Volume 2

Chapter 94 : The Node of Fate

The master and mistress of Hydra Mansion were currently at the alchemical fortress ten thousand meters above the Imperial Capital.

Naturally, the only ones who could sit at the garden tea table were the future Hydra and his Contract Heads.

Now, Miss Hitana, who wielded the power of two Contract Heads and considered herself the holder of the first seat, sat cross-legged on a chair, her pouting demeanor so adorable one might want to pinch her cheeks.

Across from her, a petite, lovely girl sipped tea calmly.

Though not exactly refined or elegant, her simple, straightforward manner had a unique charm.

—If she weren’t sitting in Anselm’s lap.

Meanwhile, Marina, standing behind Anselm, looked at her seemingly teeth-grinding sister, sighing silently in exasperation, then gazed with immense envy at the one in Anselm’s arms… Miss Helen.

She would be Anselm Hydra’s second—or, strictly speaking, third—Contract Head.

“Father, with the plan you provided, the Type Seven Universal Ether Furnace’s energy output time has reached nine point three six seconds, with an efficiency increase exceeding one hundred percent.”

Setting her teacup on the table, Helen placed her hands neatly on her lap, speaking quietly: “Truly, only you… are the sole hope.”

Anselm patted Helen’s head: “Nine point three six seconds? I thought it could be longer.”

“With finer processing, it’s possible, but it’s unnecessary.”

Helen shook her head: “The true development of the Universal Ether Furnace is for the future. Right now, my focus… is only one thing.”

Her lifeless purple eyes gleamed with a fervor that gave even Hitana goosebumps.

“To… clear obstacles for you.”

This was precisely why she won that final bet.

—An outcome even Anselm… hadn’t anticipated.

The young Hydra’s fingertips brushed Helen’s delicate cheek.

The once-cold, indifferent petite woman now leaned into Anselm’s hand with such submission and reliance, her expression one of calm reassurance.

“Helen,” Anselm began, “I never expected you to win the bet in that way.”

Helen, resting against Anselm’s chest, answered softly: “What did Father think I would do?”

The Universal Ether Furnace was the pursuit etched into the soul of “Mingfuluo Zege.” Both Helen and Mingfuluo agreed it was the standard for victory.

But logically, against a Mingfuluo who had studied for three years, Helen had no chance of winning.

“I thought you’d seek my help,” Anselm smiled. “But you were far more outstanding than I imagined.”

Mingfuluo had the chance to study Hydra’s centuries-old secret texts, an advantage Anselm granted.

For the sake of the bet’s “fairness,” Anselm could naturally give his daughter a corresponding advantage.

Helen’s advantage was that she truly had Anselm’s support.

By placing her hopes for the future in him, Anselm… naturally had to respond.

But at the same time, in a duel so “sacred” to these identical souls, seeking Anselm’s help would be an unbearable humiliation for the soul of “Mingfuluo Zege.”

Conversely… if Helen did so, it would mean she was fully capable of killing her past self, killing that… former soul.

Yet Helen used Nidhogg’s self-destruct function, linked to the Data System, to make Mingfuluo’s Universal Ether Furnace collapse—an outcome Anselm hadn’t foreseen.

“She shouldn’t have made such a mistake, but… she underestimated you, despised you.”

Anselm sighed, then couldn’t help but laugh: “She scorned your ‘fallen’ state, your reliance on me.It seems anything involving me, she stopped paying attention to you.”

“Rather than face the torment of self-destruction, the disaster of a collapsing life, she refused to let emotions… have any connection to me?”

The boy’s eyes lowered, murmuring softly.

As the witness, the host of two identical souls, Mingfuluo could feel everything Helen experienced.

Yet she failed to notice the deadly flaw Helen planted in Nidhogg.

The answer was clear—when thoughts like “I’ll do anything for Father” arose in Helen’s mind, Mingfuluo must have deliberately severed her perception.

She had the courage to endure the despair Anselm inflicted on Helen, to face the truth of a fabricated life, but couldn’t accept another “self” harboring fervent, sincere feelings for Anselm.

How… ironic.

Anselm could even imagine the disgusted expression Mingfuluo would show when sensing Helen’s feelings for him.

And it was this extreme opposition in their emotions toward Anselm that allowed Helen to win in a way Anselm hadn’t predicted.

Just as Helen had said, everything was for her own Mingfuluo, yet in the end, she was defeated by Helen’s devotion to Anselm.

Anselm wanted Helen to prove her loyalty by destroying her past beliefs, but in their final confrontation, Helen delivered an even more remarkable answer.

With Mingfuluo’s bone-chilling indifference toward Anselm as a contrast, everything Helen thought and did far exceeded Anselm’s expectations.

From then on, Anselm finally possessed a “daughter” who shared the same talent as Mingfuluo Zege but was absolutely loyal to him.

Three years of meticulous planning had now reached its endpoint.

“However, if Helen aims to clear obstacles for me and won’t wear the Contract Heads’ ring until that goal is achieved,”

Anselm smiled, rubbing Helen’s cheek: “That will take a very, very long time.”

Across from them, Hitana let out a distinctly displeased hum, barely stopping short of saying, “You little shrimp, don’t imitate me.”

Anselm had already intended to entrust the Contract Heads’ ring to Helen, but his dear daughter calmly refused.

[Please let me prove my worth, so I can have the confidence to wear that ring]—those were Helen’s exact words.

To this, Anselm readily agreed. Helen clearly wanted to prove that, beyond her loyalty to Anselm, her abilities were in no way inferior to Mingfuluo’s, which was why she made the request.

He had no reason to refuse.

“If there comes a moment when I need your strength, I will surely ask for your help, Father.”

Helen wasn’t overly stubborn. She tilted her head slightly, kissing Anselm’s cheek: “Please keep watching over me, Father.”

Miss Wolf, seething with rage, wanted nothing more than to grab Helen, fling her eight hundred meters away, and plop herself onto Anselm’s lap.

But Marina’s warning glance and her own slightly matured mind restrained her from howling on the spot. Instead, she sat on the chair, fuming with displeasure.

—Even though she fought tirelessly with Anselm every night, while Helen stayed in the alchemical workshop and had never been neglected in the slightest, Hitana still couldn’t stand seeing someone wriggling and rubbing against Anselm.

“It’s time, Father.”

Not long after, Helen suddenly said: “I should head to the workshop. Would you…”

She paused, then continued in a very gentle voice: “Would you come with me?”

Anselm glanced at the visibly restless Miss Hitana. Despite her obvious displeasure, she obediently said: “I… I’m going to train. Lina, come with me!”

She stood up, stomped over to Anselm, and grabbed Marina, ready to leave.

But after taking just a few steps, Hitana stopped.

She turned back, let out a low “grr,” and lightly bit Anselm’s other cheek while glaring at Helen with a fiercely wolfish stare.

After licking Anselm’s cheek with her pink tongue for a moment, Hitana finally dragged Marina away, satisfied with her display.

Her demonstration made Anselm find it somewhat amusing, and… somewhat poignant.

Hitana’s possessiveness wasn’t merely the kind found in “romance.” It was the intense, proprietary desire of a future overlord for something she cherished… Even with Anselm’s training, Hitana’s strong-willed and domineering nature was beginning to show over time.

The essence of a Beast King was hard to change. After completing Helen’s training, finding a solution for Hit’s spiritual essence would also need to be prioritized—

As Anselm thought this, he suddenly felt a warm, wet sensation on the cheek Hitana had just licked.

Miss Helen was leaning on Anselm’s shoulder, her gaze hazy, trying to overwrite the mark Hitana had left.

But her actions were quickly stopped by Anselm.

He wiped his cheek with a silk cloth, chuckling: “Weren’t you going to the workshop? Let’s go, Helen.”

“…” Helen stared at Anselm, dazed, but soon lowered her head respectfully and obediently, responding softly: “Yes, Father.”

On the other side, Hitana dragged Marina far away, turning back multiple times to ensure she could no longer see Anselm or Helen before revealing her true nature in front of her sister.

“Lina, Lina!”

The girl grabbed her sister’s arm, shaking it vigorously, her face full of indignation: “This isn’t right!”

“…” Marina sighed helplessly: “What’s not right?”

“It’s just, that Mingfu… no, that Helen! Why, how could she, ugh, just—succeed like that?”

Hitana, overwhelmed with emotion, gestured wildly, deeply resentful: “I went through so much hardship to become Anselm’s Contract Head. Why did she get it so easily, so effortlessly…”

Marina tapped Hitana’s forehead: “Then why don’t you think about why you had to endure so much hardship? Why did Anselm make you go through all that?”

“Well… that…”

Hitana stammered, but soon raised her voice again: “Sure, I wasn’t great back then, but this Helen wasn’t any better than me at the start, was she?”

“Then it means she must have gone through despair and pain you don’t know about, maybe even… harder choices than you faced.”

Marina’s expression shifted from lecturing to gentle.

She patted Hitana’s head, speaking earnestly: “Don’t underestimate someone chosen by Anselm. Besides, didn’t you want to help her before?”

“I wasn’t helping her! I was helping Anselm!”

Hitana huffed: “Who knew she’d be sitting on Anselm’s lap, taunting me so soon… Damn it! Lina, that’s the weirdest thing about her!”

Her eyes lit up, and she grabbed Marina’s shoulders, shaking them vigorously:

“—How did she suddenly become so obsessed with Anselm, practically gluing herself to him? She wasn’t like this before!”

Marina froze for a moment.

She knew nothing about the specifics of Anselm’s training of Helen, but she could infer from the results that it was likely a process of breaking and rebuilding, even more thorough than what Hitana had experienced.

But the “new” Helen, as Hitana said, had no reason to cling to Anselm so readily, unless…

“Unless, long ago, she actually cared deeply about Anselm.”

Marina murmured thoughtfully: “But because of the event that caused their rift, she buried those feelings.”

“Lina, that’s contradictory,” Hitana said, utterly confused.

“If she cared so much about Anselm, why would she break up with him?”

“Because the old Miss Mingfuluo was someone who placed ideals above everything—no… but if that’s the case, it doesn’t quite add up to caring deeply about Anselm, does it…”

Marina, prompted by Hitana’s words, sensed something off.

She frowned slightly, trying to think further, when a sudden thought emerged.

Anselm’s choices are never wrong.

This thought eased Marina’s brow, and she quietly admonished herself—how could she so casually question Anselm’s decisions?

“Hit, do you think Anselm made a mistake?”

“…What? No! I didn’t!”

Hitana’s voice shot up: “I just think that girl’s a bit weird… I’m the Head of Wind! My instincts are sharp!”

“But Anselm surely thinks further and considers more than you, doesn’t he?” Marina replied gently.

“…” Miss Wolf scratched her cheek, at a loss for words.

“Admitting you’re just jealous of Miss Helen—is that so hard?”

Marina pinched Hitana’s cheek, amused: “She hasn’t even been with Anselm yet, and you’re already so insecure, Hit?”

“Aaah, I said it’s not that, it’s not!”

Amidst the playful bickering with her sister, Marina, though convinced Anselm couldn’t be wrong, didn’t stop pondering Helen.

Anselm never makes mistaken choices, but Miss Helen…

Recalling Helen’s lifeless eyes, the absolute loyalty—bordering on fanaticism—in her gaze toward Anselm, Marina remembered something Elnilisa had once told her.

Anselm needs absolute loyalty, but there are countless people who could be absolutely loyal to him.

Beyond that loyalty, Anselm needs followers with independent selves, capable of creativity, not those who fall completely into the depravity of his charisma.

Thinking of how Helen called Anselm “Father,” Marina couldn’t help but wonder:

Is Miss Helen truly the person Anselm needs?

***

Inside the alchemical workshop, clusters of Nidhogg operated in an orderly fashion.

Though not as efficient or wide-ranging as Mingfuluo’s control, Helen’s mastery was improving rapidly.

Anselm observed it all, a pleased expression on his face, and spoke:

“What do you think—when Helen devours you, how much will she improve?”

This question clearly wasn’t directed at Helen, which meant it could only be…

Mingfuluo, tightly bound by restraints, kept her eyes closed and didn’t speak.

That day, the victorious Helen hadn’t killed Mingfuluo or devoured her soul to make her own soul dominant.

Helen had told Anselm she feared direct devouring would taint her with Mingfuluo’s thoughts.

She didn’t want her newly reborn, pure self to be sullied by past remnants and wanted to wait for Flamel to perform a precise “surgery.”

Anselm agreed, so Mingfuluo was left to linger.

Receiving no response, Anselm continued as if talking to himself: “Over these three years, aside from studying those secret tomes, you’ve been perceiving the world through Helen… So I’m curious, Mingfuluo, what exactly made your hatred for me grow to this extent over these three years?”

At this, Mingfuluo opened her eyes, replying coldly: “Don’t you feel the same?”

“The same… as you?”

Anselm froze, then covered his forehead, bursting into laughter.

“Yes, yes… I’m the same.”

He reached out, stroking Mingfuluo’s bluish-gray hair, his words gentle but his eyes icy:

“I, too, hated you for three whole years; I, too, never cared about you; and I, too… have no intention of giving you the slightest chance.”

The young Hydra suddenly gripped Mingfuluo’s hair tightly, leaning down to whisper:

“If I were like you, there would be no Helen, no Mingfuluo, nothing… at all.”

Mingfuluo’s expression didn’t waver despite the pain.

Her purple eyes, locked with Anselm’s, gleamed with cold light.

“You think you can disguise this condescending attitude as some twisted affection for me? Even after admitting it was all a lie, even now, having won completely, you still want to stand above and judge me?”

“Truly… hypocritical, Anselm.”

Anselm said nothing, merely releasing Mingfuluo with indifference, no longer looking at her.

But the next moment, the restrained Mingfuluo let out a pained groan.

Anselm instinctively turned, immediately spotting the issue.

“…Helen.”

He withdrew his gaze from Mingfuluo, saying softly: “That’s enough.”

Helen, manipulating Nidhogg to burrow into Mingfuluo’s body and gnaw at her flesh, wore an icy expression: “She must pay for her insolence and arrogance, Father.”

Mingfuluo’s groans of pain grew louder.

Helen clearly wasn’t holding back, her lifeless eyes filled with brutal cruelty.

After three or four seconds of silence, Anselm spoke again:

“I said, enough.”

“…”

The petite Helen immediately ceased her actions.

She bowed her head to Anselm, responding softly: “Understood, Father.”

Seeing her like this, Anselm’s expression and tone quickly softened: “There’s no need to get so angry over her, Helen. When creating, you can’t let external things disrupt your state of mind so easily.”

“Anything concerning Father isn’t external.”

Helen replied: “It’s the very essence of my state of mind.”

Anselm glanced at Mingfuluo, who was biting her lip, her forehead beaded with sweat, then looked at Helen, who was gazing at him, and smiled: “That won’t do. It’ll become your weakness… Don’t be so frail, Helen.”

“…” Helen opened her mouth, then lowered her eyes, asking in a faint voice:

“Is caring for you a form of weakness?”

“It’s excessive caring.”

Anselm spoke as if truly guiding a daughter, with utmost seriousness: “I need you to love me, to be loyal to me, and I’m glad you love and are loyal to me… but remember, Helen, you mustn’t be enslaved by this emotion. You must be able to, even while holding it, always make—”

As he spoke, he seemed to recall something.

The young Hydra shifted his gaze, staring at an empty corner, calmly saying:

“Always make the most correct choice.”

“I understand,” Helen nodded gently. “If that’s what Father wishes.”

Anselm smiled: “Good. Continue your work. If you need me for anything, just say so.”

“The Ether Armament for Ivora is nearly complete, but two of the three alchemical masters seem to have fallen into the abyss because of it and are on the verge of madness…”

“I’ll handle it. Well done, Helen.”

Anselm propped his cheek, half-closing his eyes: “Very timely.”

“Regarding Nidhogg’s enhancement… I’d like to reference Mr. Flamel’s Creator Spiritual Essence. It might lead to a new path.”

“When Father’s side is done, I’ll inform him.”

“Understood, Father. Beyond that, I… have one more question.”

Helen, resuming her research with a calm demeanor, asked: “Is Father’s enemy the Empress? You’ve never directly told me who or what it is.”

After an unknown amount of time, I heard that gentle, calm voice from behind: “Now, let’s just say it’s the Empress.”

My father, it seemed, still had no intention of revealing the truth to me.

I clearly discerned the deeper meaning behind his words but felt no displeasure.

I nodded earnestly: “I understand. The Empress is your enemy, then… I will surely create a weapon capable of slaying gods for you. Please trust me.”

“Of course I trust you, Helen,” Anselm replied with a smile.

“Thank you for staying with me for so long. If you have other matters to attend to, you don’t need to remain here.”

I turned my head, my lifeless eyes filled with devotion to Anselm: “Even if you’re not by my side, I will do everything for you, for you who can change the world.”

Anselm said nothing, only smiled and nodded before standing and leaving the alchemical workshop.

As he stepped out of the workshop, filled with the scent of steel and flame, he should have felt certain that everything was moving in the best possible direction.

Yet, I sensed he found little joy in it.

He had gained a Contract Head absolutely loyal to him, blessed with talent favored even by fate, perhaps surpassing even Hitana in loyalty.

Anselm Hydra should have been overwhelmed with satisfaction and delight, but once those feelings faded, he could no longer grasp them.

In his mind, two faces emerged—identical in appearance yet utterly different in expression.

One was so cold, so distant, filled with deep-seated loathing and rejection, yet so resolute and vibrant.

The other was so devoted, so loyal, exuding profound dependence and closeness, yet so… empty and lifeless.

In this gamble, no matter who won or lost, Anselm would not lose.

He would always obtain what he desired.

But similarly, no matter who won or lost…

He had truly, forever, lost his friend.

“After saying all that to Helen,” the young Hydra gave a wry smile, shaking his head: “Here I am, thinking about these meaningless things.”

In an instant, the loneliness and confusion in his eyes vanished.

Do the right thing, Anselm.

Your enemy is watching you at every moment, manipulating everything around you, even… you yourself.

So, eliminate all possibilities swayed by Her strings and do the right thing.

Anselm looked up, his gaze seeming to pierce through layers of ceilings, reaching the fortress ten thousand meters above.

The node to change everything lay here.

“Father,” he murmured softly: “I will overcome all. I swear it to you.”

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