The Snake God with S Chapter 175: The Truth of the Void

Chapter 175: The Truth of the Void

Orion’s hand hovered over Alice’s still form for a long mont before gently making contact. His golden eyes closed, and the air around him grew heavy with focus. Adam could feel it, the ancient dragon’s consciousness reaching into the sleeping panther, probing the damaged core with a delicacy that belied his overwhelming power.

Minutes passed. Ignis shifted restlessly beside Adam, but a sharp glance from him kept her silent.

Finally, Orion’s eyes opened. They held sothing new understanding. The kind that ca from witnessing similar tragedies across millennia.

"The Void," he began, his voice quiet, "is not rely a type of energy or a school of magic. It is... a remnant. Chaos left behind by a civilization that destroyed itself before your world was young." He withdrew his hand, folding it with the other in his lap. "That civilization once ruled vast territories—what you now call the Wastelands. But their greed consud them. They fell, their power shattering into fragnts that scattered across the world."

Adam’s jaw tightened. "And Alice...?"

"She is one of those fragnts." Orion t his gaze. "Or rather, she was created by one. The entity that attacked her possesses a particular skill—the ability to split itself. Not cloning, but... reproduction. Each fragnt becos its own being, with its own personality, its own instincts, its own will to survive."

Adam felt the world tilt slightly. ’Fragnts... personality... survival...’

"The purpose," Orion continued, "is growth. The parent scatters its children across the world. They grow, they learn, they accumulate power. And when they are strong enough..." He paused, letting the implication hang. "The parent consus them. Reabsorbs everything they’ve beco. It is... a harvest."

Adam’s hands clenched into fists at his sides. His voice ca out rough, barely controlled.

"So the thing that attacked Alice... that’s her... her parent?"

"Yes." Orion’s voice was gentle, but the word was a blade. "Her progenitor. The source from which she was split. And what it did to her—what it tried to do—was exactly what I have described. It was harvesting her energy to regain its own lost power."

Adam’s breath caught. His mind flashed back to the dungeon, to Alice as a tiny cub tangled in spider silk, to her fierce loyalty, her possessive love, her endless determination to protect him despite her size. All of it—all of her—was just... food. Waiting to be consud.

’Her own parent saw her as nothing but a al.’

"Progenitor..." Adam’s voice cracked. "So the one who attacked her... is literally her father."

Orion said nothing.

Adam’s fists trembled. Anger—hot, blinding, overwhelming—surged through him. The Crown on his brow pulsed, its hunger stirring in response to his rage. He wanted to find that thing. He wanted to tear it apart. He wanted to make it suffer for what it had done to Alice, for treating her like livestock, for—

"Survival."

Orion’s quiet words cut through the fury like ice water.

Adam blinked. "What?"

"The law of the wild." Orion’s golden eyes held his, calm and unflinching. "It is not unfamiliar to you, Adam. You have lived by it yourself. In the dungeon, you killed your own siblings. You consud them to grow stronger." He tilted his head slightly. "Or have you forgotten?"

Adam’s rage stuttered.

The mory surfaced unbidden—his first monts as a hatchling, surrounded by siblings who saw him as food. The desperate struggle for survival. The taste of blood that wasn’t his own. The cold, pragmatic realization that in that place, there was only eat or be eaten.

He had killed his brothers and sisters. He had consud them. He had grown stronger from their deaths.

"I..." The word stuck in his throat.

Orion watched him with that sa ancient, knowing gaze. "You are not so different from the Void entity, Adam. You both follow the sa instinct. The only difference is that you chose to protect the fragnts that proved themselves worthy of your loyalty. They are your family because you decided they would be. The Void entity sees its fragnts only as fuel." A pause. "That is the distinction. Not the act itself, but the choice that follows."

Adam stood frozen, Orion’s words cutting through the red haze of his rage. The Crown’s hunger subsided slightly, its demands montarily silenced by the weight of that truth.

"You..." He swallowed. "You’re saying I’m no better than that thing?"

"I am saying," Orion replied calmly, "that you have the capacity to be better. That you have already chosen to be better. The Void entity cannot make that choice. It is driven by instinct, by hunger, by the sa law that ruled your first days in the darkness. You, however, have evolved beyond that law. You have built sothing new from the ashes of what you were forced to beco." His golden eyes softened almost imperceptibly. "That is not nothing, Adam. That is everything."

Adam’s fists slowly unclenched. His breathing steadied. The anger didn’t disappear, but it settled—cooled from a raging inferno to a focused, patient fla.

"So Alice..." He looked down at her sleeping form. "She can still be saved?"

Orion considered for a long mont. "Her core was damaged. Severely. But the Starlight Ward you applied has stabilized her. It will protect her from further corruption, and it will buy ti."

Adam let out a breath he hadn’t known he’d been holding. His hand reached down, gently brushing Alice’s dull fur. She didn’t stir, but beneath his fingers, he could feel the faint pulse of her presence—weaker than it should be, but stable.

"Alice’s form," Adam said quietly. "Why a panther? If she’s a fragnt of this Void entity, why does she look like... this?"

Orion’s gaze shifted to Alice’s still form, studying her with that ancient, patient attention. "Each fragnt, when split from the parent, instinctively seeks a form. A shape that feels... familiar." He glanced at Adam. "She was born in a dungeon, near you. You were the first thing she knew—the first presence she recognized as sothing other than threat. So she shaped herself in a way that echoed you."

Adam blinked. "Echoed... ? But I was a snake. A viper."

"Proximity influences form, but it does not dictate it absolutely." Orion gestured vaguely. "She is a panther because that shape resonated with sothing in her fragnt’s essence. Perhaps she sensed your... soft beneath the scales. Perhaps she simply found the form appealing." He shrugged slightly. "It is not uncommon for Void fragnts to take shapes that reflect those around them. I have seen fragnts that resembled humans, elves, even dragons. They adapt. They mimic. They survive."

Adam absorbed this, pieces clicking into place. ’She beca a panther because of .’

Ignis, who had been uncharacteristically quiet during the exchange, finally spoke up. Her voice was small, uncertain—a rare thing for her.

"So... if we find other fragnts... they might look like people? Like humans?"

Orion nodded slowly. "It is possible. Likely, even. The Void entity you face has been scattering fragnts for a very long ti. So will have taken forms that let them blend into civilizations. Others will have remained in the wild, becoming beasts. And so..." He paused, his golden eyes distant. "So may have forgotten what they are entirely. Living as humans, elves, dwarves—unaware of their true nature, living out whole lives before the harvest cos."

Adam nodded slowly, processing the weight of Orion’s words. Fragnts living as humans, unaware of their true nature. The entity harvesting them all eventually. It was monstrous. It was also, in a twisted way, understandable—the sa survival instinct that had driven him to consu his own siblings in the dungeon.

But understanding didn’t an forgiving. Not when Alice was the one who had been hurt.

"So," Adam said, forcing his voice to remain steady, "how do we heal Alice? There has to be a way."

Orion was silent for a long mont, his golden eyes fixed on the sleeping panther. When he spoke, his voice carried the weight of ancient knowledge.

"There is a fruit. It grows only in the Wastelands—the territory where the Void civilization once thrived. It is called the Abyssal Bloom." He paused, letting the na settle. "The Bloom absorbs the ambient chaos of that place, distilling it into sothing... pure. Consuming it would not repair Alice’s core directly, but it would provide her with enough concentrated Void energy to rebuild it herself. Her own regeneration would do the rest."

Adam’s heart leaped. "How do we find it?"

Orion’s expression grew thoughtful. "The Bloom grows near the heart of the Wastelands, where the corruption is thickest. It is guarded—by remnants of the old civilization, by creatures born of the chaos, by the very land itself." He t Adam’s gaze. "It will not be an easy journey. Many have sought the Bloom. Few have returned."

Ignis, who had been listening with wide eyes, piped up. "But Adam’s strong! And I’m strong! We can do it!"

Orion’s lips twitched—the barest hint of amusent. "Your confidence is... admirable. But the Wastelands are not a dungeon, child. They are not a battlefield. They are a place where reality itself is... uncertain. What is true one mont may be false the next. What is solid may beco mist. What is friend may beco foe." His golden eyes swept over them both. "You will need more than strength to survive there. You will need clarity. Purpose. And perhaps most importantly—luck."

Adam absorbed this, his jaw tight. ’The Wastelands. Near the heart. Guarded by remnants and chaos.’ It sounded impossible. It sounded exactly like the kind of place he’d had to survive his entire second life.

"Where are these Wastelands?" he asked. "We don’t know this region. We were teleported here from sowhere far away. We have no map, no sense of direction."

Orion rose smoothly, brushing soil from his robes. "The Wastelands lie to the east, beyond the mountain ranges, near the border of the Demon territory." He glanced at Adam. "If you do not know the region, then you are fortunate that I do."