Though Yvette had emerged victorious in the end, the experience left her feeling far from triumphant.

From the moment she first faced the Six-Armed Demon, she had been pondering how to kill this fast-moving third-phase aberration, which seemed virtually impossible to capture. Thus, she devised a plan to use herself as bait, limiting its movement and blasting it up close. Thɪs chapter is updatᴇd by NovєlFіre.net

But as is well known, theory and practice are worlds apart. A plan built solely on imagination inevitably encounters unforeseen complications in execution.

For example, in her desperation to guarantee 100% lethality, she poured all her mana into the attack, leaving herself little room for error. Moreover, the explosive force of the elemental convergence was so vast and indiscriminate that her own magical defenses had been shattered.

So, when the eruption ceased, the only remnants of the annihilated Six-Armed Demon were its small mana core propelled far away, while Yvette herself plummeted to the ground like a basketball, crashing into the terrain and creating a deep pit amidst the flesh carpet and earth.

As the dust settled, Yvette lay in the center of the pit, her clothes torn, blood staining her form, face smeared with grime. However, her dark red eyes retained a calmness, resembling a machine devoid of emotion.

Struggling to rise, she swayed unsteadily toward the corpse of the Mist Beast—knowing the mana core from the Six-Armed Demon had flown off, she needed to extract the core from the Mist Beast, or the “Regeneration Pump” would no longer contain the spread of aberrant factors.

Plans often fail to keep pace with reality, and overthinking is never enough; execution falters too. In the future, she would have to leave more safety nets… she reflected, feeling as though her bones were splintering, every movement inducing sharp pain that made her wince.

But just then, a heavy footfall alerted her.

Turning, she saw that the Tide Insect Queen had somehow risen once more, and the murderous intent emanating from its six crimson eyes made her gut clench.

During the earlier battle, she had failed to deliver the finishing blow to the Tide Insect Queen due to the emergence of the Six-Armed Demon. In the heat of the fight, both she and the Six-Armed Demon had momentarily forgotten about the previously motionless Tide Insect Queen, who still appeared to be alive.

Of course, the Tide Insect Queen was in poor condition herself. She had been healing, marred by cracks all over her body, likely dealt by the Six-Armed Demon, and then further blasted by Yvette’s spells. Her massive insectoid lower half was burnt and broken, oozing thick pus as she advanced.

But that clearly didn’t hinder her from becoming the opportunist in this moment.

How unlucky… Yvette’s heart sank deeper. She had faced the “Mechanical Tyrant,” “Night Stalker Demon,” “Mist Beast,” “Tide Insect Queen,” and a formidable opponent in the form of the “Six-Armed Demon,” yet had only managed to retrieve the mana core from the Night Stalker Demon, yielding a paltry extra 20 points of mana. The rest of the cores were either unavailable or simply lost, leaving her drained, unable even to handle a half-dead Tide Insect Queen; it felt like the worst possible luck.

She halted, staring at the advancing Tide Insect Queen, motionless, as if awaiting death. Just as the Queen’s humanoid face twisted into a cruel smile, her hand thrust a blue-white, faintly glowing runic ring into its mouth.

In an instant, the Tide Insect Queen’s grin froze, and she was struck through by brilliant lightning, collapsing slowly to the ground.

At the same moment, Yvette felt her body lose the last of its supporting strength, crumpling softly onto the ground.

This was the last bit of mana she spent by sacrificing the continuity of the Regeneration Pump.

Now, the dark and cruel aberrant factors surged through every vein of her body, coursing and ravaging, invading and assimilating.

This marked the signal that she was nearing the end of her life.

…

The sky darkened, heavy clouds pressing ominously against the horizon as furious winds howled through the mountains, lifting clouds of dried leaves and dust, heralding an impending storm.

Amid the withered forest, Rosalyn panted as she dispatched a few approaching aberrations with her alloy blade, wiping sweat from her brow. Though fatigue etched across her features, her eyes sparkled with vitality.

After defeating the Shepherd Sheep, she surprisingly felt quite well; although her mana was depleted, she had managed to collect the core it dropped, nearly replenishing her battle capacity to its peak.

Such excellent performance would surely please her teacher, wouldn’t it? She would definitely receive praise!

Ah!

To gain recognition from her teacher, who also served as her guardian and idol, would be the greatest happiness in this world!

By the way, I wonder how things are going on teacher’s side? The sudden clearing of the fog must have meant she was doing well, right…?

Rosalyn then checked her condition.

She had refreshed her vigor, but had encountered several second and first-phase aberrations. Her mana stood at around forty or fifty points. However, the energy reserve of her alloy blade had been depleted, significantly affecting her effectiveness—she was now at only a third of her peak capacity.

The magitek skateboard had been damaged during combat; her future journey would depend solely on her two legs.

Oh, she also had a few elemental bombs in her waist pouch. But their power was similar to regular spells; at most, they served as signals for “Help,” “Warning,” “Retreat,” and “Victory” by launching into the air using red, yellow, blue, and green.

However, the lack of any signal flares exploding above indicated that her teacher must also be entangled in a fierce battle.

Could it be that the “Lord” had successfully emerged?

With anxious speculation about the tense situation and concern for her teacher, she sped through the now crimson-tinted forest, reaching an open area covered in a flesh carpet.

Then she beheld the slumped, enormous corpse of the Tide Insect Queen, alongside the frail, worn silver-haired figure that looked as though the winds could snap it in two.

“Teacher!!!” Her pupils contracted momentarily, and she instinctively dashed over, embracing her teacher tightly.

It seemed her urgent call had worked; after a moment, she saw her teacher’s eyelids flicker open slightly, revealing dim, lifeless red irises.

“Teacher, how are you? Are you alright?” Although she had only a sliver of mana left, she didn’t hesitate to grasp her teacher’s hand, palm to palm, attempting to transfer mana—unfortunately, the Regeneration Pump was a continuous self-cast skill and could not be applied to others.

But unexpectedly, her teacher did not receive it.

“The aberrant factors in my body have exceeded the limits of the Regeneration Pump; they have spread too far,” her teacher spoke softly, the content striking Rosalyn like a thunderclap.

She understood what that meant; even one as strong as her teacher could not fend off the erosion of such a sinister entity.

Her eyes instantly welled with tears, her chest weighed down by the idea. Then she listened as her teacher spoke in a placid tone, devoid of concern for her own life, “I will try to contain the aberration, but you must leave here at once.”

Before her words concluded, a chilling rustling sounded from all directions. Although the Tide Insect Queen was dead, the Nest remained alive; without a master, it could still issue commands to call forth a horde of lesser aberrations.

Clearly, if they did not flee, they would perish beneath a tide of aberrations, devoured and left with nothing but bones.

“I will bring you back,” Rosalyn vowed earnestly.

“Think it over,” her teacher replied, looking at her. “You still have family, still have a chance to go home.”

The mention of home caused a tremor in Rosalyn’s heart.

Yet in just a heartbeat, that flicker of doubt vanished. She fell silent, hoisting her teacher’s fragile body on her back, securing her with one arm while tightly clutching the cold blade’s hilt with the other, dashing toward the predetermined retreat route.

—that was the route planned before their mission, a path suitable for retreat leading to an abandoned town, where a magitek motorcycle awaited.

With the swarm of insects approaching from behind, there were few aberrations along her escape route. The few stragglers leaping out from the shadows were easily swatted aside.

But even so, given her current condition, it still posed a high level of difficulty. Carrying her teacher hindered her movement while potential enemies could emerge from every direction. In addition to the swarm behind her, flying aberrations could also emerge above, bombarding the ground with caustic acid, forcing her into a frantic struggle to evade them.

Gradually, the clouds above thickened, coalescing into impenetrable blocks of darkness, heralding that the long-awaited storm was about to unleash its fury.

As she rounded a bend in the valley, a downward slope appeared before her. Rosalyn slipped, tumbling down the incline and rolling several times, her forehead colliding with a jagged stone, involuntarily letting out a muffled groan of pain.

Yet there was no time to dwell on her own suffering; suppressing the pain, she struggled to her feet, rushing to check on her teacher’s condition. She found the silver-haired girl’s eyes firmly closed, her chest rising and falling no more—like a shattered doll abandoned by the world, with no sign of life aside from the rapidly spreading gray-black within her skin.

“Teacher…?”

There was no response.

In that instant, time seemed to freeze. Rosalyn felt her heart seize violently, the rainwater flowing into her eyes blurred her vision.

She could not yet bring herself to believe her teacher might be gone, just like a child who had lost her parents in an accident, still clinging to the hope that tomorrow her parents would call her to wake up.

The six years spent alongside her teacher exceeded a third of her life, and in her heart, her teacher was more than just an instructor—she was an idol, a benefactor, and a family member. She was unprepared for, and had no idea how to face a world without her teacher, a desolate, silent world where she would be utterly alone.

A sound of despair, unlike any she had ever emitted before, escaped her lips, her bony fingers tightening around the hilt of her alloy blade, drawing it forth with a glint, slicing through the frigid rain and weeping wind.

As she shoved back wave after wave of aberrations, she fell exhausted to her knees next to her teacher’s body, outstretching her hand to wipe the dirt off her teacher’s face.

Amidst her growing haziness, a relieved smile formed on her lovely cheeks.

She thought, if fate were to claim her teacher today, then let it take her along too. Her teacher always was so lazy, so carefree, unable to even cook or wake up without being called—she would surely struggle alone in the realm of the dead and would need someone to tend to her.

So—

She would remain here, forever in this place, until her blood soaked the cursed ground, until her marrow drained away, until her soul’s flicker extinguished in the cold wind, transforming into two skeletons that nestled against one another in abandonment.

The winds would carry their story away, sharing it with the next traveler from another world.