Stabbing the folding knife fiercely into the crevice of the rock, Bologue pressed down hard on the handle, forcibly prying off a piece of rock. Repeating this a few times, Bologue finally widened the rift enough to squeeze through.
It was the sixth day since Bologue fell into the Great Rift. He was cold, hungry, and exhausted. To prevent himself from collapsing, his body was in a constant state of slow self-recovery, which had consumed a considerable amount of his Ethereal Amount.
But... it’s not too bad yet.
Bologue wasn’t just trying to survive; it was also a rare opportunity to observe the bottom of the Great Rift. During these days, he noticed that there was no sign of life here—only cold rocks and winter ice everywhere.
There were no insects living in the shadows, not even moss; the whole world was dead silent, as if a hungry monster had devoured all life.
Bologue continued stepping forward. After crawling out of the narrow fissure, the path before him became wider, turning into endless darkness.
It was still the same scene as before, nothing but cold rocks filling every inch of view.
Bologue sighed deeply and continued onward.
The Ether vacuum enveloped the entire bottom here, devoid of any life; even the light was dim and obscure, as if abandoned by the entire world.
This time, Bologue had no plan. The harsh environment and his physical state couldn’t support an escape from here, but he refused to give up, stubbornly moving forward.
Bologue always believed in this principle: every occurrence had its inherent meaning and reason, and this Ether vacuum environment was no exception.
One must know, Ether filled every corner of the world. Naturally, it’s extremely rare for an Ether vacuum to occur, considering the wandering paths above, the Order Bureau, and even Opus.
Bologue thought that this strange environment must have been forged by some force—continuing to explore might lead him to find a way out.
"By the way, Aimou, if your Ether runs out, would you die?" Bologue asked.
"Die? I don’t know," Aimou’s voice was cold, without fluctuation. "I might fall into dormancy from the lack of Ether?"
"Just like me?" Bologue said, "I would too; once I die, without the support of Ether, I’d fall into dormancy, turning into a corpse."
"However, I’ve already experienced it; you haven’t gone through dormancy yet, have you?" Bologue asked.
"No, ever since I awoke, I haven’t entered dormancy... or death," Aimou replied.
"Are you afraid of death?"
At this, Aimou fell silent, seeming to be deep in thought.
Death had always been a very serious issue for Aimou, and Bologue understood this. He could sense it from their previous conversations, and his reaction upon reviving.
It was the first time Bologue saw Aimou so emotional, but upon reflection, he also found it quite understandable. Aimou was just a child, and to her, the unknown after death was so terrifying and profound.
"Want to chat?" Bologue suggested again.
"Anything," Bologue said, stopping to look around at the endless darkness. "I don’t know what you think, but from a human’s perspective, in a damn place , we need to talk so it doesn’t feel so lonely."
"Yes, lonely. One person in such a place would go mad, but with two people, we can talk about the past and the future. If there are three people, we could even set up a bonfire and tell lousy jokes."
Bologue spoke with a hint of a smile, his voice echoing in the surrounding darkness, rumbling like distant thunder, reaching into the clouds.
"I’m a freak, not normal, but humans are .
One might struggle to survive alone, but as long as there’s someone to communicate with, an emotional anchor, even a coward will become strong."
Bologue trudged forward with Aimou on his back; the ground was full of protruding rocks, making him feel like he was crawling among reefs.
"If you wish to understand humanity more deeply, you should know these principles."
Aimou responded softly.
"So... if the Philosopher’s Stone inside the Constant Motion Core was removed, would you die?" Bologue asked.
"I don’t know, but when the teacher designed it, some loss wasn’t calculated. Theoretically, the operating life of the Constant Motion Core is infinite, as long as you replace the Philosopher’s Stone every few decades," Aimou said.
"A few decades? I always feel Teda won’t live that long."
Bologue roughly understood Teda’s thoughts. This design seemed more like a comfort for Aimou, telling her she wouldn’t die so easily. But for Teda, a mortal’s lifespan is limited—either resurrect Alice or succumb to old age; in any case, it’d be difficult for him to live until Aimou replaces the Philosopher’s Stone.
"But... replacing the Philosopher’s Stone isn’t that easy," Aimou added.
"I’ve discovered some problems on my own... it’s a secret, Bologue."
Aimou’s voice finally fluctuated; she cared a lot about this matter, even willing to waste Ether to make her expression more vivid.
"Will you keep it a secret?" Aimou asked.
"You know? Aimou, from a human social perspective, we can be considered as friends who’ve gone through life and death together, don’t you think?" Bologue countered.
The blue halo glowed faintly and then slowly rotated. Aimou clearly couldn’t understand what "friends who’ve gone through life and death" meant, but from Bologue’s tone, she could sense Bologue’s emotion.
Silence, more silence, endless silence.
"Alright, alright, I know you don’t want to talk about this anymore, but say something else."
Bologue didn’t press Aimou excessively, instead trying to keep the atmosphere as relaxed as possible.
At times , Bologue missed Palmer, as his partner only seemed useful in moments like these, where even if no one paid attention to him, he could make the atmosphere more relaxed by entertaining himself.
"When you feel like talking, just let me know."
Bologue leaned on a folding knife, this sharp weapon being used as a climbing stick by Bologue, with its blade full of notches and dents.
Struggling to climb up, Bologue started to wonder why this place was so clean.
He still remembered the Great Rift, where mines and pipes dumped garbage and wastewater into the rift day after day, toxic fumes rising like the end of the world.
Yet the bottom of this rift was unexpectedly clean, devoid of all life, accompanied only by cold rocks.
Bologue felt a vague unease, unsure of its source, but his expert instincts warned him.
After walking for a long time, Bologue suddenly stopped and then asked.
"Aimou, do you feel that the nearby temperature is rising?"
"I’m not sure, I’ve shut down all perception functions," Aimou replied.
Bologue looked around in confusion. He could clearly feel the temperature rising, the cold was no more, replaced by a slight warmth. Cautiously moving forward, shortly after, he heard the sound of trickling water.
The solid ice melted, and clear water flowed between the rocks. Bologue immediately knelt down, scooped some up with his hands, and had a simple taste. After confirming there were no issues, he drank deeply.
Not dying was one thing, but being tormented by thirst was another.
After replenishing his water, Bologue hoisted Aimou onto his back again and moved forward. He began to get used to such scenes, humming songs to entertain himself.
The surrounding warmth made Bologue feel much more at ease. At this point, Bologue deeply realized how convenient Aimou, as an Alchemy Puppet, truly was.
She could now be completely seen as an accessory, aside from being somewhat heavy, she had practically no flaws, which was much more convenient than carrying a proper injured person.
Sometimes Bologue wished he could be like an Alchemy Puppet, able to block a certain perception just by saying so, which would make his life much easier.
After walking for several hours, the surrounding paths gradually opened up. Besides the cold rocks, Bologue finally saw something else.
Gray-white soil mixed with the black rocks. Bologue stepped onto the gray-white soil. Once he entered this gray-white area, the surrounding became completely warm, driving away the winter cold entirely.
Bologue found a corner on the edge, set Aimou down, and sat against the rock wall to take a short rest.
Glancing at the broken watch, it should be night by now. Bologue panted, regaining his strength while also enduring the physical pain and the hunger gnawing at him.
Bologue could no longer tell if it was physical hunger or the compulsions from Bulimia Nervosa, as the intense craving gnawed at his insides like worms.
Fortunately, Bologue had a strong willpower, and these compulsions didn’t affect him. He just needed a short rest.
"This place is really strange."
Bologue muttered, grabbing a handful of soil and clutching it in his hand.
Suddenly, Bologue froze. He sat up straight, carefully observing the soil in his hand, rubbing it thoroughly, his gaze gradually becoming sharp.
Aimou noticed Bologue’s anomaly and asked.
Bologue fell to the ground, digging fiercely with his hands, layer after layer of soil, but beneath it remained that same gray-white appearance.
Picking up his folding knife, Bologue stabbed down into the dug-out hole. Only when the hilt was about to vanish inside did he pull it out, finding gray-white powder still clinging to the notches, and as he touched the blade, the metallic coldness was gone, replaced by warmth.
Slowly lifting his gaze, he swept his eyes around, as the boundless gray-white stretched to the end of his vision, disappearing into the dark and deep blackness...
An endless sea of ash filled the bottom of this Abyss.