Volume 2

Chapter 85 : The Assassin, the Despiser

The impact of that game faded silently with the passage of time.

The miracle land, stripped of the enhancement potion, could no longer produce miracles, returning to its former quiet mediocrity, its… unchanging state.

The grand debate that drew Ivora’s attention vanished inexplicably, as if it had never happened, never existed, erased from the conversations of the powerful.

At this moment, Helen, in the Alchemical Association, gave no thought to this matter, nor would she likely consider it in the future.

She was visiting the president of the Alchemical Association, Para Selsus, loyally executing Anselm’s request—to create the second phase of mechanized armor, the ether armaments, for Ivora.

The entire Empire, the entire world, only she and Anselm held the knowledge to create these fantastical weapons, but due to her limitations, Helen needed at least three top-tier alchemists to turn the concept into reality.

“So, Miss Zege hopes I’ll assist you in completing this… ether armament?”

Para Selsus rubbed his brow, “From a design perspective, this is… a remarkable fantasy.”

“Forcibly elevating a transcendent’s perception and understanding of ether and elements to achieve an alternative ‘sublimation.’ You should be well aware of the risks, Miss Zege.”

The alchemical master, known for his gentle and approachable demeanor, looked serious, “Based on the principles you described, this pushes the user toward the abyss. Those who walk the Celestial Path risk falling into it, and transcendents already treading the abyss will be further consumed… Why are you creating such a weapon?”

Helen’s answer was simple and direct, “Because Her Highness the Grand Princess needs it.”

Para opened his mouth, momentarily speechless, his expression shifting from serious to helpless and troubled.

The old man sighed deeply, “If that’s the case, I have nothing to say. So… you’re here on behalf of Her Highness the Grand Princess?”

“I don’t represent Her Highness.”

Beneath gray-white glasses, her dim, glossy-less purple eyes narrowed slightly, “I only stand with His Excellency Anselm.”

“Then why—”

“Don’t you want to create it yourself?”

Helen interrupted Para, asking calmly:

“Surpassing the insurmountable limits of transcendents means the infinite possibilities of ‘creation.’”

Most sorcerers in this world have only one path: to perish on the road to truth.

And alchemists, the elite among sorcerers, are the most obsessed with this pursuit.

After all, nothing approaches truth more than creation.

Para’s renewed silence proved he was indeed tempted.

In fact, Helen had already found two top-tier alchemists willing to contribute to creating the ether armaments.

After studying her design concepts and detailed plans, they agreed almost immediately.

Alchemists like Para were the minority, and someone like Erlin Zege was downright unthinkable.

“I… need to think it over.”

After a long pause, the Alchemical Association’s president sighed, “I admit I can’t resist this temptation, Miss Zege. But… my instincts tell me that ether armament will unleash a destructive storm.”

The old man looked at the “Mingfuluo Zege” before him, whose aura and demeanor had fundamentally changed, “Like the ether-driven firearm you created three years ago.”

Helen didn’t respond, only nodding slightly, “I respect your choice, Your Excellency Selsus. But if possible, please give me your answer soon.”

With that, she stood and calmly left Para’s office.

Gazing at the scholar’s petite silhouette, Para’s brows furrowed deeply.

“What… happened to Miss Zege?”

“Ether armaments…”

He closed his eyes, recalling what Mingfuluo had discussed with him, his fingers trembling slightly.

“It’s definitely not something she could conceive alone.”

Opening his eyes, Para muttered to himself, “And getting involved in the conflict between Ivora and Anselm… Erlin’s granddaughter, do you know what you’re doing?”

He looked toward Babel Tower’s direction, pondering for a long time, then decided to contact Hendrik.

Para hadn’t wanted to stir trouble, but his past acquaintance with Erlin and his admiration for the brilliantly talented Mingfuluo Zege swayed him in that fleeting moment.

“The struggle between divine seeds, where even a breath could shatter outsiders, transcendent or not… Let your elders guide you.”

With Anselm’s support, Babel Tower gained superior technology and vast resources, growing more confident in its partnership with the Alchemical Association, which was delighted to gain such a promising collaborator.

From whatever angle, Para did not wish for Babel Tower’s development to face sudden mishaps.

However…

For Mingfuluo, who inherited Erlin’s will, no matter what, she would never actively put Babel Tower in peril, would she?

***

Within the advanced alchemical workshop, Helen’s dull eyes reflected countless swirling, minute black specks.

“Base strength increased by twenty-seven percent, ether fluidity enhanced by thirty-five percent, total unit count increased…”

“…Has it hit a bottleneck?”

Helen removed her glasses, gently caressing the Nidhogg swarm floating in midair, sinking into thought.

To help Anselm, she needed to gain power; preparations for advancing to the fourth tier were already underway, yet merely reaching the fourth tier was far from enough.

Though she had not yet learned from Anselm what exactly threatened him, in Helen’s view, it could only be the Empress.

The issue circled back to something she had been pondering for some time—how to create a weapon capable of slaying a god.

But now, compared to before, Helen no longer needed to consider anything extraneous, nor did she feel the slightest distress.

Freed from all burdens, she could devote herself entirely to the task.

Nidhogg held limitless potential; developed to its extreme, it might even rival the unattainable third-stage mechanized armor, or perhaps…

“…”

Helen’s brows furrowed unwittingly, and she clutched her head, murmuring instinctively: “Why… can’t I think of it all of a sudden?”

The moment her thoughts began to flow, an invisible barrier abruptly cut them off.

She could only watch as inspiration slipped away, unable to recall what she had intended to think next.

She stared at the Nidhogg swarm before her for a while, then shook her head, dismissing the oddity as a sign of her soul’s healing.

Though… the duration felt strangely prolonged, far exceeding the time Lady Myron had mentioned, her memories were indeed gradually returning, growing more complete.

It wouldn’t be long before they fully restored, she supposed.

“Knowledge is still too scarce.”

The alchemist who best understood Nidhogg’s workings in the world murmured: “Too scarce.”

Even as an alchemist, Helen’s reserves of transcendent knowledge were vast enough to astound, yet she still felt what she knew was far too little.

Perhaps a new design to make Nidhogg tougher, or a method to trigger its qualitative transformation through energy supply, or…

As she pondered, Helen recalled Nidhogg into her bracelet, whispering: “As long as I can solve Father’s problem, then—”

Her words halted as a blood mark appeared on her face.

—Had she not tilted her head in time, it wouldn’t have been just a blood mark.

“…”

Helen, her body flickering with a transparent barrier, gazed at the scene before her, her pupils slightly constricting.

Nidhogg… was not under her control.

The countless mechanical insects, nearly invisible to the naked eye, danced wildly in midair, refusing to return to her bracelet as she willed.

The fierce, invisible strike that had aimed to pierce her skull had come from Nidhogg.

Helen silently retreated, four floating cannons materializing behind her, their glowing muzzles signaling readiness to unleash firepower.

Nidhogg could not go berserk—when Helen created it, she had ensured soul-binding.

Nidhogg was an extension of her body, absolutely obedient to her.

Under normal circumstances, there should be no possibility of it going out of control.

But now—

Boom!

The floating cannon above Helen’s left shoulder exploded without warning.

Mechanical fragments and blazing flames were blocked by her transparent barrier.

Before she could react, three near-simultaneous explosions resounded.

In perhaps the blink of an eye, all four floating cannons were destroyed.

“No other tricks left?”

A hoarse, grating voice, almost unpleasant to hear, echoed in the alchemical workshop.

It was as if someone who hadn’t spoken in dozens or hundreds of days was forcing words out.

Helen wasn’t foolish enough to ask who this unseen intruder was.

Instead, she immediately tried to control Nidhogg, but her will, cast into the vast swarm of alchemical insects, sank like a stone into the sea.

“The correct choice would be to call your elders.”

As the mysterious figure spoke again, Helen saw the wildly dancing Nidhogg transform into tiny, indestructible blades.

How could he fully dominate Nidhogg, with such precise manipulation?

“At least three fifth-tier transcendents could rush to your aid here, yet you haven’t even thought of seeking help.

What… even with your life at stake, you refuse any further entanglement with them?”

The blades formed by Nidhogg easily tore through Helen’s activated defense field, rendering the invisible barrier useless.

Just as the storm of blades was about to shred Helen entirely, a red-black iron wall appeared out of nowhere before her.

“…You learn quickly.”

Helen, who had blocked the assault with a barrier formed from the few Nidhogg she could still control, finally spoke, her dull purple eyes devoid of emotional fluctuation: “Since you know the risks, why dare to come kill me?”

“Risks? Only what’s possible counts as a risk, and you… clearly won’t do that.”

Even the Nidhogg Helen controlled began to “waver.”

Her soul-bound alchemical creation was being plundered as if it were a mere trinket on a table.

Nidhogg had appeared in that war, and many in Babel Tower knew of it.

It wouldn’t be surprising if this mysterious figure attacked Helen with something akin to Nidhogg.

But this assassin… could fully dominate Nidhogg, which was soul-bound to Helen.

In this world, only Father surpassed her in understanding Nidhogg.

He could do this, but he had no reason to.

So… a highly skilled soul sorcerer?

But if his goal was to kill her, what was the point of saying those things earlier?

Her thoughts raced, but the opponent’s assault didn’t pause her pondering.

The Nidhogg, once utterly docile in her hands, now unleashed unprecedented violence against its master.

“Truly ugly.”

The hoarse whisper echoed in the workshop: “Your eyes hold nothing of value.”

“Might as well dig them out.”

The dense, black insect swarm, under the mysterious figure’s command, surged forward, nearly piercing Helen’s eyes to shred and devour her dim yet still splendid purple irises.

The defenses Helen struggled to maintain were pierced like thin paper.

Or rather… The Nidhogg she mobilized had been turned against her by the mysterious figure, leaving her with no choice but to be slaughtered.

Even so, you refuse any further contact with them.

The mysterious figure’s tone was cold and disdainful, yet Helen, as he said, made no move to seek help, even in this dire state.

But the Nidhogg, poised to destroy her eyes, suddenly froze before her pupils.

“You’re lucky.”

The mysterious figure’s harsh voice sounded again: “But you won’t always be. Be ready at all times, doll.”

“I’ll destroy you, who shouldn’t exist in this world, for…”

“You too believe you’re a meaningless, redundant existence.”

The next moment, all the Nidhogg hovering before Helen vanished.

The prototype of the weapon she had poured endless effort into was taken as easily as a roadside pebble.

Yet what stirred emotion in Helen’s dull eyes wasn’t the mysterious figure’s uncanny power but the words he left behind.

Such… audacious nonsense.

Helen’s trembling body exhaled, grinding down and concealing the uncontrollable emotions in her eyes.

The reborn Miss Helen breathed softly, not losing control over words that struck her deepest pain but instead calming herself as quickly as possible.

He knows much… he’s targeting me in these ways.

Few know these things, and they have no reason to anger Father, unless—

Is it Ivora, or the Empress, or…

Or… a test from Father?

At this thought, Helen’s breath and emotions grew even calmer.

To her, if this was Anselm’s test, if it was a trial set by the father who gave her a home, guiding her false, designed life toward a true purpose, then… there was no issue.

Rather, it was perfect.

Having found her place, Helen didn’t yet know how to prove her worth and ability to the one who gave her that place.

If this was Anselm’s test, then… she had no reason to fail.

If it’s Father’s test, I need to deduce what he wants.

From the assassin’s words and actions… Why did he just leave?

As Helen pondered, the alchemical workshop’s door was abruptly opened without her consent, and Hendrik rushed in, his expression anxious: “Mingfuluo… What happened?

Ether Armament, Ivora… What's going on?

Do you know what you’re doing!”

“…”

Helen merely looked expressionlessly at the man, her grandfather’s most trusted student, the one who… personally severed her grandfather’s head.

The intelligence and truth in that scroll killed Mingfuluo and birthed Helen.

For that, Helen was grateful to Hendrik, but… only that much.

She wanted no further connection with this remnant of her burdensome past.

Stared at this by Helen, Hendrik’s steps slowed.

He opened his mouth, his expression shifting from anxiety to bitterness.

“Ming… Mingfuluo, I don’t mean anything else, just… Why are you helping Ivora? Mr. Para told me you seem to…”

“It’s none of your business.”

Helen replied coldly, tossing all the floating cannon fragments into the furnace, creating the illusion she had merely been crafting tools.

And Hendrik, indeed, noticed nothing, though her words sparked some anger in him.

But that anger, barely risen, turned into a stifling knot in his chest, unable to be expressed.

He could only advise helplessly: “We’re working for His Excellency Anselm.

Everything we have is given by His Excellency Anselm… how could you help Her Highness Ivora!

Everyone knows the conflict between them!

What if… what if you anger His Excellency Anselm!”

“Babel Tower… Babel Tower might face dangers even greater than before!”

“…So?”

Helen gazed at the fragments melting into molten iron in the furnace, her tone unchanged.

“Does Babel Tower’s danger concern me?”

Hendrik was stunned.

He stared blankly at the petite figure before the furnace, unable to speak for a long time.

When he came to, regret, pain, sorrow, anger, helplessness… a mix of emotions rendered his words feeble: “Mingfuluo, how could you—”

“An organization that abandoned the brightest future, deeming its a reasonable weakness.”

Helen tilted her head slightly, her dull, lifeless purple eyes silently conveying her weariness, her irritation, her… disdain.

“A workshop that merely bound and manipulated me, piecing me together into a false image.”

“Hendrik…”

She, who had cast aside her past, said: “Why would you think I have any attachment to this place?”

If Father hadn’t required me to live as my former self, I wouldn’t even be here.

From the start, Babel Tower held no meaning or value… just like the old me.

Only Father… can lead me to the right path.