Chapter 635: 113. Dragons Give Birth to Dragons, Phoenixes Give Birth to Phoenixes
“Mother?”
As Fisher softly spoke, it was as if a door opened in the dark space before him. However, Emhart beside him remained oblivious and, upon hearing his voice, looked very puzzled.
“Mother? What mother? Did you see Sister Teresa’s soul?”
Fisher was originally confused as to why the Subhuman Girl Enthusiast would choose such a strangely meaningful symbol. After all, based on his earlier readings from the Soul Supplement Handbook, there seemed to be some inconsistencies surrounding his birth and the circumstances of being sent to the church school where Teresa was. So the moment he read that term, Fisher began to wonder: Could his birth be related to the Subhuman Girl Enthusiast?
But at this moment, Emhart’s words, combined with the peculiar scene around them, seemed to hint at another possibility: could what the Subhuman Girl Enthusiast left for him be related to Sister Teresa?
“No, this is the key to the secret room. Didn’t you see the door ahead?”
“Door? What door?”
Emhart looked in the direction Fisher indicated. Even though he was glowing himself, he saw nothing. He even leaned forward to check, yet still found nothing.
Can only I see it?
Fisher walked toward the direction of the secret room. As he slowly disappeared into the invisible void, Emhart hurriedly tried to follow but collided headfirst into the wall, crying out in pain as he rolled onto the ground.
“Ouch!”
Ahead, Fisher poked his head out from the illusory wall, glanced at Emhart lying on the ground, and looked at the door nearby. He stroked his chin and speculated.
“It’s possible that the incantation to open the door is something only I can say, which is why you can’t get in. Or it could be that this door was simply meant to be opened by me, thus preventing others from entering. You should try reciting the incantation to enter.”
“It hurts so much, your mother,” Emhart groaned as he floated unsteadily, looking at Fisher peering out from the wall, and skeptically asked, “Mother?”
“…”
“Ma?”
“…”
After trying both incantations without success, there was a brief silence before Fisher spoke again.
“Did you see the door?”
“Nothing at all!!”
“Hm, then just wait here for a bit, I’ll be right back.”
“…Alright.” Emhart reluctantly nodded, adding, “But make sure you come back quickly.”
“Okay.”
Fisher turned his head and completely entered the space behind the door, facing the mysterious realm left by the Subhuman Girl Enthusiast.
The moment he fully entered this space, the Soul Supplement Handbook in his hand floated up uncontrollably, its pages flipping rapidly, emitting a fantastical golden light.
[Congratulations! You discovered an Easter egg: The Mouse’s Hideout!]
[Contributor’s Note: It’s me, the mouse! I love to dig and hide.]
[You’ve gained a reward. Hm, what are you thinking? Letting you into my house while expecting a reward?]
“Bang! Bang!”
Then, two streams of illusory fireworks burst forth, as if congratulating Fisher.
But looking at the notes before him, Fisher raised an eyebrow, not understanding why the Subhuman Girl Enthusiast would compare herself to a “mouse.” Could it be because, while causing chaos and confusion with various subhuman girls in the world, she too had found herself in a terrifying battlefield?
The next moment, as the brilliant golden light from the Soul Supplement Handbook flickered, the entire space seemed to come alive, illuminating with dazzling light from all directions, revealing the scene before Fisher.
What he first noticed was a multitude of scattered clothing and underwear covering the ground. However, having remained untouched for so long, these clothes were now covered in dust, only vaguely revealing their shapes, and he couldn’t tell if they belonged to the Subhuman Girl Enthusiast.
Amid the disarray of clothes lay ancient books scattered on the ground, appearing exactly like the Soul Supplement Handbook but without any engraved text and lacking the magical powers of the Handbook.
Wherever Fisher walked, the nearby Soul Supplement Handbook would flicker with golden light, seemingly providing explanations for him.
[Lady’s Relic: If clothes could talk.]
[Failed handmade items: Failure is the mother of success.]
Such descriptions made Fisher both speechless and deepened his understanding of the things here.
The place where he had just entered seemed to be the resting area of the Subhuman Girl Enthusiast. On the dust-covered bed lay a pillow stuffed with cotton, its designs now indecipherable.
[Companion Number One: Loneliness always comes after excessive fatigue.]
“…”
That was the situation in the first room. The edges of this room were entirely draped in red curtains, and at first, Fisher thought there might be other spaces concealed behind them, but two sides were walls, and the only way forward was into another room.
After scanning the area again and finding nothing, he had no choice but to move on and enter the next room.
Upon entering the next room, he was utterly stunned, frozen in the passage before stepping inside.
The reason was simple: the next room was filled with various models, as if they were miniaturized versions of ladies, reduced to one-sixth or one-seventh of their size. They were meticulously painted and arranged neatly in a dusty wooden display case, with only one glass side for viewing.
The key detail was that all the models were of a certain subhuman race, mostly female subhumans, and beneath each model were labels with the race name and the individual’s name.
As expected of her, truly aligned with her—cough, cough.
[Congratulations! You discovered an Easter egg: A Wall More Expensive Than a House.]
[Contributor’s Note: Look, don’t touch, or else XX will be cut short by five centimeters—oh no, ten centimeters!]
[（╬￣皿￣）]
“…”
Fisher couldn’t tell whether this was the Soul Supplement Handbook or the consciousness of the Subhuman Girl Enthusiast living inside it.
He blinked, unable to voice his complaints, and slowly approached that wall, carefully examining the meticulously crafted models. It was evident that these figures could not encompass all subhuman races; let alone today, even ten walls wouldn’t be enough if history were to be accounted for.
The displayed models seemed to be of races she recognized, or rather, of her friends—those brothers and sisters she had sworn loyalty to.
There were many females, but he could only name a few, such as Youfiele from the Angel race and the Moon Princess from the Phoenix race.
The number of males was comparatively small, including Gouwen from the Whale Folk and Cidi from the Demon race.
Soon, Fisher noticed that beneath the models, not only were the race names and individuals’ names recorded but also their dates of birth and death, noting that records of those who had died were primarily for tracking death dates, while the dates of birth were often left unspecified, using their race’s calendar.
For example: Youfiele, unspecified~ Year 17692 of the Angel Calendar.
Unrecorded were those still alive, like Gouwen and Cidi.
Looking at Gouwen, who was proportionally reduced and closely resembling the original, Fisher finally had solid evidence connecting him to the Whale Folk his acquaintance, the Subhuman Girl Enthusiast.
There were at least four hundred of these models, which meant all these were her sworn brothers and sisters over the years?
As Fisher blinked and slowly withdrew his gaze, his peripheral vision suddenly caught a glimpse of an extremely familiar figure, right at the far edge of the wall.
It was a nun, smiling while holding a Genesis book, preserved in a miniaturized form.
Below her were her race and name:
[Human Race, Teresa Benavides]
[Unspecified~ Year 24 of Godlin the Ninth (Year 43)]
Sister Teresa knew the Subhuman Girl Enthusiast?
Teresa had a specific date of death. Could it be that she was still alive when the Subhuman Girl Enthusiast existed, or was it that…
Wait, Year 24 of Godlin the Ninth?!
Staring at the bizarre note on the year, with an annotation following one date, Fisher froze on the spot.
According to Teresa, he was found when he was less than a year old, which would make his birth year Godlin the Ninth’s Year 25, yet the recorded date of death was Year 24?
Most importantly, why was there an extra parenthesis, indicating Year 43 was…
The year Teresa truly left Fisher, the same year he turned 18.
Fisher swallowed hard, the pounding of his heart within his chest growing increasingly uncontrollable, as if he realized the implications. But soon he became aware of a terrifying possibility: Sister Teresa should have died before his birth.
If—Fisher thought, if…
If he was truly created as he saw in the Soul Supplement Handbook, then could it be assumed he was manufactured? If so, whoever created him must have their own purpose. To achieve that purpose, they needed him to grow up healthy, which is why they had Teresa take care of him.
Originally, Sister Teresa should have died in Year 24 of Godlin the Ninth, but she unexpectedly lived for another eighteen years, all because of him?
Simply put, it would be like “sacrificing that bowl of vinegar for this serving of dumplings.” But looking at the lifelike figure of Sister Teresa in the cabinet, Fisher found it hard to accept for a moment.
He gently touched the cabinet, as if realizing something: from the strange incantation at the door to Sister Teresa’s death date, which seemed predestined, suggested that the Subhuman Girl Enthusiast might indeed be the one who created him.
It was hard to say whether this represented a conventional mother-son relationship because, in any case, he didn’t appear to be born from her body. In social terms, it was Sister Teresa who accompanied him throughout his growth, and psychologically, he’s always considered Teresa as the one who could genuinely be called his “mother.”
Gazing at the cabinet before him, he couldn’t help but wonder about the Subhuman Girl Enthusiast.
He looked at the Soul Supplement Handbook floating beside him, his expression especially complicated.
“Was everything you arranged? Even my life and everything I’ve experienced, all arranged by you?”
But the Soul Supplement Handbook had no thought or consciousness; it simply floated there quietly, watching Fisher Benavides.
If people create a certain product with a purpose, then was his existence created by her intent, brought to the doorstep of the church school for Teresa to raise him? Did all the women he encountered on this journey also have their purposes?
If one were to understand further, was the meaning of “Fisher Benavides” meant to resolve the Apocalypse Prophecy that looms over the world?
Thinking like this, Fisher suddenly didn’t know whether he should feel relieved or saddened.
Relieved because many might spend their entire lives searching for the meaning of existence, racking their brains to question every moment’s significance, but he did not have to contemplate this ultimate question that has left many philosophers stumped.
Sad because he was unclear whether the meaning of being like a fixed structure screw or a key that opened a lock was good or bad. Or rather, it saddened him that his life at this moment felt more like a tool than a life.
Yet a consolation was that his responsibility and purpose were to “save the world,” which sounded nobler than being a “plunger” for the toilet?!
Thus, it also explained why, under all the opposing conditions of the Competitive Gate, Sister Teresa would die of natural causes: Her death had been destined eighteen years ago, only to be realized when Fisher came of age.
Feeling somewhat heavy-hearted, Fisher stood up and turned to look in another direction, discovering an unexplored room beyond this point.
“…”
After a moment of silence, he took a step towards the next room.
In stark contrast to the brightness of the previous two rooms, the third room was very dim. As Fisher entered, he could still smell a thick, lingering stench.
Compared to the first two rooms, this room appeared very small, and there was no fourth room ahead; it was clear this was the hideout of the Subhuman Girl Enthusiast.
He frowned and walked a few steps on the slightly sticky floor, soon realizing it wasn’t the room’s darkness but that the entire room was covered in dried blood, which blocked out the light.
He looked down at the surroundings, seeing the entirely different environment, and quickly noticed twisted, irregular square characters etched into the walls, with many fragments of broken nails and flesh embedded in the indented characters. It looked like someone had clawed the walls with their nails.
Did the Subhuman Girl Enthusiast leave this behind?
Looking at the eerie sight, Fisher turned to walk a few steps forward, trying to make out the various blurry markings on the walls. The nearby Soul Supplement Handbook simultaneously began to flicker with golden light, uniquely explaining,
[The Confusion of Attached Bone: Actually, I am also a Trans.]
Fisher looked around and suddenly discovered that the wall crevices were all tangled with blood-stained hair. The ground seemed to have several pieces of flesh that had been cut away, which had not decayed but were covered in many wriggling maggots.
Further ahead lay piles of severed limbs stacked together, forming a small mound of flesh about half a person high.
The shocking scene left Fisher momentarily speechless. He quickly recalled how Holland described the Fate Lord’s method of relieving confusion in the brain, which involved slicing off parts of her own brain to survive until now.
It seemed that if one didn’t want chaos to take root within, this was the method to deal with it, and even the Subhuman Girl Enthusiast was no exception.
And atop the still-intact pile of limbs was a pair of clean, slightly long-nailed hands, abruptly poised in a gesture of offering.
On the palm forming a platform sat a wooden box measuring about twenty centimeters in width and length, with a piece of parchment on top.
Approaching, the smell of blood and flesh assaulted his nostrils, making it hard for him to keep his eyes open. He even thought about using the power of the Soul Supplement Handbook to shove his nose into the back of his head.
But he persevered and reached out to retrieve the piece of parchment. On it was a line of wild, foreign text.
Fisher could only use the Soul Supplement Handbook in his hand to translate it for its true meaning.
“This person is lazy, leaving nothing behind. Oh, no, correction, they did leave something, just in the box below—it’s valuable, so please use it wisely. As for the last part, the mouse doesn’t know what else to say, so I wish you all the best!”
“…”
Fisher was somewhat speechless as he set the parchment aside, gazing at the antique wooden box. On it was yet another line of foreign text, which the Soul Supplement Handbook translated for him again.
“When the tide comes on the Qiantang River, today I finally understand who I am.”
The complex meaning slowly seeped into Fisher’s heart, and only then did he realize that the language used by the Subhuman Girl Enthusiast somewhat reflected the intricate significance of this existence’s inner thoughts. Just like the bloody flesh and severed limbs, before arriving here, Fisher might have never imagined that the shapeless Subhuman Girl Enthusiast would endure such pain.
So, what exactly does this phrase mean?
Is it directed at the Subhuman Girl Enthusiast herself, or is it addressed to him—Fisher, who has gained some understanding of his origins while standing before this wooden box?
Perhaps more than an affirmative “today I finally know who I am,” the phrase Fisher encountered felt more like a question.
A question about “Do you really know who you are?” or “Is the you you know really the true you?”
In the unspeakable silence, he slowly reached out to shift the wooden box aside, and soon, his eyes were met with a sight as dazzling as the starry sky in golden splendor. In that moment, it felt as if an ocean of spiraling golden light surged into Fisher’s eyes, but as a person, he instinctively tried to discern the shape of the object before him.
Nevertheless, whatever it was, it resembled a tentacle. Could it be… Huh!!
Just as Fisher was carefully observing the strange object before him, the tentacle suddenly seemed to come alive, writhing rapidly. At that instant, he reacted, his sixteenth-level power just about to activate to evade, but the tentacle was unfathomably fast, suddenly wrapping around his face and neck, throwing him forcefully to the ground.
What filled his vision was endless golden light. Amidst that formless golden glow, the ever-annoying virtual text of the Soul Supplement Handbook lit up instantly, coalescing into a prompt.
[Congratulations! You discovered an Easter egg: Dragon Gives Birth to Dragon, Phoenix Gives Birth to Phoenix.]
[Contributor’s Note: A power called “Secret” will allow you to see the dawn of hope in desperate situations. This is my final gift to you, Fisher Benavides.]
The first sentence of the Easter egg seemed incomplete, but Fisher was already immersed in the ocean of gold, too exhausted to discern its missing parts.
Yet, even if he racked his brain to think, he probably wouldn’t be able to know what the missing part was.
Because that was a “secret” known only by that mouse.
求求投票、打赏和支持，这对我来说十分重要！
万分感谢支持！
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(This chapter ends here.)
