Lanqi's Immortal Eternal Punishment

"So in that dream..." Lanqi closed his eyes, silently reminiscing in his heart. He had once dreamed of a tyrant, utterly irredeemable, who buried everything in indiscriminate ruin. Yet there was a slight difference. He couldn't quite put into words what that difference was. "What dream? Did you have another nightmare earlier?" Talia's heart clenched tight as she asked Lanqi. She didn't want Lanqi to puzzle through things all by himself in this Shadow World with its ending of Immortal Eternal Punishment. She could listen to his inner thoughts. "When we passed through the Land of Eternal Night and stayed in Minor Night City, I think I dreamed of Lankeluosi killing everyone he saw..." Lanqi confessed to Talia. If a dream was too absurd, who would take it seriously? He knew Talia had a very favorable impression of the Lord of the Black Sun after viewing Caliera's Shadow-Weaving Record, so he had refrained from speaking of such a senseless dream. "Even if I saw a dream like that, I would still believe in the historical Lankeluosi. He couldn't have fallen. No matter what dark journey he endured or what deep trauma he suffered, he would never lose himself. He would always remain that kind soul." Though Talia spoke of the Lord of the Black Sun, her eyes seemed fixed entirely on Lanqi. In her eyes, no matter the circumstance, her disciple would make the exact same choice as Lankeluosi. She believed in the resolve Lanqi had taught her, and for that reason, she placed deep trust in the Lord of the Black Sun who had resembled Lanqi so closely tens of thousands of years ago. "Master, don't be like this... You're making me feel embarrassed about doing your daily tasks." A smile touched Lanqi's eyes as he gazed up at the unreachable white sun and spoke to Talia in his mind. "I didn't even blame you for calling me an old hag just now. You're the only person I'd ever tolerate like this," Talia huffed, scolding him. "Does that mean I can call you that to your face now?" Lanqi hadn't expected Talia to be so accommodating. "Try it when you get out, and see how long I make you lie on the ground." Talia felt her blood pressure spiking again. This guy always took an inch and wanted a mile. The way he looked so eager to push his luck was truly infuriating! Give him an inch of color and he'd open a dye shop. "Hahaha, no, never mind." After chatting with Talia for a moment, Lanqi felt considerably cheered up. He closed his eyes, his expression turning solemn. Just like the silvery-white mask, his features were soft, his expression serene, with a compassionate, world-embracing tenderness radiating from his brow and eyes. He prayed that the departed souls might find rest, that the survivors might remain strong, and most of all, that he would possess enough strength to shoulder this world on the brink of collapse. When he opened his eyes once more, a blazing fire burned in his emerald pupils. He understood now: the battle in Blood Moon City just now was only the beginning. The real battle still lay ahead. The white-robed Pope's figure vanished from Blood King Palace. When he reappeared, he was on the surface of St. Trick, the capital of the Horning Empire that had turned into a demonic realm. The miasma manifested by the demonic humans surged at the ends of the earth, cloaking the entire sky. Blotting out the heavens and obscuring the sun, the eclipse hung like an ominous eye, gazing coldly down upon this mortal upheaval. Lanqi flew toward the distance. In St. Trick, once the beautiful, prosperous capital of Horning, tens of thousands of demons ran amok across the land, roaring furiously. Their bodies were twisted and deformed, their eyes blazing with bloodlust and frenzied desire. More monsters plummeted from the sky, crashing into the earth like black raindrops, crushing all living things to powder. In the distance, the city-state had turned into a sea of fire, billowing smoke piercing the heavens. Lesser demons were torn to shreds by greater demons, swallowed by raging flames, or trampled into mangled mud of flesh and blood. The south had fallen completely, transformed into a living hell. In the northern part of the Horning Empire, there were still residents who had not been infected with the Blood Clan's modifying poison, and farther north, the Holy Polant Empire remained the last pure land that had yet to plunge into the demonic abyss. The army of demonic humans was surging toward it in numbers vast and unstoppable. Once the north fell, the entire world would sink into eternal darkness. The horde of demons spotted his figure and let out joyous shrieks. "H-Human!" "Eat him!" This human could bring them endless pleasure. Thousands upon thousands of demons swarmed forward, crashing toward Lanqi like a tidal wave. Some were savage, others hideous, all spitting corrosive venom from their maws, their eyes gleaming with ravenous hunger. Lanqi did not retreat a single step. He raised a hand, and a blazing sphere of white light converged in his palm, condensing and expanding until it transformed into a lightning arc spanning the heavens, thundering down into the demonic army. In an instant, heaven and earth lost their color. Countless demonic humans were reduced to ash and dust in that single blow, dispersing into drifting black mist. Yet his strike acted like a flare. It turned the heads of many demons that had been surging northward. Even more demons swarmed forth endlessly, throwing themselves forward wave after wave, oblivious to life or death. Lanqi charged north like a humanoid weapon, tearing through the sea of demons and sweeping away every obstacle in his path. There were simply too many berserk demonic humans. Dense and endless, as far as the eye could see. They spanned across the Horning Empire's vast, continent-wide territory. In the distance, the demon army still swarmed forward, their dark silhouettes swallowing the horizon. Behind Lanqi lay a mountain of corpses and a sea of blood, reeking foully. He opened his eyes wide, pure radiance brimming in his emerald pupils. Raising both arms, his body hovered upright in midair like a rising sun, illuminating every corner of the earth. The next second, the heavens collapsed and the earth shattered. A brilliance wider than mountains and deeper than oceans erupted from within Lanqi, shooting straight into the sky. It tore through the hazy sky, parted the churning black mist, and swallowed every foul thing across the land. Before this holy light, even the strongest demonic humans were nothing more than moths rushing into a flame. They unleashed shrill shrieks as their bodies burned, annihilated into ash. Yet more demonic humans kept rushing forward, only to be buried without exception within this pillar of light. A moment later, the army of demonic humans had been wiped out. Peace returned to the earth, and the sky regained its clear azure. Only the silver-masked, white-robed figure stood silently in the center, towering like a mighty deity. "Horning's territory is too vast. Even if Immortal Eternal Punishment has locked your body, once your lifespan ends and you become an undead, you will still gradually rot and collapse," Talia warned him. Although a Tier 9's mana regeneration was rapid, the burden of Ever-Shining Ruin was simply too heavy. She did not want Lanqi to experience the death that Lankeluosi had suffered once before. "It's fine. For Lankeluosi, all of this was experienced at least once." Lanqi was certain he might never fully understand Lankeluosi's state of mind. He kept feeling that the events of the Blood Moon Ruined World era were not over yet. This might not be the worst ending, but it was certainly not the best. The key to a relatively optimal ending lay within this final remaining Mirror of Tiberius. If he did not search for it, then perhaps on some future day the same mistakes would be repeated, treading the same path and replaying the same history over and over again. He took a deep breath and dived north once more, forcing himself to ignore his body's exhaustion and critically depleted mana. His silhouette was upright and resolute, seeming both to merge into that darkness and to tear it apart. ... Tens of thousands of kilometers to the north lay a tranquil, peaceful sanctuary. Hersalem, capital of Holy Polant. The setting sun filtered through the canopy of ancient towering trees, showering golden light across the earth. A gentle breeze rustled the leaves as though softly humming an ode to life. The air carried the refreshing scent of fresh grass and soil, mingled with the sweet fragrance of blossoms, rejuvenating the spirit. Upon this land lived the most simple and kind-hearted people of the northern Papal State. They tilled the soil generation after generation, abiding by the law, living simple and joyful lives. On one side of the city-state, a newly built wooden cottage caught the eye. Its red-brick walls and brown-tiled roof stood before a bluestone path swept clean of any dust. Smoke curled lazily from the chimney, shrouding the entire house in a dreamy mist. "Children, dinner's ready!" A kind female voice called from inside, brimming with warmth and affection. "Coming, Mama!" Crisp, youthful voices chimed in one after another as small figures skipped inside from the street. Inside, a hearty dinner was laid out on a plain wooden table. Steaming potato soup, crisp golden bread, and freshly bought fruit. The family sat around the table, their faces glowing with happy smiles. The father, a tall, resolute middle-aged man, smiled as he watched his wife and children. The mother, a gentle, plump woman, hummed a tune as she ladled soup for the children. "I heard His Holiness the Pope is going to the Iron Fortress of Oberon next week for the peace commemoration! People say that with him around, we'll never have to worry about war or suffering again. He's going to bring us an unprecedented era of peace and prosperity!" The children chattered happily, animatedly discussing what they had seen and heard in Hersalem. "Yeah, I heard that too! With His Holiness here, generations to come will never be plagued by war again," another child chimed in excitedly, eyes gleaming with adoration. "But no matter how strong the Pope is, he's still human. Won't he pass away someday?" "No way! The Pope is surely immortal! He'll stay in this world forever!" Listening to the children's bustling chatter, the father let out a soft sigh and took his wife's hand. "What nonsense are you kids spouting?" They exchanged a look, their eyes filled with cherished hopes. "Immortality can be a punishment, though you don't understand that yet," the mother said earnestly, her gaze loving and pious. Though she knew the children were wishing the Pope well, once they developed a mature view of life and death, they would understand the proper way to offer blessings. "Isn't living a long time a good thing?" a child asked, puzzled. "Speaking from my thirty-odd years of life, which already feels quite long, if you asked me to live for three thousand years, I think I'd go mad. As for forever... think about just how long that is," the father said, looking down and posing a thoughtful question to them. The children pondered, understanding only halfway. "Forever is probably longer than three months, right?" "It's definitely longer than a year." "No matter how long it is, when I grow up, I'm going to become a knight of the Holy Polant Theocracy! I'll protect the weak, punish evil, and bring peace and happiness to Mama, Papa, and everyone!" the young boy declared, raising a small fist with utter determination in his eyes. "Silly boy, as long as you're safe and well, no matter what kind of person you become, Mama and Papa will always be proud of you," the father said warmly, ruffling his son's hair with an encouraging smile. The dining room was filled with harmony, every face bright with hopeful smiles. Outside the window, the sun slowly dipped in the west, casting its final bloody crimson rays across the earth. In the intoxicating twilight, a few birds returning to their nests crossed the sky, calling out as they flew south. Everything was so peaceful and serene, as if sorrow and darkness would never touch this world. And yet. They did not know that at this very moment, blood was flowing across a hundred miles along Holy Polant's southern border, dyeing the Oberon Canal crimson. Tens of thousands of lives were withering under the onslaught of the demonic humans. The earth was stained with blood, the sky shrouded in murky mist. Cities fell, homes shattered. Wails, cries, and curses wove together into a symphony of despair that echoed over the ruins. Far beyond that hellish border pass, a solitary figure still bathed in the blood of countless demonic humans in northern Horning, blocking the overwhelming brunt of the demonic assault for the Holy Polant Empire. At this moment, nothing remained of his former majesty. The once holy, elegant white robes were soaked in blood and grime, turned a dark, sickening crimson. The arms gripping the scepter were covered in wounds, bleeding with every swing. The silvery-white mask had completely shattered, revealing a face that could no longer maintain its disguise. His horns were white-jade exoskeletons, now riddled with cracks and devoid of luster. His skin was paper-pale and crisscrossed with fractures large and small, like broken porcelain. Within his sunken eye sockets, a pair of emerald eyes shone with a chilling brightness, like ghostly flames. Blood steadily seeped from the corners of his mouth, trickling down his chin to blend with the stains across his body. The sky overhead remained a murky, desolate gray, and the earth below lay thoroughly ravaged. "Huu... huu..." The Pope simply stood there. No one knew how long he had struggled in this hell, or how many demonic humans he had slain. His destined lifespan had long crossed its finish line, transforming him into an undead. The living corpse's body was slowly breaking down and rotting away. Beneath the cracked surface lay mangled flesh, and his internal organs were nearly shattered. Every breath brought heart-wrenching pain. Even more terrifying was the curse gnawing at his soul. The laws of the undead realm were steadily eroding his will, yet what remained of his sanity told him that he must keep fighting. He could not stop. Every additional spell he cast might save hundreds, perhaps thousands of families. "Careful! There's an off-the-charts demonic human over there! Possibly Tier 8 or above!" A bloodcurdling cry shattered the dead air. Looking toward the sound, Lanqi saw a company of figures mounted on silver-armored steeds. Gleaming silver plate, shining lances, fluttering banners. It was the Holy Polant army arriving from the north—the elite knights who had once sworn to follow the Holy Polant Pope to the death. Seeing this, a surge of hope welled in Lanqi's heart. Holy Polant's frontline forces—they had arrived. That meant the first wave at Holy Polant's southern border must have been held back. Yet in the next moment, when he saw the elite knights' expressions clearly, he also understood who the "off-the-charts demonic human" they spoke of was. "Form ranks!" "Wait!" "Why does this demonic human seem to have sanity?" "What... what is that...?" "His robe, his ornaments..." "No, impossible!!" The knights' eyes bulged, their faces filled with disbelief and horror. Trembling, they drew in sharp, cold breaths of blood-soaked air, unable even to hold their weapons steady. Indeed, the terrifying leader of demons standing before their eyes... Every ornament upon his person pointed to one truth: he was the Holy Polant Pope. The Pope? A demonic human? This catastrophe that had swept from the Horning Empire into the Holy Polant Theocracy overnight—no one knew its cause, no one knew where the Pope had gone; they only knew there had to be a mysterious hand orchestrating this disaster of the century. Covered in liquid indistinguishable as blood or mud, broken skin flickering faintly with an eerie red light, as if magma surged within his body— Even more horrifying were his eyes. Those eyes, once gentle as warm jade, now shone with a terrifying green light. The sunken sockets seemed like two bottomless abysses, threatening to suck in anyone's soul. How was this their beloved Pope? He was clearly the most horrifying monster! "Fall... fall back...!" The knight commander cried out tremulously, his voice cracking, "That isn't His Holiness the Pope... It's a demon... Run...!" The silver-armored knights retreated in panic, their silver spears and lances trembling aimlessly in Lanqi's direction. Demonic berserkers experienced a drastic surge in power. If the Pope had demonized, everyone would die! Terror seized the knights' hearts, shattering the faith they had held for so long. "..." Watching this, the Pope's eyes held only a smile of release. This is enough. You need not feel guilty toward the Horning Empire. Protect yourselves, slay the demonic humans without hesitation, and harbor no hatred toward the surviving people of Horning. Hate me, fear me. Let the chain of hatred be severed here. What cannot be explained need not be explained. Forget the once-great Holy Polant Pope. So long as you can live on. So long as you can have a happy tomorrow. The Pope wanted to say something, wanted to step closer to tell them about the situation in the south. Yet when he opened his mouth, all that welled up was gushing blood. A searing pain, as though his throat had been slashed, struck him, and his consciousness began to drift. Every step was agonizingly difficult. Yet every step was equally resolute. Is it finally... coming to an end? These grudges, this destiny. And this... ill-fated life. The Pope tremblingly raised an arm, as though reaching out to grasp something. Yet in the next second, the curse sealed deep within his heart suddenly erupted, completely swallowing his battered body. All the knights instinctively recoiled. In an instant, the entire world seemed to fall silent. Under countless terrified gazes, the once-great Holy Polant Pope shattered with a dull rumble, turning into a cloud of ash. No final words, no pleas. Only those green eyes flashed with a glimmer of light as they vanished. Not of reluctance, not of resentment. Only relief. As if he knew his death would carry away all the sin. And his name, along with the truth of this catastrophe, would be buried forever. The knights stood frozen in place, their faces etched with the shock of having survived a brush with death. They had thought that upon seeing the perpetrator behind this demonic disaster, witnessing a truth they were never meant to see, they would be eradicated on the spot. Who could have guessed that the Pope had already reached the end of his life? ... The flames of war between Holy Polant and Horning ignited once more. Having lost their spiritual leader, the northern Holy Polant Empire's cohesion began to fracture. Though most of the strongest demonic humans had been purged, the southern Horning Empire, where demonic humans ran rampant, remained a disaster zone into which none dared tread. At any moment, a tide of demonic humans like a horde of corpses could surge toward the southern border of the Holy Polant Theocracy. An endless apocalyptic slaughter began from this moment. In Hersalem, in the north of the Holy Polant Theocracy. Empress Khesia sat in the imperial palace, staring blankly toward the south. Her tears soaked the carpet beneath her feet, dampening the woven freesia patterns. Those sapphire eyes brimmed with longing and grief. "Pope..." "You fool..." "If you were destined to bear all the infamy... why... why didn't you take me with you? You really didn't need to—you didn't have to save this awful world." After a long time, Empress Khesia wiped away her tears and looked deep into the distance. "I understand your choice..." "And I understand... your lifespan had probably reached its end, and knowing you couldn't return to Polant, you killed as many demonic humans as you could for our sake..." "Yet without you, can this Holy Polant Theocracy truly be saved...?" ... Upon the scorched earth of the Horning Empire's northern border. The Pope's body had reached its end in that long, grueling battle. At the moment his skin cracked and sloughed away, his flesh turned into putrid pulp, and his organs completely shattered, even that noble head dissolved into a cloud of black mist under the curse's erosion. Yet true death did not arrive as expected. The curse of Immortal Eternal Punishment made this soul utterly imperishable. Lanqi watched with his own eyes as his body crumbled piece by piece into dust, yet his heart remained extraordinarily calm. Is it over? At the final moment before his consciousness dispersed, that was what he thought. Yet in the next second, reality gave him the answer. "?" When his consciousness reassembled, Lanqi found himself in an eerie space. To be precise, it could hardly be called a "space" at all. There was no light, no sound, not the slightest trace of any physical entity. Though he still lingered in this world, he could touch nothing tangible, see nothing real, and exchange no sensory perception with any physical object. Thus, to him, looking around revealed only endless darkness, threatening to swallow a person's soul whole. Lanqi tried to move his body, only to find that even his physical form no longer existed. The strength he had once taken pride in, the indestructible torso, had all come to naught. All that remained was a solitary soul, drifting eternally in a realm beyond the reach of death itself. "Is this the price of becoming an undead?" Lanqi's voice dissolved into nothingness; even he could not hear it clearly. He could see no surroundings, hear not a whisper of sound, nor discern any terrain. Even the concept of time seemed to have vanished. In this eternal prison, he would be forever alone. No laughter, no tears. No warm sunlight, no fresh air. And no companionship of friends or loved ones. Only endless solitude, boundless despair. In that instant, Lanqi felt a bone-chilling cold for the first time. A punishment a hundred times more cruel than physical death: The consciousness endures forever, while the flesh is obliterated. "Where... is this?" Talia's mental voice rang out. Unlike Lankeluosi, Lanqi still had her. Even at this moment, she could share sensations with him and speak to him. "It seems that at the end of Lankeluosi's second use of Tiberius, he fell into an endless experience," Lanqi answered her. If the historical Lankeluosi had also activated the Mirror of Tiberius three times, then at the end of the second activation, Lankeluosi had likely experienced the consequences of Immortal Eternal Punishment ahead of reality. "Our consciousnesses are deadlocked inside this space within the Mirror of Tiberius?" Talia seemed to realize the gravity of the situation. This was an ending without an end. From the moment the option of Immortal Eternal Punishment was chosen, experiencing its price had probably been predestined. Although the mechanism of the Mirror of Tiberius accelerated to the utmost when encountering an easily deduced future, there was no concept of time or space inside the mirror. If what followed was "infinity," it would manifest as an endless illusion. "Perhaps, yes," Lanqi agreed. All of this was the world Lankeluosi had witnessed after using Immortal Eternal Punishment on himself. And the Mirror of Tiberius had simulated it in its exact entirety. Thus, within this time-accelerated simulation, Lanqi was also experiencing infinity. No matter how fast time passed, forever was forever. "N-No way, right? Let's just sleep. A good sleep will fix it. Maybe when we wake up, we'll be out?" Fear began to take root in Talia's heart. This was too eerie. Yet her consciousness drifted in the endless void, like a lone leaf of a boat adrift upon a dead, silent ocean. "Yeah," Lanqi replied. He truly was exhausted. Strangely, though. He clearly ought to be exhausted, yet he felt no drowsiness. "It'll be fine. When we wake up, everything will go back to normal," Talia comforted Lanqi, keeping him company. As a long-lived species, she was better equipped to endure the perception of time. [One hour later.] "..." Talia realized it. She could fall asleep, but Lanqi could not. "Lanqi, at times like this, we have to stay positive and move forward. We'll definitely find an exit," Talia suggested again. "True. Even though I don't feel hungry here, I can't just lie down and rot." He tried to open his eyes, only to find that in this darkness, there was no difference between opening and closing them. He couldn't even tell whether his eyes had been open or shut when he had tried to sleep earlier. Lanqi wasted no more time on sleep and walked forward. The surroundings were pitch-black, so thick it seemed poised to swallow his consciousness whole. The black was so absolute, like an insatiable beast ready to devour his soul bit by bit. Lanqi wanted to call out, to shout, but his voice was like a stone dropped into the ocean, instantly swallowed by nothingness. Here, even sound was a luxury, and he could only endure eternal silence in soundlessness. [A few hours passed.] He didn't know how long he had walked. The scenery remained virtually unchanged. "Th-This is nothing to be afraid of," Talia said to Lanqi, though her resolve was already wavering. There was no exit at all; she had gradually come to realize that. Yet Lanqi still followed her words and walked, searching for that impossible exit, walking on and on. Lanqi seemed to understand this truth even better than she did. Yet simply to give her some peace of mind, he followed her lead entirely at this moment, even if it was completely futile. If they did nothing, their minds would become as dark as this sky. "Lanqi, we can chat. Look on the bright side: back then, Lankeluosi could only fantasize about old friends talking to him, but I'm real. I can stay with you forever," Talia said, trying her hardest to sound positive. "Yeah, then I'll keep walking forward." No matter where he went, his body didn't tire, nor did he feel pain. When they talked about food, he could still muster an appetite, yet he felt no hunger. [Perhaps a month passed.] Even if his body felt no fatigue, his mind grew bored. He stopped walking forward. With nothing to do, he talked with Talia. In this void world, there were only the two of them. [One year later.] Lanqi lay on the ground. Gazing at the sky. All he could look at was boundless darkness. "Is this the punishment for using Immortal Eternal Punishment on oneself?" he murmured softly. "Lanqi, we will get out. I'm here with you," Talia said. Yet she had no confidence at all. Just how much longer would it be? A hundred years? A thousand years? Ten thousand years? A hundred thousand years? Or even farther, an eternity so distant it could not be seen. For a human whose lifespan was a mere few decades, such vast stretches of time exceeded comprehension. [Fifty years passed.] "Why does such an absurd spell even exist!" Talia finally couldn't help complaining. A few decades weren't terribly long for Talia. Yet even she felt terror toward the vast stretches of time still ahead. She could not imagine what kind of despair Lankeluosi had faced when he was trapped alone in this dark space. "Relax, relax. Lankeluosi endured it, which means it isn't impossible to endure," Lanqi told Talia. "You..." Talia didn't understand when Lanqi had become more optimistic than her. [Perhaps hundreds of years passed.] Boundless time continued to flow. Talia gave up thinking. In her ethereal, insubstantial form, she lay on the ground alongside Lanqi. Gazing at that boundless, pitch-black sky, quietly waiting for infinity. She no longer wanted to do anything. Gradually, Lanqi and she barely spoke. She didn't dare talk to Lanqi. Sometimes months would pass without her saying a single word to him. She feared that over the course of time even she could barely endure, Lanqi might completely break. How much longer? It seemed like a mere drop in the ocean compared to the span of this endless prison. Perhaps this Immortal Eternal Punishment couldn't even be called "just beginning." The two of them hadn't even experienced true initial agony yet. They were merely minuscule lives trapped inside a temporal prison of darkness. "Tata, can you tell how long it's been?" Lanqi's mental voice came through. He seemed still able to remain lucid. Yet he could neither die nor lose consciousness. He could only feel every minute, every second. Experiencing firsthand what Lankeluosi had felt and thought back then. "Maybe a few hundred years!" Talia estimated, answering him at once. She couldn't tell either. Yet Lanqi hadn't reached out to talk to her in so long; hearing him speak to her again made her happy. "Lanqi, what are you thinking about?" she asked. "I was wondering... if Lankeluosi had experienced the price of Immortal Eternal Punishment beforehand, would he still have used it on himself without hesitation?" Lanqi murmured to himself. "If you were Lankeluosi, would you hesitate?" Talia felt that asking Lanqi would unlock the answer. "No hesitation. It had to be used." Lanqi's answer was as resolute as ever. Just as no matter how many times he was given the choice, his decision would never change. "..." Talia's emotions finally broke down a little. "You idiot, even someone from a long-lived species like me can't bear it anymore! Why aren't you afraid at all?" she questioned him. "Please, someone save him... My disciple is insane! He may not act human most of the time, but he's kind-hearted! He shouldn't be suffering this kind of punishment! "Anyone, please, take him out of here! "Goddess, I beg of you!" Talia's voice took on a weeping tone. She could have accepted Lanqi breaking down, but seeing him remain so lucid was something she could not bear. "..." Lanqi closed his eyes and said no more. He let his consciousness drift in the darkness, letting himself be swallowed by the eternal night. His thoughts were crystal clear: if this truly was eternity, then anything done to pass the time was entirely meaningless. "Phantom Demon." Right as Lanqi was pondering, a tender voice suddenly pierced the darkness, rousing his consciousness. The voice was so warm, so soft, like afternoon sunshine, like morning dew. "Who is calling you?" Talia asked him. "You heard it too?" Lanqi asked back in surprise. Not an illusion? The dark space flickered between light and shade. The world turned illusory and shimmered. This void seemed unable to sustain itself. A sliver of silvery light penetrated through layers of darkness, beautiful as a gentle slumber. In an instant, the endless darkness was shattered by this dazzling light. It was so brilliant, so pure, tinting the illusion in pale shades of soft pink, resembling the colors of dawn. Lanqi felt his soul enveloped by a warm current, melting away the shackles and curses bound to him one by one. He seemed to regain control of his body as well—cast into ruin only to survive, plunged into death only to be reborn—and he was able to move. Lanqi flexed his body, broke free, and stepped out from the Mirror of Tiberius in astonishment. He had returned once more to the deepest underground recesses of Purgatory Corridors Academy, a place he felt he had left behind in the conscious world for ages. In the distance, he saw only one figure: Tamisha, who had pulled the plug on the power supply to the Mirror of Tiberius. She looked somewhat hesitant. "I saw that you hadn't come out after several hours, and I got a little worried about you. It's time for you to eat," Tamisha explained, tossing aside the power cable. She wasn't sure if she had done something bad. She felt that if this Phantom Demon were using the mirror normally, he should have emerged after about two hours. Yet several hours had passed, the sky had darkened, and he still showed no response. Unable to set her mind at ease, Tamisha had forcefully shut off the mirror. Perhaps due to the authority Caliera had granted her, she was unexpectedly able to switch the power on or off in this central energy chamber. "Tamisha..." Lanqi looked at her, barely able to keep his balance, and slid down against the mirror's surface to sit on the floor. He had never imagined that Tamisha would be the one to save him. As if beholding salvation, clear tears streamed down his face. "That's wonderful." He laughed through mixed tears of grief and joy. Someone would save Lankeluosi. He had scorned his destiny, wanting to protect everything; foolish though he was, that was simply ordinary human nature. Yet fantasy could turn into a miracle. Caliera had left behind one final tiny spark that would guide his way and lead him to heaven. "Phantom Demon..." Tamisha walked over, studying Lanqi. "What's wrong?" She reached out naively, wiping away the tears from the Phantom Demon's cheek. "If I did something wrong, I'm sorry." Tamisha wondered if her reckless action had made the Phantom Demon cry out of anger. Perhaps it was because of a personality like hers that her parents had left her. Like the mother she had envisioned, she slowly wrapped her arms around the Phantom Demon, wanting to comfort him and embrace him in all his disheveled misery. He looked so sorrowful, and surprisingly, she understood it very well. "Tamisha, thank you," Lanqi thanked her from the bottom of his heart. "You are the best. You didn't do anything wrong. You saved me." Lanqi gently patted Tamisha's head and shook his own. "Oh." Tamisha's voice held a hint of surprise. She blankly stared at her own face reflected in the mirror—lonely and exhausted, with no one in the dark night to miss her. Her gaze slowly shifted from the mirror to the Phantom Demon's cheek. Gradually, she too lowered her eyes. She held tight to this fellow tribesman yet different being. In the dim underground energy chamber, two figures, one tall and one small, shared an embrace in the stillness without the slightest pretense, with only the faint, pure white gleam reflected on the surface of the Mirror of Tiberius.