Those who are erased may never return.
"The Abyssal environment indeed easily induces hallucinations; maybe you’ve confused your memories with others’."
Maxim released his tightly clenched fist, shook his head with a bitter smile:
"That’s true... if such a companion truly existed, how could I forget? We shared life and death together, faced unspeakable horrors...
His voice grew lighter, as if convincing himself:
"Memory, indeed, is unreliable. Especially after staying in the Abyss for a long time, many things become blurred."
But Ron could see that Maxim did not truly believe his own words.
There was deep confusion and fear in his eyes.
Like a person missing an important piece of their memory puzzle, knowing something is missing, yet unable to retrieve it.
Now, returning to the Flesh and Blood Forest, Ron could still feel that bone-chilling cold.
Corina, Trish... did they really exist?
The memories about them are so vivid:
Corina’s inappropriate sense of humor beneath her cold exterior, her face disfigured by Abyssal erosion after removing the mask;
The bright smile Trish would occasionally show during their private meetings, her face full of longing when talking about the future and a wider world, and the pride when showing him her Forest Elf ears...
But if everyone else has forgotten them, how can the authenticity of these memories be verified?
"This is the most malicious aspect of the Land of Oblivion," Ron bitterly smiled to himself:
"It not only takes lives but also robs the meaning of existence; those erased don’t even have the right to be mourned."
However, as a rational researcher, indulging in such emotions was of no help to him.
What mattered was extracting valuable information from this phenomenon.
"At least I now know that my unique soul structure indeed possesses some form of resistance."
He quickly adjusted his mindset: "This resistance is effective not only against Abyssal erosion but also offers protection against reality-altering attacks."
This was an important discovery, meaning he had advantages over ordinary wizards when facing similar threats.
Reeling back these thoughts, Ron focused on the task at hand.
Through the Spiritual Link, he could sense Explorer One approaching an area with a denser Abyssal aura.
"Captain Miller," he turned to the vigilant veteran:
"I need to perform a divination to determine our next course of action."
A flicker of concern crossed Miller’s single eye.
As a seasoned explorer, he knew well the risks of performing divination in the Abyss.
"Understood, boss." He didn’t waste words, immediately directing the team to establish a protective camp:
"Listen up, folks! Set up the protective circle according to standard procedures!"
The experienced exploration team showcased astounding efficiency.
While cursing the disgusting surroundings, Blake skillfully set up alert Runes around.
These Runes were active ones drawn with a special Abyssal creature’s blood, capable of sensing and preemptively alerting any approaching hostile presences.
"Damn Flesh and Blood Forest," Blake grumbled with his distinctively coarse voice:
"Every time I come here, I feel like I’ve crawled into the belly of some giant monster."
Camilla rolled her eyes at him while helping set up physical barriers:
"Blake, mind your language. In this environment, your complaints might be overheard by things that shouldn’t hear them."
"Ha! Let those monsters come!" Blake retorted disdainfully, patting the war axe at his waist:
"My axe is itching to taste some fresh flesh and blood!"
Despite his bold words, his hands moved swiftly, setting up the protective Runes in an impenetrable manner.
The two other team members were responsible for constructing a temporary shelter.
They used special soundproof materials to build a relatively enclosed space capable of effectively blocking various Spiritual Interference in the Abyssal environment.
Finally, Miller personally took out a sophisticated device Ron had never seen before.
This device seemed like a hybrid of some living organ and mechanical components.
Most uncanny were its "eyes."
Dozens of observation apparatuses of varying sizes rotated autonomously, scanning the surroundings.
"This is the Observatory’s latest development—the ’Silence Box.’"
Miller carefully adjusted the device as he explained:
"The Abyss is filled with various Spiritual Interference, including whispers of ancient presences, wails of the dead, and chaotic signals from Chaos itself."
After the device was activated, the surrounding environment immediately underwent subtle but clear changes.
The twisted whispers that were vaguely audible disappeared, and the nauseating sensation of countless bugs crawling inside one’s eardrums diminished significantly.
The oppressive feeling in the air that could drive one mad seemed to be separated by an invisible barrier.
"I don’t quite understand the manufacturing principle of this thing,"
Miller continued, a pragmatic glint flickering in his single eye:
"But I know it has saved many lives. Ordinary divination rituals are nearly impossible to perform in the Abyss; the interferences not only affect the accuracy of the prophecy but might also attract some... unwanted attention."
He lowered his voice:
"I’ve seen Divination Masters perform rituals in the Abyss, only to summon wandering ancient spirits. Those entities are particularly sensitive to prophetic activities; once they set their eyes on you..."
Miller made a throat-slitting gesture, the meaning clear without words.