Apocalypse Forecast

At that moment, amidst the heavy seal and imprisonment, Grandmaster Garland lifted his clouded eyes.

Gai, the time has come!

But in an instant, more sealing and suppression descended.

He Di firmly grasped the pivot of the seal, injecting new changes and variables into it, not allowing Garland any reaction.

He had been watching Garland’s every move.

Now, even the slightest rustle wouldn’t allow Garland any opportunity.

Even if Publius had succeeded, it would be the same!

"Are you not being overly cautious, He Di?" Garland asked, "Are you so afraid of me?"

"Who wouldn’t fear the Grandmaster?" He Di replied coldly, "Just enjoy being a spectator, Garland, you’ve already left the stage, your part of the story is over."

He paused, his gaze turning mocking: "Or are you hoping that lackey of yours could help you? It’s useless; he’s already been locked up."

"You haven’t killed him; that’s what surprises me the most." Garland retorted, "If I’m not mistaken, Rachelle probably also received orders from your side to watch over me, right?"

He Di did not speak.

"Looks like I’m about right, so let me guess further—"

Garland continued, "The reason you didn’t kill him, while partly due to the need to abide by the contract, more so... is because he’s too weak, correct?"

The Grandmaster looked calmly at the alchemist far weaker than himself in front of him, saying: "Because he’s too weak to pose a threat to you all, so it doesn’t matter to leave him be.

So you didn’t kill him, right?"

He Di turned around abruptly but still did not speak.

"It’s already too late to give the order now, He Di." On Garland’s aged face, the corners of his mouth slightly lifted: "Could it be that you would make the same mistake as I did?"

He Di, still remained silent.

Meanwhile, outside the tower ruins, in a remote corner of the Town of Dusk, in front of Rachelle’s cage, the hell creature slowly drew its blade.

Inside the cage, Rachelle, his face ashen, lifted his head, looked at the murderers, and shook his head self-mockingly.

"Even if you kill me, it won’t matter, you’re overthinking."

As if long resigned to his own impotence, he said numbly: "I can’t save the Grandmaster... No one can save him."

Because the time had come.

At that moment, in the seal, Garland suddenly widened his eyes, vomiting hot blood, his aura quickly waning.

Death.

Death swiftly approached, descended, rapidly collapsing all his vitality!

The end has come—

He Di’s expression changed drastically; he reached out, wanting to suppress, but it had no effect!

All methods of treatment and injury alleviation were useless!

In front of Rachelle’s cage, the face of the Owner of the Great Mob suddenly twisted, becoming He Di’s enraged face, questioning angrily: "What exactly did you do!"

"I didn’t do anything."

Rachelle looked at him blankly, with difficulty squeezing out a smile that was barely better than a grin: "I just chose to stop doing anything."

At the moment the time limit arrived, he chose to stop.

No longer continuing, nor maintaining his duties as a doctor.

On the back of his hand, the double snake staff totem of Hermes quickly dimmed.

It was proof of a broken promise.

He violated the Hippocratic Oath he once made, inflicting harm on the patient under his care!

"You poisoned him?"

He Di was incredulous, unable to comprehend.

What kind of poison could escape his eyes, could kill a Grandmaster?!

"... You overestimate me, don’t you?"

Rachelle’s expression twitched, an indecipherable mix of anger and solace, pride and resentment, countless emotions tangled making it impossible to discern.

He said, "You simply underestimated the extent of my incompetence."

[Incompetence].

Since becoming an alchemist, such words have always surrounded him, adhered to him, inseparable, following him like a shadow, never parting for a moment.

As the heir of the school, he couldn’t even master the secret recipes for advanced potions.

Wanting to do good, yet unable to heal the patients asking for help, unable to even do evil as he wished to, his poisons were mere common wares, a joke.

Whether righteous or evil, they all kept him out, no matter how much he longed to achieve something.

The only useful thing was this one-time-in-a-lifetime life-sustaining mystic ritual.

To use one’s own life as a consumable, to connect with the other, burning one’s future to win a glimmer of hope for the dying...

"Don’t you understand yet, He Di?"

Rachelle spread his hands, showing his palm, no different from Garland’s, telling him: "The Garandor you see has been dead for a long time!"

Even before ascending to Helios.

Even before leaving the current circumstances.

Grandmaster Garland was already dead!

My existence as a doctor was not to treat his worsening blood heat syndrome, nor did it have the talent to restore him to health, it was only to let him continue living.

As an extra life reserve, supplying Garland’s sustainment.

Even if it meant living like a walking corpse, it didn’t matter.

Even if still barely hanging on...

"Grandmaster!!!"

At that moment, Rachelle took a deep breath and with all his strength, roared into the distance, "Our contract is fulfilled!"

It was as if he could see those eyes full of resentment, in the seal, Garland slowly nodded.

"Yes, exactly."

He acknowledged it there: "Our contract is fulfilled."

"Thank you."

In his dying moments, Garland sincerely expressed his gratitude: "Thank you, Rachelle."

I promise: your sacrifice will not be in vain.

I promise in the name of the Grandmaster: the school and workshop you inherited will continue securely under the protection of the Stone Pot Society until your successors can stand on their own.

"Stop!"

He Di angrily reached out, grabbed Rachelle’s neck, pulling him out of the cage: "Stop, immediately!"

"I, I won’t!"

Rachelle’s expression twitched, not like a man, unexpectedly crying under coercion, but while shedding tears, he also showed... a smile.

As if deeply proud of it, smiling.

"I am a talentless person, but... those children, they still have... a future..."

Yes, a future.

Unlike himself who was a mistakenly loved incompetent teacher, it was a beautiful future belonging only to them.

Rachelle proudly lifted his head, using his last bit of strength, telling him:

"For... them, I can do anything!"

Even if it meant groveling to lick others’ boots like a dog.

Losing all dignity was no pity.

So...

Even if it meant ’death’, it didn’t matter!

At that moment, Rachelle smiled as his breathing completely ceased.

The ordinary alchemist ultimately died by his own mundane poison.

If there is gain, then there is loss, then let myself become the discarded.

Using my death to exchange for the Grandmaster’s death.

Using myself as the cost to secure the students’ future...

This is Rachelle the useless alchemist’s, final alchemical act.

And then, the miracle came from the ’furnace’!