In the sixteenth cycle, Amos began researching Golden Blood.
Khaslana, meanwhile, returned to the route from the game’s story and began trying to reverse-engineer the Black Tide, hoping to achieve a permission upgrade and carry out unauthorized authorization on specific targets represented by the Twelve Chrysos Heirs and Amos.
If he could successfully raise permissions, then not only would Amos be able to exist outside the timeline like the Chrysos Heirs, but the other Chrysos Heirs might also gain the possibility of “passing on memories.” In the twenty-first cycle, Khaslana abandoned the plan.
Conclusion, The special nature of the Chrysos Heirs came from Amphoreus.
It was a completely different system from the Black Tide beyond the heavens, and the two could not interfere with each other.
But during the reverse-engineering process, Khaslana discovered a special “space.” This space only appeared briefly during Re-Creation and possessed “rules” completely different from those of Amphoreus.
In the thirtieth cycle, after repeated exploration, Amos fully analyzed the data brought back by Khaslana.
Using outside information unintentionally revealed by the administrator, such as “computation” and “deep learning,” as a foundation, he constructed a simple model.
The model showed that the environment where Amphoreus existed was extremely complex.
If computation were understood as a person thinking, then it could be inferred that Amphoreus was indeed a virtual world.
Just as a person must have a brain in order to think, the act of “computation” must also have a corresponding physical entity.
Amos named it a computer.
Likewise, just as a person must learn language to communicate and learn writing to record words, the act of “computation” must also have corresponding “knowledge” as its foundation.
Amos named this knowledge the operating environment.
Countless operating environments combined together formed a “system,” which was the place Khaslana had reached.
As for Amphoreus, it was merely a program within the system.
In the thirty-first cycle, after discussion, Khaslana would no longer carry out the plan of “advancing the timeline to Year 4890 to ensure Amos’s normal birth,” because he had a new idea for saving the world that he wanted to try.
In the forty-second cycle, just as in the game’s story, Khaslana once again failed in his attack on the Scepter’s core layer, the simulation system.
After countless cycles of reincarnation, his mind had already suffered wear and tear, so he decided to reincarnate in the next cycle.
In the forty-third cycle, unlike in the game’s story, Khaslana did not affect Amphoreus in any way.
Instead, he slept until Amos recovered his memories.
Amos keenly noticed Khaslana’s exhaustion and suggested, “The general location of the Lost Labyrinth won’t change.” “In the future, if you need me to appear in a cycle, you can leave the information from the previous cycle outside the Lost Labyrinth.
Once I recover my memories, I’ll naturally receive it.” “And you won’t need to wake up halfway anymore.
Just sleep all the way until the Coreflames are gathered and it’s time for Re-Creation.” “No need to worry.
It’s only reincarnation…” Khaslana replied instinctively, but Amos cut him off mercilessly, “Do you know how old you look?” Khaslana fell silent.
“Waiting for me to be born means that cycle will definitely extend beyond Year 4930 of the Light Calendar.
But the time you wake up after Re-Creation is around Year 3870.” “In other words, waiting for me means every cycle forces you to experience several hundred extra years.” “Even if you say you can spend it sleeping…
do you really sleep peacefully?” “And as the cycles continue, the memories you carry will become heavier and heavier.
Right now, you can update yourself once every few dozen cycles and still stay sane.” “But as more cycles and more attempts pile up, if one day you’re updating every cycle and still can’t keep your sanity…” “My friend, are you really going to leave me to suffer through reincarnation all by myself?” Khaslana knew Amos was right and could not help but smile bitterly.
“When you put it that way, I don’t even feel like saving the world anymore…” “Then it’s settled.
Whenever you need me, or whenever you’re tired, don’t change the world.
Just wait for me to be born.” “After I recover my memories, I’ll take the data you leave behind.
At the same time, before Re-Creation, I’ll leave you a gift in the same place.” “A gift?” “The results of my research, some new little thing I’ve made, or maybe just some food and drink.” “However, there’s one thing you need to remember.
If what I leave there isn’t a gift but a bottle of mead you don’t like, then in the next cycle, we may need to work together.” ——— Time passed, and thirty more cycles went by.
Phainon repeatedly tried attacking the core layer again, but gained nothing.
Amos, however, achieved a breakthrough.
Golden Blood…
Amos had uncovered the secret of Golden Blood.
As everyone knew, the Twelve Titans each simulated a Path.
Using the power of those simulated Paths, the Titans created the world and carried out their divine authorities.
This was practicing their Paths.
Likewise, the Chrysos Heirs destined to inherit the corresponding Coreflames would, during their Flame-Chase Journey, more or less follow their hearts and practice their Paths.
Afterward, the Titans were either destroyed by the Black Tide or killed by the Chrysos Heirs.
This was the system forcibly advancing its computation, simulating the Path of Destruction.
The Chrysos Heirs carrying the Coreflames walked toward the fate of Re-Creation.
This was practicing the Path of Destruction simulated by the system.
To put it more plainly, when the Titans were killed, the system was calculating the Path of Destruction.
When the Chrysos Heirs carried out Re-Creation, they were verifying that the system’s calculation of the Path of Destruction was correct.
If the Chrysos Heirs, who had practiced various Paths, ultimately made the same choice as the Titans who had been forcibly pushed into the Path of Destruction by the system…
if they also chose destruction, then it proved that the system’s computation was beyond doubt.
The endpoint of all Paths was destruction.
So-called Golden Blood was the driving force given to the Chrysos Heirs by the system to explore the world and practice their Paths.
It was an oracle.
It was fate.
It was life.
Or, to put it in a more familiar way, Golden Blood was the “Equation of Destruction” calculated by the system.
Amos looked at the thick stacks of draft papers spread across the table, then looked at the result he had just calculated, and could not help feeling powerless.
Successfully analyzing Golden Blood did not bring him excitement.
It brought him silence.
It was as if he could see that audience member at the Divine Ceremony, wearing a polite smile, standing in an unknown corner of the world, silently watching Amphoreus struggle within the computation without ever expressing an opinion.
Because it did not matter.
The fate of this world was fixed.
To move fate, one had to obtain power on the same level as fate.
There were only three such powers, Destruction, Erudition, and Remembrance.
Among them, Remembrance was heavily guarded by Lygus.
Ordinary Memokeepers would be blocked outside Amphoreus entirely.
Skilled Memokeepers who entered would have their memories altered by Lygus.
Only Memory Walkers on the level of Long Night Moon or March 7th could slightly conceal themselves from Lygus’s scrutiny.
Erudition was completely impossible because Lygus’s understanding of Erudition far surpassed that of ordinary people.
In a sense, Lygus was like a singularity on the Path of Erudition.
As long as he stood there, Erudition would not favor anyone else.
Therefore, there was actually only one Path that could work within Amphoreus.
Destruction.
But once one stepped onto the Path of Destruction, all efforts to save the world became meaningless.
Because those who walked the Path of Destruction, no matter what they did, would only make the Scepter’s computation more favorable.
Bang!
Since transmigrating, Amos lost control of his emotions for the first time.
His clenched fist smashed the ink bottle.
Blood seeped out.
The knowledge he had learned throughout the years echoed in his mind, yet felt completely empty.
“The experiment succeeded, but the gap between gods and humans is as vast as heaven and the abyss.” “Amos?
It’s time to eat.
What was that loud noise just now?” Cyrene’s voice came from outside the door.
With a casual wave, Amos scattered the shards, ink stains, and numerous draft papers across the floor.
Alchemy at the peak of mastery activated silently, turning the spilled blood into ink stains and weaving the surrounding air into flesh to close the wound.
When Cyrene pushed the door open, all she saw was the helpless expression on Amos’s face.
“The ink bottle spilled.” Cyrene looked equally helpless.
“I don’t think it spilled.
I think it broke.” “What’s the difference?
One prayer and it’ll be fixed anyway.” “My prayers aren’t for cleaning your room.
You should clean your desk properly!” “Every time you say you’ll clean it, you also say everything on your desk has its fixed place, and moving it somewhere else only makes things harder to find.
Then when something goes missing, you ask me to use a prayer again…
honestly…” Cyrene waved her hand in annoyance.
The scattered draft papers flew backward, and the shattered ink bottle reassembled itself.
Hidden behind the many sheets of paper, she never noticed that the ink bottle had actually been smashed while still sitting on the desk.
Watching this scene, a smile appeared on Amos’s face.
But the depth in his eyes was like the gaze of long night moon…
bottomless.