Cold. Pain. Suffocating exhaustion. And the endless whispers of madness from the "Poison Apple" echoing in his skull…
Orien staggered between lucidity and delirium, teeth clenched on the False Star Fragment that barely held the divine fragments at bay. His other arm clutched the cracked container as he stumbled down the twisting emergency tunnel.
Behind him, the Orchard thundered with explosions, screams of battle, and Cyno's merciless commands. Yet no pursuit pressed this route—the Doctor's chosen escape had drawn the hunters elsewhere, at least for the moment.
But Orien dared not relax. Once the Matra crushed resistance inside, they would comb every exit.
The tunnel stretched endlessly, carved into the mountain, lit only by pale fungi. The air was foul, each step dragged his battered body closer to collapse.
[Warning! Host life functions failing. Internal bleeding critical.]
[Immediate treatment required. Mortality risk rising.]
He ignored the system. There was no safe place. Only forward.
At last—light. A trickle of fresh air. Water rushing.
An exit.
He burst into daylight, squinting against the sun. A hidden ravine, sheer cliffs rising on both sides, a torrent cutting through the jungle. Isolated. Safe—briefly.
His knees buckled. He collapsed on river stones, hacking blood. The cracked container rolled free, pulsing rainbow light through deepening fractures, stirring the fragment at his brow to flare in unstable response.
Don't pass out. Not here.
He forced his gaze to the system panel:
[Status: Critical—multiple fractures, organ damage, mental trauma, divine contamination]
[Fracture Value: 105]
Pathetically low. Not enough for repairs.
Then—a flicker across the stream. White bell-shaped flowers swayed, glowing softly.
"Luminbell Lily…" In the game, a healing herb. Here, real.
Hope.
He crawled through icy water, plucked them, chewed bitter leaves. Warmth trickled through his frame, easing the pain. A sliver of strength returned. He scavenged more—berries, herbs—enough to stabilize his breath.
He dragged himself into a vine-hidden cave, stashed the cursed container behind rocks, and slumped at the entrance. Night fell. Twice, Matra airships droned overhead but passed by.
He had bought time.
Then—
[Ding! False Star Fragment resonating with Divine Knowledge Container and host psyche. Constructing temporary stabilizing channel… irreversible. Proceed?]
He stared at the relic, felt its heat against his skin.
"…Proceed."
Agony. His mind yanked into a starry maelstrom, threads of knowledge teased into order by the fragment. Bits of imagery trickled through:
…endless desert… a golden sun disk… scarlet runes shaped like eyes…
…a gentle, sorrowful woman's voice…
…"Cycle." "Taboo." "Oblivion."…
…a small figure bound in countless branches…
Fragments—cryptic, terrifying—but no longer lethal. The fragment shielded him, even fed back wisps of purified insight, knitting his battered spirit.
His mind cleared. He grinned despite the pain. This thing isn't just a shield. It's a key.
But the jungle stirred. A susurrus of movement, chittering, low growls.
Purple eyes ignited in the dark. Shroom-beasts. Dozens. Drawn to the container's aura.
"Of course…" He raised a crude spear, ready to die fighting.
But the fragment flared again, instinctively echoing fragments of "King Deshret" stored within.
An aura swept outward—desolate majesty, an ancient desert's weight.
The beasts froze. Whined. Backed away, confused, afraid.
Orien's heart leapt. He focused, forced the resonance again. The aura thickened.
Ten minutes later, the horde retreated into the jungle, cowed.
He collapsed in sweat, body wracked—but eyes blazing with hope.
The fragment was more than salvation. It was power.
Once healed, he would wield it. He would brandish the Poison Apple. And he would broadcast a truth to shake Sumeru's foundations.
…
Beyond the ravine, storm clouds gathered.
Grand Sage Azar raged in his chamber: "Useless vermin! The Orchard destroyed, core data lost, the prototype gone! Cyno, that interloper—find them!"
Whispers among the sages: "We may need to accelerate the backup plan…"
Cyno listened to reports, crimson eyes sharp as blades. "The factory is seized. Survivors in custody. But Orien and the Doctor vanished. I want them found. Alive—or their corpses."
And in the Sanctuary, Nahida gazed through the void, face etched with sorrow. "The plan is broken… they will grow desperate. And you, the anomaly… are you the spark?"
Meanwhile, in Port Ormos, a bard with a lyre strummed in a tavern corner, smiling faintly as gossip of explosions filled the air.
"So the winds rise at last. Just as the old man said… Wisdom may need a gust from outside to breathe again."
And in the jungle cave, Orien clutched his cracked treasure, eyes hard.
The stage was set.
(End of Chapter)
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