Apocalypse Forecast-Chapter 737 - 598 Good News (Alliance Master Tangtang Zhengzheng0_2)

Signs of solidification. He knew his own situation best.

Just as miracles and disasters are often two sides of the same coin. As an Alchemist, Michel couldn’t have been unaware of what he was truly doing. He had exceeded his own limits by recklessly activating the Miracle Imprint without considering the consequences, and by operating it within Hell for such a lengthy period. He had been well aware of the potential outcomes beforehand.

The so-called Sublimation and Solidification are concepts relative to the Sea of Silver—terms used to describe and define the state of the soul, corresponding to the physical classification of materials: liquid, gas, and solid. If the souls of all humanity were to coalesce into an endless ocean, with the Sea of Silver that sustains the Three Great Seals as the liquid state, then the Sublimators who operate separately from the Sea of Silver would be in a gaseous state. No matter how vast they might seem, they are insignificant compared to the Sea of Silver, like a mere wisp of mist. Conversely, those pulled by the Abyss’s gravitational force and plummeting into Hell would become solid.

It’s like three different intervals on a status bar. Unfortunately, there is no reversing the process, and its changes are often unidirectional. Once Sublimators detach from the Sea of Silver, their Source Substance can no longer return to the Sea of Silver after death. And once they choose the Abyss and undergo Solidification, they can no longer revert to the original, light ’gaseous state’. The existence of Sublimators is like a barrier layer, obstructing between the solid state represented by Hell and the liquid state represented by the Current Circumstances.

When they are unable to resist the erosion from Hell, their souls, dissolving within the Stigmata, will assimilate with Hell and eventually solidify once more. It’s like smashing the original item into pieces and then reassembling it, never to look like it once did.

The price of the soul’s sublimation is to confront Hell directly. The side effect of embracing a miracle is that disaster will follow like a shadow. The Stigmata, representing Miracle, and Disaster, representing the Abyss, both inherently stem from the same source, merely manifesting in drastically different ways. Sublimators are endowed with Miracles, while Solidifiers are the embodiment of Disaster itself.

Even their mere presence in the Current Circumstances increases the distortion of the entire realm. Even without doing anything, they themselves expedite the decline of the Current Circumstances. Not to mention the egregious acts they are willing to commit in pursuit of increasing distortion. This is beyond what subjective will can control. Just as Stigmata instinctively pursue Miracles, seeking to fulfill their Sky’s Command, Solidifiers, after their transformation, also yearn for growth. One signifies the spread of growth; the other, the consumption of death—it’s a fundamental difference. Any Solidifier is seen by the Current Circumstances as a cancerous cell, by the Sea of Silver as an enemy, not to mention pursued and eliminated by the Astronomical Society, and suppressed by the Three Great Seals...

And now, Michel himself found it incredible that he was still alive. He was only showing some signs of solidification, not having fully plummeted into the Abyss. Aside from the Ivy Vine’s frighteningly advanced medical technology, it could only be described as incredibly good luck.

Everyone sighed in relief, thanking God for His protection. But Michel alone felt that perhaps... there was another shameful possibility.

—Mikhail, that bastard, must have deliberately held back. He might have even indirectly influenced the degree of erosion, opting for passive defense and never giving him the chance to cross that fatal threshold.

He wouldn’t allow him to fall into such a wretched state... Just the possibility of this made Michel feel such shame that he wanted to commit suicide.

That guy had always known that even if Michel survived, he wouldn’t feel any gratitude toward him, yet he still made his choice. When comparing this condescending pity and charity to solidification and death, Michel truly didn’t know which caused him more pain.

In the cold air high above, the old man in the wheelchair let out a breath and sighed softly, "Autism or megalomania—which is more annoying, Liz?"

Liz thought for a moment then shook her head. "I don’t know. Both seem troublesome."

"Yes, both are troublesome. I never should have gotten involved with people like that. It would have been better if he’d just gone far away and never shown his face again."

Michel said this, looking at the gradually disappearing silhouette of the Iron Crystal Throne in the distance, yet he couldn’t help but laugh self-deprecatingly. Then, he suddenly remembered something from decades ago.

It was a memory still so vivid to this day. In the dim afternoon sunlight, he saw, for the first time, the silent, downcast boy beside his teacher. The boy had his head lowered, lips slightly pursed, too scared to look into others’ eyes, his black hair gleaming golden in the setting sun. His teacher had said, "His name is Mikhail, just like yours... "

At that time, when he had smiled and reached out to the boy, expressing goodwill, could he have foreseen this current scene? As opposed to having warm and joyful memories only to later become mortal enemies, wouldn’t it have been better if they had never gotten along from the start and avoided further interaction?

He sighed, closing his eyes in melancholy. His desperate last counterattack had come to an end.

In the end, it was still a failure.

"I’m sorry, Teacher," Liz lowered her head, unsure how to face him. "If only I had..."

"What does it have to do with you, Liz?"