In her memory, Ali became haggard; the light in her eyes had vanished.
She started to suffer from insomnia, often standing by the window late at night until dawn.
The guests at the inn could hear her soft sobs, but no one knew how to comfort a sister who had lost her brother.
The people in town said that I should give up... that Tom surely has... but I don’t believe it! I can never give up on him!
Despair and guilt coiled around Ali’s heart like venomous snakes.
She began to blame herself, thinking if she had stopped Tom from going to the Abyss, if she had gone with him...
Countless "ifs" echoed repeatedly in her mind, tormenting her to the point of distortion.
The anticipated result...
Ron, observing all of this, remained unperturbed within.
He even began to analyze Ali’s behavioral patterns.
Considering what kind of psychological intervention could more effectively help her escape this pointless pain.
But he failed to realize that the cold analysis itself highlighted the problem.
Finally, on a night when a blood moon hung high, Ali made a decision.
I’m going to find him... even if it’s just a corpse, I’ll bring him home...
The journey recorded in her memory was filled with tragic undertones.
Ali had no combat experience; her "equipment" was merely a rusty kitchen knife and a few bottles of homemade herbal remedies.
Every inch of the Abyss was soaked in blood, each breeze carried the scent of death.
Twisted monsters lurked in the shadows, ready to tear apart any invaders at any moment.
Yet Ali seemed to feel no fear, she just kept calling out her brother’s name repeatedly.
Tragedy strikes at the most unguarded moments.
By the edge of a swamp, Ali encountered one of the most venomous creatures of the Abyss—the Memory Parasite.
These microscopic creatures, invisible to the naked eye, infiltrated her consciousness like smoke, starting their most wicked work.
Not only did they devour the host’s real memories, but more maliciously, they implanted meticulously crafted false memories.
Offering hope to the despairing, providing false comfort to the suffering, then slowly hollowing out the host’s brain during this process.
Tom?! I hear you calling for help! Wait for me! Your sister is here to save you!
With the false memories implanted, hope reignited in Ali’s eyes.
She "heard" her brother’s cries for help, "saw" him trapped further within the scene.
These illusions were so real that even her sense of touch and smell were perfectly deceived.
Almost there... I’m about to find Tom... I can feel it, he’s just ahead... waiting for me...
But Ron knew the truth.
Through the Memory Crystal, he saw the parasites slowly devouring Ali’s brain bit by bit.
The memory abruptly halted.
Ron slowly awoke from this immersive experience and found his eyes unexpectedly somewhat wet.
This sudden emotional reaction shocked him.
How long had it been since he was moved by a stranger’s death?
Tears slowly slid down his face, dropping onto the cold surface of the lab table.
Ron stared blankly at the tear, as if he had seen something beyond comprehension.
"I... am crying?"
He raised his hand, tremblingly caressed his cheek.
The warm moisture at his fingertips confirmed the shocking reality.
After experiencing Ali’s memories, cracks appeared in his frozen emotions.
But soon, deeper fear surged in his heart.
When did he start becoming so indifferent?
When did others’ pain become merely data to him?
He thought of Eve’s longing Purple Crystal eyes, remembered Nari’s unconditional support, recalled Dale and Ailan’s silent companionship over time...
Their contributions, these sincere emotions, left increasingly faint traces on his heart.
Every time, perhaps he would be slightly moved for a moment.
But immediately afterward, it would be extinguished by the icy waters of reason, plunging back into the world of research and Cultivation.
Far away from the Faruk Kingdom, his family would always write a lot in their letters, also regularly sending portraits of family members.
Eldest Brother Edmund recently attended some event, Father’s hair had turned a few strands whiter, Andre complained to him about how troublesome those damned Nobles were...
Once, these updates could bring him some solace.
But now?
He glanced over those letters, confirmed there was no value, then passed over them, like browsing academic materials without difference.
"What kind of monster am I becoming..."
Ron’s voice echoed in his heart, carrying an indescribable bleakness.
He recalled Uther’s warning, remembered the records of the Ancient Alchemist from obliterated eras.
Lance’s final words:
"If there’s an afterlife, I hope to find a way of research that doesn’t require sacrificing others.
But in this life, I must achieve breakthroughs within limited time; for the greater good, one must tolerate lesser evils."
And the madness of Alexander Jin transforming himself completely, the defeat of Airena Moonlight by the hatred entity she created...
These senior experiences once served as cautionary tales for him.
But now he discovers he is treading the same path.
Not physical transformation, but spiritual estrangement.
The Cultivation of Star Eater’s Ravings, the Wizard Society’s environment of interest supremacy, and the craving for stronger power...
All these were subtly changing him.
Making him more indifferent, more inclined to see everything as resources to be exploited.