The Envoy of Abundance from Onphalus

The Bountiful Messenger from Onphalus Author: Tomato Stew Paimon

Russell's redundancy (Redun-0) is a feature of the Onpharos simulation program in the scepter simulation.

He was born in the first year of the turbulent era, embarking on the path of a physician, a path that has lasted for a thousand years.

The world came to an end when the Black Tide engulfed Onpharos.

He came to a giant, crystal-clear blue tree and touched the magical tree.

"A branch that hangs down to the world, does it pity the branches and leaves of this world? Perhaps I can grasp at hope..."

Whenever the Black Tide destroys the world, he touches the Hanging Branch—

That giant tree, which holds memories, sealed the joys and sorrows of his past life into its fruit, and he then entered the cycle of reincarnation again in search of hope.

When the 3355 millionth fruit was found, curled up among the tree roots on the verge of collapse, its silver hair soaked with the blood and tears of millions of dead souls.

"Is saving... really meaningful?"

When despair gnaws at the remnants of the soul, the Pharmacist hears the plea and comes treading through starlight and frost.

He embraced him.

“Your more than thirty million acts of kindness have pierced through the illusion of eternal night.”

"This is not in vain. It is proof of the existence of reincarnation. You shall receive this crown."

“Swallow it. For the newborn placenta of you.” He fed Russell a red pomegranate seed.

At this moment, the Imperial Scepter was frantically malfunctioning, and a Bountiful Envoy was hatching within his body…

Amber Benevolent Medical Scroll: Chapter One - Unknown Youth

It was the year 2400 of the Light Era, the final year of the Golden Age of Onphalus. The glory was utterly ended by the calamities of the Three Titans—strife, intrigue, and death.

Prosperity is a thing of the past, and calamity has finally descended upon the land. People are immersed in the beauty of a peaceful era, unaware that terrible disaster is spreading inward from the borders of Onphalus.

Its name is Kuroshio.

Nicardo's expedition against remote city-states, speared by divine retribution, heralded the beginning of a world of strife.

Thus, the Golden Age came to a complete end.

He was using his own methods to disperse the people and drive them away from the Black Tide. But these methods were destined to be incomprehensible.

People fear the name of conflict and only hope that this Titan will disappear soon.

Countless facts demonstrate that the pain He brought has made the Onphalus people hate Him to the core.

On the withered grass, the silver-haired, blue-eyed boy suddenly awoke, a painful sound escaping his throat.

"My head...it hurts so much!" The intense headache felt like being violently dragged awake from a deep sleep, and my head felt like it was going to split open.

He rubbed his temples hard, trying to relieve the terrible pain.

"Who am I? Where am I? What am I doing? Why can't I remember anything? How could this be?" A series of questions, like cold iron hooks, tore at his chaotic thoughts.

The boy looked around blankly. His memories seemed to have been completely erased, leaving only a blank space.

He had completely forgotten his own name.

The only remaining remnants were scattered bits of medical knowledge in my mind.

His gaze swept around, but the desolate and decaying landscape offered no clues to the amnesiac.

Only in the distance, a colossal statue alights a spherical device as dazzling as the sun, radiating blinding light.

The boy looked down at himself again: he was wearing a rough linen outfit, with most of his left shoulder exposed, and a brass button shaped like a wheat ear holding the hem of his clothes together.

He had an empty, deflated linen medical kit hanging from his waist, secured by a strange badge he didn't recognize. On his feet were a pair of simple sandals.

This outfit... vaguely reminded him of the word "ancient Greece." The word appeared out of nowhere, but it couldn't evoke any related memories.

A moment of confusion passed quickly, and he gave up on investigating further.

He looked into the distance again. On the horizon, the outline of a steep city built against the mountain was faintly discernible.

"Where there are city-states, there should be people." This thought arose naturally, as if it were common sense etched into his very bones.

He strode onto the muddy road, heading towards the city-state overlooked by the giant eye of dawn.

The further he went, the denser the vegetation became. He stopped by a stream and looked at his reflection in the calm water: his face was clean and neat, his silver-white hair was tousled, and a strand of light gold highlights on the left side stood out.

Her pale blue eyes were filled with pure confusion. Her clothes, though rough, were clean and tidy.

The image reflected in the stream confirms the vague feeling of "ancient Greece," but the gaps in memory remain stubbornly persistent.

He shook his head to clear his mind of these useless thoughts and continued on his way.

As he walked, the remaining medical knowledge in his mind began to come into play, allowing him to identify the herbs along the way. A clump of thriving Blood Crystal Grass caught his attention.

"Blood Crystal Grass... ground into a paste, can be used externally to delay the crystallization of black tide... direct use also has a good hemostatic effect..." Relevant knowledge fragments clearly emerged.

The word "Kuroshio" carried an instinctive, chilling feeling that seemed to foreshadow a catastrophe that would engulf the world.

"Better safe than sorry." This thought firmly occupied his mind. It's always good to be prepared.

He began to harvest. His fingertips moved with precision and care, as if performing a meticulous dissection, carefully separating the roots to avoid damaging the medicinal properties of the herbs.

His focused collection slowed down his schedule.

Time seemed to stand still here. The sky was always the grayish-blue hue of dawn, with no sunset in sight, only the occasional shooting star reminding us of the passage of time.

"Shouldn't it always be dawn here?" A strange feeling swept through the boy's mind. This unchanging morning light had an indescribable eeriness about it.

But he chose to set aside what he couldn't figure out for the time being. Focusing on the path ahead was the right way.

So he walked and picked as he went, until his linen medical kit was so full that it couldn't hold a single blade of grass anymore.

He then tightened the badge on his bag, quickened his pace, and pointed firmly at the city-state protected by the giant eye of dawn.

He didn't know how long he had walked, but his body didn't feel much tired. However, he couldn't think of anything else at the moment.

He was simply driven by his will toward the light.

The terrain began to become treacherous. The gentle forest paths gradually disappeared, replaced by steep and rugged mountain trails.

Every step the boy took became exceptionally difficult. He had to use both his hands and feet, gripping tightly with his fingers in the crevices of rocks or tree roots, carefully climbing upwards.

The immense physical exertion resulted in profuse sweating. Beads of sweat rolled down his forehead and cheeks, causing a tingling sensation.

He resisted the urge to wipe it clean; his sandals were already unsteady on the slippery rocks, and he could easily slip and fall if he lost focus for even a moment.

On this steep mountain path, a slip is not just a matter of getting your clothes dirty; fractures or even falling to your death are possible consequences.

This treacherous road was finally left behind. The road ahead, though still narrow, began to wind its way along the mountainside and became slightly "flatter".

The city-state was near. Towering spires pierced the sky, and buildings atop the peaks shone with a sacred light in the eternal dawn.

This place is like a fairyland from a myth, making one yearn to touch it.

The most striking feature is the enormous stone statue that seems to be carrying a small, sun-like light source.

It raises its head to the sky, yet its gaze seems to be lowered, silently watching the city-state built against the mountain below.

Golden veins, like molten gold, flow across its strong stone body, creating a scene full of power and compassion.

However, even with a clear view of the mountain, the journey can still be long.

It took the boy an unknown amount of time before he finally arrived at the entrance to the city-state.

The muddy dirt road beneath his feet was no longer there, but a wide holy path paved with huge white stones, leading straight to the city gate.

Along the road, towering stone pillars are topped with blazing torches, their flickering flames casting swaying shadows in the eternal dawn, adding to the solemnity and majesty of this holy city.

Before me lay a magnificent architectural complex unlike anything I had ever seen before, its ancient Greek style immediately striking.

He finally saw people dressed similarly to himself! They were chatting and laughing as they entered and exited the city gate under the watchful eyes of the guards.

The bustling scene at the city gate dispelled his loneliness along the way.

"Finally... I'm not alone anymore." A faint warmth gently caressed the boy's bewildered heart.

...............

Image: "Release a Medicine Cat", Location: "Images/1753938987-100445955-113597639.jpg"

Amber Seed Medicine Scroll: Chapter Two Russell

Just as the boy was about to step into the city gate, a deep, rough voice stopped him.

"Ahem, kid, wait a minute!"

The guard captain in charge of registration put down the stone slab, his sharp gaze sweeping over the boy's unfamiliar face.

The officer was as burly as a small mountain, covered in heavy armor, yet his movements were still agile, as if he could smash the boy's frail body into the ground with a single punch.

“You look unfamiliar. Which city-state are you from?” His voice carried an unquestionable authority, purely in a businesslike tone. “Register me. In this day and age, the rules cannot be broken.”

As if afraid the boy might misunderstand, he added, "Everyone is the same; they all have to register, not just you."

"Okay...okay." The boy nodded timidly, his voice barely audible.

The captain of the guard turned over the heavy stone slab, picked up his pen, and then carefully examined the boy before him. His linen clothes were covered in mud, the dried stains hardened, making him look as if he had just been pulled out of a mud pit.

He curled his lip in disgust: "Tsk... covered in mud, did you walk all the way to Ohmma on your own two legs?"

Aside from the long journey involving sleeping outdoors and enduring wind and rain, he couldn't think of anything else that could have made someone so miserable.

The thought that a certain bathhouse might be welcoming such a "distinguished guest" today made him feel a moment of silent sympathy for the cleaners there.

"Hmm?" A hint of curiosity flashed in the boy's pale blue eyes. "Ohm? Is that the name of the city? I've never heard of it."

"Huh?!" The captain of the guard's pen stopped abruptly, almost piercing the stone slab, as if he had heard something out of a fairy tale. "You don't know Ohma?! By Kefal!" he exclaimed, his eyes wide with surprise. "Which city-state did you crawl out of here?"

"I don't know," the boy answered calmly, then posed another question, "Who is Kefal? Is he the lord of Ohma?"

The captain of the guard was utterly shocked. He stared at the boy as if he were a monster.

There are actually people who don't recognize the Titans of Onpharos? That's unheard of!

And this young man added another chapter to his short life experience.

"Sigh..." The captain of the guard shook his head vigorously, as if trying to shake off the absurdity. "If you don't know, then don't worry about it. You'll understand sooner or later once you get into the city."

He thought to himself: "He's probably just some wild kid from some backwater village. It's normal that he's never seen the world."

As the captain of the guard thought this, a hint of pity unconsciously crept into his gaze as he looked at the boy. After all, the boy's journey here must have been extremely difficult, so why should he make things difficult for this poor soul?

"Then you must know the name of your city-state, right? What's the name of the place you came from?" The captain of the guard picked up his pen again, the tip hovering above the stone slab, waiting to record it.

The boy's pale blue eyes were blank. He tried to search his memory for something, but after a few seconds he gave up and shook his head helplessly: "I don't remember."

The guard captain frowned: "You must know someone in the city, right? Or what do you do? At least I should remember your profession."

"No... I can't remember." The boy shook his head again, his silver hair swaying slightly with the movement, and a look of distress appeared on his face.

The captain of the guard's patience was wearing thin: "Tsk! You... you're almost like someone with amnesia! What about your own name? Don't tell me you don't know it either."

"I'm sorry," the boy said awkwardly, touching his silver hair, some dust between his fingers, "I really... can't remember anything."

A surge of anger welled up in the captain of the guards' heart. Could this kid be here specifically to pick a fight and torment the guards? This is utterly unreasonable!

He'd been the city gate guard captain for years, and this was the first time he'd ever seen someone come to provoke the guards at the gates of Ohma.

But years of experience told him that in the boy's clear, almost foolish, light blue eyes, there was only pure confusion, without the slightest trace of pretense.

This doesn't seem like an act; it's more like... his memories have really been emptied out.

He took a few deep breaths, the heavy armor inside his chest cavity making a dull grating sound as it rose and fell.

Calm down! He told himself. This was the gate of the Holy City of Ohm, a symbol of order and light. To lose his temper with a poor soul who might have suffered misfortune would be beneath the dignity of the Holy City.

He kept repeating to himself: He's already like this, what's wrong with going along with him? As the first face of the Holy City, he needs to stay calm and show compassion!

"Alright..." The captain of the guard sighed helplessly, put down his pen, and the registration obviously couldn't continue.

His gaze fell on the bulging, mud-stained linen bundle at the boy's waist, as if grasping at a last straw. "And this," he pointed with his thick finger, "what's inside? You should know, shouldn't you?"

The boy's eyes lit up at the mention of the package, his previous gloom vanishing: "It's Blood Crystal Grass! And some other herbs. All medicinal materials for treating injuries. What's wrong?" His tone carried a hint of barely perceptible excitement.

"Oh? Medicinal herbs?" The captain of the guard noticed the change in the boy's expression, and his tone revealed a hint of relief. "So... you know a little about medicine?"