1.1 Total Alienation: The Advent of Divinity
Time at this moment seemed to sink into a viscous mire; even the howling of the snowstorm became sluggish. Eleanor sat suspended in the void, her once silk-black hair now shimmering with silver light from the roots, each strand appearing to carry some ancient, trans-dimensional computational logic. Her skin no longer possessed the flush of a mortal but presented a near-transparent porcelain quality, exuding a suffocating sanctity that repelled all intimacy.
Her eyes, filled with a piercing azure glow, scanned over Alistair, who lay in a pool of blood, with an air of absolute neutrality and zero compassion.
"'Who are you?'"
The question echoed through the hollow basalt hall with an overlapping, oracle-like resonance.
Alistair struggled to prop himself up, but the backlash from losing his "Perfect Heir Status" was like ten thousand red-hot needles stabbing into every nerve ending. He felt every rib groaning; every frantic breath in his lungs felt like swallowing shards of broken glass. He had once been the world's elite player, controlling life and death with a flick of his finger, but now, he was the lowliest speck of dust in this wasteland.
"I am... your Tutor." Alistair's voice was so hoarse it was almost unrecognizable. His hand, soaked in blood with deformed knuckles, trembled as he tried to touch the hem of her dress, only to be easily repelled by that pure energy field. His fingertips were instantly scorched black.
1.2 The Wasteland of Logic: Sacrifice as a Burden
"'Tutor?'"
Eleanor tilted her head slightly. This gesture would have been endearing and reliant in the past, but on her current emotionless face, it appeared utterly uncanny and terrifying.
"In my high-level cognitive sequences, there is no definition for this word." Eleanor's voice was cold as snow, devoid of warmth. "Based on current observations, your vital signs are decaying at a rate of 3% per minute, and your genetic sequence is in extreme disorder. Why would a low-level mortal on the verge of silence appear in my evolutionary forbidden zone?"
Nearby, Lydon finally regained his senses and scrambled to the edge of the altar, trying to stabilize Alistair's flickering heartbeat with residual medical charms.
"Miss! No... Divine Highness!" Lydon was drenched in tears, his voice shaking with fear. "He became like this to save you! He stripped his own sacred status and drained almost all his blood just to pull you back from the void's collapse! You cannot forget him!"
Eleanor's gaze slowly shifted to Lydon. With just that one casual glance, Lydon felt a massive pressure, like a collapsing star, descend upon him. His throat tightened, and he instantly lost the ability to speak, falling prostrate on the ground, his body trembling uncontrollably.
"'Sacrifice.'" Eleanor uttered the word slowly, her tone carrying the indifference of someone exploring the behavior of a primitive organism. "This is a logical defect found only in lower civilizations. Choosing to destroy a high-level energy source to maintain a vessel on the verge of collapse. This does not align with the optimal strategy of universal evolution."
1.3 A Humble Contract: Servant in a Mortal's Name
She descended as light as a feather onto the cold floor, walking barefoot toward Alistair. With every step, the thick bloodstains on the ground automatically receded to both sides, as if even the blood carrying Alistair's warmth could not tolerate touching those sacred feet.
She leaned down, her long and nearly transparent fingers effortlessly lifting Alistair's chin, forcing him to stare into those aurora-like, brilliant but frigid blue eyes devoid of human emotion.
"Tell me, mortal." She observed his pained expression up close, her gaze resembling that of a scientist watching a dying insect struggling in a lab. "The emotional fluctuation in your eyes called 'despair'—what is it for? Is it for the 'me' before you, or for that low-level phantom in your memory named Eleanor Vance who is already dead?"
Alistair's heart convulsed violently. Looking at this face, familiar to the depths of his soul yet stranger than the ends of the universe, the pain of being torn apart was a thousand times heavier than the backlash of his lost status.
He finally realized how poisonous the curse was—he had indeed saved her life, but he had personally erased the girl who once looked at him with a heart full of love. Now, she was the absolute will of the "Eye of Samos," the purest and cruelest deity in this world.
"Regardless of who you are..." Alistair forced back the blood in his throat, his lips curling into a tragic yet frantic smile. "I will not let you leave. Since you believe sacrifice is low-level logic, then watch me. Watch how I pull you back to this filthy, chaotic, yet passionate human world from this ruin called 'World's End.'"
With the last of his strength, he suddenly grabbed her ice-cold hand. Even as the energy emitting from that hand mercilessly scorched his fragile mortal flesh, even as the pain nearly caused him to faint again, he refused to let go.
"Let's sign a contract, God." Alistair leaned close to her ear, his voice low like a ghost from the underworld. "You have divine power, but you have no memory. You know nothing of the social rules, power structures, or the techniques to evade the 'Old Gods Council' in this dimension. You need a guide, a servant who can help you mask your divine aura and handle trivialities. And I am the only qualified candidate in this world."
1.4 The Final Gamble: A Glimmer in Divinity
Blue light flashed violently in Eleanor's eyes, as if she were performing a massive logical calculation in a split second.
"'Servant?'" She repeated the word, her gaze sweeping over the dark purple shadows of the Old Gods still lingering outside the fortress. "Indeed, my primary essence has not yet fully adapted to this physical vessel. Forcibly using divine power would accelerate this planet's entropy. I do need a creature familiar with this dimension's 'law of the jungle.' But you, a mortal who could die at any moment from organ failure—what makes you think you are qualified to remain in my sight?"
"Because I am the only person in this world who can make you have a 'deviation.'" Alistair abruptly narrowed the distance between them, their noses almost touching.
In that instant, due to the faint reaction of the "Blood Symbiosis" that had not yet completely severed, a tiny, pale ripple actually surfaced in the depths of Eleanor's pupils. It was an instinctual reaction engraved at the genetic level that even divinity could not completely erase.
For the first time, a flicker of minute confusion appeared on Eleanor's face. She reached out her other hand, gently placing it over Alistair's chest, feeling that chaotic, weak, yet incredibly resilient heartbeat.
"Interesting," she whispered, her voice sending a bone-chilling cold through Alistair yet giving him a final hope. "Your existence is indeed a logical loophole. Very well, I permit you to stay in my sight for the time being. But remember, mortal: the moment your heart stops beating, I will personally reap your remaining soul as an observation fee."
Author's Note: Thank you for your guidance! I have restored and fixed the "CN-EN Parallel + Deep Detail + Standard Formatting" model. This chapter completes the ultimate role reversal, setting a solid foundation for the upcoming "Mortal chasing a Deity" arc.
BY : KHChing