The middle-aged man curled up on the ground blinked hard, as if his memories, thoughts, soul, and body had all been torn apart by some force and scattered across different planes, leaving him unable to think or understand what was happening before him as a whole person. This state lasted several more seconds before fragmented, chaotic pieces of thought finally reassembled in his mind. At last, he remembered who he was—and who the woman before him was.
"Beltira..." he said hesitantly, his voice so hoarse it barely sounded human. Chaotic thoughts crashed through his mind, and as his memories gradually returned, his expression grew increasingly terrified. "I... I... what have you done..."
He suddenly fell silent, as if only now noticing what was wrong with his "body." He lowered his head to look at this human form, shock and panic spreading across his face. Then he nearly used both hands and feet to push himself upright, trying to stand as he muttered, "This isn't real... This is an illusion. What did you do to me? Don't play this kind of joke..."
"This is the final peace of your soul, my 'compatriot,'" Beltira said. She had merely watched the man quietly from beginning to end, and her tone remained calm now. "You cannot go back. Your body—if that can even be called your body—collapsed and mutated after facing the form of a god, and it is now being gradually broken down. I brought your consciousness here. This is the depths of the Neural Network, a space I constructed using my own thought nodes. Bertram, if you still retain even the slightest shred of reason and humanity, remember quickly. Remember everything you have done. We do not have much time to waste."
Bertram—or rather, the Bertram condensed from memories—suddenly froze. He stopped