me, Mr. Zoparos.”
With that, Xitia led him to the Tide Listeners' archives. The Hunters had gone through a difficult ordeal to completely take control of this place, so much so that the air still carried the scent of blood and gunpowder.
Here are neatly arranged various types of paper documents, the most precious of which are Heyer's "Deep Sea Documents" and a vast amount of related annotations.
But this book itself originated from the race of Xitia, so naturally it doesn't need anyone else to provide answers for it.
One could even say that she is the most comprehensive and insightful living embodiment of the *Deep Sea Scriptures*. The numerous annotations written by later generations are merely based on inference and conjecture, while she was simply one of the compilers from a bygone era. (Nine)
“This is…”
Soon, Zoparos's gaze was drawn to the sea stone monument standing in the very center of the room.
"This is a creation of the ancestors of the Lingchao people. The inscription on the top layer comes from ancient times, while the one on the bottom layer... was just carved yesterday."
Xitia explained it simply.
Zoparros, disregarding everything else, nimbly leaped over the pile of books and quickly approached the stone tablet to examine it closely.
"The inscriptions span the late Pure Cretaceous period, the end of the period, and the beginning of the next thousand years... Such a magnificent secret history made it worthwhile for me to put aside all my research and make a special trip to Gormouth."
In his heightened state of excitement, he seemed to have shrunk decades in age, showing no signs of aging whatsoever.
After a moment, Zoparos calmed down and, with the professionalism of a cryptanalyst, focused intently on the deciphering work.
We often name our path of practice as a "ladder," seven guiding lights, seven transformations, seven ascents. It's as if this is the essence of the world, an established principle or ironclad law, inviolable.
But is the path we've embarked on upward or downward, inward or outward? Is it following the continuation of history itself, or becoming a countercurrent tracing back to the source? Are we tender larvae waiting to hatch, or maggots breeding on festering sores? These are questions that will likely never be answered.