Chapter 46: Investment 46— After the Tragedy
One question echoed in everyone’s mind, and the same question popped up in Geny’s mind before she was disintegrated into tiny little specks of charred dust by Elliot.
"How did Elliot survive Geny’s attack?"
Well, three seconds before Geny’s jagged claws tore into Elliot’s heart—he did what some would call impossible and others would call OP. He opened his subspace inside his mouth and selected the two vitality potions he gained from the quest he completed about a month ago.
He crushed the vials with his teeth, and the glass shattered and cut his gums. But what he didn’t know was that the potions were S-grade potent potions—capable of reviving one from instant death.
Anyways, after his heart got ripped to pieces, his soul entered the high dimension of limbo—where the souls of the partially dead reside.
The white light of his life’s ending flashed before his very eyes—and boom, he found himself in a farm surrounded by well-nurtured green plants of different types: oranges, apples, watermelons. You name it—the farmland was a total fruit buffet.
The surreal light-blue sky was filled with white clouds of different shapes and sizes. Elliot’s mind paused for a moment to take this fantastical view to memory.
"Whoa! Is this heaven?" His mouth opened wide. He was greatly pleased with such an afterlife—after his fleeting moment of joy, reality hit him like a nail to the head.
"I—I can’t die now." He fell to his knees with a great grimace.
"M—My Seria!" He clutched his fist as veins erupted all around his face. He was completely lost and was ready to go on a rampage.
"Ahahaha, child!"
A man with white flowing hair and a beard laughed while rubbing the hair on his beard.
"Don’t worry, you aren’t dead just yet."
He continued to tend to the plant in front of him.
"Who are you?" The question slipped from Elliot’s mouth.
"I wonder also." He appeared behind Elliot and leaned his head forward towards Elliot’s head.
"Am I a ghost, a specter, a grumpy old man, a farmer?—Well, neither of those things matter, yet all things matter." The man spoke in riddles that Elliot did not understand.
’How did he just do that?’ Elliot shifted his eyeballs backwards only to see that the old man was suddenly at his back.
"I believe I asked a simple question." Elliot leaped away from the man based on his instincts.
"You need not be alarmed, successor of Skion." The man appeared behind Elliot yet again and held him on the shoulder.
’Tsk, how does he keep doing that?’ Elliot grunted inwardly.
"How did you know I am the Sky Father’s successor?" Elliot tried to disengage his body from the man’s arm, but he failed.
The old man noticed his struggle and chose to let him go over a faint giggle.
"You could say I and the last Primordial were acquaintances." He stroked his beard.
"As for how I know you are his successor..." He pointed a finger at Elliot’s chest.
"Well, it’s kind of hard not to notice when you are radiating all that primordial energy." He chuckled.
’He doesn’t seem like he intends to hurt me... so I should just ask him how to leave wherever this is,’ Elliot mused.
"What’s with the detached eyesight?" The man let out a sigh.
"Don’t worry, I won’t do anything to you, child." He stretched his arms.
"I’m sure you are wondering how to leave this place and get to your beloved Seria." The old man’s eyes drifted towards Elliot.
Elliot immediately felt something was wrong and that the man was something else entirely from what he let on.
"You don’t have to be so defensive, lad... I already said I am not going to hurt you." He paused. "Or keep you in the dark like Skion." His words carried extreme weight.
"And what exactly do you plan to enlighten me on?" Elliot said in a serious tone.
"I’ll tell you one thing since our time is almost over." The man took a deep breath.
"Do you really believe that it was just Helix that was responsible for the destruction of all the other worlds?" His gaze narrowed to Elliot’s chest.
"You of all people should know that love can drive even the purest of souls to do the most outrageous of things." The old man turned away from Elliot.
"I look forward to your next visit." He waved a hand in the air.
"What do you mea—"
An invisible force pulled Elliot out of the dimension.
"Himekawa Senji," the old man whispered with a grand smile.
Elliot felt as if he was being dragged by a fishing rope through multiple universes and instances in time. He might have even seen the Big Bang.
"Arghhh!" The moment his soul returned to his body—his upper body jerked upwards as he gasped for air.
"Eli—Elliot!" Edith stuttered, eyes wide open in shock.
Upon seeing the body frame of Geny, Elliot tossed his sword into her head.
Back to the present, immediately after the devastating tragedy that led to the loss of the lives of fifteen Adonite Academy students—seven first-years and eight second-years.
After Futaba dispelled her tornado boundary and August dropped the bubble dome, Edith and Jin hurriedly began to tend to the wounds of the injured students. Thanks to Edith stabilizing their conditions earlier, no one died from blood loss.
Though their wounds were healed—their minds were completely disoriented from the previous ordeal.
Deria, Rose, and Elliot walked together to bury the corpses of the dead students.
"We didn’t mean to abandon you.... It was just circumstances that forced our hands," Rose said to Elliot as they buried the students. Her voice carried great compassion and guilt.
"But I am really glad you pulled through," she added, still maintaining her usual detached facial expression.
"You owe me no apology." Elliot said, not even batting an eye.
"I expected nothing from you lot." His tone made it clear that he didn’t want to talk.
"Are we still going to proceed to the third floor after the loss of so many lives?" a male student yelped.
"Yes."
"Exactly."
"We need to know."
The other students nodded their heads in agreement. They didn’t want to be the next ones to be buried.
The situation in the cave wasn’t getting any better—but the student council leaders were still trying their best to manage the dire situation.
In the fourth floor of the dungeon, a man who wore a ragged cloak seemed to be running away from something. One of his arms was twisted like a pestle—crimson blood dripped profusely from it. But for some reason, he kept on running.
Within the palm of his other hand, he held an emblem that symbolized the authority of a dungeon instructor.
"I need to find the students quickly before it’s too late." His voice was full of worry and concern.
