Percy drew a sharp breath, his shock at the goddess’s message buying him a few more minutes of sobriety. Not wasting any time, he dove into the text again, praying to all the gods present and absent for the information he needed to escape this deathtrap.

‘When the calamity first struck, I instructed our historians and our scholars to compile a library of sorts, to preserve the most valuable aspects of our culture in the event of our complete annihilation.’

‘You see, the situation wasn’t nearly as dire back then, but the disaster had already caused several species to go extinct, and it had even rendered some parts of our world wholly inaccessible – at least to the others. Furthermore, our time was spent searching for solutions, so our people no longer had the time or the energy to pursue the fine arts, nor to further develop our culture. In hindsight, it seems my decision to collect and maintain this information had been the right one – despite how much I wish that wasn’t the case.’

‘Since I am the last of the Amenthei still awake, I suppose the responsibility of writing this final entry now rests on my shoulders. I’ll move a copy of this library inside my sanctuary too, along with the minds of my surviving subjects. I have no idea if I’ll be able to last longer than the physical version of the text, but I’ve resolved myself to survive as long as I can. I doubt it will make the slightest difference to our fates, but I owe it to the countless people who have placed their hopes in me to at least try.’

Suffice to say, Percy could feel Nephthys’s sorrow and desperation seeping through every word on the ceiling. And, honestly, he shared those feelings, since he found himself in pretty much the same situation. After all, he had already reached the end of the library and he still had no idea how this place worked.

Based on the text, it seemed he had correctly guessed this wasn’t a physical place, but rather something that existed in the deity’s body – or more specifically, her mind. But that still didn’t explain how he had found himself stuck, nor how he could escape.

Out of options, he sprinted out of the room, tracing his previous steps. Sadly, the third hall only had a single entrance and no exit, which meant he couldn’t possibly reach the top of the pyramid this way. He would inevitably have to pass through the previous halls and all the corridors again, much to his dismay.

‘Well, I can’t really blame her for not thinking things through… She clearly had much on her mind while creating this pyramid…’

At least, Percy found it a little easier to stay awake as he ran through the structure. The curse that had destroyed Amenthes had obviously grown extremely powerful over the centuries, to the point that no mortal had managed to escape its harrowing grasp. If it hadn’t been for his spectral trait, he doubted he’d have lasted this long. Even with it, he’d only had a couple of hours, whereas some of these people had endured it for countless years.

‘If I’m lucky, Nephthys can still be reasoned with… If I can’t find a way out by myself, I can try asking her for help…’

Obviously, it would be a gamble, as he had no idea what her personality was like, nor what state she was in. But given his current circumstances, this wasn’t necessarily worse than the alternative. Besides, maybe they could work together to come up with a solution. Between Metatron’s Decree and his bloodline, things might not be entirely hopeless.

Sprinting through the narrow corridors, Percy’s mind wandered back to everything he had learned today. Despite the pressure he had been under, he was glad he’d had the chance to study the complete history of a lesser spring – even if he’d been forced to do that rather hastily. It had allowed him to confirm a lot of the things he had suspected about the way barren worlds evolved into lesser springs.

First, some sapients would emerge, losing their beast affinities in exchange for true intelligence and other mana types – much like Mrs. Lia had explained on Felmara. Then, they would have to hold their ground against the onslaught of beasts – just like Sol’s people had been doing on Melodia. If they got lucky, somebody would figure out a means of advancement, much like the Dying Hero had, on Huehue.

Eventually, some gods would appear, though they would probably be relatively clueless about cosmic matters at first. At least until more of them emerged, and they managed to leave their world and gather some information about the state of the universe. Amenthes had clearly not made it that far, while places like Remior, Huehue and Felmara had. Even with elixirs, it wasn’t easy for Green-borns to attain godhood, so that step wasn’t immediate either.

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Thinking of something, Percy couldn’t help but crease his brow.

‘That still doesn’t fully explain where those clouds came from…’

At the start, he had assumed some other faction had attacked Amenthes. However, nothing he had read today had hinted at foul play. The clouds seemed to have been the product of some natural phenomenon… Or rather, a quite unnatural one… Considering everything he knew about the universe, Percy’s mind wandered back to one of his previous clones.

‘This whole thing reminds me of those black vines that ruined Takeo’s home…’

Was that what this was? Another demonic infestation?

The way it encroached upon one’s mind, forcing them into eternal slumber… It was simultaneously completely different, but also eerily similar to what the infernal jungle had done to the people of Torui village. It had robbed them of their mana and their willingness to fight, plunging them into despair. It had drunk their blood and consumed their flesh until nothing remained.

The more he thought about it, the more convinced Percy was that he was right.

Over the years, he had subconsciously shoved his fear of demonic infestations aside. Part of it was due to the fact that he hadn’t encountered a second one in a long time, making him assume they were quite rare.

More importantly, he had always believed that infestations were things for weaker, less developed worlds to worry about. Takeo’s people had likely lacked the means to advance even before the appearance of the jungle, and the insidious vines had robbed them of their ability to use magic entirely. It was no wonder then, that they had been entirely powerless against the calamity.

But a lesser spring like Remior wouldn’t have to worry about that, right? They had several gods, so it should be trivial for the Divine Order to deal with an infestation, should one pop up.

Or so he had thought.

‘Evidently, not.’

Percy swallowed hard.

Perhaps, he had been naïve about this. The fall of Amenthes was proof that no place in the universe was truly safe. Even a goddess had failed to protect her world from the corruption.

Sure, this place was a lot weaker than Remior, and Remior itself couldn’t compare with the peak factions… But was the gap between a lesser and a greater spring larger than the gap between a lesser spring and a barren world? If an infestation dreadful enough to kill one god existed, who was to say an even more frightening one couldn’t come to be?

‘Though, there’s a silver lining…’

At least, he was no longer worried about taking the disease back to his main body. While he wasn’t an expert on demonic infestations, he was clear about one thing. It was common knowledge that they infected worlds, not individuals. Based on everything he’d read, Percy was confident the Amenthei would have woken up if they’d simply escaped from their dying planet.

‘I wonder why Nephthys didn’t even try to grab her people and leave.’

Percy hurried his steps even more, his heart racing like crazy. Outside of his own survival and the new principle he wanted to bring back to his main body, he had suddenly found himself worrying about something even more important.

‘I need to bring this information home… I want the original to be aware of it…’

Of course, he didn’t doubt that Phoebe and the other gods knew about this already. It wouldn’t be Percy’s job to defend Remior from threats like this for a very long time. Still, as somebody who frequently roamed the cosmos, he was sure this wasn’t the last time he would stumble upon a situation like this.

So immersed was he in his thoughts, that he hadn’t kept count of the corridors. If it wasn’t for Rasef’s empty room whizzing by his side, Percy might have not even realized he’d already returned to his starting point.

But he didn’t stop there, knowing time wasn’t on his side.

Climbing one floor after the other, he reached the end of the Greens, and then the Blues, before spotting the Violets. There weren’t nearly as many people at the higher grades, so he had to be close to whatever came next. Either way, the Violets were sleeping soundly on their beds, their rooms pretty much identical to those of their subordinates. If he didn’t have Soul Vision, he wouldn’t have been able to tell them apart at all.

A wave of weakness suddenly overcame him, as his thoughts slowed down to a crawl.

Percy found himself stumbling frequently or crashing on the walls, struggling to run in a straight line. He’d already exhausted pretty much every mental exercise he could think of, yet there was no holding the infestation back any longer.

He was halfway up what he hoped was the final set of stairs to the top – the last corridor having barely been a few metres across – when he finally lost his footing, tumbling down the steps. The fall itself didn’t hurt that much, but he quickly found himself unable to get up again. Let alone standing, Percy had to lean on the wall to even sit up, his surroundings spinning around him as his head felt heavy.

Smiling bitterly, he pulled some mana from his stash, shaping it into a handful of knives. Pointing them at Rasef’s neck – where his own wisp had taken root – he intended to shred his soul to pieces.

‘Well… This sucks… At least, I won’t feel a thing.’

He really wished he could have made it back, yet it appeared it wasn’t meant to be. There wasn’t much room for hesitation either. Unless he destroyed himself in the next couple of seconds, he might never get another chance.

Gritting his teeth, he was about to launch the constructs, when he felt a gentle grip squeeze his shoulder, stopping him in his tracks.