"...the imprint of the soul?"
Salvatore repeated the word, his expression gradually turning ugly.
"Yes,"
Alexander Robin nodded solemnly, "After the soul is stigmatized, it can actually be considered an incomplete demigod.
"If one lives in a fixed place for a long ti, the dispersing elental power can even unconsciously stain and gradually transform the surrounding environnt into one that suits oneself. If too much elental power accumulates, it might even leave behind a part of its will.
"For instance, Noah’s Blood Butterfly Valley, or Winter’s Storm Tower, those twisted phenona of the world are the imprints left behind after the death of powerful Transcendents."
Hearing this, Salvatore took a couple of deep breaths.
He confird again:
"...so, the ones that could be stained by the elental power, does that include corpses too?"
"I should say the body—even if a Transcendent doesn’t die, a discarded hand or a piece of bone could still gradually transform the world around it.
"However, the elental power is mainly stored in the brain, so as long as it’s handled properly, it shouldn’t be a big problem."
Captain Alexander said this.
He frowned slightly, "What exactly are you trying to say? Or what have you done?"
This forr champion Swordsman—now nearly sixty years old, the old knight commander, was wearing a white suit that seed to clash with him, sitting in the eting hall of Noah’s first bank.
That square and majestic face, the sun-tanned skin, the carefully grood reddish-brown short hair, topped with those lion-like golden orange pupils, and that signature scar... Still, he seed better suited to be called a "warrior" or a "general" rather than a banker or chairman.
...If it were any other ti, Salvatore wouldn’t even dare to look him in the eye.
The air of blood and gunpowder had coalesced around this man who was over a hundred years old, due to too much killing and fighting.
Salvatore, who had just advanced to silver and was in a state of over-sensitive perception yet insufficient willpower, found it even harder to resist this intimidating presence.
If this matter had not directly involved Annan’s safety... he would not have co here to communicate with this troubleso man!
But now, he was also very grateful to the Paper Princess.
Thankfully, the Paper Princess had been extra cautious.
She had asked Salvatore to inquire with Captain Alexander about how to deal with the "Dream Stealer."
Although the Paper Princess was indeed a genuine deity, she was not a god who ascended from the Transcendent path... but a "God of Creation" who was conjured out of thin air by her creator, her lover.
Therefore, the Paper Princess did not understand the Transcendent path.
But Alexander was different.
Although he was only a silver-tier Transcendent, he was after all a champion Swordsman.
—He is a true "champion," a hunter of Evil God followers and black Wizards, and a high-ranking mber of the Silver Baron Church. There are probably not many in Noah who understand the secrets of the Transcendent and the fallen paths better than he does.
Salvatore did not conceal anything.
He told Alexander directly about the extra ingredient he had added when making the dream-entry potion.
He was quite regretful now.
In Benjamin’s original formula, this step wasn’t included. It was his ability as an "Alchemist" that suggested he could make these modifications.
If there hadn’t been a gold-tier Wizard’s brain added, or if Dream Stealer Denton’s elental power had nothing to do with nightmares, then it wouldn’t have been a mistake...
But originally, Salvatore just wanted to allow Annan to enter nightmares in a more secure and safe manner... He didn’t expect that this would actually harm Annan.
"—You really are useless, Saul."
The hoarse voice in his heart coldly rose, "You already had the formula in your hands, and you couldn’t even manage this?"
But it was only a mistake...
"Was it really just a mistake? Isn’t it a mistake caused by your arrogance and complacency?"
The shadow whispered like a demon, as if to shatter Salvatore’s sanity: "If you had asked Alexander before making it, or written to the Tower Master to ask, would you have made this mistake? Don’t talk about not having enough ti... those are just excuses. Would it have delayed you half a day?
"Don’t make excuses, this is your fault. Ever since you beca an Alchemist, haven’t you gotten a little too cocky? Huh? You even started smoking; are you planning to binge drink next? Are you also thinking about making so special drugs for yourself?
"Honestly, Saul. If you think you can’t do anything right, just give your body to ."
The shadow was always stronger than himself.
Yes... Salvatore always knew this.
Just let the shadow take over his body, and all problems can be solved.
He wouldn’t make mistakes due to various blunders... and even mistakes that had already been made could be anded.
"...I understand."
Salvatore murmured softly.
"Hmm?"
The shadow paused, then let out a raspy, deep scoff, "Finally can’t bear the failure anymore? Want to give up? Anyti you like... then just hand over your body to ."
"—I will solve this myself."
Salvatore spoke slowly, "I want to save Annan."
Looking at him, the expression on Alexander’s face gradually beca serious.
"If you need help, I’ll assist you, son of the Black Tower."
The captain’s voice was steady, "But... do you have a plan?"
"I do."
Salvatore answered simply, "We head back imdiately, I’ll modify the ’Dream-Entering Elixir’s’ access point on the way. That way, when we’re beside Annan, we can enter his nightmare directly with the elixir.
"...As for defeating Denton, I’ll leave that to you."
"Don’t worry, don’t underestimate . I am a cleric, after all... I know nightmares very well. And even if I can’t beat Denton, it’s enough to help Annan escape."
Alexander spoke earnestly, "Denton’s last will is trapped in that tiny pill and cannot escape. We don’t need to fight him to the death right away... we just need to prevent Annan from falling into his trap unprepared."
"I’ll follow your lead, captain."
Salvatore responded.
But contrary to what they thought...
Inside the nightmare, Annan had not fallen into Denton’s trap and had his will shattered by the nightmare to beco a puppet.
Instead, he was wreaking havoc inside the fragnts of fear—
Bang!
With one punch, Annan flattened the steel surgical bed; with two fists dropping down, he punched a hole straight through it.
Yes, the handcuffs themselves were not broken, but the connection between the handcuffs and the operating table had been smashed... and now Annan could even swing the chains around, cosplaying Seras—of course, considering that only his left hand was cuffed, and there was a piece of the iron bed that he had knocked down at the end of the chains, maybe it was more like Chen Khan...
"Is this it?"
Annan scoffed as he broke the chains around his ankles.
Upon seeing that electric saw, he had already understood what this fear was all about.
—It was the fear of facing "necessary sacrifices" and "life-and-death decisions."
According to the process Denton had set for Annan, he should use the blunt saw to sever his own left hand.
After all, this was just a nightmare, it wouldn’t leave a disability, there was nothing that couldn’t be done... it was only a matter of whether one dared to endure the pain.
Was it to endure the prolonged pain that couldn’t be abandoned halfway... or to accept a slow death?
There were two ways, one could say, just saw through it.
Both thods should allow escape from the nightmare... but Annan chose a third path.
Left or right?
—Isn’t the road in the middle very spacious?
"It’s a pity I can’t fix you with my fists..."
The mont Annan sat up, the fragnt of fear was still shattered by him.
He leaned against the wall, raised his head, and said calmly, "Two more chances.
"Continue."
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