Bear School Astartes

’Cast the curse upon their children, upon their grandchildren...

Upon their grandchildren, and even future generations.’

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Lann felt a dizzying blur.

And amid the dizziness, it seemed as if he hallucinated hearing some deep yet calm female voice, speaking like passing a sentence.

That calm tone didn’t reflect the owner’s emotions; instead, it contained a kind of accepted despair.

Lann’s current feeling was as if he hadn’t replenished his spirit after a nap, but rather, his mind was fuzzy and blurred.

This feeling was quite unsettling.

Because undoubtedly, having undergone Interstellar Warrior augmentation surgery to this point, he should possess hormone control far beyond ordinary people.

Insomnia and lack of rest were distant memories for him.

Moreover, although his memory was unclear, he was certain—he hadn’t arrived here from sleep.

A series of reflections happened in a flash.

The implantation of the [Holy Chant Gland] did more than just allow the Interstellar Warrior to redevelop and regulate hormones.

It could also significantly increase the speed and threads of the brain’s thinking.

Most battlefields throughout history required calm and tactical professionals, not hot-headed fools.

In fact, when Lann became aware, his body was in a state of losing control, about to tilt over.

But upon regaining consciousness, his left hand immediately grabbed the hilt of the Lady of the Lake’s Sword at his waist in vigilance.

While his right hand propped itself delicately on the ground just as he was about to hit it.

A fluid spin supported by the ground instantly removed Lann from a falling posture and into an alert stance ready to face any threat.

The bone-white Heavy Armor on him made a heavy swooshing sound during this process, yet it did not affect the action’s inherent agility and flow.

The Demon Hunter pressed the hilt with a backhand, amber-colored cat eyes watchfully scanning the surroundings.

But soon, his tense muscles began to relax, and his body gradually moved away from the alert posture.

There seemed to be no danger here.

The surroundings were empty and deserted.

It appeared to be a chapel.

The building made of large stone blocks looked solid and grand, with a blood-red silk sash embroidered with complex gold patterns draped over the main altar of the chapel.

On the chapel’s soaring upper walls, there were numerous large blood-red silk banners hanging down from the crossbeam poles.

An ornate golden cup reposed on the silk sash of the main altar.

It seemed to be a ritual item used during prayers.

Several rows of wooden benches were arranged in the chapel for the faithful to use in prayer, currently unoccupied.

Lann stood in the open space between the main altar and the congregation benches.

"Qilin and Rong Buqiu are not here. Where did they go...wait, they don’t seem supposed to be by my side."

Lann murmured to himself as he surveyed the surroundings, frowning slightly in puzzlement.

He raised his hand to press against his temple.

Firmly, he stated a conclusion: "I seem to...have lost a piece of memory."

Missing a piece of memory is enough to make anyone lose their composure.

Memory is the foundation of personality, and losing it means the entire personality is no longer stable.

The panic from such a state is unimaginable to a normal person, like the unceasing anxiety of early-stage Alzheimer’s patients stems from this.

Yet Lann’s emotions and tone remained stable.

It seemed such a dire situation wasn’t enough to topple him; instead, the dangerous and uncertain predicament made him more rational and steadfast.

A huge glass surrounded the chapel, and the sunset, as red as blood, tilted through the windows.

The narrow and tall windows on the walls almost shaped the blood-red sunset with a sharp cruelty.

Beneath his slightly furrowed, beautiful brows, the amber cat eyes revealed memories and thoughts.

"The memory lost is not long in its time span...it seems to be merely from knowing the doll’s name to just now. A little over a day?"

Lann’s palm unconsciously brushed against his chest.

The light friction sound from the leather part of the glove fitted with Dragon Scale against the solid breastplate.

"Moreover, this uneasy feeling isn’t intense...I don’t seem unsettled by that piece of memory but rather confused about the present situation."

Lann deeply sensed and dissected his inner emotions.

Delving into his own spirit and using rational logic to analyze and assess his mental state.

"Mentos."

Having finished evaluating his psyche, Lann called out to his mind’s companion with a trace of clarity.

"At your service, sir."

"Can you retrieve the memory record?"

Lann tilted his head slightly, looking at the narrow and tall window through which the blood-red sunset poured.

"I’m afraid I can’t help, sir." Mentos’ voice also revealed confusion, "The records from the same time period...are sealed."

"Can they be opened?" Lann asked, but for some reason, his gaze already held some certainty.

"This suggestion is unfeasible, sir." Mentos projected several operational interfaces onto Lann’s retina.

But after the torrent of data flow passed, there was still no progress.

"This storage doesn’t use conventional password unlocking, but seems to be... condition unlocking? Only by meeting some unknown condition can it be opened."

"Understood, let’s leave it at that."

After learning about Mentos’s situation, Lann was not flustered at all by the biochemical brain’s records being altered. Instead, he seemed to be more certain of something.

Just as he said, it looked as though he had completely let go of the mysterious memory loss issue.

This left the biochemical brain feeling somewhat bewildered.

Isn’t this a problem with memory? How can he be so indifferent?

Yet Lann only twisted his neck, moved his shoulders.

After confirming his physical condition was completely normal, he pulled out a wide cloak from the alchemy pouch at his back waist and draped it over himself.

The cold, rugged outline of [Smaug] was concealed, with only some bone-white dragon scales and metallic components comprising the chest armor peeking through the cloak’s front opening.

At a glance, it didn’t seem so conspicuous and wasn’t much different from ordinary armor beneath a cloak.

The blood-red sunset slanted onto Lann’s side as the Demon Hunter walked towards the outside of the cathedral hall.

The heavy, embossed wooden door creaked as it was opened.

Lann twitched his nose, catching a familiar scent.

——In Yan’an, people used specially made incense to repel beasts and defend against disease.

Upon opening the main door, the porch of the cathedral revealed two human head-sized censers hung on the wall, with white smoke like flowing liquid spilling quietly from the spherical perforated censers onto the ground.

"Hmm?"

A low, hoarse, indistinct voice emerged from the corner of the wall.

"You... how did you come out of the cathedral?"

Lann looked unperturbed towards the direction of the voice.

A person cloaked in a large red robe lay prostrate beneath the cathedral porch.

He seemed to be a staff member of this cathedral.

The dry, thin, disproportionate arms extended from under the red robe, appearing to have been in a posture of worship before Lann came out.

There was no suspicion in the Demon Hunter’s eyes because upon smelling the incense, he was mostly certain where he was.

And this person before him resembled a friend he once knew in that eerie and bizarre Mountain City.

The Red Robed Witch of Oton Chapel had this appearance.

Only, although the person before him was as emaciated and haggard, even deformed, the robe was clean and a bright, superior quality.

"Maybe I was praying inside for too long?"

Lann slightly bent over, speaking softly and politely.

"By the time I came to, everyone was gone. Sorry to disturb you, I’m leaving now."

"Praying? Ah~"

The person under the red robe, already emaciated to the point where gender was indiscernible, raised their head and slowly uttered in a blurry voice.

Like a murmur.

"Nowadays, fewer and fewer people come to pray. Gray blood disease is rampaging. But it is precisely now when we should pray to the noble Golden Chalice."

"Come, child."

His claw-like thin hand fumbled at the edge of the mat beneath him, finding a small triangle wrapped in wax paper.

To Lann, it resembled the small triangular paper packets doctors used to wrap loose pills for low-dose prescriptions.

The Demon Hunter approached, prompted by the other’s invitation, reaching out his hand.

The Red Robe wobbled, placing the wax paper triangle into his hand and bidding him to hold it tightly.

"Gray blood disease ravages Yan’an, but we..."

Halfway through speaking, pain and guilt almost overflowed from his tone.

Yet ultimately, he said nothing more.

Merely patting the hand holding the triangular paper packet.

"Oh~ now, the church can only offer you this help. Forgive me, child."

"I will." Lann furrowed his brow, looking down at the triangular paper packet in his hand, sensing indeed the texture of loose pills within. "But I must leave now, farewell."

"Yes, hope to see you again." The Red Robe withdrew his skeletal hand, "May the noble Golden Chalice drive away disease for you."

Lann clutched the paper packet with the pills firmly in his hand, heading toward the cathedral’s doors.

After emerging from the towering cathedral doors, the rays of the blood-red sunset shone unobstructed onto Lann’s profile.

Causing his amber feline eyes to narrow slightly in adjustment.

And after a brief adaptation, Lann finally got a clear view of a part of this massive city bathed in the blood-red sunset.

"Set up a new data repository, attempt logical sorting and analysis based on subsequent data entry, Mentos."

The Demon Hunter murmured softly.

"Task accepted, please name the new repository."

Lann swept a wisp of molten silver hair before him behind his ear, pursing his lips.

"Naming—"

"Old Yan’an."