Volume 2

Chapter 52: The Self-Disintegrating Miss Zege

“The fluctuations of ether have weakened,” Anselm said, sipping his wine.

“It seems the cleanup is done… Arlo’s floating cannons are quite suited for such situations.”

Even without watching or listening to what was happening, the two future divine beings seated here sensed the changes in that area.

Or rather… though they didn’t look or listen, their senses had always lingered there—Ivora out of impatience, and Anselm out of caution.

Sulun clearly didn’t understand her sister well enough.

For Ivora, there was nothing beneath her to do.

If she wanted something, she would do it.

“Speaking of floating cannons… how’s the progress on mass-producing them?” Anselm turned to Ivora.

“Not bad. We’ve got about twenty thousand units so far.”

Ivora casually dropped a number that would make anyone’s scalp tingle: “But their performance is mediocre. They’re barely useful in battles above the fourth tier… I overestimated them. For higher levels, the mechanized armor from the Ether Academy seems more practical.”

“You want to mass-produce alchemical weapons capable of defeating fourth-tier transcendents?”

Anselm chuckled: “That’s a bit unrealistic, Ivora.”

“Oh, your little puppet can’t do it either?” Ivora raised an eyebrow.

“Hm… that’s hard to say.”

“…Are you serious?”

Now it was the Grand Princess’s turn to be surprised.

She studied Anselm’s smiling expression for a moment before asking suddenly:

“Anselm, I’ve always been curious. What exactly do you see in Mingfuluo? Just her abilities?”

Propping her cheek, Ivora swirled her wine glass, her sharp, alluring eyes narrowing: “Alchemical talent, creative genius… heh, do you really need that?”

“Why not? A skilled alchemist is one of the world’s most valuable assets.”

Anselm raised an eyebrow: “Compared to sorcerers who merely study theories and explore magic, they at least produce something tangible, don’t they?”

“Before you say that, mind telling me who your father is?”

The Grand Princess smirked: “Flamel Hydra, the greatest alchemist in history. If you have needs in that area, what can’t he solve?”

“Not to mention, I don’t believe you lack talent in that regard, Anselm.”

She swirled her wine glass, tilting her chin slightly: “You can do anything, can’t you?”

“There’s no such thing as someone who can do everything, Ivora.”

Anselm gazed at the wine in his glass, his tone calm: “Not my father, not your mother.”

“Here you go again…”

Ivora rolled her eyes.

Even such a common gesture carried an air of lofty elegance.

Everything the Grand Princess did revolved around her absolute self, but undeniably… since birth, she had strived tirelessly to become a worthy ruler, embracing it wholeheartedly.

“Where does that inexplicable heaviness of yours come from, Anselm?”

Ivora leaned forward slightly, gazing at the boy’s handsome face, reaching out to touch it, only for Anselm to catch her hand.

“I prefer to call it necessary rationality,” Anselm said with a smile, releasing her hand. “It’s good for everyone.”

“Hmph.”

Ivora scoffed dismissively: “I don’t need that, because I don’t need to be good to everyone.”

She crossed her legs, tilting her head back to drink deeply, her crimson lips glistening with a seductive allure only Anselm could appreciate.

“Everything,” the ruthless future empress said with a blazing, self-centered smile, “exists to benefit me. That’s the Empire. That’s the value of everyone’s existence.”

Anselm looked at Ivora for a long while, his playful gaze gradually making the latter feel uneasy.

“What’s with… that look of yours?”

Ivora slightly furrowed her brow: “Are you mocking me?”

“No.” Anselm shook his head, saying meaningfully, “I just hope you understand one thing, Ivora—many times, the calamities people face don’t come from external malice, but simply… from their own actions.”

“I feel like you’re just indirectly insulting me.”

Though she said this, the Grand Princess’s brows relaxed slightly: “But I don’t mind this bit of willfulness from you, Anselm. Your whimsical ideas are within my tolerance… Oh, I see.”

Ivora showed a look of realization: “I hadn’t thought much about it before, but now, sitting down and chatting with you, it’s not hard to guess the reason—your little doll, in the realm of fanciful ideas, shares quite a bit of common ground with you, doesn’t she?”

“Am I the kind of person who would pay attention to someone for such a trivial reason?” Anselm countered.

Ivora paused, then burst into cheerful laughter: “You’re right! If there isn’t enough value, you won't take action. The term ‘idealist’ has nothing to do with you. Now that I think about it… you and that little doll, whose mind seems a bit broken, are fundamentally different.”

The topic seemed to circle back to the starting point—if so, what value did Mingfuluo possess that Anselm deemed worthy?

He certainly didn’t lack alchemical talent, and as for skilled alchemical assistants, that was even less of an issue.

But at that moment, Anselm suddenly chuckled softly.

He tilted his head slightly, gazing into Ivora’s eyes:

“Why are you so intent on probing what use Mingfuluo has to me, Ivora? What are you trying to test?”

“You seem… quite covetous of that thing.”

What Anselm referred to was clear to both of them—it could only be the alchemical swarm, Nidhogg, that Mingfuluo had just displayed.

The young Hydra set down his wine glass, propped his cheek with one hand, and said with a sly smile: “What, are you suggesting she’s of no real use to me, and then planning to use something to take her from my hands?”

“Tch… why are you always so sharp and cunning?”

Ivora frowned: “My probing was perfectly normal; there shouldn’t have been any flaws.”

This had nothing to do with flaws.

It was simply that the Grand Princess, by saying those words, had been led to think in this direction—an outcome deliberately guided by Anselm’s subtle exaggeration of Mingfuluo’s talents.

Anselm naturally wouldn’t answer this question, only smiling as he said: “So, you really want her, don’t you?”

“To be precise… it’s that unique alchemical device.”

Since the matter was out in the open, Ivora stopped pretending: “That thing is very interesting. I do want it. Can you give it to me, Anselm?”

“You can go find Arlo yourself,” Anselm said leisurely.

“But she’s yours,” Ivora stated.

“As long as you agree, that’s enough, isn’t it? Let’s make a deal, like we always have.”

“I’ve never liked forcing others to do anything. If you can get Arlo’s consent, I’ll agree to the deal.”

“You’re… such a hassle.”

Ivora set down her wine glass as well, crossing her arms with some displeasure: “Your little doll has quite a few grudges against me. With you as her backer, why would she agree to anything I propose? If you want to refuse, just say so, Anselm.”

“Who said I’m refusing?”

The young Hydra said meaningfully: “And what makes you think Arlo would definitely refuse you?”

“Hmph, you want me to bribe her? Besides those delusions in her head, what else does she care about? Are you saying I should help her realize those delusions? Anselm, you really are—”

Ivora’s expression grew cold.

She looked at the silent, smiling Anselm, initially speaking with an indifferent tone, but halfway through, she suddenly stopped.

Mingfuluo Zege—did this person, who cared so much about her impractical delusions and the Babel Tower that carried them, truly have nothing else she valued?

“Zege…”

The Grand Princess murmured to herself, her eyes gradually lighting up.

“Speaking of which, I never really paid attention to how that old thing died.”

She shifted her gaze to Anselm’s face, her tone slightly rising: “Anselm, do you think our little doll would care about that information?”

“That’s all your speculation.”

Anselm picked up his wine glass again, taking a sip and chuckling with an air of detachment:

“It has nothing to do with me, does it?”

This was the gift Anselm had prepared for Mingfuluo.

A safer way, one that wouldn’t endanger her life, to obtain the answers she so desperately sought.

Otherwise, why would Anselm deliberately wait until Mingfuluo had showcased Nidhogg before stopping Ivora’s probing?

As for the cost…

It was merely a trivial thing, something she had already paid countless times—just continuing to sell her soul and beliefs… a small price.

The venomous snake stared at the wine in his glass, whispering in his heart:Accept this gift well, Arlo.

***

When Mingfuluo arrived at Hitana’s location, the girl was squatting by a stream, washing her face.

“Oh, you’re here.”

Hitana turned her head, her eyes slightly widening.

Her already watery pupils now looked even more dewy, brimming with liveliness: “Did you take care of everything?”

“There were a few left, but they suddenly lost their ability to move, so I guessed you’d finished the hunt.”

Mingfuluo shifted her gaze to Hitana’s surroundings.

“So, where’s the lesser species of the Callers of the Deep?”

“Haha, right here!”

The girl sprang to her feet, shaking her head to fling off the water droplets from her face and hair.

With immense pride, she tilted her head high, one hand on her hip and pulled out a translucent blue jellyfish from… her pocket?

“This is it! Completely dead!”

Hitana held the eerie lifeform capable of manipulating living beings as if it were a soft ball, her casual demeanor suggesting she didn’t even consider it a divine species.

“This is… a Caller of the Deep?” Mingfuluo stared at the translucent blue jellyfish in Hitana’s hand.

“A jellyfish?”

“Don’t let its softness fool you. When I caught it, it jumped right at my face—disgusting!”

Hitana rubbed her cheek with a look of distaste: “I almost couldn’t resist squashing it. If there was no corpse, I wouldn’t have anything to show off to Anselm.”

“How did you… kill it without using physical means?”

“Well…” The future Beast King scratched her head. “I poured some Ether into its body, and it just dropped dead.”

As she spoke, faint red-black currents flickered around Hitana’s body.

When she killed Conrad, Hitana had gained a deeper understanding of how to control and manipulate the flow of external Ether, and now she wielded it with ease.

Mingfuluo fell silent. Her mind flashed back to the massive corpse she had seen on her way here—a five-meter-tall black-furred gorilla, clearly the Caller of the Deep’s final desperate struggle.

But the result was that Hitana had beaten it to death, leaving behind a corpse with half its body obliterated.

This was… Hitana’s power, a strength even Anselm acknowledged.

No, it wasn’t just strength.

Though she hadn’t spent much time with Hitana, this overly pure girl was too easy to read. Her character was laid bare before Mingfuluo.

Loyal, steadfast, sincere… there was a reason Anselm valued her, perhaps even liked her.

Mingfuluo quietly watched Hitana, who was now fiddling with the Caller’s corpse, muttering about how to boast to Anselm and how much fun she’d had.

Her eyes sparkled like the brightest stars in the night sky.

Mingfuluo realized this was a good opportunity.

Since Anselm trusted Hitana so much, did that mean… Hitana might know Anselm’s secrets?

Even Marina had learned that information, albeit from Anselm’s mother.

If Hitana and Anselm were truly that close… there was no reason she’d be completely unaware.

Since the opportunity was here, she had to seize it.

If there was a misunderstanding, she’d resolve it immediately, address the issue, rather than let it fester—that was Mingfuluo’s way.

“Hitana.”

Mingfuluo took a deep breath.

At this moment, no one was watching and Anselm didn’t know her thoughts.

It was as if the heavens were helping her with this inquiry.

Even if Hitana later told Anselm about her question, it was entirely different from Anselm finding out directly.

“…Huh?” Hitana stuffed the Caller’s corpse back into her pocket, tilting her head.

“What’s up?”

“I want to ask you something.”

Mingfuluo stared intently into Hitana’s eyes, enunciating each word:

“Is there anything in this world that could force Anselm to change?”

“!”

Hitana’s expression changed instantly, but almost instinctively, she denied it: “W-What are you talking about? Are you crazy? Who in this world… Who could force Anselm? Are you talking about the Empress?”

“…No, I understand. Thank you, Hitana.”

The answer was clear.

This girl, who couldn’t hide her emotions, had written the answer on her face.

The words Marina had once told her, which she had verified as no lie, were now confirmed beyond doubt.

Mingfuluo’s trembling hand struggled to push up her glasses.

Her vision blurred into a white haze, her limbs felt weak, and her ears were filled with static.

As time passed, the static morphed into a heartbeat—dull, increasingly rapid.

When she came to, Mingfuluo realized she was panting heavily.

[Mr. Anselm was forced to give up something very important to him.]

It was… true.

—Something even more terrifying had coerced Anselm, forced him to abandon something precious. And that precious thing… could it be everything they had once experienced, the promises they had made?

If so—

In that moment, the emptiness and confusion in Mingfuluo’s heart reached its peak.

What had all her resentment, hostility, and turmoil over these three years been for?

From the beginning, constantly reaching out to Anselm, hoping to get answers, holding onto faint hopes, to reunite with him, deciphering his plans, opposing him relentlessly, becoming increasingly passive and numb, until now.

Through all this time, the negative emotions she harbored toward Anselm… What were they?

What had she done?

The emptiness and confusion weren’t the only things reaching their peak.

There was also the overwhelming regret, threatening to consume her entirely.