Wasteland Echoer.

“Your power comes from fear,” Wright murmured. His dark eyes, like sharp Crusader blades, swept over the area briefly, and the two bloody “vine” tentacles abruptly retracted, as if they had encountered an evil god far more terrifying than the “alien monster.”

"But you don't feel any fear in your heart, do you? Lord Light Socrates, the [Orderer] who possesses red magical energy." "Chant" maintained his sarcastic tone, but it was clear that his words were beginning to lack confidence.

Just as he was about to manipulate the "vines" to attack Wright, he suddenly noticed that streaks of crimson sparks were constantly emerging around Wright's body. These sparks moved extremely fast, swarming around Wright's body like shooting stars with long, narrow tails that seemed to never stop.

Furthermore, a halo of pure black and crimson began to appear around Wright's body. Even though the morning light was bright enough, this halo still made the surroundings appear dim and lifeless.

In the blink of an eye, "Singing" clearly realized the difference in power between the two. Even so, as a "Restorer" of the "Dedication Group", he could only grit his teeth and complete this laughable and absurd "power display".

“Even the power of the ‘ancient gods’ is something I want to try.” “Xianyong’s” voice was high-pitched and sharp enough. Even though it contained a strong sense of youthfulness, the fear that seeped from the depths of his soul, like a gurgling stream, was hard to conceal.

The next second, golden ripples swept across the surface of the "wine-offering" vine tentacles. Immediately afterwards, the ripples quickly condensed into lines interwoven with crimson and pure gold, adhering to this terrifying, filthy, and nauseatingly filthy tentacle, giving it a faint golden halo and a sinful sense of holiness.

Two seconds later, these golden lines began to wriggle strangely, and in an instant, they formed a pattern of "giant hand and dragon".

"'The Spell of the Dedication Group'?" Wright scoffed, glancing at "Dedication" before saying:

"Your 'Dedication Group' is truly well-organized; you even engrave your emblem on these bizarre limbs. What, does your leader, 'Blood Wolf,' have such a strong desire for control and possession over you?"

"'Badge'..." "Chant" explained earnestly in a deep voice, as if a demon had descended:

"Our 'Dedication Group's Emblem is, in a sense, the spiritual core of our organization. In the wasteland era, a flag is enough to encourage thousands to survive, and an ancient 'badge'... for us, is direction and motivation."

"If we, the lost, lose our way, don't know what we are doing, don't know what we want to do, and don't understand what we are capable of, then our spiritual realm will soon be invaded by 'some mysterious and extraordinary force,' gradually becoming numb and cold-blooded. Our reason and 'humanity' will gradually disintegrate in the illusion of confusion, until we completely forget that we were ever 'born as human beings.'"

"You mean, the Losers of your 'Dedication Group' also worry about losing their minds and degenerating into 'heartless people'?" Wright asked inappropriately, but regretted it as soon as the words left his mouth.

However, for the disillusioned, the change in emotions can happen in an instant. Many disillusioned people can be polite and reasonable one second, and the next second they can turn into bloodthirsty beasts, never satisfied even if their mouths and stomachs are filled with broken flesh and blood.

Driven by relentless rage, "Sacrifice" briefly lost patience to continue the conversation with Wright. His eyes and the whites of his eyes merged into one, suddenly turning a crimson red. His "vine tentacles," branded with the golden "Sacrifice Group Emblem," suddenly shot out from his back, and under the slicing of two bone blades that rose like wings, they transformed into slightly thinner, yet more powerful vines, hurtling towards Wright's eyes, throat, chest, and abdomen.

Whoosh! Snap!

To the surprise of both "Singing" and Wright, the "vine tentacles" did not actually touch Wright's body. Instead, they snapped off abruptly at the last moment, as if a giant hand from the Creator had crossed the spatial dimension and forcibly severed it.

Even more bizarrely, the broken tentacles did not completely separate from "Xianyong's" body, but were held vertically upwards as if dragged by a mysterious force.

A pungent liquid was dripping continuously from the broken surface. Upon closer inspection, Wright saw that the liquid had gathered into a miniature lake within seconds, emitting a strange smell of gasoline mixed with wood, while its surface was a black, viscous substance.

"This is..." "This is a mixture of engine oil and tree sap, meaning the type of magical energy within you is a superposition of vegetation and earth, while your Lost One mutation manifests as 'mechanical'." Wright rubbed some liquid from the "miniature lake" in his hand, brought it near his nose, sniffed it slightly, and analyzed:

“You cannot fight me. My red magical energy manifests as fire, which naturally counters your magical energy. If you insist on following me under the guise of protection to carry out the surveillance mission given to you by the ‘Blood Wolf,’ then I do not mind clashing with your ‘Dedication Group.’”

"The Lost Ones will not submit to humans, much less to other Lost Ones. Lord Light Socrates, you know very well that by insisting on your human identity, you will lose any possibility of reconciliation with all the Lost Ones. Humans... heh, humans, in the eyes of the Lost Ones, will always be an unevolved, inferior class." "Chant" slowly retracted its tentacles, wiping away the blood seeping from the corner of its mouth.

Just a second before the attack touched Wright's body, "Song of Dedication" could feel an invisible yet powerful magnetic field protecting Wright. Even though the "vine tentacles" were broken, the vibration from the protective magnetic field did not diminish; instead, it penetrated his internal organs, causing some internal injuries.

If "Xianyong's" body did not belong to the Lost Ones, or if his internal organs and bones were not mechanized in the slightest, then he would now be coughing up blood, his internal organs shattered, and he would never rise again.

However, his extreme pride and arrogance as a lost soul made it difficult for him to accept such a huge power gap. Just two seconds later, he forcefully broke off the already bent tentacles, his eyes were covered with a ghostly green color like that of an "ice wolf", and he let out a low, beast-like howl.

“s.shin poslik brister, hoshin kechrin.” (Mainland Chinese: The power of the gods arises, a sacred song is sung.)
As a strange, indistinct mocking sound burst from "Dedication's" throat, a rather familiar piano melody eerily rang in Wright's ears.

Wright knew perfectly well that there were no musical instruments in the St. Basil's Hotel. Yesterday, in the "Magnificent Tower," while the group of white-clad Lost Girls were reciting music, the "Dark Night Investigation Team" and Atlanca had placed all the pianos and instruments near the "Between of Truth" for future use.

The delicate music that is now becoming clearer seems to be emanating from some kind of ghostly creature parasitizing the brain. It is "chanting" an exceptionally melancholy tune, which makes Wright's vision cloud over with a fine layer of gray dust, much like the desert on the outskirts of Novayask.

After listening to about two sections, these "healing" melodies gradually evolved into sickly, decadent tunes, mixed with sorrow, melancholy, and pain, much like the collective resentment of countless people before being devoured by "heartless people"; more like the despair of facing an endless ocean after searching for a place of hope for a long time.

“The style of Elysian music,” Wright blurted out. Thirty years ago, during several secret meetings with Ivante, the crown prince of the Genie people, he had the privilege of hearing this imperial heir and the de facto head of government play.

However, Ivante's piano pieces in the "Erysian" series originated from ancient scores that combined "ancient gods" with Central culture. He did not make any further artistic modifications, retaining some of the sacredness while maintaining more of the hopeful spirit inherent in the hymns sung by the Archbishop.

The notes deliberately created by "Dedication" seem to distort the original meaning of the melody, adding a lot of non-human content out of thin air.

"This is my unique ability, a 'chanting' skill that no other professional, not even a 'singer' like Hoshino Shota, possesses. That's right, my title of 'Restorer' comes from this ability. My music can communicate between gods and humans, summoning all extraordinary powers to serve me. So, Lord Light, in the 'chanting' environment I created, can you still freely enter and exit?" The voice of "chanting" gradually became hollow, rough, and sinister.

Then, Wright discovered that room ST.905 in front of him had been completely replaced by a desert oasis covered with withered vegetation. The sky here was an unpredictable, dim silver, and a slight breeze constantly blew, bringing with it a nauseating stench of blood and decay.

Behind us, the sky was shrouded in thick, black smoke from industrial activity, while everything in front of us was enveloped in fine, barren sand, appearing sickly and lifeless.

Even more bizarrely, this place seemed to be an abandoned industrial area. Long rows of dying, rotting trees lined Wright's feet and behind him. Scattered around the chimneys, factories, and bunkers were bricks and steel bars. Many parts of the abandoned buildings had already collapsed, leaving dark holes that seemed to devour any creatures that strayed into them.

Soon, an even stronger gust of wind blew by, and the yellow sand and thick smoke in the sky began to stagnate. Golden light suddenly shot out from the gaps, and the moment it touched Wright's body, it quickly expanded into beams of golden laser cannons, instantly shattering the dilapidated and eerie wasteland and bringing Wright back to reality.

And the melody of "Erythian" that had been lingering deep in his mind abruptly ceased, leaving only the image of a man kneeling on the ground, blood continuously gushing from his mouth, performing a "dedication." (End of Chapter)