Christopher fled with the Gemstone, and Phrolova plummeted into the Shores, leaving only Rover half-kneeling at the edge of the platform, enduring immense physical and mental trauma.
The air was permeated with the scorched smell of dissipating energy and a faint scent of spider lilies. The deathly silence was terrifying.
Just then, in the center of the platform, that ancient lantern lying on the ground with its dim light suddenly flared up faintly once again.
The soft halo did not diffuse; instead, like a guiding beacon, it focused on a spot not far away—the very place where Finlay had fallen to his knees.
Finlay was there. He no longer possessed that terrifying, grotesque appearance fused with Leviathan, having returned to his original form as the Prelate. However, his posture was incredibly hunched, as if he might burn the final shred of his soul energy and completely perish at any given moment.
Rover struggled to his feet and walked over, looking at that figure with vigilance and complexity.
Finlay slowly opened his mouth. His voice was ethereal and calm. There was no longer the slightest trace of madness, only a profound, heavy exhaustion and a lingering concern. "Righteous One... you are still here... good..."
Rover looked at him in silence.
"The Gemstone, being taken... it doesn't matter anymore..." Finlay continued, his gaze seeming to pierce through Rover to see a more distant future. "That was never the true key... it is merely one of the keys... What is truly terrifying... is the ultimate lie It uses to bewitch people's hearts..."
His voice grew increasingly weak, but every word carried a crushing weight: "The Cruising Heaven... that is no land of salvation. It is the greatest cage woven by the Threnodian."
"It forges a long-lasting illusion of peace to cover the true source of the Black Tide... draining the hope and faith of all living beings... ultimately... turning all the souls drowning within it into nourishment for Its descent..."
Finlay's body began to tremble violently, as if uttering every single word was agonizingly difficult: "The Seven Hills... the actions of that Governor, Augusta, might be related to it... I could only... sense the massive shadow looming over that land... but I could not touch the truth..."
He looked at Rover, his eyes revealing a final plea and entrustment: "The crisis in Laguna is temporarily resolved... but the true disaster... is already brewing in the Seven Hills... I cannot reach there. Only you can seek it out, help them, and resolve it, so that... those people who have long strayed from their faith can protect their home."
"Only by completely uncovering the truth of the Cruising Heaven... can we stop... the ultimate destruction... I leave it to you..."
With those final words falling from his lips, Finlay collapsed completely onto the ground.
And that ancient lantern, as if having fulfilled its final mission, had its flame completely extinguished. The body of the lantern turned into fine specks of light dust, scattering into the wind.
Remaining in place was only a cold stone statue—Finlay's final posture. His arms were raised in a gesture of holding up a seal, and his face was frozen in resolve and a trace of relief. Like the most loyal guardian, he would eternally watch over this place, completely sealing off the final Black Tide rift.
Rover stood rooted to the spot, speechless for a long time.
Finlay's dying words struck like a heavy hammer, completely shattering the slight sense of relief he had just felt from resolving this immediate incident. An even larger shadow, a far more arduous task, was already pressing down on his shoulders.
The Threnodian's trump card is in the Seven Hills. The "Cruising Heaven"...
He took a deep breath, suppressing the pain in his body and the surging turbulence in his heart. Right now, there was still one more thing he absolutely had to do.
Just then, Abby jumped out of an air vent, panting heavily: "Phew... I'm exhausted! That door that suddenly appeared just now was so annoying; it actually teleported me to some laboratory far, far away!"
"I finally made it back... How is it? What happened next? Did we succeed?"
Rover slowly shook his head: "The Threnodian Gemstone... was taken by the Fractsidus."
"Ah?!" Abby was shocked. "Then what do we do? Let's keep chasing them!"
"There's no need." Rover's gaze shifted away from Abby, looking into the distance, as if piercing through the deep sea to see the distant Seven Hills. "There are more important things to do."
"What things?"
"We were looking for the Gemstone to use it to find the root cause of Rinascita's abnormal state. Now we have a much clearer clue—the 'Cruising Heaven' Finlay mentioned. If the Fractsidus took the Gemstone, their ultimate goal should also be related to this."
"We will go directly to the Seven Hills to investigate it thoroughly and resolve it completely."
He paused, finalizing his decision: "Perhaps, it is also time to have a talk with that Governor and the Oracle."
"Oh... okay then. Are we going back now?" Abby asked.
Rover shook his head. His gaze fell back onto the spider lily in his hand, his eyes complex. "I still need to bring closure to things here."
He opened his palm, and the dark red streak of light Phrolova had left him before falling into the abyss surfaced. It was a key shaped like a spider lily, emitting a faint warmth and transmitting a clear sense of guidance.
Following this guidance, Rover left the top-floor platform, heading deeper into the Proving Ground, toward the area most closely connected to the "Shores of the Lost."
There were no more obstacles on the path. All the mechanisms seemed to have fallen into a dead silence following Finlay's death. Only that sorrowful, ethereal reverberation in the air grew increasingly distinct.
Finally, he arrived at a massive, blood-red space.
This space was covered with countless blooming spider lilies that seemed to possess a tenacious vitality. They emitted a soft red light, illuminating this underground cavern with a bizarre, poignant beauty.
In the center of the sea of flowers stood a massive, archaic door constructed from an unknown dark metal and spider lilies.
The door was tightly shut. Carved upon it were countless twisting, wailing faces and fragmented musical symbols, exuding a heart-stopping aura of sorrow and deathly stillness.
This was the entrance to the "Shores of the Lost." The gates to Phrolova's final resting place.
Rover stood before the door. The spider lily in his hand once again emitted a resonating, faint light.
Those wailing faces on the door seemed to calm down slightly. From the tightly shut crack of the door, a richer fragrance of spider lilies and the faint, fragmented sound of music seeped out.
He knew that behind the door was the phantom of that familiar small town—the illusory paradise Phrolova had constructed with her obsession and madness. It was also her ultimate cage and sanctuary.
Without hesitation, he pressed the key in his hand against the depression in the center of the door.
A brilliant light flared.
The spider lilies writhed slowly as if coming alive. The massive door emitted a heavy, ancient sound of friction, slowly opening a crack inward.
Behind the door was not a pitch-black corridor, but a swirling, flowing, bizarre crimson mist, as if leading to a space in another dimension.
Rover took one last look back at the cold, cruel reality of the world behind him. Then, with absolute resolve, he took a step forward, his silhouette completely swallowed by the crimson mist.
The grand door slowly closed behind him, isolating the two worlds.
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