The Supernatural Out of Control

Everyone was happy—but Miss Surtr knew that in Dark Souls, the most powerful boss in the High Wall region was known as the Dancer of the Irithyll. She was a member of the Lothric royal bloodline, bestowed with the Pontiff's Eye Ring and transformed into a berserker utterly obedient to his commands. And if things followed the normal, logical course of events—a path not explicitly stated in the game—this cursed, tamed Princess would bring betrayal and slaughter upon crossing the High Wall, leading to the fall of the border High Wall and the spread of war.

Pope Pontiff Sulyvahn is the one who bears the brunt of the blame in Dark Souls at this moment.

The difference between him and Father Time lies in the fact that these burdens should indeed be placed on his head.

The girl thought to herself, her gaze fixed on the Irithyll where the White Cult's main district was located. She had originally wanted to see just who Pontiff Sulyvahn was in this world. But as she approached the snow-covered city, her view was blocked by a barrier. It was like glancing at a radar-blocked area on a real-world map; she could roughly guess what was in that area, but the specific details were unclear.

I remember, in the game, Irithyll was covered by a barrier.

Miss Surtr thought about it, but she felt it was more likely a problem that arose naturally because her development of this new ability had not yet reached a point of qualitative change.

[The perception I possess should surpass the magic of the Soul World, surpass the power of souls and fire, and surpass all existing systems within the Dream World. Because I can traverse the Dream World, and so far, I've only personally experienced one near-human encounter in the God Slayer world.]

As for Teyvat, Persephone had already taken over, so she could temporarily set it aside—however, the thought of Teyvat made her realize that since Persephone had mentioned contact with the Warhammer world, perhaps she also had a way to see what would happen to Teyvat after her departure.

So the girl lowered her eyes—she didn't have eyelids, but she pretended to.

She decided to postpone the 'contact experiment' entry for the time being. After excluding that data, she felt that the information she currently had was sufficient for Persephone to conduct her analysis.

Haste makes waste; I don't need to solve all the problems at once.

[After all, there are still six days until the official exploration of the dream world, and I believe that even if Persephone doesn't achieve results that satisfy her, she can at least provide me with some assistance.]

[Well then... let's go back. This data collection will conclude here for now.]

The girl made a decision.

She glanced one last time at the Fire Keeper —the woman in the black dress who, as she resolved to leave, remained kneeling in prayer, completely oblivious. She felt a longing to touch her, to stroke her hem or her hair, but ultimately stopped herself. Her beliefs and habits bound her, preventing her from doing something so unladylike.

[How strange, when did I become a lady?]

Miss Surtr, a thought casually drifted through the depths of her mind.

At the very moment that thought finished, on the Terra, at the new research center in Chernobog, the girl lying in bed opened her eyes.

Fifteen minutes later.

"That's basically it." Miss Surtr, while munching on her ice cream to replenish her sugar, recounted her experiences and discoveries from her exploration of the edge of the dream world to the Doctor. She kept no secrets and did not scramble the order of the secrets and the truth.

I'm a little hungry, but not seriously.

"I can observe the next dream world through the door. But this ability is clearly limited, at least for now. It lacks precision and cannot overcome barriers that lack blind spots or loopholes."

"It still needs development," she said. "But at least we can be sure the next Dreamworld will be Dark Souls. That's a remarkable step forward... a huge help Persephone."

She ate the ice cream in a few bites, then picked up a piece of biscuit.

"Cross-world observation..." Persephone rested her chin on her hand, her brain visibly working at an extremely high capacity. She carefully considered her words, but the answer she gave was affirmative.

"If you can observe, you can interfere. If you can interfere, you can control— Surtr. The potential of your dream-world exploration power is enormous. It seems we've found the right research direction. It's just a pity that this power doesn't yet have the potential for deep sharing."

"How so?" After finishing the scones, they started on the small cakes and fruit pies.

"Well, I speculate that the reason you can see the World Tree is twofold: first, because you are the holder of power, and second, because your self-perception makes you believe that what appears there should be a tree—I judge that when the world exists as an observable, independent unit, it should have no conceptual form. In other words, the reason you see the world as fruit on a tree is because you have defined the world as you perceive it, perceiving it as the shape of fruit."

"This is your privilege, and I am not you. So I cannot discern the shape of the world. And my consciousness can only stop at the stage before peering through the gate, unable to go any further." Persephone let out a soft breath. "This is quite interesting, Surtr. You've given me a real problem."

"You don't seem upset at all?" She devoured the small cakes one after another, and finished the fruit pie in a couple of bites. Soon, the late-night snack, enough for ten people, was gone.

"I'm so happy." Persephone snapped her fingers. A multitude of drones then came to her side, carrying even more desserts. "Because I've finally encountered a puzzle that leaves me stumped, yet not entirely hopeless. I feel like I'm on fire—well, Surtr, are you that hungry?"

"Hmm, a little low blood sugar—" Surtr replied casually. She reached out to grab a piece of sandwich.

She missed. A wave of weakness washed over her the moment she realized it—she instinctively reached out to support Laevateinn, who was floating beside her. And the instant her fingertips touched the blade, she felt the whole world spin.

Darkness engulfed her as Persephone frantically slapped the table away and lunged at her.

There's only one period today _(:з"∠)_

Because the invincible 42 has fallen _(:з"∠)_

Chapter 177 Extraordinary Out of Control

What happened?

What did she do?

Why did it turn out like this?

Persephone's fingers recoiled abruptly just before touching Surtr's body, a deep, instinctive warning causing her to reflexively slide backward—the wall shattered upon impact with her back. She jerked her head up, staring at the Flame-haired Woman reclining quietly in her chair, her eyes lifeless. A familiar feeling flooded her consciousness.

She remembers that feeling.

Years ago, when she was about to face her final death after being killed thirty times by Surtr, her body and soul remembered that feeling.

It was like a volcano about to erupt before her eyes, the fuse of a nuclear bomb being set in motion, the wrath of the heavens pouring forth, the tides of the earth surging—she remembered that feeling, she remembered the moment she was dragged from her thirty-first death after her defeat. When she returned to the world of the living, all she saw was a vast, mirror-like wilderness.

She remembered that before the final battle, that wilderness had been a dense forest. Killing her back then wouldn't have required such a large-scale destruction of the natural environment.

She remembered that in the moment of her final death, what she saw in her own eyes were the same dull, light pink eyes.

She smelled the scent of death.

"Surtr?" she asked softly.

There was no response; the Flame-haired Girl leaned back in her chair, remaining silent. The ends of her bright red hair, however, were even more vibrant and vivid than before.

The unease grew heavier, and she instinctively reached for the dagger she always carried—she only ever carried this one weapon. But just as her fingers were about to touch the blade, the premonition of death intensified!

—Don't touch it!

—Weapons must not be touched!

—We must not show even the slightest hostility, whether subjectively or objectively!

A sudden realization dawned on her. And if this intuition was true, then it meant one thing at that very moment.

When should one show hostility to invite retaliation?

When will Surtr start attacking any suspicious target around him indiscriminately, regardless of friend or foe?

—She has just undergone an experiment that deeply explores her own power.