Neo's Suicide

The bizarre and bloody scene left everyone around paralyzed with shock. *I am wearing a custom-tailored high-end priestly robe. I carry two issued protective holy artifacts. On my palm are two guardian marks left by divine artifacts, not to mention all kinds of potions, scrolls, and my own personal gear.* What they should have been worrying about was whether they could hold out long enough to finish the mission and make it back out. It was like taking a deep breath before diving, hoping to surface before running out of oxygen. That was what most of them had envisioned before stepping inside. Yet reality struck them with a resounding slap across the face: pollution could completely disregard all of their self-assured protections. You were not simply diving. There was no clock you could count down, no progress bar to track. The instant you leapt in, the once-clear azure sea could turn to sulfuric acid in an instant. A splash as someone went under; a gurgle as bare bones floated to the surface. This was divine pollution. Karen pressed his lips together as Kevin's words resurfaced in his mind: *Divine pollution is not a monster beast, nor is it an aberrant demon. It is not an entity with subjective consciousness—and that is precisely what makes it so terrifying.* *It cannot be predicted, much less traced. Even the mutations manifested after contamination take countless forms.* *Even a god would find such pollution an excruciating headache.* *Because it is, in essence, a plague born from the death of a god.* Even fully protected priests were as fragile as thin paper before it. If this pollution were not contained in time and allowed to spread, any realm of living beings it swallowed would become a dark-themed paradise lost. Standing in the distance, Neo watched Tolisso's sudden descent into mad self-mutilation, and the corners of his mouth began to twitch. He was forcibly restraining himself from smiling. *Random?* *Then...* *If it falls on me, can I die with a clear conscience?* *Whether to the living Karen or to the late Elisa, I would have fulfilled my duty.* *After all, it wouldn't be suicide, but death by accident—and with a noble motive, no less.* Yes, that was partly why Neo had insisted Karen put his name on the roster. For a long time now—or rather, ever since Miss Elisa's tragedy—Neo had been preparing to lie down for good, yet he could never find a posture that satisfied him. Tossing and turning, he always felt that a pea was still digging into him from beneath dozens of mattresses. *Let me be next. Pick me next...* *God of Light bless me, Bloodthirsty Ancestor bless me, God of Order...* Neo glanced at Karen in the distance, frowning slightly. *Pah.* Tolisso's heart stopped beating, and his entire body fell still. Yet just as everyone thought it was over, the heart turned black and began pounding again at a furious pace. Thump, thump, thump! Tolisso shot to his feet, arms thrown wide, as wisps of black smoke poured from his body, like he was dissolving... no, evaporating. In just a few breaths, more than half of him had vanished into thin air, and the black heart was dissipating along with him. In the end, aside from his backpack and clothes, the man was entirely gone. Yet that frantic *thump, thump, thump* of a heartbeat continued to ring out unceasingly. He was dead, but his body and soul had been twisted—or perhaps reinterpreted—becoming part of the surrounding pollution. Karen felt a twinge of regret. Only moments ago, this man had asked on his daughter's behalf for a chance to meet Karen. Now, it was already over. He felt nothing beyond that, however, because everyone had prepared themselves mentally before entering. The grand volunteer assembly earlier had truly been nothing more than an advance funeral. Just then, Richard spoke up. "It doesn't seem as cold as before." Little Jerry had a special sensitivity to his surroundings. Muri chimed in, "Could it be because someone was just polluted, so the level around us dropped? If someone in the group gets polluted, does that mean the probability of others being affected decreases for a while, effectively forming a brief window of protection?" Karen immediately dismissed the idea. "No. There are no patterns to follow. And have you forgotten? The priests kneeling all around us—they were struck down almost simultaneously back then." They could not afford any wishful thinking. There were no rules to glean; the moment you convinced yourself you had grasped some pattern was likely the moment you died all the faster. "Minister Karen, regardless, let's head in," Quito said. "Let's try to be quick and finish the mission." The cave inside was bound to be more dangerous, but they had no way back. Rather than linger here savoring pain and terror, they might as well plunge ahead and spare themselves the drawn-out mental torment. Just then, Alfred suddenly dropped into a crouch. "Alfred?" Karen walked over. Alfred immediately rose, pulled out a handkerchief, and wiped the cold sweat from his face. "Young Master, dozens of consciousnesses suddenly surged into the mind chain just now. It nearly tore my psyche apart." As he said this, Alfred pointedly scanned their surroundings. Clearly, the consciousnesses he referred to belonged to the priests kneeling on the ground. "How are you now?" "Once I severed the mind chain, I was fine. The pollution here can spread through the psychic plane." "Don't probe it." "Understood, Young Master." "Let's head in." "Yes, Young Master." Karen walked over and picked up Tolisso's backpack. The closer he got to the spot where Tolisso had died, the clearer the heartbeat sounded. The moment he turned to walk back, a faint breeze seemed to brush against his ear, as if someone were leaning close, whispering: *Minister, what you promised me... you must never forget...* Karen ignored the voice. He tossed the backpack to Ventura to carry, then gestured for everyone to enter the cave. Neo and Philomena remained at the front, while Karen brought up the rear. The tunnel was not deep and quite spacious, but it was laden with defensive formations and barriers. Each was formidable, and all were active. This indicated that after the experiment failed, the people inside had activated the lockdown arrays. Though they had caused the catastrophe, they had at least done their part to suppress the pollution. Without these layers of obstruction, the first wave of leaking pollution might well have breached the seal Bishop Delon and his team had laid down. Still, if the leakage on the periphery was already this terrifying and eerie, heaven only knew what awaited them in the deepest depths. The four young experts stepped forward in turn, disabling the defensive formations one by one. This was what they were here for. The four of them handled all technical tasks, while the remaining volunteers were tasked with protecting them and carrying equipment—or, to put it more bluntly, dying ahead of them. At last, they reached the bottom of the tunnel, where a massive, shut stone gate appeared before them. Beyond it lay the laboratory. Nicole, the expert from the Church of Principles, stepped forward. Runes appeared on her palm, and matching marks shifted on the stone gate. Soon, accompanied by a heavy grinding sound, the gate slowly parted. Just then, an eerie radiance flared on the stone gate. The massive portal suddenly looked like a chocolate sandwich biscuit soaked in milk. It was fine untouched, but with the slightest tug... it tore apart, and the liquid soaked inside began to drip. Everyone instinctively reached for scrolls and holy artifacts, while some prepared to trigger their divine marks for protection. But the light did not spread outward; instead, it vanished almost immediately after appearing, leaving only a faint dizzying visual afterimage. Yet the air around them seemed to boil all at once. Clamor echoed from behind. Everyone whipped around to look back. There was nothing there, yet the sense of commotion grew closer and closer. Faintly, it brought with it a rancid stench that threatened to blanket and erase all traces. Positioned at the very rear, Karen didn't hesitate for a second. He triggered the mark left by the harp of Goddess Mills on his palm, and a halo of blue light rippled outward, centered on him. Though the impact was invisible, Karen still sensed a tremor deep within his soul, like a ferocious beast lunging at him with its bloody jaws wide open. He did not retreat or dodge; he even took several strides forward. In this moment, his sense of duty made the choice for him. Bern had allowed him to steal the greatest limelight at the volunteer assembly, so it was only right that he actively shoulder the greatest risk now. *Boom!* *Did I block it?* It felt like he had, yet also like he hadn't. The feverish heat across his body grew increasingly intense, as though something were frantically boring into every single pore. A barrier seemed to form between his consciousness and his physical body, an invisible force tugging and tearing the two apart. In a daze, Karen heard footsteps beside him, followed by a conversation drawing nearer: "Do you know what it means for us if the project fails?" "What does it mean? All I know is that even if this project goes strictly by the book and executes every stage without flaw, the final probability of success was exceedingly low from the start." "Heh, by the same token, the probability of it failing in the manner we want is just as low." "So what exactly are you getting at?" "I think our failure contingency plan needs another upgrade." "The level of our contingency plan is already sky-high! Do you know how much breath I have to waste convincing those lords not to slash the budget for that item every time I return to deliver a progress report?" "I don't think it's high enough, because it cannot withstand the most extreme failure scenario." "Then you have nothing to worry about, because against consequences like that, no plan on earth will save you anyway." Karen opened his eyes to see two elderly men walking side by side into the distance ahead of him—one in the robes of Order, the other in the robes of Principles. Suddenly, Karen felt someone behind him. He turned around and saw a shadow that had appeared behind him at some point. From within the shadow, a long sword extended, already thrust into his body. Yet moments ago, he hadn't noticed a thing. Abruptly, the sword turned purple, then decomposed into strands of purple hair that surged rapidly into his body, dense and swift, sparing not a single pore. His nostrils began to clog, and his ears filled with purple hair. Once inside, they began to multiply rapidly, and having multiplied, they sought a way back out. Once, twice, three times... They couldn't get out. The cycle that was supposed to run seemed to have jammed here. Then, they fell into chaos and turned frantic. If they possessed consciousness, they would probably have cried out in alarm: *This isn't the track we planned for!* Karen reached up, clutched his chest, grabbed a fistful of the purple hair, and pulled outward. The process was agonizing, like every blood vessel in his body had turned into steel wool. As he yanked it out, an excruciating soreness that no ordinary man could endure radiated through every fiber of his being. Fortunately, Karen had a high pain threshold, particularly against extreme pain. It wasn't that he couldn't feel it, but rather that his mind remained razor-sharp even through intense agony. Finally, a mass of purple flocculent material was ripped out. The hair began to melt, twisting until it formed a face. Though somewhat abstract now, it was still recognizable as Tolisso. "Minister Karen... don't forget your promise to me... Hahaha, hehehe..." It wasn't Tolisso. Yet it had latched onto him. From the looks of it, however, the power that had intended to pollute him seemed to have been polluted by him instead. Of course, it was not the entirety of the divine pollution. One could think of the divine pollution as a puddle teeming with microorganisms, and this was merely one of them. Unfortunately for it, by the age-old rule of big fish eating small fish and small fish eating shrimp, Karen was definitely not the shrimp. *Heh...* Karen exerted force in his palm, and the flocculent mass shattered, bursting like a crushed pod. A rich, heavy fragrance wafted out, leaving Karen briefly dazed. *Hum!* All sensory perception rushed back. Karen found himself hovering with his feet off the ground. Everyone ahead was watching him anxiously; Memphis, Richard, and the others were almost pressed right up against him. When Karen opened his eyes, looks of utter astonishment appeared on their faces. They had assumed Karen would suffer an accident like Tolisso, but just as the grim atmosphere had set in, Karen snapped awake. Neo, Alfred, and Philomena were comparatively calmer. They knew Karen's secrets and believed he possessed the highest resistance here. "Karen, are you all right?" Richard asked. *Wait, why does that tone sound a little disappointed?* "What just happened to me?" Karen asked. "A dense mass of purple threads suddenly sprouted all over you, like they were trying to strangle you to death." "I see. I'm fine now." Karen lowered his feet to the ground, looked at the open stone gate ahead, and said, "Let's head inside. Retrieve the divine artifacts quickly." "Yes, Minister." "Understood, Minister." The group reformed their ranks in an orderly fashion and filed through the stone gate. Karen spoke to Philomena walking ahead of him. "Why didn't you act just now?" Philomena replied, "I didn't think it applied to you. And I was confident you'd pull through." "What if I had lost control?" "I would have injected you before you did." "Mm." Neo materialized at Karen's side. "Is this thing really like Russian roulette? Just clicks and hits whoever it points to?" "I don't know." "I sure hope it points at you every time from now on. Heh, if it hits anyone else, I doubt they'll even have time for last words." "Go to the other side. Don't stand with me." Among the volunteer team, very few had the capability to do anything against the pollution, and Neo was one of them. From the perspective of team survival, having their key assets bunched together was horribly inefficient. "Heh." Neo chuckled and raised his middle finger at Karen. Karen wasn't angry, knowing Neo was merely taunting the pollution here. Such was the result of knowing each other too well. Karen naturally understood the secondary motive behind this man's insistence on coming. The laboratory—or rather, the cavern—was surprisingly clean. There was no sign of disarray, as though it had just been swept. Furthermore, unlike the outer area filled with kneeling corpses of priests, there wasn't a single body in here. This was obviously abnormal. According to the records, hundreds of researchers should have been here, the majority from the Church of Principles. "Where did everyone go?" Ventura asked curiously. Alfred placed a hand over his eye, preparing to activate the Succubus Eye. "Alfred." Karen's voice rang out. Alfred caught the meaning and immediately aborted the action. Back outside, psychic power had already allowed the pollution to trace inward. In here, he dared to look at them directly? Was it strange that the priests' corpses weren't here? Perhaps they were already all around them. The group arrived at the foot of the altar. It had not shut down, but was revolving sluggishly, as if in a semi-dormant state. Above, the chessboard of the God of Infatuation still floated. In the center drifted the two divine artifact notebooks belonging to the Church of Principles. The four experts—Quito, Marina, Anlance, and Nicole—began preparations to shut down the altar and retrieve the artifacts. Following their training, they directed the other volunteers to assist, aiming to complete the task as quickly as possible. Everyone bustled into action. Though the clatter of equipment and the hum of array deployment echoed around them, the surroundings remained eerily quiet—so quiet that one could hear the breathing of those nearby. Karen did not participate. Instead, he stood on the outermost perimeter, placing himself in the most isolated spot. First, it allowed him to oversee the whole situation; second, it served as deliberate bait. When collective danger loomed, the one straying farthest from the pack was usually the first to suffer. Ordinary pollution might consist of a single strain, but divine pollution was a composite of countless contaminants, containing numerous underlying strains that could intermingle and mutate anew. Karen surmised that the outside, the tunnel, and this chamber likely belonged to different zones. If possible, he hoped that any single-target pollution attacks would come at him first before he fell. Two others also remained idle. One was Neo, who floated above the four experts, responsible for their safety. These four "babies" were critical. Without them, not only would the team have been unable to enter, but attempting to retrieve the artifacts might trigger attacks from the altar and the sculptures flanking it. Those sculptures clearly looked like top-tier holy artifacts, but unfortunately, there was no way to carry them out, nor did anyone dare touch them recklessly. The other was Philomena, who drifted swiftly among the group, monitoring everyone's condition. In her hand was a syringe loaded with a sedative capable of knocking out a monster beast in seconds. Alfred, Vic, and the others led the rest in supporting roles. All was safe... safe... safe... For a long stretch, no abnormalities occurred. "It's stopped." The tension finally eased when Quito uttered those words. The once-turning altar had finally ground to a halt. Anlance and Nicole began preparing their respective summoning arrays to reclaim the two divine artifact notebooks belonging to their church. Quito and Marina instinctively looked up at the topmost item—the chessboard of the God of Infatuation, an artifact of the Church of Order. Their eyes met, clearly indicating their desire to take it along. Although the primary objective was to retrieve the two Principles notebooks because their ability to deconstruct seals posed an ongoing threat to containment, recovering the chessboard as well would be a major achievement—rescuing a divine artifact for their church. Above them, Neo naturally noticed the shifting expressions of the two experts below. He had once compared the Divine Son to a toddler in kindergarten, and these four young experts were much the same. Raised in greenhouses without ever braving wind and rain, their self-righteous scheming was like a flat-chested woman forcing cleavage—fooling no one but themselves. *Wait.* *Why did I use that kind of metaphor?* When it came to relationships, Neo was strictly devoted. He had even mocked Karen for his brief daze on Dark Moon Island. He would never make that kind of crude joke in his heart. Out loud, perhaps, but never internally. "Heh..." Neo let out a soft chuckle. So, he was in the process of being polluted. *But why so cautious?* *Can't the storm hit a little harder?* *Polluting me this slowly... how long is that going to take? Am I supposed to block it or not?* Neo picked at his ear with his pinky, deeply dissatisfied. The ideal way would be like Tolisso's—no nonsense, just gouge out the heart... Wait, with his current Bloodthirsty Aberrant Demon lineage grade, even if he gouged out his heart, took a bite, and swallowed it, he probably wouldn't die, would he? *Damn this immortal constitution!* Alfred was helping set up the summoning array when he deliberately walked over to Marina and Quito, saying: "Regardless of whether you received other orders or harbor your own ideas, please remain clear-headed. We will not touch the divine artifact at the very top. In an unknown, perilous environment, greed only invites greater risk." In truth, Karen had also received hints from higher-ups: if convenient, bring the Order artifact out as well. Alfred knew this, but neither he nor his Young Master had any intention of doing so. Even if they brought it out, in plain view of everyone, it wouldn't belong to them; they couldn't pocket it anyway. Furthermore, a divine artifact tainted by divine pollution could likely only be handled and purified by an orthodox church. To the superiors, few of those entering were expected to make it out alive. Since they were going to die anyway, they might as well contribute as much as possible before doing so. Yet now... Tolisso's death and the assault their Young Master had suffered mid-journey proved that the malevolence here far exceeded expectations. Thus, they should avoid doing anything superfluous. "B-but..." Marina bit her lip, clearly wanting to argue. Alfred continued in a chilled tone, "If you dare breach protocol and take unnecessary actions, you can stay here forever." Marina shrank back in fright, sensing the utter resolve in his voice. Quito quickly said, "We will follow orders." Alfred nodded. "Naturally. That is the wisest choice. After all, none of you can defy the will of my great Young Master. The Young Master's radiance is the sole dawn bestowed upon this dark world!" Philomena appeared behind Alfred and plunged the syringe in. Alfred threw his head back, his body twitching. Yet he did not collapse; instead, a red hue washed over his eyes. The Succubus Eye was activating. In truth, the moment they entered the sealed land, the pollution had already begun. Tolisso was merely an extreme case who detonated on the spot; none of the others were clean either. What Karen hadn't expected was that Alfred would fall so early in the order. Karen materialized in front of Alfred, his gaze locking directly onto the Succubus Eye. Having inherited Compasini's legacy, if Alfred lost control, his abilities would inflict devastating harm upon the team. He had the power to conjure illusions and manipulate everyone's cognition. "Alfred." Alfred parted his lips and forced out a single syllable: "Young..." It was hard for an outsider to imagine the struggle raging within Alfred's mind. Yet Karen's presence allowed him to regain momentary lucidity. The Succubus Eye faded, and the sedative took hold. After muttering that syllable, Alfred collapsed backward. Philomena caught him, eased him onto the ground, and stimulated the white cloak mark on his palm, enveloping him in a milky-white glow. This measure was, in a sense, irresponsible, because a sedative solved nothing for the victim; it only neutralized the threat they posed to those around them. If one could not endure the pollution's effects, one would still succumb in slumber, stripped of any potential help from companions. Yet such was reality. Even with Alfred, Karen would still make that call. "Hahahahaha! You're out, aren't you? Can't run your mouth lecturing people everywhere now, can you? Hahahahaha!" Vic pointed at Alfred and burst into uproarious laughter. "I've always despised your self-righteous, preachy tone and that pious look on your face! It truly makes people—" Philomena appeared behind Vic, syringe driving in. Vic's psychic resilience wasn't on Alfred's level. The moment the drug entered his veins, his eyes rolled back, knocked cold onto the ground. As before, Philomena triggered the mark on Vic's palm, shrouding him in milky-white light. Immediately after, three more volunteers suffered sudden emotional breakdowns. One began cursing a superior who had once bullied him, another loudly sang nursery rhymes, and a third wept and begged his wife not to leave him! Philomena was extraordinarily fast, administering sedatives one by one. Three more hit the floor. Karen called out, "Don't freeze! Take over their duties immediately!" He then turned to Nicole and Anlance. "Speed it up!" "Yes!" "Right away!" The duties of the fallen were reassigned, with the remaining members shouldering greater workloads. The summoning array continued to take shape and was already semi-activated; the two Principles notebooks above seemed to sense the pull and began drifting downward. Yet in that brief span, two more collapsed. One was Muri, who suddenly roared, "Mobiten, you senile old bastard, I—" Just as he finished cursing his grandfather, Philomena appeared. Surprisingly, Muri managed to spin around and counterattack. But Philomena seemed to have anticipated it; effortless as she made each injection look, she treated every strike with total focus. The sedative went in, and Muri crumpled. The other was Leon. He dropped to his knees, having barely cried out, "Grandpa..." He had only managed the opening word before Philomena's ruthless efficiency knocked him out. The remaining conscious members showed abnormal emotional fluctuations in their eyes, like bubbles rising in water nearing a boil. The others had already reached boiling point; theirs was just about to. Furthermore, the six fallen volunteers were developing dark-red discolorations on their skin, their flesh appearing to rot. Only the cocoon of white light kept reversing the rot almost as soon as it appeared, though it returned again and again. Though incapacitated, their souls and consciousnesses were still battling the pollution with the aid of the artifact blessings. Yet clearly, this struggle could not last long. Neo drifted down beside Karen. "We can't go on like this. I honestly didn't expect Alfred to go down so fast." Karen gave a soft "Mm." "Look at the others—they're nearly there too. See the look in those four babies' eyes? Better protective gear must be carrying them, but they won't hold out much longer. "If the others fall, work merely slows down. But if those four go down, how are we supposed to retrieve the artifacts? "Karen, we need a plan." "Do you have one?" Karen asked. "We need to drag that thing out into the open, or gather it into a single person." "It isn't a person. It has no consciousness." "Nothing is absolute," Neo countered. "I know what you mean, but try to understand my point. I've raised worms before. We've stepped into a worm nest, and what's crawling on us right now is just one of them." "Philias's worms..." "The progenitor worms of the curse worms didn't come out of nowhere. I don't think the pollution here has fully erupted yet. Or rather, after the initial outbreak, it may have drawn back because the external seal blocked its spread. "Like a man pulling back his fist to build momentum before punching. That means what's wandering out here right now is actually the weaker strain; the true polar pollution hasn't revealed itself yet." "That's rather profound. And Kevin never mentioned anything like that." "A man looking at a stream and an ant looking at a stream see entirely different things. That's hardly surprising." "All right." "Trust me this once. There's no other way right now anyway. Rather than letting this thing pick people off one by one... we might as well find a trash can and collect it all in one place." "Tell me what to do." "Extreme emotional output. Make yourself the most boiling kettle of water in the room, drawing all the firewood to burn yourself. Haven't you noticed? They're losing control one by one." "I'll try." "Let me do it." "Don't be so eager to throw your life away." Karen glared at him. Neo raised both hands. "You slander me. I love life dearly." Karen closed his eyes, stirring his emotions while doing his utmost to capture the shifts within his body. Soon enough, he detected an alien emotion wandering deep in his heart. The reason he hadn't noticed it before was simply that its influence was far too feeble. Karen took a deep breath, conjuring various vivid memories in his mind, forcing himself into an extreme, agitated state. A reaction followed swiftly; that foreign emotion swelled, gradually tearing away its disguise. But just as it bared its fangs, it seemed to sense something and snapped right back into hiding. Karen thought, *Wait...* Refusing to give up, Karen stimulated his emotions again. Yet once he fattened it up, it shrank back once more. It wasn't that Karen's emotional regulation was too tight—it was that this thing simply couldn't grow inside his body! "Hey, hey, hey." Neo tapped Karen on the shoulder. Karen turned, bloodshot eyes glaring at him. Yet Neo wasn't frightened in the least. Instead, he chuckled. "I say, are you so used to being proper all the time that you don't even know how to stir your own emotions anymore? Tsk, you shouldn't be worshiping Order; you should found the Law of Decorum." "I felt its presence, but..." "Makes sense. A guy like you who scorches his own soul with fire on the regular, plus all that stuff living in your soul... it'd be a miracle if that thing could take root and backfire inside you. "Let me do it." "All right." Since he couldn't pull it off, he had no choice but to rely on Neo. "Should've been like this from the start. What a waste of time," Neo grumbled. Karen reminded him, "Make it quick." "Heh." Neo let out a disdainful scoff. Then, he shut his eyes and reopened them, his gaze turning hollow and despairing. "Elisa." In an instant, Karen felt Neo's emotional intensity surge at a terrifying rate. *He can slip into character in a single second?* *Or is this who Neo truly is in daily life?* Neo opened his hands, then clenched his fists. A heavy aura of death billowed from him instantly, like an ailing man in his nineties whose children, family, and he himself had long since accepted the approaching footsteps of death. The corner of Neo's mouth twitched, and he muttered to himself: "Not enough. I don't want to die yet. If dying were this easy, I'd have died long ago." Just then, a volunteer who had been on the verge of losing control—with Philomena already half-materialized behind him—suddenly felt the turmoil in his eyes recede. He lowered his head and resumed assembling the equipment. Even Philomena froze, glancing toward Neo. The Minister of Reconnaissance stood there looking like a dried mummy freshly unearthed from a century-old coffin. Karen cautioned, "That's enough. The momentum seems to have stopped." Neo shook his head and let out a soft sigh. "I miss you so much." Immediately, dark-red patches surfaced on Neo's skin, rotting flesh appearing in slashes across his frame. With a wet *splat*, a chunk of flesh broke off and hit the ground. Meanwhile, the dark-red tint on Alfred vanished. Since the sedative couldn't truly knock him out, he broke free of the paralysis on his own and sat up. "Young Master... that emotional pollution is gone." Pollution did not vanish; it transferred. Neo spoke once more: "Elisa, I was wrong." Neo began aging at a visible rate. His hair turned white, and not only did rotting flesh break out constantly, but his muscle and fat began withering away. Correspondingly, the dark red on the fallen volunteers receded, their complexions gradually returning to normal. "Minister?" Philomena looked to Karen for instruction. "Administer the antidote." "Yes." Philomena began injecting the antidote into the recovered members. Soon, they stirred from unconsciousness. Without even taking in their surroundings, they immediately rushed over to help with the deployment. Because Neo had shouldered everything alone, what had nearly been a total wipeout was instantly cleared away. Over by the experts, setup was just shy of completion. The best-case scenario would be to summon down the two notebooks, grab them, and run out as fast as humanly possible. Yet Karen noticed something alarming: Neo was too deep into the role. Karen walked up to Neo, but Neo didn't even glance at him. The decay of his body continued unabated. Before long, a gentle nudge might cause him to collapse and turn to dust the moment he hit the floor. "You can rein it in a little now, Neo." Karen's words drew not the slightest response. Karen released his soul consciousness. As he did, he sensed countless gazes locking onto him, though they were distant—no, concealed. It was as if behind a certain membrane, a scalp-numbing multitude of eyeballs were compressed together. When you truly sought to observe them, you gave them the chance to observe you. Karen could even feel the collective urge they exhibited upon seeing him, like countless eyeballs flushing crimson. Yes, Neo had been right. The pollution was being suppressed—not by the outside, but by itself. It lacked self-awareness, but possessed programmatic instincts: expand... spread... survive. This meant that what they were enduring now was merely peripheral scraps. The true horror of the divine pollution had yet to emerge. It was very likely that once the two notebooks were retrieved, the entire balance would shift. Yet Karen would not issue an order to stop, because they had risked their lives down here specifically to claim those notebooks. Karen's soul consciousness slipped into the depths of Neo's soul without the slightest impediment. Under normal circumstances, this would have been impossible. But Neo was near death now; he had discarded almost every instinct to survive, naturally dismantling all defenses. Neo's soul space was choked with withered vines. Karen manifested there and looked up. High above, the vines curled together like a rotting great tree. Enmeshed at the center of the tree was Neo. These withered vines were the material manifestation of the pollution Neo had deliberately drawn in, taking shape within his soul. Neo saw Karen and spoke in a faint whisper: "Karen, I can't hold out. I'm going to die." Karen surveyed the space and replied, "You gave up on yourself." "No, I didn't... This is divine pollution... I'm dying to save everyone, to save all of you, to save Wien. I die with no regrets..." "I don't see the light, nor do I see the Bloodthirsty Aberrant Demon." "They're over there." Neo looked toward two small mounds before him, completely smothered under the withered vines. "Heh... You're committing suicide." "I'm powerless to resist... Karen, I only ask one thing of you. Take a bit of my ashes and bury them in Elisa's coffin... assuming there are any ashes left of me. "Forget it, don't do that. I'm afraid my ashes might be tainted. "Just go to Elisa's tombstone for me and tell her I've gone to find her, to apologize to her. Though she certainly won't blame me... She only ever showed me tenderness." "Don't you think this is a bit too hasty, Neo?" "Partings always arrive in the most unexpected ways. Besides, before stepping in here, we all prepared ourselves to die. Didn't you, Karen?" With that, Neo lowered his head. The surrounding withered vines surged forward, intent on draining the last dregs of his vitality. He truly was going to die—truly! Karen raised his hand. From beneath his feet, a pitch-black chain manifested, coiling upward and expanding rapidly until it tangled with the surrounding withered vines. Immediately after, Karen tilted his head back, and when he lowered his gaze again, his eyes were cold as ice. The Chains of Order entwined with the vines took on a mottled bronze patina, then began ruthlessly shredding through every single vine. A rich, alluring fragrance flooded the space. Karen opened his mouth, forcibly suppressing the urge to swallow, and called out: "Thousand Phantoms!" A pair of black wings unfurled behind Karen. In the hazy depths, the nascent silhouette of an angel seemed to emerge. "Devour them!" Six wings flared wide, soaring into the air. Thousand Phantoms opened its maw in sheer ecstasy and began feasting. At this moment, it felt profoundly touched—choosing not to leave Karen back then had truly been the greatest decision of its life! Wasn't gorging on feasts like this every couple of days infinitely better than slaving away as a tracker? As Thousand Phantoms devoured, the withered vines began to disintegrate. Neo reopened his eyes. He looked down, then glanced to either side. Finally, understanding what had just transpired, Neo stared at Karen standing before him and offered a heartfelt greeting in the most down-to-earth slang of Wien: "You son of a bitch!"