Mercy

It worked! Blood trickled slowly from Ji Jue's nose. Gritting his teeth, he pushed his ability further: [Restoration]! Yet this time, it triggered a spiritus riot. The wails ringing in his ears grew ever more frenzied, echoing deep within his soul as they surged to attack him. Yet the moment they met the manipulations of Fluid Alchemy, everything collapsed under its own weight. The frantically writhing body froze, showing signs of dissolution. In particular, the mutated limbs that had sprawled out began sloughing off. This was Ji Jue's first time applying the Purification of Fluid Alchemy. He had not expected the effect to be so immediate and dramatic! They were creations of Fluid Alchemy to begin with, completely devoid of resistance to it. In just a few brief seconds, every aberration had shed away, vanishing without a trace. Only now did the sprawling camp seem to finally unfreeze. "Mama! Mama!" The moment Ji Jue released his grip, the child nearby was the first to rush over, throwing his arms around the figure in the net and crying out tearfully. Yet there was no response. The bloated man had returned to his original form—in fact, he looked even thinner than before. But... once Ji Jue took his hand away, the man remained utterly still. He seemed to still be alive. Yet his eyes were blank from start to finish. It was as though a piece of his soul had been permanently lost to the mutation. —Spiritus overload, material collapse. A piece of work already broken, no matter how it was repaired, could never truly return to what it once was. Ji Jue let out an exhausted sigh and cursed under his breath. 97 sat down beside him. "Thank you." "It didn't even work. What are you thanking me for?" Ji Jue wiped the blood from his nose. Once the blood was gone, a dark-purple webbing became even more pronounced—faint veins formed by burst facial capillaries. Before long, under the repair of the Mouth of the Ancient, they faded into nothingness. Only then did Ji Jue notice the astonished look in 97's eyes. "What is it?" Ji Jue asked. "No, just surprised," 97 said with sudden realization. "You really do feel sympathy for us." Ji Jue remained silent. "Thank you. And thank you for mourning that he couldn't return to how he was," 97 said. "You've done more than enough, Mr. Ji Jue. For things like us, ironization disease is the most terrifying thing there is. Being forced to turn into some incomprehensible monster while still alive... that's far worse than death. The fact that you kept him in his original shape, even like this, is already wonderful." He patted Ji Jue's shoulder, offering a final note of gratitude: "Thank you." "Don't mention it," Ji Jue sighed, unwilling to dwell on the topic. He pointed toward the wailing child. "What's his deal? Why does he call everyone 'Mama'? If I'm not mistaken, all of you are... men, right?" "That's true, but you could say every single person here is his mama," 97 replied. "More precisely, every person in the Border Realm—even those monsters—is. Xiao Jiu is a 'newbie' freshly produced in this reset, but the rest of us are different. Do you get what I mean?" "We've been recycled and processed God knows how many times." He tapped his own head. "Basically, we're all mixed together." This was the workshop's recycling mechanism. Every product deemed scrap was reclaimed in bulk, dismantled, sorted, mixed, reshaped, and once again fed back into production. Turned into brand-new "people." To walk along predetermined paths according to their programming, playing whatever roles were assigned to them. Peddlers and couriers, high officials and wealthy merchants. Day after day, year after year, muddling through motions they couldn't even comprehend, like a ritual of worship, a sacrificial rite without end. Until one day, living lives so indistinguishable from those of true humans, they genuinely grasped the concept of "I." They truly believed themselves to be human. Yet once they discovered what they actually were, the sweet dream was over. Once the ingrained settings and identities lost meaning, once they realized what they were, the creations incapable of accepting themselves would descend into chaos, finally lapsing into complete madness. Instinctively, they would destroy, slaughter, and seek death! Yearning for an end. And once utterly wrecked, everything would once more be reclaimed by the workshop: spiritus cleansed, consciousness reset, reproduced anew, stepping into a new role and a new "life." Day after day, year after year, generation after generation... Compounding over time. For four hundred years, that initial despair had been passed down continuously until the frantic spiritus lurking beneath everyone's consciousness was as deep as an ocean! Ji Jue remained silent, practically suffocating. It was impossible to imagine what kind of despair one would feel after endless cycles of reincarnation, only to discover that life was merely an illusion, the self was nothingness, and fate was so cruel. If these were creations of modern alchemy, they would merely suffer spirituality overload and collapse. But Fluid Alchemy was something else... Its greatest "advantage" and "distinction" was that it drove a creation's form and structure to gradually converge toward its true nature. And once that nature had completely collapsed, once such maddened spiritus awoke from its slumber, their original human semblance would vanish without a trace. They would become monsters through and through. Torment day and night, weeping and howling day and night. Just like a true hell. Unable to live, unable to die. "We want it to stop," 97 whispered, murmuring to himself as if offering a prayer to a demon or a god. "Anything would do, so long as it stops." Ji Jue was silent. He said nothing more. Perhaps it was the next day, or perhaps a few hours later. Ji Jue was awoken by a commotion outside, catching the camp's cheers and blessings. Stepping out of the tent, he saw 97 crowded by the throng along with several others, armed with weapons and fully geared. It looked as if they were setting out on an expedition. Noticing Ji Jue's gaze, 97 smiled and waved to him as if bidding farewell, then turned and departed. The exploration was about to begin once more. The crowd cheered and shouted, offering applause to their retreating figures and seeing them off with boundless hope. Ji Jue even spotted the Prophet among the people. At the very rear, by the entrance to that shack, she sat in a wheelchair, pushed by someone, watching the expedition party leave until the gate shut once more. Sensing Ji Jue approaching, she murmured something, and her escort walked away. "Have you considered the matter, Mr. Ji Jue?" the Prophet asked. Ji Jue shook his head. "I don't know. Haven't figured it out. But instinctively, I don't really like you." "Quite natural. A character shrouded in secrets and mystery can never earn trust. Compared to someone as candid as you, an inhuman creation like me is far more hypocritical." The Prophet smiled faintly. "Forgive me, sir, but some chips are far too precious, and the chance comes only once. I cannot rashly entrust it to someone who might prove untrustworthy." "Can't you explore on your own as well?" Ji Jue asked. "Yes," the Prophet nodded with difficulty. "Do you think we'll achieve anything?" "I don't know," Ji Jue shook his head. "Let me tell you: perhaps there will be piecemeal discoveries, perhaps some storehouses and traces left behind by Quicksilver, but a true breakthrough? A true transformation? No, there won't be," the Prophet said. "Never." "From the very beginning, everything was set in stone. We are tools, and tools cannot escape the operating parameters preset by their master," the Prophet said. "Even if the workshop's central core appeared right before their eyes, they would turn a blind eye, incapable of even comprehending it..." "And what about you?" Ji Jue asked. "Aren't you the Prophet? An all-knowing prophet can't find it either?" "I can find it, of course I can," the Prophet replied decisively, her smile growing more mocking. "But what then? A tool can never destroy the work left behind by its master, because that command is engraved into the deepest depths of our spiritus." The others couldn't find or enter it at all. And though the Prophet had long known, long understood, she was powerless to act. This was destined to be a cycle without conclusion. Futility would launch expedition after expedition, yielding nothing. "Do they know?" Ji Jue asked. The Prophet did not answer. After a long silence. Only a helpless sigh. "Mr. Ji Jue, if you woke up in a hell that offered only torment and realized your wretched end, it would be best not to wake the others who still slept. Yet more and more have awakened... so you must make them believe that this hell can still be shattered. "Otherwise, the only thing awaiting them is despair. "Yes, that's right. I'm lying. I am not omniscient. I have deceived them more than once." The Prophet gave an open, gentle laugh. "In truth, I can accomplish nothing. I'm just a fraud. "Even this camp only lasts fifty or sixty years at a time. Whenever a reset begins, we are returned to the workshop, reduced once more to unrecognizable shapes. "Yet I must make them believe there is hope for the future. "No matter how distant that hope may be— "Humans need lies, and so do we." The Prophet murmured, sighing softly. "There was nothing wrong with Quicksilver's plan. The only flaw was... did she make us too much like humans?" Tools do not fear hell. Tools do not feel despair. Tools do not seek release. Only humans do. Heaven and hell were both created by humans; all these creations could do was silently endure the torment. Ignorant of passing years, blind to the end. In the silence, Ji Jue quietly gazed at the camp before him. After a long while, he let out a self-deprecating laugh. "Then why me? Prophet, if you know anything at all, you should know that I'm not fundamentally different from any other outsider." "Perhaps your luck is good?" "My luck has never been good, only terrible or worse, including having you seek me out," Ji Jue said. "I ask that you answer me candidly and directly." "You learned Fluid Alchemy, didn't you?" The Prophet turned her head, looking over as her ruined eyes fixed on him. "This is Quicksilver's workshop. According to the directives once laid down by Quicksilver, if an apprentice masters Fluid Alchemy, they are automatically registered in the core and granted basic inner-layer access. "Yet your authorization is far higher than you imagine. Your spiritus recognition circuit represents the former Central Thermal Reaction Furnace. The module that authorized you appended a tiny note to your clearance." The Prophet raised a finger and, right before Ji Jue's eyes, traced a small symbol stroke by stroke, relaying the message from the furnace of the past: "It says: you can be trusted." Ji Jue's pupils contracted for an instant. He recognized the meaning behind that outline. It was a rune that flowed from Sovereign Virtue: Ascension. In alchemical interpretation, it signified embrace and endurance, symbolizing sanctuary and bestowal. Its meaning was [Mercy].