Above the fertile fields on Backlund's outskirts, a river rushed in from the distance, curved around a cliff, then flowed away toward the horizon.
One side of the cliff was bare, exposing pure white rock. From afar, beneath the clear air away from the city, sunlight gently blanketed it, creating a beautiful impression of holiness and warmth.
At the bend in the river stood a concealed, yet not particularly concealed, underground entrance. Like an ordinary cave, it hid behind weeds and shrubs, as though waiting for someone destined to arrive.
Not long afterward, a foot stepped onto the grass and stood silently before the cave entrance, as though waiting for something.
"This is the only place left, right?" Sno stared deeply at the entrance that seemed to swallow all life, then finally sighed.
Over the past month, he had tried all sorts of methods, even attempting those two conditioned reflexes. Yet, perhaps because he had prepared himself, or perhaps because he had already adapted to the two reflexes, a small portion of his consciousness still had not integrated as he wished.
At times, Sno had even considered directly "kicking those disobedient consciousnesses out of the team," but after careful thought, he abandoned the idea.
After all, these things currently seemed like nothing more than individual points of conscious light, but Sno did not forget that their true identities were fragments of his own soul.
No one knew whether abandoning that part of his soul would plant hidden dangers. At the very least, Sno would not try such a method before exhausting every other option.
With mid-December drawing near, Sno finally made his decision after fabricating another ancestral diary for Klein.
Passing through the weathered outer section, Sno stepped onto the solid black stairs of ancient history. Even after thousands of