Secret World: I Became a God Through Lies

Chapter 471 The Alchemist Witch Under the Whispers of the Illusory Stars
"The whispers of the stars are often misheard as blessings."

But they never shone the light.
It will only refine the soul into a cooled reagent.

—From the fragments of the monologue of the illusory star alchemist

The wall clock in the living room ticked dully, with less than ten minutes left.

Si Ming leaned back on the sofa, lazily flipping through a few records, preparing to listen to some music during this last bit of respite.

--boom!

A sudden explosion occurred next door, as if the entire block had been violently torn apart.

The glass trembled violently, and shards of glass fell onto his shoulders.

Si Ming raised an eyebrow, walked to the window, and gently parted the blinds with his fingertips.

Over there, a huge hole had been blown open in the wall of the neighboring house, with billowing smoke and flames mingling together.

In the firelight, the figure of a woman slowly emerged.

She wore a black alchemical robe with white underneath, her golden hair curled like flowing starlight, and her eyes behind her glasses were gentle yet empty.

She raised her hand and flung away a flask. The glass shattered, and the spilled viscous liquid mingled with the flames, instantly turning into a purplish-red mist.

Three or five lizardmen of varying sizes roared and pounced, but their limbs convulsed in the mist, their scales quickly festered and rotted, and they collapsed onto the floor twitching.

The woman wasn't alarmed; she simply looked at them with a hint of regret.

"Hmm, the dosage was still too small... the corrosion stopped in the fifth minute. What a pity."

She smiled, as if comforting a suffering patient, but her eyes were merely indifferently recording data in her mind.

—This is Isabel Corwin.

“My name is Isabel, and I come from a family of alchemists in the world of Rednigh. My mother said that a Kabbalah root is buried under my cradle.”

Isabel looked at the lizardman corpse in front of her with a mocking expression, thinking of her childhood "toys".

From a young age, she was fascinated by alchemical formulas.

While others chased after delicious food and toys, she secretly used the cats and dogs on the street corner as "reagents" during her childhood.

The first potion she concocted was a bottle of blue liquid that could make a puppy fall asleep peacefully.

The puppy never woke up the next day.

Isabel wrote only a cold sentence:

—Side effect: heart failure.

In the mortal world, she wore a smiling mask and became a "charitable alchemist".

The poor received "free medicine," but few of them survived more than six months.

She never concealed it, nor did she show any pity.

She simply wrote down in her notebook "the limits of human tolerance to alchemical reactions".

Under the blessing of the stars, she rose above the Star Calamity realm—Star Alchemist.

From that time on, her mind began to gradually crack, and cosmic delusions became her constant companion.

She began to hear whispers from the void, saw stars that did not exist in the night sky, and became convinced that all her experiments were revelations from the universe.

"The stars want me to continue."

"This is not cruelty, it is the delivery of fate."

Isabel snapped out of her reverie. Before her lay the lizardman's corpse, now cooled. She gently removed her gloves and carefully placed a bloodstained scale into the reagent bottle.

She looked up and gently whispered words of comfort to the remaining survivors in the smoke:
"Don't be afraid, it will be over soon..."

Your suffering will be transformed into a gift from the illusory stars.

The next second, the bottle cap snapped shut, and her smile held only a cold, indifferent quality.

—Isabel makes her entrance.

Isabel gently removed her glasses and wiped the bloodstains off the lenses.

In the firelight, her expression remained gentle as ever, as if the remains of the lizardmen before her were not the remains of the lizardmen, but merely a few sleeping children.

When Isabel opened her eyes again, she found herself in a strange "family".

The surrounding area is a typical American suburban villa: white walls, a warm fireplace, and oak floors that exude a fresh, waxy scent.

Several family photos hung on the wall, their smiles stiff and neatly arranged, as if they were part of a stage set.

The illusion of the tower has begun again.

Her role was predetermined: the gentle mistress of the Koto family.

Her husband, Mitkoto, a tall, sturdy man with broad shoulders and a sharp suit, was pushing open the door and walking in.

The air smelled of gasoline and sweat. He muttered a complaint about the day's exhaustion, his tone heavy but not anxious, instead carrying an unusual focus.

The children then went home; there were three boys and one girl, ranging in age from seven or eight to fourteen or fifteen.

They rushed into the house in a swarm, tossing their schoolbags onto the sofa and leaving their shoes scattered in the entryway, as lively as any ordinary family's children.

Aside from those subtle unnatural things.

As the youngest daughter played in front of the mirror, her smile suddenly twisted, and the reflection in the mirror flashed a lizard's face, with a long, thin tongue sticking out.

She immediately turned to look at her mother, her eyes clear and innocent, as if nothing had happened.

As the husband was changing his shoes, in the instant he looked down, his tongue flicked out, catching a fly in mid-air and swallowing it before its wings could even flutter.

He looked up and smiled, but his eyes held an undisguised hunger.

The children were shouting around the dining table, "Mom! We're hungry!"

"Hurry up! My stomach is so empty!"

They repeated it over and over, like a mechanical program.

Isabel smiled and nodded gently: "Don't worry, Mom will be done soon."

Just as she walked toward the kitchen, the postman knocked urgently on the door, and the calamity-ridden letter was delivered to her.

A pitch-black envelope, a blood-red postmark.

She opened it, and inside was only a cold sentence:

Prepare a lavish dinner for your husband and children. Remember: they will be very hungry. You must satisfy their appetites.

The Tower's mission.

In the kitchen, pots and pans clattered and rattled.

Isabel skillfully cuts meat, cooks soup, and even carefully bakes cakes.

Each dish was a feast for the eyes, nose, and palate, filling the entire long table.

She smiled as she brought the dishes to the table, and the children immediately rushed to the table.

The husband sat at the head of the table, his eyes fixed on the plate, his fingers trembling slightly.

They began to eat.

wolf.

The first plate of meat had barely been placed down when it was devoured in the next second;
When the second soup was served, even the crumbs at the bottom of the bowl were licked clean.

The dessert was torn to shreds as soon as it was placed on the table.

But the next second, they looked up and screamed in unison:

"Hungry—hungry—hungry—!"

The voice was hollow, as if it were not a child's, but an echo from a deep well.

Isabel blinked slightly, then suddenly smiled.

"This is perfect."

She understood; the Tower's script was for her to be devoured alive.

Kota unintentionally provided her with the most ideal experimental subject.

So she brought out the last bowl of soup from the kitchen.

That wasn't ordinary food; it was a mixture of bottles of alchemical potions that she had casually concocted.

Blue light, green bubbles, and purple mist swirled in the soup, as if stars were twinkling in the liquid.

She herself didn't know the specific effects. Only the Void Star knew the true nature of the product of Starlight Alchemy. However, judging from the experimental data she had accumulated over the years, this batch was an outstanding potion.

"Come on, kids."

She smiled gently, like a mother coaxing a child to take medicine.

The husband and children rushed over without hesitation, eagerly gulping down the soup.

The next moment, they stopped.

It wasn't that I was full, but that I was forced to stop.

His abdomen swelled rapidly, veins bulged, and his eyes became bloodshot.

"what--!!"

They rolled on the ground, hissing in their throats.

The skin was torn open, and scales oozed out from the wound;

Bones fractured, joints folded backwards;
The tongue sticks out, splits into two, and frantically spits out tongues into the air.

They are becoming alienated.

The husband, Mitkotu, was the first to undergo a complete transformation: his height increased dramatically, his muscles disintegrated, a row of bone spurs grew on his back, and his mouth was full of sharp teeth, completely transforming him into a lizard monster.

The children also underwent a series of transformations, their bodies decaying into a mixture of scales and bones.

Isabel sat quietly at the dining table. She opened a notebook and gracefully began to take notes:

Three minutes: Abdomen bloated, skin ulcers.

Five minutes: Skeletal dysplasia occurs, and lizard-like features appear.

Sixth minute: Completely loses human form and enters predatory mode.

Her handwriting was neat, as if she were taking notes in class.

The monsters pounced on her, their fangs gleaming in the firelight.

She simply raised her hand and gently shook the flask in her hand.

"Alright, good boy."

She smiled, her voice gentle, as if comforting a feverish baby.

boom!
The flames of the explosion engulfed them.

The lizard monsters howled in agony as they were charred into blackened remains by the alchemical flames. The air was thick with the acrid smell of blood and potions.

Isabel closed the notebook and let out a long sigh of relief.

She looked up at the family photo on the wall.

The "husband" and "child" in the photo still smiled stiffly.

She whispered softly:
"Alright, are you not hungry anymore? Mom's dinner has finally satisfied you."

A saintly smile of pity graced her lips, yet her eyes were as cold and indifferent as the void deep within the starry sky.

Then, she poured out a second alchemical flask, "sending away" the residue.

The firelight flared up again, filling the entire house with the blue flames of burning alchemical potions.

Outside the window, Si Ming was quietly watching all of this.

This scene is the source of the explosion and lizard corpse that Si Ming saw next door.

When Isabel opened the window, she was carrying half a flask, the liquid inside shimmering with blue and green light in the night.

She saw Si Ming across from her, smiling gently, and waved lightly, as if he were a concerned old friend in the neighborhood.

"Do you need any help? It looks so quiet over here."

The smile was extremely gentle, but Si Ming only saw a chill in her eyes, like starlight shining through glass—beautiful, but without warmth.

Si Ming was silent for a moment, then gave a perfunctory nod, his smile fading, and waved his hand to indicate that everything was normal.

Then he turned back to the sofa, as if that glance was merely a polite greeting.

Rest is never long.

"Ding-dong-ding-dong-"

The doorbell rang again, shorter and more shrill than before.

Si Ming frowned slightly, walked over, and looked down. He saw a black letter being forced through the crack in the door, like some kind of living tongue.

He bent down and picked it up; the sealing wax was still that dark red, like the color of dried blood.

Tearing it open, words appeared on the cold paper:

Task Two: Delivery Guaranteed

Please go outside and talk to your neighbors.

You can choose to form an alliance, or you can refuse.

Please note: Houses occupied by only one person will become prime targets for street racers after fifteen minutes.

Make sure there are two or more people in your house.

The rule is reiterated: Refusing to engage in conversation will not be considered a completion of the task.

After reading it, Si Ming smiled sarcastically.

"Speed ​​racing? Ha, Ta's scripts are getting more and more absurd."

He casually spread the letter on the table, intending to ponder it, when the second doorbell rang.

"Ding-dong-"

This time, however, there was no postman in sight.

Si Ming walked up to the cat and, through the dim light, saw a familiar figure—the woman who had just thrown the alchemy bottle and shattered the lizard monster.

She wore a black robe, had long hair, and still carried a flask in her hand. She stood quietly outside the door, as if waiting for an invitation.

Si Ming tilted his head and thought for a moment, then raised his hand to straighten his cuffs and collar, putting on his usual "gentlemanly smile." He turned the doorknob, opened the door, and said in a gentle voice:

"Madam? Is there anything I can help you with?"

The night breeze blew in, carrying a chill and the smell of burning gunpowder.

The woman in black smiled, her voice gentle: "Hello, my name is Isabel. I think you must be Si Ming? We're from the same organization, the Mystic Masters Guild. I've seen you before at the Shining Star Secret Realm."

Her eyes gleamed in the night, and she said softly, "You don't mind if I come in, do you? The night wind outside... is so cold."

Si Ming narrowed his eyes slightly, remaining silent for a moment. The firelight from the fireplace flickered on his clownish grin. Then, he gestured for him to enter.

“Of course. I’m sorry to have kept you waiting outside. — Please come in, Isabel.”

The door closed behind them, as if shutting out the night and the unknown.

The firelight from the fireplace danced in the living room, drying out the air.

Isabel placed the flask on the coffee table and smoothed out the creases in her robe.

They behaved with the elegance of someone attending a formal dinner party, not someone barely surviving in a dungeon of hellish post offices.

She spoke with a smile, her voice gentle and restrained:
"I think we have the same mission."

She paused for a moment, then looked up to meet Si Ming's gaze, her eyes seeming to confirm something, yet also to test him.

"Therefore, I suggest that we form an alliance. At the very least, the alliance of two Star Calamities will be much easier than fighting alone."

Si Ming leaned back on the sofa, resting his chin on his hand, listening absentmindedly. His smile was as faint as mist, and his replies were as light as a feather:
"An alliance? Hmm... that does sound like a good idea."

Even so, his tone was vague and ambiguous; he didn't say "temporarily" or "in the end." His only response was a vague "hmm," as if he were simply following her words.

Isabel's eyes flickered; she could tell from the perfunctory tone. The smile on her lips remained the same, but it shifted slightly.

She adjusted her glasses and said softly:
"To show my sincerity, I can exchange some information first. Information about this game."

Si Ming raised an eyebrow, signaling her to continue.

“At my alchemy clinic in the city, some patients, when they can’t afford the medicine, will choose to exchange it for ‘secrets’.”

Her tone was gentle, as if she were recounting an amusing anecdote from the past: "I've heard countless strange and wonderful secrets, one of which—it happens to mention the game of Hell Post Office."

The fireplace flames crackled and popped, and the air grew tense.

“This game has a time limit,” Isabel said slowly. “Twelve hours. If you can’t find a way to leave within twelve hours, you will be… assimilated and become a ‘resident’ of this town.”

She let out a soft breath, as if sighing, or stating a cold, hard conclusion.

"Erase yourself, lose everything. You will become the next NPC, slaughtered by those who come after you, just like livestock."

Her eyes were sincere, and her smile gentle: "This is not a threat, but a well-intentioned reminder. I hope we can cooperate well."

Si Ming smiled but didn't comment. He simply flicked the black letter on the table with his fingertip. The gesture was a silent response: I heard it, but that doesn't mean I'll believe it.

Just as Si Ming was thinking about how to answer, the sound of explosive heavy metal music came from outside the window.

boom----

The air in the entire residential area seemed to have exploded.

That wasn't just one locomotive, or even ten, but the roar of hundreds of locomotives simultaneously igniting their ignition.

The sound waves roared like a steel behemoth, carrying black flames that crashed into the night sky. The windowpanes trembled instantly, and the chandelier swayed precariously.

Si Ming walked to the window and lifted half of the curtain.

At the street corner—motorcycles engulfed in flames surged in like a tidal wave.

The leather-clad thug wore an iron-faced skull helmet, his eye sockets glowing with an eerie, charcoal-like light.

The iron chain dragged on the ground, sparking as it struck the asphalt.

Each time the wheels grazed the curb, they left a dark scorch mark, like a demon carving its mark in hell.

Someone frantically swung the iron chain, knocking the neighbor's door off its hinges.

Someone lifted a can of oil and poured it into the front yard. Flames shot up and instantly engulfed a house.

The deafening metallic music seemed to explode from the motorcycles, and the entire town was transformed into a fiery carnival in that instant.

Isabel adjusted her glasses, her expression showing no sign of panic.

Si Ming turned around, a familiar smile playing on his lips: "Hey, do you think we should use tricks to shut them up? Or should we use lies to quiet them down?"

The firelight reflected on his white clown mask, making his smile lines appear to be torn into eerie arcs.

Isabel gently shook the flask in her hand, the liquid refracting a blue-violet starlight on the flask's walls. She smiled, her voice soft yet cruel:
“I prefer to use my flask, Sir Lie Weaver.”

Outside, motorcycles roared, chains swung wildly, and the roar of flames gradually approached their door.

It was as if the entire town's night was being torn apart by these Ghost Riders.

"They rode on fire and steel, and used the streets as altars."

Each roar is a drumbeat dedicated to an unknown deity.

Remember, child, when you hear the sound of chains lashing the earth, it is not celebration, but judgment.

—From *The Secret Records of the Disaster Post Office*, Volume 7, "The Burning Locomotive Night"

(End of this chapter)