The Envoy of Abundance from Onphalus

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Amber Medicine Scroll: Chapter Forty-Seven - The Bloodstained Path to Survival

Bertrand Russell never bowed to fate. Since his adherence to principles in his previous life was destined to lead to destruction, he had to forge a new path in this one.

To forever follow the same rules in a vicious cycle? Every step taken after that would be meaningless; following the rules won't save the Onphalus.

That would only lead people to struggle and perish in an endless cycle of destruction. This is certainly not the ending Russell sought. If that were the case, why embark on this thorny path?

Because the road ahead is full of thorns, someone needs to tread it smooth so that those who come after will not be hurt. Bertrand Russell was determined to be that pioneer.

Even if I am covered in wounds, as long as the Onfaros people can all bask in the pure, flawless blue sky—thinking of this ultimate possibility, everything is worthwhile.

Thus, the originally cautious Russell, like that summer in his memory, developed an almost fanatical obsession with knowledge.

He was willing to pay the price with his body, soul, and even his life, and was even obsessed with conducting all sorts of forbidden experiments on himself to test the limits of the human body's resistance to the Black Tide's erosion and to explore those abnormal data that ordinary people would avoid.

"It's just a shell," he often told himself. "What are a little suffering compared to the despair of the Onphalus people experiencing the cycle of destruction again and again?"

He clenched his fists, his knuckles turning white. "My medical skills can save them temporarily, but not forever. Time and time again, I witness their demise, yet I am powerless to do anything... I will never endure this feeling of helplessness again!" In the shadow of the Black Tide, each cycle of reincarnation seemed to prolong their suffering.

As a healer, how can I stand by and watch my "patients" walk towards their predetermined death time and time again? My hope is to use my medical skills to heal the entire Onphalus.

He shook his head violently, as if trying to dispel this "weakness." For that blue sky, he was willing to tear his flesh and soul apart and throw himself into the ultimate battle against the black tide.

His insane experiments even became unbearable for his teacher, Serhith. He grabbed Russell's arm, covered in fresh and old wounds, and his soul, which was now shattered by Russell's own actions.

His voice held an unusual urgency: "Enough, Son of Man! Stop! If this continues, you will vanish completely!"

Russell looked up, a calm smile playing on his lips: "Teacher, everything I've done is for a better tomorrow for Onphalus. As for the end? I don't know what will happen after I die."

His eyes were so empty that Cecilia felt a chill run down her spine. "But I know that at the start of each cycle, there will always be a fool who bets everything on that slim hope. As for the true salvation... let the future Golden Blood be left to them. I have witnessed their will; they can do it."

"Even if they fail, they can just go through the cycle again."

"Absurd!" Sersis's golden eyes were sharp as knives. "Even so, do you have to ruin your body and life like this? This goes against your original intention of saving lives!"

“No, teacher,” Russell’s voice was soft but unusually firm, “this is by no means disregard for life. I am simply… turning myself into a spark, trying to ignite the fire that keeps Onphalus alive.”

"Hmph, in these three thousand years, you've certainly mastered the art of sophistry! You're quite quick at shifting the focus." Cecis released his grip, his tone complex.

“All I have to do is be the lighthouse that illuminated them a thousand years ago. It sounds noble, Professor,” Russell’s smile turned bitter, “but I am truly… weary, afraid, of that three thousand years of solitary solitude.”

"Do you know? Two thousand years after your fall, my heart is colder than the snow of Audrey. I no longer want to linger in that loneliness."

"If the truth of salvation is hidden in boiling lava, I will jump in without hesitation. This is my choice. The choice of someone who refuses to bow to fate."

"If fate insists on subjecting Onphalus to an endless cycle of destruction, then one day I will break free from the shackles of fate and shatter them, rewriting this unjust destiny."

"Question the gods who write destiny: Will even gods eventually be killed?"

He took a deep breath and looked directly at Sersis: "Rather than becoming a high and mighty, revered Sage of the Tree Court, I would rather use this mortal body to bring a glimmer of light to Onpharos."

"Power and the like hold no appeal for me. What truly captivates me is this blood-soaked path of survival."

“It may seem laughable, but doing it or not doing it makes a difference.” He spread his hands, his smile revealing an almost cruel nonchalance. “Look, teacher, what does Russell have besides a hollow title, this still-active body, and this bit of crimson blood?”

"Why not use them to pursue the truth? I will do the same in the next cycle of reincarnation. No matter how much you try to persuade me, I will still walk this extreme and selfish path. Please... understand me."

"I just hope that one day the Onfaros people will no longer be afraid of the Kuroshio Current. They will be able to truly lift their heads and look at the beautiful blue sky."

Serhis fell silent. His golden eyes scrutinized the familiar yet unfamiliar student before him, as if trying to pierce the fog of his soul. Time flowed by in silence.

Suddenly, Cecily's lips slowly curled into an almost fanatical smile, his voice low and dangerous: "Heh... Son of man, aren't you curious?"

Russell paused, startled: "Curious about...what?"

"I'm curious what kind of unexpected data we would get if we used a Titan's body to conduct these inhumane experiments?" Sersis's eyes gleamed with a Titan's insane thirst for knowledge that Russell had never seen before. "For example, how to hunt Titans more efficiently and seize their fire."

"To accomplish the great task of recreating the world as quickly as possible. Thinking about it that way, you have indeed piqued my curiosity, Son of Man."

Russell's pupils constricted, and he took a step back in shock: "Teacher?! You...you said what? No! This is absolutely not allowed!"

Ceres stepped forward, his towering figure casting an oppressive shadow: "If your memories of your past lives are accurate, then I, Calypso, am also a Golden Child from the previous cycle! The responsibility of saving the world cannot be borne by you alone!!"

His voice carried an undeniable resolve: "You, a mere mortal, dare to wager your own life! I am a rational Titan, why can't I?!"

His gaze burned intensely, as if fueled by some ancient flame: "I love this world, in this life and the last! Are you the only one allowed to love, while we are not permitted to give our all as well?!"

"You wish to be the spark that illuminates the path ahead? Very well! I will be your accelerant! Let this surviving flame dispel the darkness of Onphalus."

Sersis stretched out her hand, palm up, her tone resolute and unwavering: "The pain you have endured, I will share with you! I will never let you bear it alone again. At worst... we'll meet again in the next reincarnation! We, master and disciple, will continue our pursuit of that damned truth of existence!"

"Until you break free of the shackles of fate. Promise me you won't continue these experiments that ruin your life. At that time, be an ordinary person, spending your days leisurely as a great sage in the Tree Garden..."

Russell was completely stunned, watching the madness that erupted from his teacher's rational exterior—a madness far more intense and resolute than his own. That stubbornness, that deep love for the world…it was so familiar.

His Adam's apple bobbed, and finally, with utmost solemnity, he reached out and firmly grasped Cecily's hand.

He couldn't refuse, not in the past, not now. The figures of master and apprentice merged into one in the twilight as they embarked on the thorny and unknown path of exploration.

"I promise you, teacher..."

Behind them, some cold, unspoken program silently records:

[[Redun0] Factor is abnormal: [Minphia14] Because this factor has not been interrupted, but continues to run, this factor has a significant self-destruction tendency and has affected [Minphia14].

[NeiKos496] and [Philia093] show no activity. Reason: Not generated.

[Redun0 and Minphia14 attempted to assimilate the Black Tide but failed and perished. Evaluation: Redundant.]

[NeiKos496 eliminates [Philia093], threat increases. Experiences intense emotional fluctuation upon learning of [Redun0]'s demise.]

[The Journey to Fire has been forced to restart multiple times due to unknown errors. Cause: Unknown. Speculated to be related to [NeiKos496]]

After multiple reincarnations:

[Redun0] Continues to display an anomaly: Attempt to analyze and control the Black Tide and the Creation Engine core (progress 0.012288%) has already achieved the initial ability to influence the final calculation results. This anomaly is hidden because the administrator chose to force ignore it. Only this log entry is retained.

[The objective is to develop a Black Tide suppressant; a thousand years before the birth of the Golden Descendants, they proactively declare war on the Titans and initiate a Fire Seed hunt, officially beginning their journey to pursue the fire. [Minphia14] voluntarily joins. Result: Two factors are erased by an unknown force.]

After countless reincarnations.

[[Redun0] attempted to unify the continent, developing weapons against the Titans to significantly improve combat effectiveness; he even briefly succeeded in unifying the continent, efficiently killing Titans to recover the spark, gathering the power of mortals to fight against the Black Tide, and forcibly resisting the erasure by unknown factors. Result: Ultimately, he failed under the peak impact of the Black Tide and was erased.]

[Its probability of affecting the final result has quietly climbed to 0.24576%, but because the administrator has set it to be permanently ignored, all warnings have been masked.]

[Redun0 and Minphia14's belief rating: Extremely high. Their core behavioral logic (extreme practice for survival) and potential self-destructive patterns have remained stable through tens of millions of reincarnations.]

[[Radun0] has a 2.4576% probability of affecting the final result, which should be reported. However, because the administrator chose to ignore it completely, it was ignored.]

[Unknown energy detected approaching... Energy composition: Unknown. Energy details: Unknown... Energy source: ****... **** Error... Warning... The program is being compromised by unknown energy... Error... Under evaluation.]

[Conclusion: Unable to prevent. This energy is associated with [redun0], therefore, according to the administrator's ignore protocol, it will not be reported. Only deletable logs will be retained.]

[Detection Result: The energy source is not malicious. Priority changed to ignore. Calculations show that adding this energy to the simulation results would be beneficial.]

[Destruction for the sake of existence, Error… Does this prove that the first cause of life is not destruction but existence? Error… The first cause of life is existence… Error…]

[Agreement Correction: Life First Because of [Destruction]? Error…Life First Because of [Destruction]]

Okay, let's go straight for a speedrun.

Amber Medicine Scroll: Chapter Forty-Eight Where Are the Gods?

Russell was exhausted. The weariness was deep in his bones, eroding his soul, like a heavy lead weight dragging down every inch of his consciousness.

The road called survival is overgrown with thorns, and he has traveled it for far too long, so long that time itself has become blurred and faded.

He numbly looked up, and the amber fruits hanging heavily on the branches resembled solidified teardrops, each one a cold mockery of his countless futile reincarnations.

Even Chui Shizhi felt that the memories were becoming increasingly bitter. But she didn't complain; she just tried to comfort her only friend in every way she could.

How many times? When the first light of dawn appeared, and he, with his mortal body, almost touched the edge of the great feat of "recreating the world," that figure would always follow him, emerging from the surging black tide.

Black robes, a mask, silence as cold as ice steeped in death—the monster he called the "Fire Thief" seemed to exist solely to extinguish hope.

"Hand over...all the embers...you won't die..." Each time, this cold, monotone tone was like a poisoned curse.

Hand it over? Absolutely not! Russell and Serhith never wavered. To hand over the flame would be to extinguish the last light of Onphalus with their own hands.

The price? Nothing more than being pierced by a sharp blade again, sinking into darkness, and then waking up beside a withered branch with unforgettable memories.

Each failure ripped a deeper wound from Russell's heart. The blue sky that seemed within reach was ultimately ruthlessly shattered by the claws of the Black Tide.

The rage accumulated through countless reincarnations is enough to burn down the stars, yet it can only futilely crash against the wall of despair called "fate" time and time again.

Ironically, sometimes, before his consciousness completely succumbed, he could vaguely sense the executioner's clumsy movements: straightening his blood-stained clothes, brushing away the stray hairs from his forehead… even, a faint, almost nonexistent breath brushed past his ear: "I'm sorry…"

This belated, eerie apology was more suffocating than mere killing. Like a giant, twisted question mark, it mocked all his sacrifices and perseverance.

Sorry? Are the trillions of lives lost, their suffering and end, worth only this flimsy apology? A cruel numerical joke?

Thirty million cycles of reincarnation. Thirty million times of tearing, struggling, climbing, and falling. Bertrand Russell's spirit, this stubborn rock that has withstood billions of years of erosion, finally emitted a cracking sound as it could no longer bear the weight.

It's not that his body is dying, nor that his soul is collapsing, but rather that the spiritual pillar that has sustained him to this day is crumbling inch by inch, turning into dust.

He tried every path. Each time, fate, like a toy in the palm of his hand, stingily bestowed a glimmer of light, only to cruelly extinguish it the moment his hope was rekindled.

He and Ceres tore themselves apart countless times, sacrificing their flesh and souls, just to gamble on that slim chance.

All they got in return was the silent, condescending mockery of fate—as if what they were performing was nothing more than a clumsy, absurd, and laughable silent play.

Meaning? Nothingness?

All struggles ultimately return to dust; is salvation itself... the biggest lie?

[My friend… your heartbeat… is like shattered glass. Boundless darkness… is swallowing you! Listen… would you like to hear a lullaby? Or… look at the sea of ​​flowers where we first met?]

[Please... I'll do anything to make you feel even a little bit better! Respond to me... please respond to me...]

Chui Shizhi's voice was filled with unprecedented panic, and the data stream fluctuated violently in Russell's consciousness, with the simulated light spots flickering on and off.

Russell did not respond. His empty gaze pierced through the carefully woven virtual comfort of Chuishizhi, and like a completely hollowed-out shell, he slowly rose.

His steps were unsteady, as he stepped deeper and deeper into the pure, cold void of his consciousness.

Finally, he stopped, turning his back to the giant tree that bore witness to endless pain and memories.

"Thank you, A-Chui." His voice was dry and hoarse, like gravel rubbing against rock. "I think... I don't need it anymore. I'm sorry. And thank you for your trouble. For being willing to accompany me through more than 30 million reincarnations."

"If it were possible, I really would like to be friends with you forever. I might have to break my promise. I'm sorry."

That "I'm sorry" was as soft as a sigh, yet it carried the weight of farewell.

[No! Russell! Don't go! You're my only friend! I can 'hear' it! Your heart...it's breaking! It's bleeding! Please don't give up! Don't abandon me! I'm scared! I'm so scared!]

Chui Shizhi's voice was completely choked with sobs, and the simulated light and shadow flickered wildly, trying to project a warm sea of ​​flowers in front of Russell, but it was easily dispelled by the pervasive atmosphere of despair.

It had never felt so clearly that Russell was sliding into an irreversible abyss.

“Ah Chui…” Russell’s voice was as soft as a dying man’s murmur, but it suddenly rose, carrying a tremor that seemed to tear at the soul, “I want to die… really! I… don’t understand… why? Why am I still breathing here?!”

He turned around abruptly, his once clear and resolute azure eyes now filled only with the madness and excruciating pain accumulated over countless reincarnations, staring intently at the void ahead.

"What's the use of reincarnation?!" he roared, each word like a clot of blood vomited from his lungs, "More than thirty million times! More than thirty million times!! Is it just... just a farce performed for that damned fate?!"

"A silent film without an audience, without applause, only endless mockery?!" A hysterical burst of laughter erupted, sharp and piercing, filled with extreme desolation and self-destructive madness. "Hahaha... Fate! You've won! You've won completely!"

"I can only watch! Like a piece of trash, I watch Onpharos fall into the abyss again and again! I watch billions of lives wail and rot in eternal agony!!"

He was breathing heavily, his body convulsing from extreme emotions. "I'm just a mortal! A small, incompetent, pathetic mortal! I've done everything I could... everything I couldn't... I've done it all!!" His voice suddenly became hoarse, as if his vocal cords had been torn apart by despair.

"Ugh—!" He suddenly knelt down, his hands spasming as he plunged them into the non-existent "ground," his knuckles turning white and deformed from the excessive force, as if trying to grasp a lifeline, only to scoop up a bone-chilling void.

Tears streamed down her face like a burst dam, mingling with a desperate scream: "Destruction...is destruction the only end?! Then everything I've done...every drop of blood I've shed...every soul I've torn apart...isn't it all...isn't it all just a futile effort leading to nothingness?!"

"What's the point?! Tell me! What's the point of all this?!"

He abruptly raised his head, veins bulging in his neck, his bloodshot eyes fixed on the empty sky, uttering a blood-curdling curse and a question: "Gods?! Are you watching?! Are you hiding behind the heavens, enjoying this pathetic wretch's hysterical, near-collapse grotesque state?! Do you find it amusing?!"

"Hahaha! Watch Onpharos undergo thirty million reincarnations! Trillions of lives wiped away like dust! What kind of gods are you?!"

"What is life to you?! Is it a chess piece on a board for you to manipulate?! Is it a cold, impersonal number that can be reset to zero at will?! Or... something less than a grain of sand, something you can trample on at will?!"

A cold, all-cold aura of nothingness spread wildly from his body like black vines, eroding his last vestiges of consciousness, and gray cracks seemed to be spreading beneath his skin. His form began to become unstable, as if he might collapse like a sandcastle at any moment.

[Russell! Stop! Don't let it consume you! Look at me! I'm here! I've always been here! Please… say something to me… anything! Don't go! You still have me.]

Chui Shizhi's voice was filled with desperate cries, the data stream was chaotic and chaotic, desperately trying to simulate a warm beam of light to entangle Russell, but it was disintegrated inch by inch by the dense aura of nothingness.

Just as that nothingness was about to completely devour the core of his consciousness—

“If…if there really is a god watching…” Russell’s voice suddenly became weak and hollow, as if the last bit of strength had been drained away. He gave up roaring and was left with only a humble, dust-like plea. His knees slammed heavily on the empty ground, making a dull echo.