Volume 2

Chapter 93 : The Conclusion of Three Years, Part Five

[Universal Transcendence], the mad dream that made Erlin Zege an enemy of nearly all sorcerers, ostracized, and led to his fall from a world-class alchemical master.

Erlin only found the direction, created a prototype, but couldn’t advance further.

He knew that was his limit; his intellect and ability didn’t allow him to touch higher realms.

Thus… he placed all his hopes on his granddaughter, who possessed unparalleled talent, using his death to shape Mingfuluo into a monster absolutely loyal to her ideal, unshaken by any external force.

So, how could one achieve this rebellious, seemingly impossible dream that defied the principles of the extraordinary?

For mortals to ascend to the extraordinary, there were only two paths: one through the Celestial Path, methodically achieving a transformation of life’s essence, and the other, naturally, plunging into the abyss for self-awakening.

Both paths came with extremely stringent conditions.

The Celestial Path required the aptitude for transcendence, which wasn’t innately determined.

Since its creation, various rituals and special items could grant mortals this aptitude or even directly transform them into transcendents, like the Concordant Church’s Water of Redemption.

But the problem was that these rituals and items were so rare and costly that they posed an even harsher restriction than innate aptitude.

And even in mortal families, where a one-in-ten-thousand chance to change fate produced a child born with transcendent aptitude, they still might not escape their shackles.

The Celestial Path was an artificial route to transcendence. Rituals, materials, resources… Most “ordinary” transcendents could only advance further by selling themselves to more powerful transcendents.

Transcendents who plunged into the abyss, while free from the complex constraints of the Celestial Path, faced even harsher demands on their aptitude.

As true “orthodox” transcendents, they gained knowledge and power to shed their mortality through direct contact with the abyss’s infinite world-origin information.

Without an innately powerful soul, as Anselm demonstrated to Hitana when explaining the Celestial Path and the abyss, they would be like a sheet of paper soaked in water—eroded by the abyss’s flood of information, driven to madness, and then destroyed.

Aptitude, talent, resources… These things completely separated the extraordinary from mortals, with no possibility of convergence.

Mortals, unable to wield ether, could never use alchemical devices that relied on ether as their foundational energy.

Thus, the so-called Universal Transcendence was an utterly impassable dead end.

Yet, after decades of struggling in endless hardship, the once-great alchemical master Erlin found, in his twilight years, a path that shouldn’t have existed.

Helen gazed at the table full of materials, exhaling softly.

Clearly, whether it was Mingfuluo or Anselm, both had long prepared for the conclusion of this bet.

Countless calculations, countless deductions, countless failures, countless restarts… all the materials needed for the most extreme possibility Helen could reach were here.

She tightly gripped her alchemical carving knife, beginning what might be… her final creation.

Erlin saw the key to that path lay in one realization.

To let mortals wield the extraordinary… why bother mastering the extraordinary itself?

This was the route Babel Tower currently followed: creating devices that could be activated and used without wielding ether.

But this restricted possibilities to a very narrow scope, and Erlin’s intent was never so limited.

Ether was the blood of the extraordinary—it could ignite flames, summon winds, call forth thunder, nurture the earth… In the hands of a transcendent, it could do anything, serve as any… energy source.

Thus, by creating a device that turned “transcendents manipulating ether” into an internal process, automatically converting ether into any desired energy form…

Mortals would no longer need to wield ether to harness the extraordinary and enjoy its infinite possibilities!

Why, despite transcendents being nearly omnipotent, was the world still so backward and barren?

They could casually build towering spires, yet broken houses littered the land; they could cross space or even travel to other worlds, yet carriages remained the best mode of transport; they could breed livestock whose flesh strengthened the body, yet countless people subsisted on the cheapest rice bran and wheat husks.

Because the infinite potential of the extraordinary, the versatility of ether, had never flowed into the true mortal world.

But if ether were used as a medium to output a universally adaptable energy form, all devices developed on this basis would no longer be directly constrained by ether.

The industrial system built upon this, and the society founded on that system, would possess the infinite potential of ether, steering toward the brightest, most radiant future.

This was the Universal Ether Furnace, a creation capable of overturning the entire empire, the entire world!

The alchemy workshop sprang to life, the forge roaring with flames, steel clashing and screeching, omnipresent ether flowing and shaping under the command of two genius sorceresses, each in their desired way.

This was an incredibly lengthy process.

Erlin’s decades-long pursuit couldn’t possibly be achieved so easily.

The outcome of this bet clearly didn’t hinge on who could create a true Universal Ether Furnace in this setting, but on whose creation came closer to the perfect artifact neither had yet touched.

“How far can you go?”

Helen, who should have been focused on her creation, suddenly spoke.

“…”

Compared to Helen, still using an alchemical carving knife, Mingfuluo, manipulating Nidhogg, was over ten times faster, clearly with far more leeway, yet she didn’t answer Helen’s question.

“No matter how far you go, you can’t complete the true Type Seven.”

Helen murmured to herself, steadily and forcefully inscribing intricate ether circuits onto the alchemical materials.

“—Even with three years of access to Hydra’s secret texts.”

“And you?”

Mingfuluo retorted coldly: “How far can you go, what realm can you reach?”

“I can’t do it either, but the difference between us is…”

Helen’s carving knife paused slightly. She glanced at Mingfuluo, her lifeless eyes filled with loathing for “herself.”

“I’ve recognized and accepted it.”

She continued her work, saying:

“I’ve accepted that with Father’s companionship, I could continuously refine the Universal Ether Furnace to Type Six in such a short time, but without him… for three whole years, I made no progress, stuck at a standstill.”

As she spoke, Helen’s usually cold face softened.

“You’re right, Mingfuluo. Even without those fifteen years of design, my heart still yearns to change this world, and even now… I haven’t entirely given it up.”

“But that… proves Father is the most important presence in my life.”

“He is…” Helen’s voice trembled with uncontrollable excitement and joy.

“He is… the absolute, singular guide to that future.”

Mingfuluo didn’t look at Helen.

Under her control, Nidhogg sliced, dismantled, or processed materials. In the use of this specialized alchemical tool, she was clearly leagues ahead of Helen.

“I thought… you had something worth saying.”

The Mingfuluo, who had spent three years alone, spoke with an unchanged tone, unshaken by Helen’s words.

After Nidhogg finished processing a batch of materials, it swiftly split off a large portion, condensing into a faceless puppet to assist Mingfuluo, creating an additional production line.

“Far more impressive than I imagined…”

Anselm, watching the faceless puppet through the screen, raised an eyebrow, leaning forward slightly.

“It even incorporates some of Mechanized Armor’s structural logic… In these three years, were you also considering the pursuit of power?”

Anselm had given Mingfuluo complete freedom, allowing her to access all the books in the underground library. He had no clear idea of how much she had grown in those three years.

What she had been thinking during that time, Anselm was equally unaware of.

But judging by her performance now… she was no different from three years ago.

If anything, the Mingfuluo of now was likely ten, a hundred times more resolute than before.

Though her pursued goal hadn’t changed, the current Mingfuluo clearly had… far more ideas than a Mingfuluo who grew along a normal trajectory.

Without focused study of Mechanized Armor, she couldn’t have casually used Nidhogg to create a puppet infused with its structural concepts.

Mingfuluo… if you defeat Helen, what do you plan to do? Arm Babel Tower?

You really… don’t trust me at all.

The wariness and coldness shown by his former friend didn’t sadden Anselm much—offering a chance, facing betrayal, he’d been through it before.

Rather, it was Mingfuluo’s near-extreme hostility, her aloofness, wariness, and even… enmity that proved the preciousness of Helen’s unwavering loyalty.

Mingfuluo’s intense opposition made Helen’s absolute devotion seem so perfectly aligned with what Anselm needed.

“Multiple breakthroughs in the early stages of research are common.”

Mingfuluo, simultaneously controlling Nidhogg, the puppet, and processing materials herself with a three-line operation, already carried the air of a master alchemist.

“Research on Type Seven has reached its final stage. It’s not that I couldn’t progress without him; we both hit a bottleneck.”

The cold idealist glanced at the self she despised: “That you use this to boast of his importance to you shows… you’re truly beyond saving. Expecting anything from you was my folly.”

During their conversation, Mingfuluo’s workbench had already constructed an entire massive platform framework, while Helen held only a small component.

The terrifying gap, almost in different dimensions, made Helen’s victory seem impossible.

At the same time, Mingfuluo spoke:

“Since you want to prove Anselm’s importance to you… let me make one thing clear to you.”

She even had the leeway to use Nidhogg to form a nine-headed serpent, hovering in midair, before saying coldly:

“The reason he used to crush your belief—that you, that I, never stepped into the mortal world, so we had no reason to yearn so strongly to change mortals’ lives.”

“I admit that. I acknowledge that, as he said, I yearn more to change the world than… to bring them a better life.”

“But.”

Mingfuluo’s expression hardened, the nine-headed serpent formed by Nidhogg roaring silently.

“You say everything he told you wasn’t a lie. Then tell me…”

“Anselm Hydra, born above all, a divine being overlooking everything, a true entity reigning over all creation—where does his belief in changing the world come from? Where does his passion to free mortals from their shackles come from?”

The black nine-headed serpent dissolved into nothingness, and Mingfuluo, with a distant, indifferent voice, told her other self:

“Listen well… this is the proof that everything he said was a lie—Anselm Hydra, more than you or I, could never empathize with the mortal world, could never genuinely wish to change it.”

“As a divine being, he is… the heaviest shackle in this world!”

In the alchemy workshop, only the sounds of machinery and the burning forge remained.

But in the sealed study within the manor, Anselm’s laughter rang out.

Leaning back in his chair, head tilted, arm covering his eyes, he laughed as if he’d heard something utterly delightful—so freely, so joyfully, so… liberated.

“Yes… you’re absolutely right, Mingfuluo, you truly are… the smartest.”

His arm slowly lowered as his laughter subsided, and Anselm gazed again at the resolute petite sorceress on the screen.

As long as divine beings existed, the world could never truly change.

A simple example—Erlin, who sacrificed his descendants and spent his life pursuing the possibility of the Universal Ether Furnace…

To Flamel, it was just a toy he could create effortlessly.

Even more, if he wished, he could create a complete, rigorous industrial system to match it in a day—no, half a day—bringing the empire to the “glorious future” Erlin sought for decades in just a week.

And if the Emperor were displeased, destroying it… would take only days, or even less.

As for what the Dragon King atop the mountain or the Callers of the Deep in the ocean could do, they wouldn’t be less capable than those divine beings.

Mingfuluo’s deductions, conclusions, and the resolute belief they solidified were flawless.

—As a divine being, Anselm could never truly empathize with mortals, let alone transcendents, who were merely stronger ants in his eyes.

Thus, everything he said was indeed a lie, perfectly aligning with what he revealed in that storm.

Such a simple yet impeccably tight deduction.

“So, in these three years, this is what you’ve realized.”

Anselm still laughed occasionally, but the twitching corners of his mouth seemed less like uncontrollable joy and more like… a spasm.

He lowered his eyes, murmuring: “It… suits your character. Not the character I want.”

Mingfuluo’s thought process was flawless. From her perspective—no, from anyone’s perspective—the facts were just that.

A divine being, casting a mocking glance at a stubborn creature, played a touching drama of friendship, ideals, and the future to hold her in his grasp.

But… only Anselm, from his own perspective, felt nothing but endless… loneliness.

The young Hydra, sitting alone in the study, felt enveloped by boundless solitude.

Even though Hitana’s desperate love had pulled him from a self-imposed prison, this loneliness never lessened.

Because Hitana was pure, always expressing her love so simply, and it was that very purity that couldn’t touch Anselm’s complex heart.

What Anselm Hydra waited for, yearned for, hoped for… no one knew.

Perhaps someone could have known, but now, no one ever would.

This loneliness peaked when his former friend declared, “You are the heaviest shackle in this world.”

“You’re right, Mingfuluo.”

The creature’s expression turned solemn and cold, all delusions abandoned, as he declared indifferently:

“I am this world, and I will be its heaviest shackle.”

The ten-year-old Anselm Hydra had long since died, along with the hopes for this world once stirred in him.

In the alchemy workshop, Mingfuluo’s unassailable “correct” deduction left Helen silent. Still meticulously processing components, her expression seemed to flicker with a trace of confusion.

But soon, her face calmed again, radiating an unspoken, absolute peace and serenity, unshaken.

“I will believe in Father.” She said softly.

Mingfuluo, previously unshaken, froze at this simple sentence, her expression even showing disbelief.

“Even though it’s clearly his lie?”

“I will believe in that possibility, no matter how small.”

Helen lowered her head, handling materials, her expression growing calmer, her movements steadier, more focused.

“I don’t believe it’s a disguise for a lie. Earlier, much earlier, he must have wanted to make a change.”

“Even if divine beings are indeed the world’s shackles, even if they are the least likely to care about mortals.”

Helen raised her head, her purple eyes beneath gray-white glasses, though lifeless, meeting herself with an unwavering, unyielding gaze.

“I will trust in Father, with absolute faith, even for a one-in-a-million chance.”

Nidhogg stopped dancing, the sharp carving knife ceased moving.

Two “Mingfuluo Zege”s, identical in soul and appearance but utterly different in thought, stared at each other, neither yielding an inch.

A trust without basis, without reason.

This was something Mingfuluo could never, ever do.

Having concluded that “divine beings are the greatest shackles on the world,” Mingfuluo would inevitably decide that Anselm was lying, that everything, as he himself admitted, was a lie.

Thus, let alone making such a choice, her thought process could never align with Helen’s.

But this was… the best outcome.

Anselm gazed tenderly at his “daughter,” who seemed isolated, helpless, and doomed to defeat.

Not the mindset Mingfuluo Zege would have, not the conclusion Mingfuluo Zege would reach—this baseless, reasonless… absolute trust was exactly what Anselm wanted.

What he sought wasn’t Mingfuluo Zege. What he sought was, and could only be… the Helen of now.

“You’ll win, Helen,” the young Hydra murmured softly. “You already know where the key lies.”

On the first day, Helen patiently crafted five key components, while Mingfuluo, manipulating Nidhogg, had already completed the foundational framework for the Type Seven Universal Ether Furnace.

On the second day, neither resting, both made significant progress.

Helen, starting from the core, finished delicate refinements, with the furnace core taking shape, while Mingfuluo had filled a third of the critical sections on her framework.

By the fifth day, both Helen and Mingfuluo, sustained only by nutrient solutions, showed clear signs of exhaustion under the intense workload.

It was evident that their approaches to the Type Seven Universal Ether Furnace diverged sharply.

Helen adhered to traditional methods, but Mingfuluo, having studied in Hydra’s underground library for three years, had deeper, more refined insights.

From internal structure to core component crafting, ether circuit inscription, and the critical mechanism of converting ether into universal energy…

Having devoted three years to researching secret texts that could drive the entire sorcerer community mad, Mingfuluo Zege’s talent, favored even by fate, shone with unparalleled brilliance—she even incorporated Nidhogg, with its excellent ether conductivity, into the Type Seven Universal Ether Furnace.

In contrast, Helen, who spent those three years at Babel Tower researching, studying, and even teaching, showed no visible improvement.

On the eighth day, the alchemical carving knife slipped from Helen’s trembling hands and unable to suppress her exhaustion, she collapsed unconscious. Mingfuluo, though persisting a day longer, also fell into a coma.

By the twelfth day, both Helen and Mingfuluo’s creations were nearing completion.

Helen’s Type Seven Ether Furnace, unrefined in its casing, looked rough and bulky, while Mingfuluo, with Nidhogg’s aid, had finished the main structure three days earlier and was meticulously refining details.

On the fifteenth day, the two miraculous creations, born from the same soul, were completed.

Helen, pale with bluish lips, and Mingfuluo, not much better, locked eyes for a moment. Mingfuluo spoke first, her voice hoarse:

“Need me to give you three more days?”

“…We can start now.”

Helen staggered to her Universal Ether Furnace on the workbench, gripping an ether crystal, her breathing unsteady.

No one knew what Helen was thinking. She silently inserted the crystal into the furnace, watching it activate.

A faint white glow emanated from the furnace’s output port, a visible waveform pouring into a cylindrical vessel it was connected to.

Though nothing appeared in the vessel, its internal space began to distort, growing more intense until it refracted vibrant, multicolored light.

Helen and Mingfuluo held their breath, watching this moment.

As the light dimmed and the chaotic brilliance returned to transparency, forming an energy sphere from the spatial distortion, they both exhaled softly.

The first step—producing the “universal energy” that could bring great change, usable by all without requiring transcendence—was a success.

The next issue was stability.

Undoubtedly, neither Helen nor Mingfuluo could create a true Universal Ether Furnace.

Their contest hinged on whose furnace was more stable.

Helen silently counted in her mind, staring at the energy sphere in the vessel, but at just three seconds, the previously stable sphere violently distorted and Helen’s expression shifted instantly.

At 0.4 seconds, cracks appeared on the vessel’s shell.

At 1.3 seconds, the vessel shattered, the not-so-violent energy sphere blasting the transparent shell into fragments.

Helen, shielding her face with her hand but a moment too late, gained a vivid blood mark on her cheek.

“Four point three three seconds.”

Helen and Mingfuluo spoke simultaneously.

“An improvement of 0.92 seconds from three years ago… how absurd.”

Mingfuluo muttered to herself.

But Helen smiled, the blood on her cheek making her smile almost bewitching:

“This is the result of leaving Father.”

“You’ve got it wrong. I meant I didn’t expect you to improve by 0.92 seconds.”

Mingfuluo glanced at Helen: “Suppressed and hunted by the Ether Academy, nearly accomplishing nothing in three years, yet still making such progress.”

“But… that’s all.”

Mingfuluo tossed an ether crystal into her evidently more refined and complete Universal Ether Furnace, glancing at Helen:

“Your pitiful life ends here—”

Boom!

Her words cut off abruptly.

In just… an instant.

The moment the furnace absorbed and processed the ether, producing energy… the entire Universal Ether Furnace exploded from the inside out.

It was an unthinkable shock.

Mingfuluo, after leaving the underground library, hadn’t stopped creating, and for someone like her, there was no such thing as rusty hands.

How could she… how could she fail even the most basic, initial hurdle?

An explosion upon energy output was an issue with the Type Four furnace, resolved three years ago!

Mingfuluo, her expression rigid, quickly found the cause.

Then, her face shifted from rigidity to utter fury.

“You… what… did… you… do!”

She reached to grab Helen’s collar, but her nearly strengthless wrist was firmly caught.

“Don’t lose so disgracefully, dear Miss Mingfuluo.”

The young Hydra who appeared smiled gently:

“What are you trying to do to my daughter?”

“This… is… despicable… cheating!” Mingfuluo roared hoarsely: “Nidhogg… you tampered with Nidhogg… no, how could you still control it!”

But Helen didn’t answer. Her frail body, as if it could collapse with a breeze, leaned against Anselm’s back, and the petite girl murmured faintly:

“Father… Do you… acknowledge me now?”

Anselm turned slightly, gently supporting Helen’s soft waist, saying softly: “You’ve worked hard. Rest well, and when you wake, it’ll be time to choose your gift.”

“…No, wait a little longer.”

Helen stood on tiptoe, affectionately nuzzling Anselm’s cheek: “At least… we should explain to her why she lost, right, Father?”

Looking at the icy Mingfuluo, Anselm chuckled: “As you wish.”

Helen, leaning in Anselm’s arms, nodded lightly.

She gazed at her other self, now unnaturally emotional, with the same pitying, sorrowful look Mingfuluo had given her.

“You have far greater skill and knowledge than I do. Even after you took Nidhogg, I had no way to resist.”

“But the key… lies here.”

The exhausted Helen breathed softly, her tone brimming with pride: “Nidhogg… was Father’s concept, a tool I created. As for me… you could see its potential.”

“—The potential the old Mingfuluo would have seen.”

That is, a tool for creation.

With its supreme ether conductivity, unmatched malleability, and ability to break down into units as small as ether itself… After Mingfuluo’s upgrades, Nidhogg was indeed an unparalleled tool, evident from her frequent use and integration into the Universal Ether Furnace.

“But to me, its importance as a tool is no longer so great.”

Helen gripped Anselm’s hand tightly, speaking deliberately:

“This is the only thing I can grasp, the only weapon… to help Father slay divine beings!”

“My abilities are limited; I couldn’t elevate Nidhogg’s lethality to that level, but basic destruction… wasn’t difficult.”

“Self… destruction!”

Mingfuluo spat out the words through gritted teeth.

Helen smiled, adjusting her glasses: “This is also… the one thing you couldn’t replicate in a short time, and one of the greatest gifts Father gave me.”

The glint on her lenses revealed what she meant—a masterpiece even Anselm marveled at: the Data System!

“I considered every possibility. Facing divine beings, facing threats to Father, Nidhogg’s loss of control was naturally considered. The most effective damage, of course, is Nidhogg’s self-destruction.”

“To keep this secret… The Data System has only one function tied to Nidhogg: self-destruction. No other actions can be controlled through it, minimizing their connection… so even you didn’t notice.”

After saying so much, Helen exhaled softly, then gave a faint, utterly captivating smile.

“So… Do you know why you lost, Mingfuluo?”

The petite woman, resolved to kill her past self, gently kissed Anselm’s cheek:

“Because from start to finish, you only cared about yourself, while my devotion to Father…”

“Brought me this victory.”