The Alchemist's Guide to Flesh and Blood Ascension

Chapter 100 Why Go?

In the final movement of this closing song, before the sand armor had even dissipated...

And then there's this lingering thought in my mind—the caravan's journey isn't over yet.

The figure draped in black robes seemed to have said something that left a deep impression on me.

What's your name...?

Having an extra option is always a good thing.

Thinking about it now, it is indeed true. On the verge of death... it had never felt its thoughts were so clear.

A road is indeed too easily blocked, cut off by jackals like the old Sand King and the Church, if the true inhabitants of Zerharan want to truly continue...

There must exist a secret passage buried deep in the shadows of history, unknown to most people.

The device that the black-robed friend gave it, along with the blue and white "ether," was enough to enable it, even when it was at its last gasp, to do this.

Sand Armor lifted his arm with his shoulder, then used his upper arm to lift his forearm... and finally raised his limp, hanging hand.

Beneath the feet of those merchants who were running wildly, the earth's veins emitted muffled rumbling sounds, causing them to stumble.

The latter half of the trade route leading to Hart City shimmered with brilliant golden light at this moment, yet it inevitably left behind a trace of "sacredness" that could not be erased...

At this moment, it is clearly surrounded by the Morse desert...

Forgiveness.

However, the Sand Armor did not stop there.

It forcefully expelled the core from the chest cavity, then split it in two...

The smaller part... carrying the trust that the two black-robed friends had placed in the sand armor, changed direction, avoiding the man-eating yellow sand, avoiding the nearly collapsed and ravaged canyon, and burrowed into the deepest soil beneath the sand.

This hidden path exists only in the intuition of those accepted by Morse.

It serves as both a backup plan to be prepared for any eventuality and a kind of "return gift" that was never spoken aloud.

Whoosh—!

With the final, crisp sound of heavy metal armor shattering, the dark gold heavy armor completely collapsed, leaving only the giant dragon head-shaped helmet no longer sinking into the quicksand.

But the armor plate didn't vanish into nothingness; instead, it carried the weight of the remnants of the two geniuses' souls... endlessly plummeting downwards.

It seems heavier than Mount Tai, yet lighter than a feather.

Until it passed through layers of yellow sand, skimmed across layers of dust-covered earth, and gently landed into a slippery, cold, and forgotten cavity...

This is an abandoned, dark lair filled with the remains of monsters.

The tainted demonic energy, mixed with curses and rejected by the former oasis, transformed into a pitch-black "swamp" here. And when the dark golden fragments, symbolizing "protection," fell into it...

Everything was in an uproar.

That wisp of a remnant soul, barely held together by the radiance of ether and the alchemical apparatus...

It seems that we will continue to fight against that "filth" here, day after day, year after year.

The tomb was dark, darker than the alchemist's robes...

Alchemist?

At a certain moment, in its almost stagnant mind, under the tether of the alchemical device... a flash of inspiration appeared.

It's only a matter of time before they are completely corrupted by that "filth"...

Since you can't escape, then... why not "completely dismantle yourself"?

Is this how "impurities" are handled?

But what it needs to do is tear its own soul apart, and tear it apart again, using the power provided by this corrupting demonic source...

He drew what he remembered as crooked and distorted lines, yet which were infused with the insights of two genius alchemists from different eras…

Decompose the formation.

Pain, curses, corruption... became its driving force, and it ruthlessly severed those parts, leaving them to rot and mutate in the ownerless nest.

The pure power of obsession, longing, and yearning, with the help of the Ether Squad, was able to see the light of day again—this is the epitome of that unfulfilled ambition.

The Morse sun had never felt so warm as the merchant knelt before the helmet in repentance…

And when the caravan rallied and moved forward again.

It saw everything.

It also heard the black-robed alchemist's murmurs.

He asked it if it was satisfied.

It said it was satisfied.

So Morse helped it answer the question.

The burial place of this "sinner".

It has blossomed into a "new life"...

But eventually, under the wear and tear of long and tedious years, it will forget the names and faces of those two black-robed friends... and even this last resounding victory in the "path-clearing operation".

Under the cycle of the sun and moon, amidst the ebb and flow of the demonic source, it is able to "rebirth," and then transform into the mirage...

The "sacred remains" that have been guarded for a century.

Having lost its body and power, all that remains are... the unforgettable dark purple demonic runes brought from the abyss.

Whenever the broken core in his chest throbbed, the demonic runes tightened more and more, like thorns piercing his blood vessels, causing him increasing pain.

But the sand armor waited there, watching as the uneven ground was smoothed out by countless footprints, and witnessing the rise and fall of Zelharan.

It couldn't remember clearly, but that "transaction" that spanned a century still circulated among the chattering blue and white ether.

"Old friends" will come back.

Who is this "old friend"?

I don't remember very clearly...

But this golden trade route must continue to be protected by it...

And so, some saw that which had a body of yellow sand, blood of steel, and could neither be harmed by swords nor destroyed by magic...

Iron Sand Demon Armor.

And so, as if by some strange twist of fate, it blocked that magical shuttle.

Then I saw the blazing sun, the city, and the "giant".

The moment Yunev's fingertips touched the tattered armor, the damaged memory module seemed to awaken from the "past" and arrive in the "present."

Forced by the closed loop of cause and effect, and by fate, it cannot speak directly.

But it knew...they would come.

Because the alchemical creation that needed "atonement" was still in solitude, unconsciously waiting for the visit of two visitors from another world.

As the "deposit" was handed over, this tireless alchemical creation was seriously contemplating a question...

So what exactly does most people mean by "rest"?

Some merchants said it was the nectar of the desert.

Some traveling merchants said...

That is actually "eternal sleep".

It is disappearing, yet it has not completely disappeared.

Yonivore pinched his cheek with one hand and covered his chest with the other.

The fragments of the "Unquenchable Firewood" have now been completed.

The final payment... comes from the "past".

But Yonivore will continue on this path with this unwavering conviction, with that "guardian's obsession" that transcends time...

Carrying that ever-burning, vast sea of sand, the flame of life.

Towards tomorrow.