Wizard: Unlimited Profession Slots Chapter 897 - 393: The Foundations of a Person (2)

Ali's memories painted a picture of her becoming haggard, the light in her eyes extinguished.

She found herself plagued by insomnia, often remaining by the window until the first light of dawn appeared.

The soft sobs of the inn's guests could be heard, yet no one among them knew how to console a sister who had lost her brother.

The townsfolk advised me to give up… that Tom surely has… but I refuse to believe it! I will never give up on him!

Despair and guilt wrapped around Ali’s heart like venomous serpents.

She started to blame herself, questioning if she had prevented Tom from entering the Abyss, or if she had accompanied him instead…

Countless hypothetical scenarios replayed in her mind, tormenting her to the brink of madness.

The outcome that was anticipated...

Ron, observing everything from his detached perspective, remained inwardly unfazed.

He even commenced an analysis of Ali’s behavioral patterns.

Contemplating the most effective psychological intervention to help her escape this futile suffering.

However, he failed to grasp that his own cold analysis was precisely the core of the issue.

Finally, on a night when a blood moon illuminated the sky, Ali steeled her resolve.

I am going to find him… even if all that remains is a corpse, I will bring him home…

The journey within her memory was steeped in tragic undertones.

Ali possessed no combat experience; her "gear" consisted merely of a tarnished kitchen knife and a few vials of rudimentary herbal remedies.

Every inch of the Abyss was saturated with blood, and the air itself carried the stench of death.

Distorted abominations lurked in the oppressive shadows, poised to rend any intruders asunder at a moment's notice.

Yet, Ali seemed an embodiment of fearlessness, her voice continuously calling out her brother’s name.

Tragedy often strikes when one is most vulnerable.

At the edge of a murky swamp, Ali confronted a creature of the Abyss notorious for its virulence—the Memory Parasite.

These microscopic entities, utterly imperceptible to the naked eye, infiltrated her consciousness like insidious smoke, commencing their most malevolent work.

These parasites not only consumed the host's genuine memories but, with even greater malice, implanted carefully constructed false ones.

They offered a semblance of hope to those consumed by despair, providing delusive comfort to the afflicted, all while slowly eroding the host's mind.

Tom?! I hear you calling for aid! Hold on for me! Your sister is coming to rescue you!

Empowered by the fabricated memories, a flicker of hope reignited within Ali’s eyes.

She "heard" her brother’s desperate calls for help, and "saw" him ensnared deeper within the treacherous landscape.

These phantasms were so convincing that even her senses of touch and smell were expertly deceived.

Almost there… I am close to finding Tom… I sense it, he is just ahead… waiting for me…

But Ron was privy to the grim reality.

Observing through the Memory Crystal, he witnessed the parasites systematically consuming Ali’s brain, piece by agonizing piece.

The memory abruptly ceased.

Ron slowly emerged from the immersive experience, finding his eyes unexpectedly moist.

This sudden surge of emotion startled him.

How long had it been since he felt moved by the demise of a stranger?

Tears traced a slow path down his face, falling onto the cold, sterile surface of the laboratory table.

Ron stared blankly at his tears, as if confronting something beyond his comprehension.

"I… am weeping?"

He raised a trembling hand, his fingers brushing against his cheek.

The warmth of the moisture confirmed the shocking actuality.

Following the immersion into Ali’s memories, fissures began to appear in his own hardened emotional state.

Yet, swiftly, a more profound dread began to creep into his heart.

When had he become so detached?

When did the suffering of others transform into mere data points for his analysis?

He recalled the yearning in Eve’s amethyst eyes, remembered Nari’s unwavering devotion, and acknowledged the quiet companionship of Dale and Ailan over the years…

Their contributions, their genuine affections, left increasingly faint imprints upon his heart.

Each instance, perhaps, would elicit a fleeting moment of emotional response.

But invariably, it was extinguished by the icy logic of reason, plunging him back into the solitary pursuits of research and Cultivation.

Far from the oppressive confines of the Faruk Kingdom, his family would consistently fill their letters with news and regularly send portraits of each family member.

Eldest Brother Edmund had recently participated in some function, Father’s hair had gained a few more streaks of white, and Andre frequently complained about the incessant troubles posed by those wretched Nobles…

Once, such tidings provided him a measure of solace.

But now?

He skimmed through those letters, dismissing them instantly upon confirming their lack of practical value, much like perusing academic texts without distinction.

"What manner of monster am I transforming into…"

Ron’s voice resonated within him, tinged with an ineffable, profound bleakness.

He recalled Uther’s solemn warning, and the accounts of ancient Alchemists from bygone, forgotten eras.

Lance’s final, poignant words:

"Should an afterlife exist, I pray to discover a path of research that eschews the sacrifice of others.

But in this life, I must achieve breakthroughs within the limited time allotted; for the greater good, one must sometimes endure lesser evils."

The complete transformation of Alexander Jin and the downfall of Airena Moonlight, vanquished by the very entity born from her own animosity... those profound past events had once stood as stern warnings to him.

Yet, he now found himself on a strikingly similar trajectory, not one of physical alteration, but a descent into spiritual alienation.

The cultivation technique known as 'Star Eater’s Ravings,' the cutthroat, self-serving atmosphere within the Wizard Society, and the unending thirst for greater might—

All these factors had been gradually reshaping him, piece by piece.

He was becoming progressively more detached, viewing the world and everyone in it merely as resources ripe for exploitation.