Annan was completely different from the first ti he had t the Faceless Poet when he felt lost about the future.
Now, Annan was confident and composed.
He clearly saw the destiny of both the past and the future.
They intersected right beneath his feet—as the proverb goes, destiny is the rut of Heaven’s chariot.
—He alone did not have the option to retreat.
Annan had to make a decision. In response, the world would change for him.
Seeing the bright light in Annan’s eyes now, the Faceless Poet was overjoyed.
"How wonderful! So—good, partner!"
Her voice rose slightly again, even causing Salvatore’s ears to rumble and his brain to tremble: "I will always be watching you!"
"...I had a question last ti."
Annan suddenly spoke up, "Why do you address as ’partner’? Perhaps I have forgotten a very important mory... Were we really good friends before?"
"We are not friends. But we are fellow travelers."
The Faceless Poet said without any hesitation: "We originated from the sa place and walked in the sa direction—we are not friends or close friends, but our relationship is closer than that.
"We are comrades, colleagues, partners, conspirators, and also accomplices.
"You can always trust ... Annan."
—Who exactly are you?
Annan fell silent for a mont.
He swallowed the words back.
He knew that he would not get an answer to this question. If the Faceless Poet had already spoken this much, she would not elaborate further on this topic.
It seed as though she sensed what Annan was thinking.
The corners of the Faceless Poet’s mouth widened greatly.
Like a ghost from a cartoon—her mouth exaggeratedly split open, revealing a smile that was closer to terror: "I think the question you want to know now... is the whereabouts of Nicholas II and Philip."
"Yes... huh?!"
Annan had just nodded.
He suddenly realized that sothing had struck his mind.
It was a very slight collision.
If he had to describe it, it was like being hit in the forehead by a ping pong ball. Annan felt that sothing extra had suddenly appeared in his mind...
—That was information.
He quickly realized what it was.
Annan focused, and he saw Nicholas II.
That man with pure white curly hair, green eyes—Annan inexplicably associated him with a pure white sundae on a transparent plastic cup scented with apple-flavored llo Yello.
...This was not an association that Annan would make.
Annan quickly ca to his senses.
Was this... a mory belonging to the Faceless Poet?
Why did the Faceless Poet have... a certain appetite for Nicholas II?
The answer, as soon as it was guessed, surprised Annan.
But he didn’t dwell on it.
He looked intently and saw a "blossom" of butterflies fluttering by.
—Yes, a blossom.
Although it was a very strange description... that butterfly made one think of a translucent rose.
Like a blood-drenched cover slip, soaked and placed on a slide.
The extrely beautiful blood butterflies flitted across the sky from afar.
But there were no flowers around.
—Only fresh, outdoor bodies.
n and won, children and the elderly.
There were at least thirty—their limbs were all incomplete, not cruelly chopped off, but rather dissected bodies with visible layers of fat and striated muscles.
Those beautiful, crystal-like delicate butterflies that seed to shatter upon touch landed upon these corpses.
As they fed on the blood, the crystal butterfly wings behind them gradually changed from pink to dark red. And a symbol resembling "infinity" appeared on the bodies.
And Nicholas II was very seriously taking out an extrely thin, transparent leaf-shaped object that looked like a maple leaf, and pressing it against a warm, fresh corpse.
The corpse’s skin was ticulously cut open—Nicholas II was taking an impression of sothing from it.
Annan quickly realized what he was doing.
—Nicholas II was collecting human nerves.
Combining the scene with the skeletons that were left, the corpses with opened bellies, the bodies carefully dissected muscle by muscle... Annan suddenly knew what Nicholas II was doing.
He imdiately widened his eyes.
"He’s... creating an artificial human from scratch?"
Annan hadn’t forgotten that all knowledge about artificial humans had been erased from Nicholas II’s mory by the gods.
He was just a thought entity with even his mory altered.
Yet he had returned to this path... Without anyone guiding him or misleading him, Annan had no idea what kind of madness had overtaken Nicholas II, but he had found his way back to the direction of "artificial human technology"!
And furthermore, those corpses were fresh.
Although Annan didn’t know where Nicholas II had gotten them from... the longest they could have been there, with preservation spells and all, was most likely three days at most.
Considering that Annan had arrived in Noah just yesterday.
He might have started this experint from scratch again just yesterday! And now he had even completed sampling... His experintal progress was alarmingly fast!
If Annan hadn’t beco aware of him, Nicholas II might have been able to resurrect this sealed, forbidden technology before Annan left Noah!
In the cage, Annan even saw so children who were still alive, shivering in fear!
There were a lot of them, at least over forty.
Their eyes were filled with panic and their expressions utterly helpless.
And Philip’s head, along with a small portion of his spine, was floating in a nutrient jar, eyes tightly shut, unadorned by any ceremony. And this jar was connected to an even larger apparatus... the liquid in that nutrient jar was strangely familiar to Annan.
—The deep red liquid was none other than liquid Philosopher’s Stone.
Philip and these children seed to be used for another experint... or perhaps, they might also serve as materials for experints or rituals.
"This is happening now."
The Faceless Poet spoke with profound aning, "So, Annan... What will you do?
"Stop him imdiately? Or... wait until his experint is over?
"Give him just three days—this technology will be developed by him. And Philip will die; killing him at that ti would ensure the greatest benefit."
It was a whisper like that of a demon.
Salvatore, who had not seen anything, still turned his gaze toward Annan first.
He remained silent, not saying a word to influence Annan’s decision, but his eyes held a hint of worry.
Annan subconsciously tightened his grasp on Salvatore’s coat wrapped around him and spoke with no hesitation, "Is that even a question?"
A bright light shone in his eyes:
"—Of course, it’s to save them!
"I’ve seen the Blood Butterflies, he must be in Blood Butterfly Valley now! The dead can’t be brought back, but since I’ve seen that there are children who can be saved, I will definitely save them!"
As he spoke, his hands reached out into the void.
Annan was quickly assembling a mission—gathering all the players he could call over.
—Ti to fight the boss again!
Annan’s response, however, caused the Faceless Poet to hesitate.
She seed completely unprepared for such an answer, silently and blankly staring at Annan.
As if through Annan, she saw sothing else.
"...In that case."
As if awakened from a dream, the Faceless Poet’s voice softened and beca less shrill, "If that’s the case, partner."
She walked over and lifted her small, pale hand: "Good luck."
Annan slapped her raised hand with his right hand.
"Naturally."
He replied as if it was the most obvious answer.
The Faceless Poet took a deep breath, and her entire being suddenly collapsed into black mud.
It was a collage of colors that could only be described as "kaleidoscopically black."
"Then... goodbye... partner..."
A thick, murky noise sounded as if many voices were chattering all at once, coming from every direction.
The black muck dissolved into all the crevices naturally.
The Faceless Poet disappeared completely from the basent as if she had never been there.
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