The Envoy of Abundance from Onphalus

Russell slept so soundly that time itself became blurred. He struggled to open his eyes, and beneath him lay the iconic golden sands of Onfaros.

But Chui Shizhi, who should have been lying quietly beside him, had vanished without a trace.

His heart tightened, and he sat up abruptly. Almost instinctively, he grabbed a handful of sand, rubbed it between his fingertips, and brought it close to his nose—the texture was rough, carrying the dry smell of the sun, incredibly real.

This is no illusion constructed by Chuishizhi. This is real land, newly born land. The essential memories Chuishizhi shared with him remain, crystal clear, and absolutely genuine.

The only explanation is that the re-creation has been completed. He was reshaped by Bai Er's memories and thrown into this newly born Onpharos.

There was an unfamiliar sweet fragrance in the air, mixed with the scent of earth and some unknown flowers. In the distance, the faint chirping of birds and the rustling of the wind through the tender grass sounded like a melody echoing on the new land, flowing with tranquil vitality.

He stood up and looked around. Under the blindingly blue sky, the wasteland felt both strange and eerily familiar. On the horizon, a massive dawn machine emitted a constant, soft light.

That colossal creature still stood silently, steadily resting on the shoulders of the Titan Cephalus.

“Cephalo…” Russell murmured. Is the Titan still White Evil? Only the statue of Ohmma bearing the Dawn Machine can answer that.

It seems everything has been reset. He's back at the starting line. Intervention? Is it even necessary?

Russell slowly shook his head, his gaze sweeping over the near-perfect peace before him. The world was more resilient than he had imagined.

Onphalus may no longer need the guidance of a savior or a successor. He may never have been indispensable.

He was the protagonist and the writer of the epic in the previous cycle, so this cycle has its own protagonist and epic. Why should his remnant of the old era disturb it?

A new White Calamity may already be brewing; or perhaps, in some corner, a bewildered "Russell" is opening his eyes in confusion, unburdened by three thousand years of history, stumbling and forging a new path with only the flickering candlelight in his hand.

He was fed up with the script of the survivors; he didn't want to go through that long, solitary journey of three thousand years a second time.

In this life, he only wanted to see the world that his teacher Ceres had risked everything for, and to etch this precious memory into his heart.

Live like an ordinary person. Unburden yourself from the weight that has crushed countless shoulders, and live simply.

He looked down and examined himself: the empty linen medical kit at his waist, the faded linen clothes, and the worn-out sandals.

Without even looking, he knew what he looked like: greenish-blue eyes, a streak of gold highlighting his silvery-white hair, and the youthful, unyielding, vibrant energy unique to young people.

"The Golden Clan has succeeded," Russell declared confidently. He had never doubted their perseverance. This new world was a triumphant song for heroes.

For three thousand years, he trudged alone through boundless darkness, candle in hand, just to hold onto a glimmer of light. Of his companions, how many have perished?

This reborn Onphalus is the long-cherished wish of all the dead and the living. Now, he can finally stop.

The boy's lips curled into a smile. His smile was pure and serene, as if three thousand years of accumulated snow had suddenly slid off his shoulders.

He strode towards Ohma. He wanted to see what kind of monstrosity Beyer's half-baked historical knowledge had conjured up in Ohma.

...

This time, Russell avoided the treacherous "Road of Birth" from his memory. He took the main road to Ohma and soon hitched a ride on a caravan—a steady-moving earth beast carrying huge cargo boxes.

The journey was spent in the caravan members' casual conversations about market conditions and their curiosity about him as a lone traveler.

"Where are you from, young man? You don't look like a merchant." A merchant with a turban on his head struck up a conversation.

"Traveling around practicing medicine," Russell replied with a smile.

"A doctor? That's impressive! These days, having a good doctor is better than anything else." An older team member chimed in, "Opening a clinic in Ohmama?"

“Let’s go home.” Russell said, looking at the gradually clearer outline of the massive rock city gate in the distance. “Let’s see how it’s changed.”

The gates of Ohmma are near.

"Hey! You silver-haired one! A new face!" A rough, loud voice cut through the noise. "Yes, it's you! Come down and register!"

Russell looked in the direction of the voice. It was the captain of the guard! The familiar heavy armor, the slate in hand and pen, the hands on his hips, even the impatiently twitching eyebrows—it was exactly the same as in his previous life.

This level of detail… Did Bai Er cut it from a mold? It's really strange of me. The historical records I gave to Ohma didn't contain this much detail.

"You did a thorough job." Russell thought, his gaze unconsciously drifting past the city gate to the distant Colossus of Cephalotax. "I wonder if you remember anything at all?"

"Hey! What are you daydreaming about!" The captain raised his voice, sounding impatient, when he saw that he hadn't moved. "There's a long line behind us! Hurry up!"

Russell landed nimbly, walked a few steps to the captain, and bowed slightly: "Excuse me, Captain. I noticed that Cephall was a bit lost in thought."

“What’s so interesting standing there all day! You’ll see plenty of things once we get into the city.” The captain muttered, his sharp gaze sweeping over Russell’s dusty but clean clothes before landing on the empty medical kit at his waist. “Name!”

"Russell."

"Where are you from?" The captain asked without looking up, his pen tracing lines on the stone slab.

“A local from Ohm. He traveled with his teacher to practice medicine and has just returned after completing his studies.” Russell said calmly.

“Oh? An Ohmani? A doctor?” The captain finally looked up, his thick eyebrows raised, scrutinizing him. “Looks young enough.”

"The teacher is excellent." Russell smiled and met her gaze with composure.

The captain stared at him for a few seconds, found no flaws, and waved his hand: "Alright, go in. There are many rules in the city, don't cause trouble."

"Understood, thank you." Russell nodded, then stopped and turned back after taking two steps. "Captain."

"What is it now?" The captain frowned, his tone unfriendly.

Russell didn't pay attention and pointed to the area below the captain's left shoulder blade, which was covered by heavy shoulder armor: "Here, below your left shoulder blade, close to your spine, does it ache slightly on rainy days or after long night shifts, with a bit of a stinging itch? Is it an old injury?"

The captain of the guard froze, his eyes wide. He instinctively reached out to touch that spot through the cold shoulder armor, but stopped halfway, staring at Russell in astonishment: "You... how did you know? You could tell through the armor?"

“I’ve seen it all before.” Russell said casually. “Go back and try it. Get a big wooden tub, fill it with warm water, throw in a handful of Blood Crystal Grass, and soak yourself in it for an hour. You’ll feel much better. If you keep doing this for a year, you should be completely cured. Blood Crystal Grass is available at the herbal stalls in the market, and it’s quite cheap, not too expensive.”

After saying that, he didn't linger and turned to merge into the bustling crowd inside the city gate.

The captain of the guard stood rooted to the spot. He subconsciously moved his left shoulder, and a familiar, itchy, dull pain immediately returned.

He stared in the direction Russell had disappeared, then looked down at his thick shoulder armor, his face filled with disbelief.

"What the hell... through this thing? Blood Crystal Grass?" he muttered, then gasped, "Hiss... a highly skilled doctor has come to Ohma City?"

He quickly lowered his head and made a conspicuous mark next to the stone slab where Russell's name was recorded.

……

Amber Medicine Scroll: Chapter Forty-Six - Embarking on the Journey Again

Ceres stopped in his tracks, his golden eyes filled with confusion as he stared at the silver-haired, blue-eyed boy before him: "Son of man, I do not understand."

His voice was deep, “The realm you have touched has even surpassed my understanding, so why are you so insistent on becoming my disciple? This is unreasonable.”

This young man named Russell, like a precise prophet, always appeared when Cecily was enjoying a moment of peace, his earnestness as bright as the sun, refreshing His presence right on time.

Ceres remained distant from humanity, firmly believing that greed would ultimately lead them to destruction. A disciple who proactively approached Him? This only provoked His resistance.

"Please accept me, Lord Serhith! I want to learn from you!" Russell's requests grew more sincere with each passing moment.

“No need. You know enough, Son of Man.” Ceres tried to refuse with the majesty of a rational Titan, but the almost stubborn light in the boy’s eyes always made His refusal seem powerless.

“No, in your presence, I will always be a student.” Russell’s eyes were clear and firm.

In the end, Cecily gave in, frowning and nodding with great reluctance, her face filled with helplessness at being entangled.

The real confusion erupted during the lesson. Serhith soon discovered that Russell was not lying.

Some of the questions raised by the boy were even slightly beyond the comprehension of this rational Titan.

He had to admit that Russell's understanding... seemed to have gone further. This feeling was extremely unsettling to Him. Could the wisdom of a Titan be inferior to that of a mortal?

Why is someone whose knowledge rivals that of Titans, and even surpasses them in certain areas, like an unshakeable magnet, clinging firmly to His side?

There was a kind of longing in those eyes that Cecilia couldn't understand... as if they had known each other for a thousand years, not just a dozen or so years.

This is strange. They've never met, yet they understand each other like old friends from a thousand years ago.

He tried to gently dismiss him: "Russell, your knowledge is sufficient to stand on your own; you no longer need to follow me."

“Teacher,” Russell always smiled, his smile pure, “the sea of ​​knowledge is boundless, and I still have much to learn from you. As for graduating? It’s a long way off.”

That tone of his voice made it seem as if one could learn from Him for thousands of years. Ceres smiled bitterly to himself; He even doubted what else He could teach him.

Serhis was always straightforward and disliked hiding his thoughts. This doubt finally became a thorn in Russell's side after he had followed Serhis through more than a decade of star trails.

The golden glow of the setting sun dyed the wasteland into molten gold, lengthening the shadows of the two people.

“Russell,” Serhith suddenly turned around, his golden pupils staring directly into the boy’s azure eyes, his voice carrying an unprecedented seriousness, “Tell me, why are you so fixated on this? You no longer need my knowledge. What do you seek by staying by my side?”

Russell's smile faded. He remained silent for a moment, then looked past Serhis and onto the colossal shadow on the horizon, bearing the massive creation engine—the Colossus of Cephalus.

After a moment, he withdrew his gaze and looked back at Serhith. His voice was soft, yet carried the weight of a rock: "Because the choices I made in the past, I will still make the same choices today without hesitation. Teacher."

Serhith was completely stunned. The answer was cryptic, like an unsolvable riddle.

“I don’t understand what you mean. What is the past, and what is today? Judging from your tone, it’s as if you’ve experienced reincarnation.” Cecily stared at him, voicing the deepest question in her heart.

"If I said I really have been reincarnated, would you believe me, teacher?" Russell raised his head, his eyes full of sincerity.

“I see…” Cecilia looked at Russell’s surprised expression and added, “What, you’re so shocked? Do you think I wouldn’t believe you?”

Russell slowly began to speak, recounting to his teacher the general sequence of events in his cycle of reincarnation.

Sersis listened with his eyes closed, astonishment occasionally crossing his face. Clearly, he was deeply shaken by this grand doctrine of reincarnation and salvation.

……

Russell's heart was already in turmoil. When he saw Cecilia's familiar figure again on the "new" land, shock almost overwhelmed him.

Why do these faces, which should belong to the distant past, appear so vividly before our eyes?

They are as beautiful as a dream, yet they have become an invisible, gentle bond. Perhaps they are a gift from Bai E?

He initially thought that Xia's soul had entered this body at that moment, but she had simply forgotten the past. The more time he spent with him, the more he could sense the difference.

But after more than ten years of living and working together, Cecily was clearly the teacher he knew well. His words, thoughts, and even the little habits he unintentionally revealed were exactly the same.

The legends of the other Titans remain unchanged in history books, just as they were in the previous era. Their names and souls remain the same.

So here's the question: Are his Golden Clan companions from his previous life still Golden Clan? Does this mean that the previous re-creation failed, and Onpharos is trapped in a cycle of reincarnation?

Seeds of doubt began to sprout. He began to linger before the Colossus of Cefal, trying to glean a glimpse of the truth about “re-creation” from this silent, doomed Titan—was He the White Calamity, or an old acquaintance from his previous life?

However, Kefaller remained unresponsive, like a cold star.

Then came a message from Saintess Xavier of Aidiria, shattering the last glimmer of hope. One or two coincidences could be mere chance, but so many could only be inevitable.

He said, "How come this re-creation is so accurate? It turns out that the re-creation wasn't actually completed. Instead, we've fallen into a new cycle of reincarnation."

The chilling truth, like the tentacles of a rift, entangled Russell's heart: this was not a successful rebirth, but yet another failed cycle of reincarnation.

The sacrifices of the Golden Sons, his three thousand years of solitary walking with a candle, the resistance of the masses of Onphalus... all were cruelly erased, rendered futile.

In this cycle, there will be no ordinary hero named Russell to pave the way for the candlelight or to write the preface to history.

An incredibly difficult question weighed heavily on Russell's mind: Should he once again raise that heavy torch, burning himself to light the way for Onphalus? Even if it meant another three thousand years of darkness?

Or, perhaps, they should simply disappear, enjoying a stolen moment of peace, and watch helplessly as the world slides towards its inevitable failure?

Since the cycle restarts even if reincarnation fails, what difference does it make whether he's there or not?

Why force yourself to accomplish something that is destined to be futile and impossible?

He was utterly exhausted. In the previous cycle, he had given his all, pushing himself to the limit, but the ending was like a cold mockery, leaving him with no desire to fight again.

The time for hesitation was short. When he saw firsthand the people on the streets of Ohmma, displaced and suffering from disease due to war, famine, and the erosion of the world; when he saw the same fear and bewilderment in the eyes of children as in the old days, the answer became clear.

The illusion of an ordinary life shattered. He couldn't turn away. If this cycle were to repeat itself a thousand times, ten thousand times, then he would first burn himself to light the way for Onphalus.

He has countless reincarnations, countless opportunities. Given enough time, he can find the path to save Onpharos through countless trials and errors.

The last rays of the setting sun sank below the horizon. Russell stood before Serhith, the brief moment of confusion in his azure eyes replaced by a familiar, almost tragic, resolve.

He exhaled softly, as if releasing the last trace of hesitation.

For the blue sky of Onphalus, for those figures who once walked with us in the darkness and eventually vanished, and for the bewildered teacher before us…

He must once again shoulder the burden of "survival." Even if the road ahead is thorny and he is destined to be battered and bruised, he will walk on step by step, using the candlelight in his hand to sever the despair of reincarnation.

“Teacher,” Russell’s voice calmed down, carrying the strength that comes after the dust had settled, “we…should continue on our journey. The road ahead is still long.”

"You said you've walked this path for three thousand years. After three thousand years of effort, Onpharos's reincarnation has still failed. And now you want to continue?" Sersis's tone was complicated.

“Yes, teacher.” Russell’s gaze pierced through the twilight, landing on the invisible distance. “I cannot stand idly by. If possible, let me become the fuel for survival, burning myself to light the way for the Onphalus people.”

“Heh… Interesting.” A knowing glint flashed in Cecis’s eyes, and the corners of his mouth turned up slightly. “Now I understand why I valued you so much in my previous life.”

Russell was slightly taken aback.

Sersis patted his shoulder, the gesture carrying an awkward yet genuine warmth: "Let's go, student. Come back to the Tree of Enlightenment with me. As a rational Titan, I will recommend you as the eternal Great Sage of the Tree of Enlightenment. I'm also very interested to see how your Heart of the Divine Tree, which you've researched for three thousand years, compares to that Dawn Machine of Kefal."

"Since you have chosen this path, let me see how long your candle can burn and how far it can shine this time. I will always be with you." In His golden eyes, the boy's unwavering figure was reflected.