The eccentric doctor never makes a misdiagnosis!

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Meaningless.

She felt a sense of absurdity for no apparent reason.

Unaware of her location or destination, the train carriage, which should have been full of passengers, was deathly silent; everything here seemed to embody the concept of "meaninglessness." However, this level of negative emotion clearly couldn't truly affect Sigrid.

Just as she was about to inspect the suddenly appearing empty workshop, a rough and intermittent voice rang out.

“You are here!”

His voice was like a broken bellows, with air leaking out with every word he uttered.

"Damn it, I've searched this whole place and I haven't found a single human still moving. Where are you all hiding? Are you huddled in rotting flesh like maggots?"

His common language sounded somewhat archaic, but thanks to the familiar word roots, Sigrid didn't have any trouble understanding it.

The sudden appearance of a living being brought a slight sigh of relief to the artisan, but she remained vigilant towards strangers. Just as Sigrid turned to look at the source of the voice, her brow furrowed once more.

Although this rude fellow possesses sufficient language skills to communicate, it is difficult to call him a "human"; he can only be broadly categorized as a humanoid creature.

Judging from his undisguised primary sexual characteristics, he is a male.

He was completely naked, hairless, and unclothed, holding a meat cleaver stained with congealed blood. Most striking were the two iron meat hooks on his back, which peeled and pulled up the skin along his spine, revealing the clearly defined, blood-red muscles beneath.

For a human being, this would be a fatal injury. Yet he seemed unaffected, with no impact on his mobility or speech.

"You are……"

Sigrid narrowed her eyes, her gaze irresistibly drifting towards the unusually large primary sexual characteristic on his lower body.

"Who I am is completely unimportant, and nobody expects a stupid human like you to understand anything. Now, get back to your workstation!"

The bizarre regulator's eyes almost bulged out of his face, and his tone became increasingly fierce and violent.

Sigrid remained silent upon hearing this, seemingly deep in thought.

To be honest, the thought of directly attacking her had crossed her mind more than once... If Haida were here, she would probably have already drawn her folding knife. However, this guy was the only talking living being she had encountered so far, and it didn't seem like a good idea to directly confront him.

The supervisor did nothing more than coerce her. After confirming that Sigrid did not show any signs of resistance, he swiftly led her to an empty workstation in the workshop.

“Keep assembling the cube; that’s all the value you have. If you can’t even do this right, then you have no reason to exist… If you leave again without permission, then I will have to punish you.”

After leaving behind an undisguised threat, he strode away from Sigrid's workstation, seemingly rushing to inspect other areas.

Looking at the cube component placed on her work desk, Sigrid's expression became increasingly subtle.

Si was only supposed to accompany a patient on a house call, but he inexplicably found himself on an empty train, and after finally seeing a living creature, he was inexplicably assigned work... It was all very confusing.

Next time I accompany Dr. Fran on a cross-disciplinary house call, I must be in sword form, so that I can at least be carried close to my body and not be separated from him from the start.

With the idea that she had nothing better to do, Sigrid began assembling the mechanical cube on the table.

As an extremely talented Sun Craftsman, the current level of manual work involving the Primordial Sun Fragments posed no technical difficulty for her. After spending a short time figuring out the structure of each part, she assembled all the cubes to be assembled in just a few breaths.

The structure of these cubes is not complicated. The center pieces, edge pieces, and corner pieces are no different from those of a Rubik's Cube.

The only difference is that it does not have distinct color divisions, and the center is decorated with an unidentified pattern, which may resemble the emblem of a deity or hieroglyphs that are disassembled and reassembled from prayers.

At the same time, she took this opportunity to confirm something again.

I am the only person sitting at my workstation in this room.

This kind of incredibly easy task isn't even good for killing time, and it doesn't provide any valuable information... Let's go find that supervisor again. Although he's not very willing to communicate, we might be able to try a forceful negotiation.

"Woo..."

As she pondered her next move, Sigrid heard a faint sob in her ear.

The sound was faint and ethereal, like a distorted auditory hallucination in a quiet environment.

But she could recognize Fran's voice.

The doctor's voice was soft, clear, and possessed the magnetic quality of a psychologist, making it quite distinctive.

Upon realizing this, Sigrid, who had maintained an extremely calm mindset, finally felt a chill run down her spine and was somewhat terrified.

Given the doctor's flippant yet meticulous, consistently effortless personality, and based on her impression of him after a year working at the Foggy Street Clinic, she found it hard to imagine under what circumstances he would utter such childlike sobs...

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soup!

Chapter Forty-Four: The New God's Banquet Hall [The Final Sacrifice]

Rather than actively seeking change, Sigrid is more inclined to adapt and wait. ｜°∶∧

According to her original plan, after assembling the cube at her workstation, she should wait there for a while to see if she could try asking the supervisor, who didn't like wearing clothes, some questions when he returned...

However, the faint crying that had just started in the distance disrupted her plans and her thoughts.

Sigrid pursed her lips, then got up from her workstation and raised her eyebrows to search for the location of the supervisor.

After confirming that the other person was not in the workshop, she went straight to the direction from which the crying was coming.

She currently knows nothing about where she is, and the unknown environment often means unknown risks... Even though she, as a pure alchemical life form, is comparable to most mythical creatures of the Old Ages, she may still end up in trouble due to recklessness and arrogance.

However, if Dr. Fran could be found, these risks would be within acceptable limits.

After undergoing the final process at the Tower of the Sunforge, Sigrid is nearly equivalent to a fragment of the primordial sun, possessing the ability to independently resolve difficulties and confront powerful enemies. However, due to the care and treatment plan provided by a certain doctor, she still subconsciously sees herself more often as an ordinary human craftsman.

The sound of crying...

Sigrid moved quickly and carefully through the workshop following the sound, pondering the authenticity of the noise.

Does Dr. Fran cry?

To be honest, the craftswoman found it hard to imagine that scene. Sometimes, when the other person was quiet, they would have a thoughtful look on their face, without any joy or sorrow, and it seemed that they had never experienced such a large-scale loss of emotional control.

Sigrid was walking along the dimly lit workshop aisle when, just as she was about to reach the next room, a rough, angry yet slightly joyful shout suddenly rang out.

"Do you think you can escape?"

"As we just discussed, now I have no choice but to punish you..."

The regulator's voice, as always, was lisping, so much so that the entire sentence was delivered with an unpleasant hissing sound. *Bang!*

He lay sprawled on the ground, blocking the intersection.

The anger in his expression stemmed from the other party's daring to disobey his orders, or perhaps from pure disgust for humanity. As for the joy, it likely arose from the pleasure of dismembering living beings. (Temple)

Looking at the humanoid monster whose back had been completely peeled back and stretched open, Sigrid's eyes, as black as molten gold, narrowed slightly.

Conflict is inevitable.

If Haida were here, her psychic profiling abilities and keen combat instincts would tell her that this strangely-looking Overseer seemed to have no murderous intent. His bloodlust and cruelty were undeniable, but perhaps he didn't intend to take another's life.

It's reasonable to guess that the "punishment" this guy was referring to was probably sawing off his legs.

After that, he will probably throw the victim back to his workstation to continue working.

...There's no other way but to fight back.

Before being molded into alchemical life and the pseudo-sun sword by the [Final Program] of the Tower of the Sun, Sigrid was a pure technologist. Although she had no aversion to violence, it was, after all, outside her area of ​​expertise, and she was somewhat unfamiliar with it.

Just as the craftswoman was pondering a solution, the supervisor preemptively struck, raising his hand and swinging the blood-stained meat saw at her.

He was clearly in a horrific, half-skinned state, with hardly any muscle visible, yet his speed and strength far exceeded the physiological limits of ordinary humans. However, his limbs were uncoordinated, giving the impression of a puppet driven by a spring or threads.

"Qiang!"

In the blink of an eye, the clang of metal rang out, and the clashing vibrations echoed in layers.

The vertical slash, powerful enough to sever a limb, was about to land on Sigrid's ankle when she blocked it with her wrist.

Logically speaking, the next scene should be steel tearing through skin and flesh, with blood spurting out like a gushing spring.

At least, that's what this regulator thinks.

However, the truth is that the blade of the meat saw bursts with a blinding light and heat the moment it touches Sigrid's skin. The hunter is also forced back by this unexpected change and the impact on his hand, staggering back several steps before barely managing to steady himself.

"What the hell are you?! What the hell are you?!"

The regulator has always despised ignorant humans, but what he is seeing now is completely beyond his knowledge and understanding.

He squinted his long, cloudy eyes and looked down at the saw in his hand.

The metal object that had severed countless human limbs had absorbed a massive amount of heat during the brief contact, causing the entire blade to incandescent and maintain a soft, bright appearance, occasionally liquefying and dripping down.

Silk regulators are perplexed.

8. "Perhaps we can talk."

Seeing this, Sigrid was about to ask some questions about the situation here, but the other party suddenly shut his mouth tightly, showing an even stronger desire to attack... or rather, a tendency toward self-destruction.

He rushed forward again, even though he no longer had a weapon, he still had his arms to tear and his teeth to bite.

Faced with its sudden approach, Sigrid reacted instinctively.

The umbrella caused a glow and heat to emanate from her skin, turning from red to white. Fireballs, shaped like a solar corona, suddenly ignited, forming filaments that swirled around her body before surging towards the hunter under the influence of the radiation waves.

No matter how strong a flesh and blood body is, as long as it is still within the framework of carbon-based life, it will be destroyed by pure heat.

A fierce, scorching wind howled past.

As the intense light and heat subsided, only a blackened, indistinct body remained where the hunter had been, emitting a nauseating, burnt smell.

Sigrid is only sensitive to flames above a thousand degrees Celsius, which makes it difficult for the alchemical furnace within her body to precisely output low power. And since her current action was rather hasty, the flame temperature is even higher than usual.

"Hmm... Is he really dead?"

Looking at the now-ash-red supervisor, the craftswoman pursed her lips, leaned closer, and poked him with her finger.

In her memory, most practitioners of esoteric arts would master at least one method for escaping in an emergency.

Perhaps it is the resurrection of the Red Cup devotees, perhaps it is the illusion of the Lantern Moth Priest, or perhaps it is the more common method of creating a false body.

This supervisor clearly did not possess the aforementioned secret artifact. His remains, which had barely retained a human form, disintegrated into ashes scattered across the ground after being poked.

How to describe it?

This guy doesn't seem as difficult to deal with as I imagined... to put it bluntly, he's a bit weak.

The supervisor's initial contemptuous and arrogant tone when calling humans "foolish" likely misled Sigrid to some extent. This isn't entirely unfair, as Fran typically only uses her sword-form, the Craftswoman, when absolutely necessary.

Opponents of that caliber all possess some unique and special characteristics.

For example, the person she faced last time was... Melvis, the president of the Star Abyss Society, who was surrounded by layers of the Abyss Palace. Although he had not yet broken free from the constraints of a mortal body, the power he displayed was enough to suppress most regular Apostles.

Sigrid remained silent for a moment as she looked at the puddle of ash on the ground.

She then ignored the mutilated corpse, which no longer showed any signs of life, and quickly searched for the source of the crying, treating it as a rather uninteresting little incident.

"Woo..."

A faint, wispy sob drifted back, like the gentle whisper of a breeze, unexpectedly brushing past one's ear.

Sigrid narrowed her eyes and pushed open the door leading out of the assembly workshop.

In comparison, the next room was even more dimly lit, like an empty banquet hall after the guests had left, or a classroom for teachers and students in the early hours of the morning without any lights.

But... there's a "person" sitting on every single wooden chair here.

Compared to the size of ordinary humans, they are enormous, like colossi.

Sigrid's height was only about level with the four legs of the chair beneath them, and she had to crane her neck to catch a glimpse of the faces of these humanoid non-human beings hidden in the shadows.

Some wore masks, others long robes, and still others tall crowns... Some even had no coverings at all, including their skin, exposing their clearly defined red flesh directly to everyone's sight.

How absurd!

Sigrid felt an indescribable sense of unreality, though she had suspected it before, she was now completely certain.

This is not reality, nor is it a dream... but rather a secret realm that is close to a fusion of the two. Whether material or spiritual, the manifestations here are impure.

In addition, she vaguely sensed a familiar quality from these giant objects sitting on the square chairs.

What will it be?

Sigrid frowned, her thoughts racing through past memories as she tried to find the source of this familiarity. After a few breaths, she found the answer.

After setting up the first type of ritual, the "Feast of the Vanishers," this unsettling aura briefly emanated from Melvis. Ethereal yet profound, transcending reality and incomprehensible. Oh, perhaps this description is a bit complex, not so easy to understand…

There is an overly concise word to describe it.

　腫ZhuAnqUN:※、4而≯ˉ0珸——divinity.

Every single individual in this dark hall possesses divinity, without exception.