The eccentric doctor never makes a misdiagnosis!

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A shared concept of good and evil...

8 is merely an embodiment of stream of consciousness.

Join me, join us, and together we will enter the promised land.

A female phantom appeared before Heda and Sigrid, her eyes slightly raised, revealing no joy or sorrow, no emotion whatsoever. It was an expression of looking down upon all living beings; if one had to describe it in a single word, it would be "compassionate."

What follows is a warm and comfortable feeling.

It felt like warm water soothing the skin, like being on a beach under the summer sun, with the waves gently and steadily washing over you. It was a captivating sense of tranquility that made you want to close your eyes and let your thoughts drift away.

Consciousness is dissociating, memories are fading, as if everything has come to an end, and precious rest is within reach.

5 Just as her thoughts should have dissolved, Haida opened her gray-chestnut eyes.

"I still have missions to complete, and long-cherished wishes to fulfill. There are still questions I haven't asked, and answers I haven't received..."

Therefore, please allow me to decline your invitation.

As soon as those words were spoken, "resistance" began to take shape.

Heda doesn't dislike resting, but resting is also for the purpose of being in a better state to engage in the next hunt. She has come this far and can no longer tolerate accepting such a hasty ending.

Faced with the vast stream of consciousness woven from countless lives, individual thought will inevitably be drawn into it. Whether it is a madman, a rational scholar, an ambitious leader, or a wizard who has studied the occult for countless years, none can be exempt.

The whole process is like a drop of water flowing into the ocean; the two sides will naturally merge after contact.

However, Haida's spirit possessed a certain indescribable, non-human quality. Upon reflection, Fran had given her his blood and marrow before merging into the Black Dragon's genome... which to some extent reshaped her inner essence.

This allowed Heda to maintain her sense of self even while immersed in the ocean of stream of consciousness. Her spirit was as stubborn as a rock, rejecting all forms of external intrusion, to the point that she could not merge with the flow of water at all.

"A consciousness so strong it's almost bizarre."

The humanoid mechanical god "Logic" uttered a barely audible sigh.

"However, your refusal is meaningless."

“You can exist independently in the stream of consciousness, but you will remain here forever. You may not wish to witness the arrival of the new era, but you will become a part of it.”

As she spoke, she slowly and gently turned her gaze to Sigrid.

"You are a being similar to me."

“I have seen that you were once human, yet you rejected flesh and blood; you suffered pain and regret, doubted yourself, and even once wanted to embrace death. I also know that you will make the same choice as this nun. But I believe that rejection is only temporary, and in the infinite expanse of time, we will understand each other.”

This was "Logic's" last message. After that, her figure vanished like sea foam.

Heda and Sigrid are trapped in this artificial dimension composed of a deep green light.

This place is vast and tranquil, seemingly devoid of the concepts of time and space; a glance upwards can reach infinity… yet boundaries still exist. The boundaries of this stream of consciousness are a vast, indescribable network.

No, that wasn't a net; it was countless interconnected humans, their hands and feet intertwined and overlapping.

-

At this moment, only Flamel remained in the final room deep within the white bunker.

Sister Heda's black dragon features had faded; she now knelt, leaning on her power sword "Nie," seemingly in a deep slumber. Sigrid, however, remained in her sword form, continuously radiating sunlight to dispel the spreading eerie green...

The loneliness and sense of urgency made Flamel feel more depressed than ever before, to the point that her fragile tear ducts began to leak again.

Memories of Fran resurfaced in her mind, and she now knew what she had to do, yet she still couldn't hold back the tears welling up in her eyes. She feared failure, and equally worried that this brief separation would become eternal.

However, she did not hesitate at all in her actions.

But then Flamel struggled to open the cork of the whiskey, and was about to drink it when... The eerie green light of the "Logic" remnant suddenly burst forth, and the violent tremor caused even the sunlight of the "pseudo-sun" to weaken and sway.

The bottle of whiskey in her hand shattered from the sudden impact, spilling the liquor everywhere.

Whether it was a rare coincidence or a cruel twist of fate, it all mattered. In his astonishment, Flamel knew only that his only support was now gone…

She felt more awe towards her past self. It was as if simply awakening her would solve any difficult situation.

Now, Flamel looked helplessly at the broken shards of the bottle in his hand, a strong sense of anxiety and panic surging up and taking over his mind. Even possessing some of Fran's memories would not help him solve his current predicament.

After all, Qi is no longer Fran, but a girl who is no different from an ordinary person.

Even when one reaches the end of the road, as long as there is still a possibility of recovery, despair will not arise. Despair often stems from the overwhelming and inescapable sense of powerlessness that arises after the last glimmer of hope has vanished.

This is exactly how Flamel feels right now.

Sigrid and Sister Heda have been engulfed by the vast stream of consciousness awakened by the mechanical god "Logic," and the light of the straight sword Pseudo-Sun is becoming increasingly shaky and thin as time goes by, while he himself is already helpless.

Any course of action seems unfeasible and is rejected the moment it is conceived.

It was as if the opponent had all their soldiers and chariots, while she herself only had a lone general in the palace. With almost no chips in her hand, how could a game possibly take place? Quietly waiting for the final moment to arrive seemed to be the only thing she could do.

"Woo..."

Flamel's tears finally streamed down his face.

In fact, she had only spent a short time with Sigrid and Heda, from the moment she arrived in Presville to the first day.

But the concern they showed for her in their words and actions was genuine; it was a concern that even surpassed their own lives, and they would put themselves in danger to ensure her safety as much as possible.

Flamel had always been in a "protected" position, yet when she needed them, she was powerless to do anything for them, which made her unable to suppress her growing sense of despair. At the same time, her feelings of disgust were also rising.

That was a feeling of disgust at being "powerless".

Before this, Flamel's emotions were exceptionally pure, and a lingering sadness seemed to envelop her like a fog, but this seemed to be the first time she had experienced such intense emotions.

Hatred and anger are always intertwined with grief, and they are inseparable.

The clear, translucent tear stains quickly turned a deep crimson, then were replaced by sticky blood plasma.

She raised her slender, slightly trembling index finger and began to draw on the ground, using the bloodstains on her face as a guide. It was an asymmetrical hexagonal ring, the "Old God Ring" that had previously summoned the Lady of the Mist.

The final stroke of the ceremony and prayer had been completed, and the hazy mist rippled and dissipated, but the woman had yet to reveal herself.

To gain the utmost respect from the highest heavens, three elements are indispensable: ceremony, affinity, and offerings. Flamel has already inscribed his rituals and prayers with blood, and his affinity with the lady in the mist is unparalleled, therefore…

Only the sacrificial offerings remained scarce.

The empty ritual array, the girl with nothing left but herself—the ending is self-evident.

Only by offering bones as fuel and blood as nectar can we present this physical form.

Flamel's two bodies slowly transformed into a stream of mist that flowed into the old divine ring on the ground. His skin, hair, flesh, and even his internal organs and bones disintegrated and dispersed at a visible speed. As if in some kind of displacement reaction, the figure in the mist became increasingly solid, until it finally stepped out of the ritual ring.

“Sorrow freezes, and withered tears become sharp blades.”

As he recited the final lines of the song-like prayer, Fran closed his eyes slightly, feeling the new humanity flowing into his soul.

"Besides grief, this split personality also represents anger and hatred... I haven't felt such strong emotions in a long time."

For this doctor, anger and hatred are rather rare emotions.

Hatred is often the embers that burn the mind when one is powerless, but Fran rarely feels powerless. She has no enemies, nor does she need to harbor hatred for long, because most of the people she dislikes don't live to see that point.

Once he had adjusted to his current state, Fran turned his gaze to the pillar in front of him, which was constantly emitting a ghostly green glow from the mechanical god "Logic".

"Actually, my original intention was to climb the hollow tower and simply end the final sacrifice, so as not to affect the existing historical process."

"But now, it seems I have to make some changes to the original plan."

The worldview of this medical mission is so bloody and cruel that many decisions that seem to defy humanity and common sense cannot necessarily be considered wrong. Just as the god of hunger and fear ascended, bringing endless suffering, he also broke the shackles of the ancient cycle, ushering in true innovation.

The mechanical god "Logic's" idea of ​​drawing all of humanity into the stream of consciousness may seem distorted, bizarre, and difficult to understand at first glance, but it may not be the best solution for the current situation.

Fran has never been keen on making choices for others; her habit is to wait for the future to approach and become reality.

If she succeeds, it will be another valuable step forward; if she fails, it will provide a historical lesson for future generations. Whether the fruit that grows after the flower blooms is sweet or bitter, whether a swallowtail butterfly or a moth emerges after the cocoon cracks open, is irrelevant to her.

However, the premise is "it has nothing to do with her".

Now that the mechanical god "Logic" has taken the two employees of the Fog Street Clinic into an artificial dimension of stream of consciousness, ignoring them, as Heda and Sigrid's superior, would clearly be contrary to her usual style of doing things.

Furthermore, this guy's extremely blatant poaching behavior really displeased Fran.

Adhering to the principle of "out of sight, out of mind," she had to make the things that made her unhappy disappear from her sight, preferably forever.

Fran took a step forward, picked up the [False Sun] sword stuck in the ground, and then summoned the gray mist that filled the entire room, which flowed into the crack in the divine pillar.

Previously, Sigrid had failed to successfully hack into the machine god "Logic," as the latter was capable of programming in natural language to some extent. Coincidentally, Fran was quite familiar with this type of computer and had, in his spare time, summarized several corresponding hacking solutions…

-

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May! Perfect attendance!

Chapter Sixty-Five: Abandoning Homogeneity [The Last Sacrifice (Final)]

If we make a horizontal comparison, the mechanical god "Logic" is actually quite similar to the artificial intelligence "Matrix" in the Matrix universe. Both seek to strip human spirit and consciousness from their physical bodies and imprison them in virtual cages.

Of course, the principles and technical structures of matrix and logic are quite different, and the analogy is only for ease of understanding.

During the brief period after being awakened, Fran had pondered one thing more than once...

Will allowing this new idol to be born allow civilization to break free from its deeply ingrained religious fanaticism and enter the unknown yet fascinating next stage?

Hmm... that's a bit difficult.

No matter what assumptions are made or what variables are introduced, the outcome is unlikely to be pleasant. Ultimately, the underlying theory supporting the birth of logic remains a "brain in a vat," which is precisely an illusory and narrow philosophical proposition.

Fran is not actually opposed to such attempts, after all, she is not the leader and has not been overly involved, so she does not need to pay the cost of trial and error... However, now the mechanical god "Logic" is trying to take away her employees right in front of her.

This was something she couldn't tolerate.

If the other party were a true Old God or a Celestial, Fran might find it troublesome. But coincidentally, logic is a product of the combination of mechanics and spirit, and a certain doctor happens to be quite accomplished in this field.

"It should work on a similar principle to corrupting machine souls."

Fran methodically guided the surging gray-white mist into the eerie green glow, his expression relaxed and focused, his amber eyes unblinking, just like a researcher observing an experimental subject.

Out of some strange interest, she had systematically studied how those warp demons with blue feathers infiltrated electronic devices.

First, an environment overflowing with warp energy needs to be artificially created, either through a chaotic ritual or a warp rift; this is the foundation of everything. Without sufficient energy, any attempt is merely empty talk.

Now, Fran is clearly unable to communicate directly with the High Heavens or the Aetheric Sphere, and can only rely on herself as a source of spiritual energy.

Secondly, there is infiltration.

Just as excessive humidity can cause short circuits in electronic components, too much dust can affect heat dissipation and connections. The effects of this process are often silent and subtle, penetrating everywhere and difficult to detect with the naked eye.

However, such a mild approach is clearly not suitable for the current situation, so Fran chose a much more violent solution... Many problems that cannot be solved no matter how hard one tries can ultimately be solved by "using force and force".

If the subspace and reality are tightly integrated enough, even the dead zone of exorcism can be partially breached by psionic energy. If the spread of pollution and assimilation is rapid enough, even if the opponent can program using natural language and subjective consciousness, it will not be able to stop it.

　Ba Liu∑SAM, ~4er day＼∷up, small+∵novel△group: “Thump!”

The gray-white mist that had been drifting suddenly solidified, converging into a shockwave that shook the divine pillar before them.

“If it were truly a purely mechanical creation, then I might have a headache… but your stream of consciousness is woven from human thought, and in a sense, that is the biggest flaw.”

Nothing is more easily corrupted than the mind.

Fran slowly patted his hands, a slight smile appearing on his lips.

"Unfortunately, your telemetry surveillance system doesn't seem to be fully operational. While it's not impossible for someone like you, who has already surpassed the threshold of perfection, to catch up later, right now, you don't seem to have the power to directly harm me on a physical level."

"Finally, there is one more thing."

Although the divine pillar did not respond, the doctor seemed to enjoy such self-talk.

"I don't know if anyone has reminded you that actively adding the spirit of an unknown individual to a pure collection of consciousness is as dangerous as clicking on a strange download link on a shady website full of cheap pop-up ads."

-

Within the dimension of stream of consciousness.

Despite her predicament, Heda had no intention of idly waiting. Having resolved to fight to the end, she would carry her will through to the very end. Right now, she was attempting to tear a gap in the web of human consciousness formed by her own spirit…

However, progress has been somewhat slow.

The saying "a thousand-mile dike can be breached by an ant hole" is indeed true, but it is by no means something that can be achieved overnight. In fact, it will be a long, tedious, and even despairing process, and may even ultimately prove to be a futile effort.

Of course, anything is possible with human effort; putting one's thoughts into action is always more practical than waiting to be slaughtered.

Haida relentlessly tears apart the web of human forms, but in an instant they are reconstructed and restored to their original state. All scenes in the stream of consciousness dimension are abstract and immaterial, and therefore almost impossible to destroy by violence.

And whenever this nun comes into contact with a human in the giant net, the other person's memories, feelings, and even every thought and idea will try to invade her mind... Although it cannot have any effect on her in the short term, it is a considerable hidden danger over time.

Just as Haida raised her hand to smash the net-like humanoid figure in front of her again, a familiar voice quietly rang out.

“It is a pleasure to see you here, dear Sister Heda, and dear Sigrid. But Heda, your greeting seems a little too enthusiastic, so please be patient before you touch my face and make my head spin three times.”

The human network that constitutes the stream of consciousness is composed of countless overlapping "people" who are naked, without any sexual characteristics or facial features, and resemble newly sculpted doll bodies.