It seemed I finally understood why there was a rule that you had to drive in.
Even after I was left far behind, the urging to "turn back" kept coming from afar.
Unfortunately, it had no effect on someone as hooked as Professor Fu. The only things limiting his speed were his wounds—and the road conditions.
Whether I was joking around or not, the fact that I was on the verge of death was never an exaggeration.
So I had to race against the clock the whole way. I couldn't afford to waste time.
But as I gradually drew closer to the Holy See, my speed inevitably began to drop.
The culprit, as it turned out, was the stuff seeping out of the road.
The farther I drove, the more visibly viscous it became.
What had started as a mere visual shock had turned into genuine resistance to forward motion.
In my view, without this vehicle, even in perfect condition I might not have had the strength to walk from the checkpoint to the finish line.
Even so, the experience was pretty miserable.
There was clearly some sort of tiered distribution here. The closer I got to the Holy See, the more pronounced it became.
Along with the increasing viscosity came that peculiar sweet fragrance.
Even inside the car, I had to keep exerting myself to suppress the urge to tear open the wound in my heart again.
I could also see the scenery outside changing. The "coral reefs," for instance, had not only grown taller but looked increasingly lustrous, with a delicate, almost breakable quality.
As if piercing even the tiniest hole would send pus gushing out.
Of course, as I always said, you had to look on the bright side.
The road might have slowed me down, but