Chapter 89: Fate Convergence - XIX

Aventine (his blood) continued to survey the Ritual of Blasphemy while he and his companions hid in the shadows.

His red blood cells and white blood cells, given thoughts and willpower by <Mind Force>, capable of activating the nervous system through <Pure Instinct>, and synergizing with [Absolute Awareness], reacted to every wisp of information they received and sent corresponding signals through his nerves.

Unlike a supposed normal practitioner of <Pure Instinct>, whose F-Rank mastery would merely grant automatic reflexes to physical stimuli, he could use his gift to make his body react to everything it absorbed, and even keep on reacting until his mana could no longer keep up.

So much so that he had been mimicking his usual decision-making despite his main consciousness’s self-destruction—though rigid, it allowed Aventine to maintain a trace of intelligence through artificial biological means.

Thus, he was still capable of an uncanny analytical process, simply because his reflexes reacted to stimuli that went far beyond the norm.

For example, humans would usually pull their hand back when their skin sensed heat. It was a natural reflex to avoid being burned.

Or, they would usually duck down if a projectile was flying toward their face. This was the reflex needed to avoid being hit.

Aventine, on the other hand, could react to the emotions of someone other than himself. If his companion felt fear from the approach of a dangerous weapon-wielding attacker, his body would move based on that.

Or, if his enemies suddenly felt the impulse to attack, he could similarly react to that instead.

Even conceptual events were within the realm of his reactions:

When a piece of violent history entered his mind, his body would be prepared for the exact moment that part of history recurred.

In essence...

...If an apple had fallen onto the spot he was currently standing at in the past, and the apple tree still existed today, his body would be ready to dodge the apple if it sensed the precursor to its fall:

The moment when the apple’s pedicel snapped. Either from the wind, an animal, or its ripened state.

Of course, humans who had never experienced such spontaneous inferential reaction sequencing would find this difficult to understand.

Instead, what we could understand would be how Aventine analyzed the current situation based on the thoughts and emotions around him:

From awe, fear, and amazement, he knew that the altar room was gigantic, just like the room containing the abyssal waters from before.

With the space illuminated by sanctity drawn from light-attributed mana, Taylor and Clementine fully understood how grand—and terrifying—this place was.

Thus, Aventine began reacting to that, sending measurements using <Perfect Estimate> through his senses and comprehending the specificity of that scale:

The altar room was the size of a colosseum that could house forty-meter-tall hydras and hundred-meter-long serpents. Rows upon rows of bleachers encircled the central, raised platform where the pillar of humans had been erected. Four empty pathways snaked around the bleachers, descending like four rivers pouring into a lake situated within an enclosed valley.

The entire room was basically a bowl with a stick stabbing through the center.

’If only we could continue to watch...’ Aventine thought.

Unfortunately, as magical as this ability to sense and react was... It was heavily restricted by mana.

Since this mimicry of conscious thought was composed of a rapid back-and-forth between [Absolute Awareness] and the trillions of red blood cells in Aventine’s body, the expenditure was similarly massive.

’We only have a few minutes left...’

And that was when accounting for the mana from the <Wyrm With No Name> along with his own.

Thus, Aventine’s blood understood the looming threat of this ritual and ’reacted’ to it ’reflexively.’

Speaking the words he would’ve said had he been truly conscious:

"Target the blasphemers, the central, green gemstone, and the pillar of tortured humans."

Still, he struggled to speak.

"In that sequence—kill through beheading, shatter using the blunt force of pure mana, and purify with fire and flames."

Clementine, still draped in a cloak of shadows to preserve her psyche, wordlessly gazed upon what had been pointed out.

’In that sequence?’ She repeated in her mind, subtly understanding the reasons behind the rigidity of such an instruction.

’It must be a way to ensure the ritual’s collapse.’

Looking at the pale expressions of the two humans behind her, a flash of sympathy crossed her gaze. One was utterly terrified, with cold sweat pouring down his back while the other’s mind seemed to have comprehended some terrifying truth and had turned sluggish...

Barely able to speak the words that needed to be said.

—Crack.

But Clementine did not dwell on their apparent despair for long. <Burst Step> flooded her body with explosive strength.

—BOOM!

And she rushed down like a silent meteor.

With a swish and the hum of her silver rapier, the blade flashed a deadly gleam.

Landing silently in the back rows, Clementine slashed the head off the nearest Treasure Gnome.

The head came off with no sound nor grunt. It did not even fall, as the gnome had been kneeling so deeply that his head was on the ground.

Thus, the Snakespawn continued.

With a burst of speed, she ran around the circumference of the room, her blade barely moving as she sliced through the gnomes in a rapid, reckless abandon.

All of these gnomes were even weaker than the ones she killed outside, sitting only at F-Rank and E-Rank, as if they’d never trained their entire lives.

’Maybe they really didn’t.’

Maybe their role was to kneel and pray.

Many of the Treasure Gnomes in this altar room had legs that were either frail or shrivelled up. She hadn’t noticed it before, but now, seeing them up close... it was clear that they had never left their spot on the ground.

Their legs had atrophied from groveling for too long.

Disgusted, Clementine moved even faster. The Treasure Gnomes fell like culled wheat.

The surroundings suddenly turned tumultuous.

—Crack.

The chests of several tortured humans split apart. The blood that flowed out of their bodies squirmed and turned viscous, rapidly dyed black. Their hearts and organs melted, forming a sludge that swiftly amalgamated into grotesque limbs and malformed heads.

Thus, a decayed scent flooded the room as Monsters emerged from the explosion of blood and gore.