The eccentric doctor never makes a misdiagnosis!

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Although it was a shape she had never seen before, Sigrid quickly determined the nature of the patterns on the ground.

She could vaguely sense that there were invisible and intangible spirits lurking and surging within the irregular circle, like the murmuring water in a ditch... However, their existence was obscure and fragile, and it seemed that any incorrect action would cause them to dissipate, thus rendering the entire ritual invalid.

Little Flamel gazed quietly at the ceremonial array on the ground, his brow furrowed slightly, as if memories were slowly welling up within him.

A moment later, she began to explain the rituals on the ground to Sigrid.

"A seven-pointed star missing a corner, a six-pointed star with scattered angles, its name is 'Asymmetrical Ring,' or it can be directly called the Ring of the Old Gods. As long as the corresponding holy symbol is drawn, the power of the corresponding Old God can be awakened."

"Whether it's offering sacrifices, making prayers, or acquiring knowledge."

"Old God?"

Sigrid repeated the word, a strange sense of unease creeping over her.

In the hidden worldview in which the artisan once lived, gods, though unobservable, are still undeniably objective beings, so she had no threshold for accepting the concept of gods.

However, the concept of "Old Gods" itself carries a dangerous and ominous connotation.

"So... Flamel, what do you need this Old God Ring for?"

For safety reasons, Sigrid asked Flamel about the purpose of the ritual ring, and the latter's answer was quite straightforward.

"I don't know."

She blinked gently, her clear, watery eyes shimmering slightly.

4. "But there was a voice in my head urging me to take action..."

With that, Flamel untied the black stitches on her wrist, and deep red venous blood immediately gushed out, splashing onto the ground. The instant it came into contact with the asymmetrical ring, all her blood evaporated, turning into a misty, ethereal pure white vapor.

In a trance, a woman composed entirely of mist materialized out of thin air above the ritual array.

Even though she was draped in a hazy, misty veil, one could still vaguely make out her tall and well-proportioned figure.

Fifth, Sigrid soon discovered that the lady who appeared in the Old God Ring... seemed to share many similarities with the past Fran who briefly appeared in the Star Abyss Academy's fake Skull Palace using the Ancient Banyan Fruit [Shadow of the Past].

"Hey... a novel situation."

The past formed by the mist was not clearly defined in terms of Fran's features, and there was no expression on her face, but judging from the faint sound in her ear, she must have been laughing.

“The festival, which should have ended, has been visited by new guests.”

"One is a fragment, and the other is also a fragment."

-

-

soup!

Chapter Forty-Seven: Things That Forget Grief [The Last Sacrifice]

The words of the Lady in the Mist seemed to come from an invisible veil, even though she was only inches away from Sigrid. Her voice seemed to come from a very distant place, carrying a mysterious and ethereal quality.

She did not speak again, while Sigrid was quickly thinking about the two sentences she had said when she appeared.

First, "a festival that should have ended has been visited by new guests."

This meant that she and little Flamel beside her were in the midst of a ritual ceremony. In the artisan's stereotype, this type of event was often directly or indirectly associated with natural disasters, calamities, plagues, and death... in any case, nothing good.

The second sentence is, "One is a broken fragment, and the other is also a broken fragment."

As for herself, there was nothing difficult for Sigrid to understand. Her birth stemmed from the "final program" of alchemy, from the sacrificial melting of the souls of all the Suns within the Tower of the Sunforge, and from a fragment of the primordial Sun.

As an alchemical being, she may be perfect, but compared to the gods who symbolize celestial bodies, she is undoubtedly flawed.

So, only one question remains.

Why would the Lady in the Fog also refer to Flamel as "the broken fragment"?

Since Sigrid had not yet come up with an answer or a reasonable guess in her mind, she asked the question.

"Is there anything you can tell me about this quarterly outpatient visit?"

She didn't pose a specific question, but instead handed the initiative to the woman situated in the asymmetrical circle. After all, she didn't know the specific state of the "Fran" before her, and any question she asked would ultimately have limitations.

The lady in the mist simply raised her hand to cover her lips, maintaining Fran's habitual gesture. Although her facial features and specific expression could not be seen, one could vaguely sense a faint smile.

"Do not enter the hollow tower until all the offerings for the festival have been gathered."

“Besides…” she said, glancing at little Flamel, whose eyes were wide with confusion. “There’s a little trick, not exactly respectable and not really suitable for a minor, that can help her temporarily forget her grief.”

As she spoke, the spirit flowing within the asymmetrical ring began to gradually dissipate, and the misty vapor that formed the body of the woman in the fog also became increasingly thin.

A few breaths later, she completely dissipated with the cool breeze that entered the shack.

At the very center of the ritual array, there was an extra bottle of perfectly sealed vodka.

Although there was no damage, the label stickers showed some signs of weathering, indicating that the wine had been aged and sealed in a cellar for a period of time and had matured.

"Is this the 'solution' Dr. Fran was talking about?"

Sigrid stepped forward and picked up the bottle of vodka, her eyes unconsciously narrowing slightly.

The other party's implication was already very clear, so there was no need to elaborate further. However, letting a little girl of this age come into contact with strong liquor made her somewhat uneasy... But then again, if judged by her actual age, Flamel beside her was probably not a real child.

Currently, her emotions are under control and she doesn't need any external assistance for the time being. But perhaps, what the woman in the mist meant by "forgetting sorrow" isn't just a literal interpretation?

Besides this, another important point to note is: "Do not go to the hollow tower until you have gathered all the offerings for the festival."

In other words, that extremely conspicuous landmark building may be related to the core of this incident, and getting involved in it prematurely could likely trigger some unfortunate changes.

Sigrid etched this into her mind, and then left the now worthless shack with little Flamel.

Just before she was about to set off, she suddenly stopped, realizing that she didn't seem to have any extra supplies... so she turned back and checked all the nearby barrels that might contain food.

After some time, Sigrid found something that could barely be called a supply, amidst the pungent, rotten flesh and leftover scraps covered in mold and dust.

A bag of flour and a vegetable pie.

As a processed product of milled wheat, flour keeps much longer than finished food products. Sigrid was quite pleased with this discovery; at least she wouldn't have to feel guilty feeding little Flamel moldy bread anymore.

As for the vegetable pie that had no off-putting smell or spoilage, it was somewhat unexpected for the craftswoman. She hadn't thought there would be any food still within its expiration date in this godforsaken place... Although the seasoning was nothing to write home about, at least it was non-toxic and edible.

She didn't waste too much time; after a quick inventory of her harvest, she took Vlamir's hand and headed north into the Virgin Forest.

-

After walking for several tens of minutes, Sigrid saw another dwelling.

Compared to the shack that had been completely burned down, this house, though also on the verge of abandonment, was noticeably better preserved. All the facilities were still usable, though slightly dusty, suggesting that no one had lived there for a long time.

However, this does not mean that the place is completely deserted.

"Ho..."

With a rough, slightly hysterical male shout, the dull thud of a heavy object falling immediately followed.

Sigrid was extremely familiar with such noises, often hearing them when Sister Heda encountered enemies.

That was the dull, heavy, and suffocating sound of flesh as the head was severed, like a lead weight.

Sigrid cast her gaze, and the perpetrator who had beheaded another and the decapitated corpse came into her view at the same time. The latter was a strangely shaped man who, even after being beheaded, still gripped his scythe tightly, his muscles twitching from time to time.

As for the former... it's hard to describe.

It was a man holding a logging axe. His skin was a deep gray, like lead and iron, his face was round and swollen, and his features were distorted like melted and solidified wax.

Most importantly, this guy was wearing nothing but a large leather jacket, so that all parts of his body, including his primary sexual characteristics, were clearly visible. Furthermore, his primary sexual characteristics looked somewhat strange; they didn't resemble native organs but rather external implants.

"They seem to be the type who can't be communicated with..."

Sigrid raised her hand to shield little Flamel behind her, while a bad feeling crept over her.

Since getting off the train, he hadn't encountered a single normal person. Could it be that the city called "Presville" was also full of lunatics just like the person in front of him? If that were the case, it would be no wonder that Dr. Fran chose this place as his clinic.

The woodcutter noticed Sigrid, and the moment their eyes met, a roar rose in his throat.

"The final sacrifice—will surely come upon us!"

"Wait a moment!"

Although she found a certain part of this naked man's body particularly jarring, Sigrid didn't give up on communicating. She spoke fluently, wanting to get as many questions as possible before he launched his attack.

In fact, she had absolutely no hope that the woodcutter would listen to her...

Surprisingly, the other party actually stopped what they were doing.

The woodcutter, nearing madness, scrutinized Sigrid with a suspicious and irritable gaze, his grip on the handle of his two-bladed axe tightening only to loosen it again moments later. Clearly, his mind was in turmoil of contradictions.

Ultimately, his reason seemed to prevail, and he unceremoniously expelled Sigrid.

"Get out of here, you outsider. This damn town already has enough pests..."

"Okay, I won't stay here any longer."

Sigrid tried her best not to anger the woodcutter and agreed to his suggestion. After sensing that he had calmed down a bit, she cautiously asked a question.

"Sir, could you please tell me what exactly happened here?"

This was probably an inquiry without any intention of offending, but it was like a drop of cold water splashed into boiling oil, instantly igniting the woodcutter's anger.

"Get out of here! Leave immediately!"

"Can't you understand me, you lowly and filthy outsider? Or is it that you can only understand human language when I bury an axe in your head? Only when I stuff you into a damn body bag will you learn how to get out?"

The veins on his forehead were bulging and twisting, pulsating like worms.

At the same time, the woodcutter's last shred of reason and patience seemed to have been completely extinguished. After catching his breath, he stopped talking and silently picked up his axe and walked toward Sigrid.

"I warned you already..."

All the features on the woodcutter's face were contorted in a grimace, forming the emotion of "rage." He could no longer perceive words or anything else from the outside world; all that remained was the sole desire to make this place splatter with blood.

However, Sigrid's advantage over enemies purely transformed from humans was far too obvious. As long as the opponent was within the realm of mortal flesh, they would inevitably be incinerated into ashes by the scorching light of the primordial sun.

The woodcutter raised his axe and brought it down high, but Sigrid was even faster. Before the enemy could finish gathering his strength, she had already intercepted his wrist holding the weapon.

For a fleeting moment, the woodcutter felt as if the one gripping his arm wasn't a human woman, but a cast-iron hydraulic pipe wrench. He should have had an absolute advantage in height, build, and even weight... yet he was being so easily overpowered?

The confusion was fleeting; his muddled mind no longer possessed the ability to think and judge, leaving only the instinct to harm others.

"what!"

Just then, Sigrid suddenly let out a cry of surprise.

Incandescent flames and explosions erupted around her, and Fran behind her closed his eyes tightly at the sight of the blinding light. ...When the light and ashes completely dissipated, the woodcutter was left with only a smoky, gray-black corpse.

Looking at the woodcutter who showed no signs of life, Sigrid patted her chest and let out a soft sigh of relief.

She had to admit that she had been a little startled and had overreacted slightly.

As a highly talented sun-casting craftsman and a disciple of esoteric Buddhism, she has a high threshold for accepting the hidden world, whether it is bloody, primitive, twisted, or cruel... she can face it all with ease.

An enemy who is merely naked cannot move him at all.

However, this does not mean that Sigrid could tolerate a parasite-like thing, which was a result of the woodcutter's primary sexual characteristics, coming into contact with her skin.

Oh, even without a phobia of germs, seeing a strangely sized genital organ springing towards her like a facehugger... was still a bit too horrifying. Therefore, she couldn't control her emotions and temperature for a moment and directly destroyed the woodcutter's body.

"Did you get burned?"

After calming down a bit, Sigrid realized that the flame she had just summoned was a bit too hot, so she turned to look at little Flamel with concern.

“No.” Flamel shook his head.

Apart from the hem of her white Stora robe being slightly scorched by the flames, she was completely unharmed.

Flamel remained as silent as ever, seemingly more interested in the woodcutter's charred corpse than in her own safety. Before Sigrid could say anything, she stepped forward and bent down to examine it.

Is she more concerned about the corpse? Sure enough, even in her childhood form, she is still Dr. Fran.

Sigrid stood guard nearby, cautiously watching for any unforeseen events. However, the woodcutter had already turned into a complete corpse, and even the slightest nerve twitch was gone.

"Most of the skin, muscles, and internal organs were carbonized..."

As she spoke, Flamel raised her eyebrows and looked at Sigrid.

Although she didn't say anything else, Sigrid could vaguely glimpse a hint of resentment in those clear, amber eyes. However, she quickly lowered her head and refocused her attention on the corpse.

“The facial deformity is severe, and there are also abnormalities in the organs and bones. It doesn’t seem to be a disease caused by long-term high-pressure working environment… If I had to describe it, it’s as if a pair of hands reshaped him from the inside out, as if a child was roughly kneading clay.”

"And the whole process was completed in just a few days, which was quite fast."

Sigrid listened quietly.

Although young Flamel is melancholic and taciturn, with a somewhat ethereal and reserved quality, and his personality is quite different from that of Dr. Fran, the two seem to show similar professionalism when facing patients or corpses.