Gene modification was not a simple matter. Especially under such crude conditions, attempting to complete genetic alteration with nothing more than a single vial of serum was nothing short of wishful thinking.
There was no doubt the mortality rate would be terrifyingly high.
If even one out of a hundred people succeeded, it would already be a stroke of heaven-defying luck—surviving a calamity by the narrowest margin.
Herta made a rough estimate. Even if it were her injecting this inferior genetic serum, the probability of success would be less than ten percent.
This was gambling with her life.
As for why she was being so bold?
Naturally, because none of this was real—and there was no time for her to develop things slowly.
At most half a year.
This world would be completely destroyed.
Her cells began to disintegrate. Her flesh seemed to let out silent screams of agony. Under the power of Honkai, most of her bodily tissues and organs started to necrotize. Blinding marks of corrosion crept up her arms and across her face.
The worst possible outcome was losing the bet. But so what? It was merely an experiment within the trial world.
She would not lose anything.
"Doctor, your body—?"
Kiana stared at the spreading corrosion across her skin, her pupils trembling violently. She knew exactly what that was.
She had seen it before.
She had seen people infected with Honkai sickness—those who had been eroded to the brink of death. They bore these same marks.
When those marks appeared, it meant a person's life was approaching its end.
Herta could have used her as the test subject. There had been no need for her to risk herself.
Herta could feel her genes rapidly collapsing under the influence of Honkai. The serum's effect was like a cup of water thrown onto a raging inferno. At this rate, her body would soon be completely consumed.
She had failed to hit that less-than-ten-percent chance.
As death approached, Herta felt only a trace of regret. Frowning, she looked at Kiana. Having severed her sense of pain, her tone remained calm.
"I can't swallow this insult. Remember to take revenge for me. If you can't figure out a way, just wait here for a while. When Ruan Mei arrives, have her come up with something."
"No—don't die!"
Her words sounded exactly like a dying testament. Kiana's already fragile emotions exploded the moment she heard them.
If Herta died, then in this world she would truly have no one left to rely on, no one she could trust.
There were still so many questions she had not answered. She had not yet figured out what she wanted to do, what she should do.
Why use herself as the experiment?
From the very beginning, she had been sent to Herta as a test subject. She was willing to test the serum.
Herta was different from her. She still had things she wanted to accomplish—far more than Kiana ever could.
"Don't make it so melodramatic. It's not like I'm really about to die. And we're not even that close, are we?"
Even though she had cut off her physical senses, the ebbing of her life force was unmistakable—like sand slipping through an hourglass, impossible to ignore.
Dying in the trial world would most likely mean leaving it.
Warm tears fell. Kiana's grip on her hand tightened.
"You're still saying things I don't understand! Why wouldn't you let me test the serum? Why risk yourself? You always talk like this isn't real, like everything's different from reality. I only know one thing—you're important to me!"
Herta always spoke as if drawing a line between them, yet she had never once excluded her from her considerations.
If she truly believed they were not close, that their relationship was ordinary, then why hadn't she used her instead?
"You still have so many things you haven't finished. You can't just die like this. I won't let you die like this!"
Herrschers all possessed special abilities.
What about her?
She was most likely not human. And if she wasn't human, then she was a Herrscher. As a Herrscher, why did she have nothing?
"I told you. This is just a trial."
"But to me, this world is real!" Kiana suppressed her agitation, feeling Herta's body temperature gradually dropping, her voice breaking. "This world is real. You're real. The time we spent together isn't fake!"
"Please… don't die!"
"I don't want… I don't want to be alone again…"
Tears fell in heavy drops, splashing against the back of Herta's hand. Her vision blurred until she could no longer see the person before her clearly.
If she truly was a Herrscher.
If she truly possessed some special power.
If this world—everything here—was truly fake, a so-called trial created for her.
Then give her the power to heal Herta!
Even if the price was her own life, she would pay it. She did not want to watch the person she cared about most vanish before her eyes.
Herta was always sharp-tongued.
Yet she cared more than anyone Kiana had ever met. She always claimed their relationship was ordinary, but her actions told a completely different story.
Perhaps the meaning of her birth here… was to come for her.
From the moment she saved the world and received none of the respect she deserved.
From the moment she saved humanity, only to be imprisoned by the ambitious under the name of being "dangerous."
She had pulled humanity out of the mud, yet she was denied the honor she should have received. Instead, they cast her aside like a used tool and locked her away in an unknown sanatorium.
She deserved glory.
Not to die silently in some forgotten corner!
A pale golden light burst forth from their tightly clasped hands. As Kiana desperately longed for a miracle, she felt something within herself change.
She wiped away the tears clouding her eyes and looked at Herta, her own eyes red.
"I…"
"This works too?"
Herta's face was ashen, on the verge of death, yet she still cast her a strange look. "Use the power of the Saint to suppress the Honkai erosion for me."
"The power of the Saint?"
Kiana was overwhelmed with joy. She did not know where this power had been hiding or why she had never sensed it before—but it appeared at the moment she needed it most.
Did that mean Herta could be saved?
She wasn't certain. But without hesitation, she followed Herta's instructions, letting that power envelop her entire body.
As the power of the Saint merged in, it seemed to neutralize the corrosive nature of Honkai energy, allowing the serum to display its intended effect.
Her shattered genes began to slowly recombine.
Her body underwent a transformation without bloodshed—yet no less harrowing than walking through hell itself.
"You really can still use your original power. It was only dormant because of the trial."
Under the influence of the Saint's power, the genetic modification serum's success rate rose slightly. Herta's condition gradually stabilized.
As long as Kiana could maintain the Saint's power, the experiment could already be declared a success ahead of time.
"…Stop talking about it being a trial."
Pressing her lips together, Kiana spoke her dissatisfaction for the first time in front of Herta.
"Don't treat your life like it's something unimportant—like something you can just throw away whenever you want again!"
Herta's reason for taking such a risk, at its core, was only one thing: she had never regarded her own life as particularly important.
Perhaps it was exactly as she had said.
Everything here was fake.
Because it was fake, she did not treat her life as something precious. Even death held no fear for her.
"Whether this is real or not, since you're alive, then treat your life properly!"
"At least… make it more meaningful."
Looking at the visibly agitated Kiana, Herta asked flatly, "Are you teaching me how to live now?"
"I just want you to live well."
"You believe this is all fake, yet you're saying that. Don't you find that contradictory? If living here is meaningless, then no matter what you do, what significance does it have?"
Kiana fell silent. After a while, she spoke with difficulty.
"Even if the world is false, we—and our emotions—are real."
For example, Herta's desire for revenge against those who betrayed her.
Even when she was about to leave, she still regretted not having avenged herself.
"From what position are you saying this to me?"
"…As a friend."
Kiana tightened her grip on Herta's hand instead of letting go. Gathering her courage, she met Herta's probing gaze without flinching.
No matter what Herta thought, she had to speak her heart.
Herta stared into her eyes, her tone unchanged. "I recall telling you—I don't make friends with idiots."
"I can change!" Kiana blurted out anxiously this time instead of falling silent. "I can learn! I'll learn how to become someone smart enough to satisfy you!"
As if that was what she had expected.
Herta clicked her tongue, her voice laced with obvious disdain. "Maybe in your next life."
With that brain of hers, would studying really transform her into someone brilliant?
A block of pure, uncarved wood.
"I won't give up!"
Her determined declaration earned no reaction. Herta simply closed her eyes, clearly unwilling to engage further.
Kiana felt a pang of disappointment, but quickly rallied herself.
Whether Herta was willing to be her friend was her decision. As long as Kiana knew she wanted to become Herta's friend, that was enough.
Whether it worked or not, she would persist.
That was what she wanted to do now.
Before long, Herta opened her eyes again. The corrosion marks on her body had faded. On the back of her right hand, a pale violet, intricate pattern had appeared.
A human-shaped motif.
Looking at the complex pattern on her hand, it was a Stigmata—one far more powerful than ordinary Stigmata.
Its ability was related to the Herrscher of Reason.
It was precisely the power Herta needed most: to deconstruct and create all things. That was the true reason she had injected the serum into herself.
If she could not obtain this boost, there was no point in continuing this game. All that awaited would be one narrow escape after another. She had no taste for self-torment.
But with this power, the game still held value. At the very least, she could use it to turn the tables from a desperate position.
"Did it work?"
Kiana's complexion was pale. Maintaining the power of the Saint had drained a tremendous amount of her stamina and focus.
But it had succeeded.
She, too, saw the intricate pattern on Herta's hand. At first glance, it resembled an eye. Kiana recognized it—this should be the so-called Stigmata.
Herta nodded and raised her right hand. A pale blue sphere of light formed in her palm, complex threads intertwining within it. She frowned slightly. The sphere reshaped itself into a robot barely half a person's height.
"That's it?" Herta sounded dissatisfied. She had risked her life for this ability, yet it was far inferior to the true Herrscher of Reason.
Only a portion of that authority.
"It's already amazing!" Kiana praised sincerely.
Because of her tension, her palms were slick with sweat. The process had not ended earlier, so she had not dared release Herta's hand, afraid it might affect something.
Now, as she finally let go, weakness washed over her. Supporting herself upright, she curiously examined the small robot Herta had created.
"I suppose it will save some time."
It could not achieve everything in one step, but for Herta, this level of power was enough to overcome their immediate predicament.
With a thought, she used Honkai energy to create a large number of small robots. Transmitting construction blueprints to them, she sent the little machines off to begin building their base.
Kiana stared, dumbfounded, as the half-sized, variously modeled robots marched out to begin construction. She lowered her head and looked at her own hands.
Was this Herta's Stigmata ability?
The creation of mechanical constructs?
Her own power had not manifested so spectacularly. Recalling the sensation from earlier, it had been indescribable—like instinct. Yet no matter how she searched before, she had never found anything that set her apart.
Herta called it the power of the Saint.
To Kiana, it felt like perfect control over Honkai energy.
"Is there anything I can help with?"
She quickly set the matter aside. Instinctively, she avoided mentioning that she might be a Herrscher. Instead, she wanted to find something to do.
Herta glanced at her. "Have your other abilities returned?"
"Other abilities?" Kiana looked confused.
Apparently not. Only the power of the Saint.
Herta was also curious about her current state, but she would have to wait until the laboratory was built before she could examine Kiana thoroughly and uncover the truth.
"Nothing for now. Rest over there."
Was she being disliked again?
But it was true—she could not help much. Herta was so capable that she could accomplish everything alone. She did not need someone like her, who knew nothing.
Perhaps her help would only be counterproductive in Herta's eyes.
The thought dimmed her mood. Yet some things could not be changed simply by wanting them to.
She remembered Herta saying she did not befriend idiots.
Becoming friends with her seemed to offer Herta no benefit at all.
Kiana's resolve wavered.
"Why do you want to be my friend?"
As she wrestled with her thoughts, Herta's gaze returned to her. The question sounded casual, but she had weighed it for quite some time.
"Huh?" Kiana blinked, puzzled. "Do I need a reason?"
"Don't you?" Herta countered.
She did not care how others evaluated her, but that did not mean she was unaware of their opinions.
Did she need one?
Why?
Kiana sank into thought.
"When I opened my eyes, I saw a world on the brink of destruction. Following the others, I heard your name."
"Savior. Astonishing genius… They gave you countless titles. I became curious about what kind of person you were—why someone who had saved the world would suddenly disappear, why a hero would turn her back on a suffering world."
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