CHAPTER 356: CHAPTER 135 LOST

The snake holds a particularly special significance in alchemy. Legend has it that the snake was the one that expelled humanity from paradise on Earth, yet it was also the snake that bestowed wisdom upon humanity, allowing them mastery over flame and steel.

The snake is cunning and sinister, dragging humanity into endless darkness, yet it also grants them the power to resist this darkness.

Whenever recalled, Bologue’s mind is filled with those abominable beings.

Demons.

They grant hope, then drag it into despair, much like mischievous hunters watching their prey struggle painfully in traps until death.

A crimson snake bites its tail, forming an alchemy matrix that resembles the void realm. In the moment when head and tail connect, it completes its self-closure and cycle.

The ether is bound within, governed by the threefold trials. Likewise, at the instant the tail is bitten, the ritual’s possibility reaches infinity.

Evil and good, closure and infinity.

Contradictory attributes coexist and repel within the Ouroboros until, through continuous destruction and rebirth, all mortal qualities are eliminated, reaching transcendence.

"Hold on! Bologue, all three together!"

Belli shouted whilst wielding a scalpel. The crimson snake ferociously devoured its tail, the ring formed by its body constantly sinking, compressing the stars which merged into the only two celestial bodies until the greedy serpent consumed them both.

The crimson snake consumed everything except for one final item.

Its body rose high, its scarlet skin emitting glorious light. Flames and dark gold shimmered as Belli swung the scalpel down, and the crimson snake swallowed Bologue whole.

Rather than being swallowed, it felt more like crashing into Bologue, then splintering into scattered spray, yet these droplets weren’t constrained by gravity, flowing onto the ground instead, coalescing on Bologue’s body surface and encasing him like in red amber.

"First comes salt... the physical trial."

Bologue whispered in his mind, ready for what was coming next, when suddenly, the murky red liquid violently compressed, as if penetrating entirely into Bologue’s body.

After a brief calm, excruciating pain tore through Bologue’s body.

The power of the trial effortlessly exceeded the limits of the rectangular soul critical. Within Bologue’s body, dense, dark golden crystals formed, sprouting on joints and soft tissues, even breaking through the skin like seeds sprouting outwards.

Destruction and rebirth coexist.

As Bologue’s flesh was torn apart, the dark salt continually dissolved, and pure ether flowed into his body, bringing him closer to the secret source, gradually allowing his form to undergo etherealization.

Without pausing for a breath, another wave of agony struck Bologue’s heart, madly scorching his will with invisible flames.

Bologue knew this was the Trial of Sulfur, corresponding to will and spirit, with the intangible fire tempering his resolve.

Amidst the pain, chaotic visions flashed before Bologue’s eyes, while clamorous voices echoed in his mind.

There were voices of enemies and friends, some were Palmer’s ramblings, others were the roars of demons.

Amidst the mixed melody, the tyrant’s voice rose.

"How does one show devotion to a god?

Suffering! Endless suffering! Placing oneself in that infinite hell!"

Rarely, the tyrant spoke sensibly.

Wealth is not eternal, nor are vows reliable. Killing for a god might still result in betrayal.

Only one thing remains unchanged, and that is the believer themselves.

Precious, one-time-only life.

The believer suppresses their rationale, plunging into pain, proving their devotion through prolonged asceticism as they further self-harm that precious life.

Bologue suddenly had a strange thought; in his constant deaths and suffering, how he was different from those believers?

The only difference might be that he had no god to serve.

No... he had a god to serve, but rather than a god, Bologue preferred to describe Him with another term.

Devil.

"The time for your trial has arrived."

Belli whispered as the final trial exploded into effect.

Trial of Mercury.

The crimson serpent coiled around Bologue’s Alchemy Matrix, crossing the boundary between reality and illusion, directly interfering with Bologue’s soul. It delved deeper, reaching beneath the broken void.

The sensation was dreadful, as if a real snake was burrowing inside Bologue’s body. But more than the body, this feeling undoubtedly went deeper, triggering Bologue’s instinctive resistance.

But soon, all the pain vanished.

Not just the pain.

Bologue watched the golden dust suspended in the air, motionless yet reflecting myriad glows.

Belli stood in front of the operating table, holding a scalpel, her expression frozen, appearing somewhat comical.

Time... stood still.

Bologue was somewhat confused about the current situation, but when it came to time, his first thought was his Blessing: Time Reversing Axis. Yet, according to his deductions, it wasn’t time for a reset... he hadn’t even died.

This anomaly didn’t originate from his Blessing, but from this triple trial.

The frozen golden dust trembled slightly, which didn’t escape Bologue’s notice. He sharply looked at it, and the trembling intensified, as if time was about to break free from the force that bound it.

"You didn’t say this would happen."

Bologue muttered to himself, aware that Belli wouldn’t answer him at this moment.

He was caught in some kind of anomaly. Bologue had never heard of encountering such a scene during a triple trial. Or was it something unknown triggered by undertaking all three trials simultaneously?

Unknown, unknown, and still unknown, one following the other, unbearably frustrating.

Before Bologue could take any action, the flow of Ether resumed. It surged like a flood in an instant, shattering the stasis of time.

But the world did not return to the track Bologue expected, instead it plunged into another, more insane beginning.

The distortion started from the spatial dimension, stretching the golden dust into elongated strands, more precisely, all matter was stretched and elongated, turning into glowing lines in Bologue’s eyes.

Extending from one end to the other, with no visible start or end.

Even the operating table beneath him did not escape such distortion, followed by Bologue himself, witnessing his body transform into dense, monochrome, infinitely extending lines.

Bologue wanted to do something, but no matter how he resisted, his body refused to respond, as if it were a corpse.

The dazzling lines were woven together like tightly drawn bowstrings.

Release, shoot the arrow.

The infinitely extending lines reset in an instant, and Bologue’s eyes reflected the afterimage of that reset, then the things before him began to change and collapse rapidly.

A roaring train sped past his eyes, shattering the golden dust. Then the collapsed walls revealed the streets of Opus, the ground began to sink, and after the collapse, torrents surged forth. The Rhine River flowed across one land after another, swiftly reaching the end of the northern mountains.

Bologue’s mind started to go numb. Amid this mutation, the space he had just been in seemed truly drawn into a bowstring, shooting him forth like an arrow.

The scenes continued to intermingle and flash before his eyes; within seconds, his vision had reached the northern end of the Rhine River. But before Bologue could discern clearly, disruptive music blasted from his ears, shattering the tranquility of the green fields.

Bologue liked rock music, but this was hardly a good time to listen.

It was as if he’d crashed into a wall, dizzy and dazed, Bologue found himself at a frenzied party. He turned his head, and in front of him appeared a black-and-white screen. The people in the movie conversed, and then looked at him, reaching out from the screen, breaking the boundary of the story...

Everything he saw felt like a mad montage.

The cacophony gradually receded, and the chaotic scenes began to dim. Yet following this decline, pairs of crimson eyes emerged, and massive black silhouettes towered like mountains, encircling Bologue completely.

Bologue was the delicacy on the table, and these unknown presences were the invited guests, scanning him with greedy eyes, ready to carve him up and feast upon him.

In the maddening chaos, Bologue could distinctly feel these chaotic entities casting their gaze upon him.

He had been noticed, something dreadful was about to happen, and Bologue was powerless to resist it all.

A fear surpassing death erupted in Bologue’s heart. Just as everything edged towards its end, a blazing white light burst forth, like a rising sun, obliterating all the silhouettes, transforming them into wisps of smoke that faded into nothingness.

The agitated heart found serenity. Bologue looked towards the end of this table, where in the main seat, pure, holy white light radiated streams of light, like luminous currents, at the edge of darkness, converging into a blazing white storm.

Bologue gazed at it for a long time until an equally brilliant white storm was reflected in his eyes.