The Envoy of Abundance from Onphalus

"Compared to that dull-looking white-haired boy, you are more like the future Titan of the World."

“Teacher, you know,” Russell’s voice was low and firm, “status and fame were things I didn’t care about a thousand years ago, and I still don’t care now.”

“So be it,” sighed Naksha (or rather, Cecis, who was in control at this moment), “you remain as stubborn as ever. Three thousand years have passed in the blink of an eye, and your stubbornness has not changed in the slightest.”

“However, I am very satisfied, Russell. What you have done is something that will be remembered throughout Onphalus. It makes me proud.”

“An ordinary person with no responsibility to save the world has taken on the heavy burden of survival. You are my most satisfactory disciple, without exception.”

Serhis controlled Naksha's body and took a step forward until he was only half a body length away from Russell.

Then, she embraced Russell with a gentle hug, in her natural voice.

“My disciple Russell,” she said with infinite tenderness, “carry on with your beliefs until you witness the dawn.”

"May you no longer bear the heavy burden you have in this life in that new world. Live well and enjoy... the peace that belongs to the dawn."

“Teacher…” Russell’s voice trembled uncontrollably. He stood frozen in place, staring blankly at “that moment of summer” who was retreating. A thousand words were stuck in his throat, and in the end, they turned into a silent gaze.

In the end, he simply turned his back, afraid that if he looked at Na Xia any longer, tears would fall from his eyes.

At that moment, Xia (Cerseis had already left) shook her head, saw Russell turn his back, and casually waved goodbye to the Golden Clan.

His mission has come to an end; it's time for him to choose his final resting place.

His criteria for choosing a burial site was that it should ideally be a quiet place, surrounded by wise men and undisturbed by mediocre people.

……

At that moment, Xia scoffed, "Your farewell was worse than nothing. Look, you've completely broken your disciple's heart. Can a rational Titan really have a sentimental side?"

"So what?" Sersis's voice was still sharp, but it had a rare hint of gentleness. "He is my disciple, so what's wrong with him saying goodbye? I am not like you, who is only obsessed with forbidden knowledge."

“I only… fear that we will not meet again in the next life. He forced me to say goodbye back then, which made me suffer for a long time. Today, I will let this son of man taste the same pain.”

"Concern is concern, why make up such a lame excuse? I really don't understand you." Xia said dismissively.

"He also needs comfort and affirmation. What you see in history books is a glorious and great name."

Serhith's voice lowered: "What I see is a child suffocating under the weight of survival. His history is filled with bitterness; he needs the approval and comfort of an elder, what's wrong with that?"

"..." Xia fell silent at that moment, seemingly too lazy to argue with this rational Titan, or perhaps he tacitly accepted this statement.

“One day I too will face eternal farewell… I long to see this world one more time,” Cecily sighed.

“Then I’ll wait until my next life when I become a Titan, and then I’ll take him as my disciple,” Xia suggested.

"You?" Sersis scoffed. "My disciple would be more suited to take you as his apprentice in the new world. Even if reincarnation changes, he would still be qualified to be your master."

“Then let’s give it a try,” Xia replied, with a hint of amusement.

……

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Amber Medicine Scroll: Chapter Thirty-Eight - The Final Moment

That moment, Xia died. The instant that Serhith's flame left his body, his soul vanished along with the Titan's afterimage.

The seventh spark—the spark of the Titan of Reason—has successfully returned.

The final resting place he chose for himself is the scholar's cemetery meticulously maintained by Bertrand Russell.

Here lie the most brilliant minds of Onphalus over three thousand years, each with their own distinct personality, yet all burned out in their quest for the world's survival.

At that moment, Xia detested the clamor of ordinary people. On the other side of the Styx, she kept company with these senior students, discussing the questions of the wise. It didn't seem so bad.

He visited Russell one last time to request that a tombstone be placed in the cemetery. Russell was silent for a moment before nodding.

Just as Xia turned around, Russell's voice caught up, like a thorn stuck in her throat: "Teacher... what was your name in your previous life?"

"Calypso," Sersis whispered, flowing from that summer's lips. Without saying goodbye, he left.

In the cemetery, Xia personally erected a stone tablet and held a quiet memorial service for herself.

The grass swayed in the breeze, and in the distance, the massive silhouette of the divine tree stood silently.

He had to admit that Russell had chosen a good spot. A man of such blasphemous disrespect as him would likely be forgotten in the future; this tranquility was his final gift.

Ohma awaits his completion of the Golden Blood's destiny. The flame is returned, and body and soul decay into a mortal gray.

Bertrand Russell witnessed his resolute decision, and despite his displeasure, he could not deny its weight. At that moment, Xia's name was finally engraved on the scholar's resting stone.

The inscription was carved by Bertrand Russell himself: "In homage to a great disrespecter."

The supply convoy from the Divine Tree Court tirelessly delivered supplies to Ohma. Among the crates of books was a concise history of Onphalus; more importantly, there was food, medicine, and weapons, sustaining the survivors on their journey through the fire.

Before leaving, Russell handed a cold, hard stone to Xia Die—a crystal formed from the heart of that summer.

“The breath of the dead is the key to unlocking the River Styx,” Russell’s voice was devoid of emotion. “The Titan of Death, Cenatos, is said to be behind the door. Take it. Do not betray the heart of that great scoundrel.”

News of Xia's death arrived three days after Russell returned to Tree Garden. He smirked as he read the report. The guy had gotten what he wanted, truly enjoying himself from beginning to end.

The shadow of the Black Tide could no longer be ignored. Standing at the highest point of the tree garden, Russell could clearly see that filthy boundary was creeping and approaching.

Small, twisted monsters, like scouts, appeared and disappeared in the dense forest surrounding the Tree Garden. The atmosphere of a final battle permeated the air, carrying the smells of rust and decay.

The scholars of Tree Garden, beneath their fear, surged with barely suppressed excitement. The defensive system, painstakingly built over generations, had finally reached its trial. They yearned to see if this bulwark of wisdom could withstand the monstrous tide of destruction.

As the leader, Russell was nailed to the command post. Everyone else could retreat, but he couldn't.

If the leader steps down, the treetops will crumble instantly. He must remain here until the very last moment. He has prepared for this moment for nearly a thousand years. At worst, we'll meet again in the new world.

A month flew by in a flurry of activity. Xia Die's letter arrived.

The letter carried the scent of gunpowder and blood. After suffering heavy casualties, the Ohma Expeditionary Force finally defeated Nicardori, the god of strife, and his fanatical followers who had occupied the city of Suspended Edge.

The truth is cruel and tragic: Titan's seemingly insane "strife" was actually the use of the most extreme means to drive people away from the Black Tide's engulfment. His long slumber stemmed from the endless battle with the Black Tide, repeatedly eroded by it, and he could only delay his own disintegration through slumber.

Euriporn split him into five parts in an attempt to preserve his life, but in doing so, he also completely ripped apart his mind. After that, the Black Tide spread at an extremely rapid pace.

It could be said that this tyrant died too easily.

“No wonder the Black Tide was once slowed down,” Russell murmured, his fingertips tracing the rough paper. “It was he who was holding it off all by himself.”

The last king of Suspended Peak, Medemos, announced the end of the dynasty and remained alone in the dying city, using his newly ascended status as a demigod of conflict to buy time for the departing Reclaimers of the Flame.

They used themselves as fuel to disperse the black tide until the flames burned out.

At this moment, many of the knots that had been tangling in Russell's heart suddenly loosened.

At the end of the letter, Xia Die turned her attention to Stikosia—that land of death long since swallowed by the Black Tide. They would venture into the depths of despair to search for the embers of the death titan Cenatos.

“Saifier might know the way,” the handwriting trembled slightly, “but the price… will likely be high.” The letter ended with a sense of farewell. Inheriting the flame of death, the final destination was the path Xia had walked.

The package that arrived with the letter carried a faint scent of violets. Inside was a cute, chibi-style plush doll modeled after Bertrand Russell, its soft fur as delicate as a baby bird's.

Holding it felt like holding a warm little life. The doll's eyes were clear and innocent, reflecting the light and shadow of the Tree of Serhis outside the window, and for a moment Russell saw himself when he first entered the Tree Garden—his eyes were once just as pure.

The person in the mirror had only an unfathomable weariness in their eyes. They could hardly recognize themselves as a living person, or merely a cold, mechanical program meant for survival.

He had even lost this ability to judge. He couldn't help but laugh at himself in the mirror, but behind that smile lay an overwhelming sense of sorrow.

One night, Russell walked alone into the empty tinderbox. The heavy doors closed behind him, isolating him from the world.

Silence pressed down like a physical entity, with only one's own heartbeat echoing in the emptiness. A string stretched taut for three thousand years suddenly snapped. The suppressed grievances, the bone-deep loneliness, and the excruciating pain of eternal farewell transformed into a scalding torrent, bursting through the dam and crashing onto the cold ground.

The empty storage space was like a gaping wound, mocking all his efforts. He, too, had once tried, like Meneta trying to recreate Ceres, to recreate a form for his teacher.

What even the Titans failed to achieve, the delusions of mortals are nothing more than empty wine bottles piled up on the walls.

For him, Serhis was far from being a teacher. She was a strict guide, the only anchor in his long, lonely years, and someone he regarded as family.

Only she will always see him as that child who needs discipline. The world only remembers the symbol of rationality in history books; a great figure should not have tears.

He once had the most selfish thought—to forever withhold the flame of his teacher's life. As if as long as that light remained, she had never left. Perhaps, as a second choice, reason could be the last flame to be returned.

But he personally nipped that idea in the bud. To send more people to their deaths for his own selfish gain? How then would he differ from the corrupt high-ranking officials of the former Shuting government?

He tacitly approved of that summer's blasphemous plan precisely because he understood the weight of that choice. But... ultimately, he couldn't bear to let go.

The path to survival greedily devoured everything he possessed. His faint hope could now only be placed in that distant new world.

No one knows what happened at the storage site. The scholars only saw their ruler the next day, unusually drunk, with traces of alcohol still on his face.

A few days later, deep within the scholars' cemetery, a stone tablet quietly appeared. The inscription was very simple, carved by Bertrand Russell himself:

Remembering my dear teacher Calypso

— Bertrand Russell

Update complete. Driving practice tomorrow, time for bed. Still asking for a like, comment, and share.

Amber Medicine Scroll: Chapter Thirty-Nine - The Extinct Dawn

The light of the Heart of the Divine Tree was rapidly fading, and daylight was compressed to a mere four hours. The precious fuel that sustained it piled up like mountains beside its base. Every resource was crucial to survival, fueling the final battle.

The gentle scholarly light in Russell's eyes vanished, leaving only the cold, sharp edge of a ruler. He activated the massive mechanism of the Divine Enlightenment Tree Court, the gears meshing with a piercing, mournful sound.

"Conscription order! All active and retired guards, return to your posts immediately!" The order resounded like thunder, echoing through every corridor of the treehouse.

The retired veterans silently took out their dusty armor and sharpened their rusty swords.

The clanging of metal replaced the turning of pages as the weary soldiers stared intently at the surging darkness outside the alchemical shield and the menacing silhouettes that loomed within it.

Evacuation orders followed immediately.

"Women, children, the elderly, and the weak, evacuate them all to Ohmma! Quickly! Assist them in their evacuation as quickly as possible." Russell's voice was resolute.

The daylight in the Tree Garden is teetering on the brink of collapse; only the ever-burning dawn machine of Ohma is its last refuge.

Panicked crowds surged toward Ohmma, guided by scholars. A mother clutched her crying baby tightly, and an elderly man with white hair looked back one last time at the towering shadow of the Tree of Thoth, his cloudy eyes filled with fear and reluctance.

Despite his deep reluctance, he ultimately had to leave this turbulent city-state. This reflects Bertrand Russell's compassionate attitude towards the vulnerable.

Inside the control center, a piercing alarm tore through the air.

"A calculation error? No! It's changing direction!" the monitoring scholar screamed. The filthy ink blob representing the Black Tide on the light screen was tearing apart the trajectory pointing to Ohma at ten times the predicted speed, and was pouncing precisely towards the Divine Enlightenment Tree Garden.

"It's toying with us!" Another scholar slammed his fist on the control panel, data streaming wildly through his bloodshot eyes. "Who?! Who's controlling this extinction behind the scenes?! This black tide must be conscious. Otherwise, why would it be like this?"

Doubts clung to him like poisonous vines, but Russell had no time to delve into them. His voice, hoarse yet piercing through the noise, said, “Students who haven’t completed two years of study, join the evacuation! And arguing about these things now is pointless.”

“They are the seeds…” He looked in the direction of Ohma, hoping that Aglaia could suppress the undercurrents in the Senate and hold onto this faint hope. The Divine Enlightenment Tree Garden had become a perilous city suspended in darkness.

Russell knew very well that there was no defense that couldn't be broken. The so-called nine-layered protective shield and millennium of supplies were nothing more than comforting those in dire straits.

Since the Divine Enlightenment Tree Garden has become the next target of the Black Tide, its destruction is only a matter of time.

"Take inventory of all reserves! Thoroughly inspect the nine layers of protective shield! Every rune, every energy node!" Russell's orders were relayed down the chain of command. Deep within the warehouse, supplies were piled up like mountains, enough to last for a thousand years.

However, the guards' faces showed only numb exhaustion. Outside the protective barrier, the muffled thuds of the monsters crashing down sounded like an incessant death knell. On the fourth layer of the barrier, spiderweb-like cracks spread before everyone's eyes, emitting a sickening groan.

“Only three months… three layers of protection… 100,000 lives…” A young guard slid down the cold wall and sat on the ground, his face under his helmet as pale as paper.

The scholar beside him tried to record stress data, but his trembling hand couldn't hold the pen. Despair, like a tangible chill, seeped into his bones.

Looking at those hideous monsters, the initial passion in his heart cooled down a bit, but thanks to Russell's reputation accumulated over three thousand years, he still started the Tree Court war machine at full speed.

Various novel technologies have cost Kuroshio millions of Kuroshio creations.

But these creations are endless, while the soldiers of the Tree Court who die will never be replaced.

At this moment, he didn't seem like a person. He was more like a war machine that followed the principle of survival.

The only solace came from Ohmma's last message. Russell learned of Ohmma's latest news through the image transmission technology developed by Tree Garden.

Aglaia's weary yet resolute phantom appeared: "...The spark of the Sky Titan is the final piece of the puzzle. When the spark returns to its rightful place, it will be the day that Bai'e undertakes the Trial of the Negative World and initiates the Re-creation of the World."

Russell clutched the crystal tightly, his gaze fixed on the faint yet tenacious glimmer of dawn above Ohmma in the distance. As long as it burned, there was still a reason for it to keep going.

This sole reason was completely extinguished with the deafening roar of the fourth protective barrier collapsing.

Amidst the deafening crashing sound, the soldiers' heart-wrenching cries rang out: "Light! The light of Ohm! It's gone—!"

Russell looked up abruptly.

On the horizon, the point of light that symbolized eternal hope disappeared.

All that remained was a pure, all-consuming blackness. That darkness, tinged with an ominous crimson, enveloped the entire Onpharos.

Dead still

Even the monster's roar seemed to be swallowed up by this extreme darkness. All gazes—soldier's, scholar's, Russell's—were frozen in the impenetrable indigo in the direction of Ohmma.