Novel Full Chapter 517 518-Jelia’s Conjecture
Chapter 517 Chapter518-Jelia’s Conjecture
Jelia’s somewhat shrill voice instantly focused Roronora’s attention.
Despite seeming to have succumbed to despair, Roronora had always harbored the hope of leaving this place.
But he had never found a way to do so.
“You have a way?” Roronora, watching the excited Jelia, frowned and asked, “What’s your method?”
With her thoughts completely clear, Jelia, excited, looked at Roronora, non-stop talking, “This world, perhaps, is not real at all!”
Jelia paused for a moment before continuing.
“When you entered, all you saw were corpses, no one mentioned the true form of the legacy, yet you were able to make a judgment.”
“There’s no sign of mouse holes, yet mice appear and disappear.”
“There are no inlets or outlets for the water, yet the lake remains clear.”
“There are no vents, yet the air in the cavern has not been exhausted.”
“Each anomaly is more conspicuous than the last. While it sounds incredible, after eliminating all impossibilities, whatever remains, however improbable, must be the truth.”
Listening to Jelia’s description, Roronora’s initially eager gaze gradually cooled.
“Do you have any more direct evidence?”
“Yes.”
Jelia raised her hand, pointing at the crystal at the top of the cavern that was emitting a faint glow.
“Why would a special-level magus set up such an impossible trial?”
“Besides, does a special-level magus truly have the ability to completely shield mana? But if it’s just about isolating your body, that’s much simpler.”
“Just a little manipulation during teleportation, and you wouldn’t even realize that your body is no longer under your control.
And of course, a mere consciousness wouldn’t be able to manipulate mana, let alone feel its presence.”
Is this the truth?
Jelia wasn’t certain, but she believed this to be the truth, or rather, this was her all-in bet. .𝒎
If her judgment was correct, then both of them could escape happily.
And if she was wrong, they’d all die anyway, but at least death wouldn’t be so painful, without enduring prolonged loneliness or gasping for breath on mice from who knows where, then sinking into endless despair.
Either way, the outcome doesn’t seem too bad, does it?
Jelia brushed back her cloak, her palm resting on the hilt of her shortsword.
“You’re thinking of suicide, aren’t you? Despair has led you to hallucinate,” Roronora said, looking into Jelia’s eyes with a cold smirk and disdain.
In his view, all of Jelia’s nonsensical talk was a result of her despair over reality, unable to bear such a blow.
“It’ll be just me again.”
He sighed, laying back down, hands cushioning his head.
“Then why haven’t you died yet? Or rather, why aren’t you dead?” Jelia’s voice seemed to come from a distant place.
“We return to the initial question: Why are there mice in a place where nothing grows, and no mouse holes can be found?”
“The reason is simple, because it’s your hallucination!”
“Hunger causes your body to react, projecting onto your consciousness as the emergence of hallucinations.”
“You ‘feel’ you’re in a desolate cavern, so the only food is mice.”
“Just as you said, this is indeed a deception.”
The shortsword was drawn slowly, Jelia caressing the blade.
It wasn’t particularly sharp, as it was never meant to be a weapon for killing, merely a tool for eating.
But under these circumstances, it was enough.
There was a blade, there was a point; it could pierce anyone’s skin, slice through their muscles and blood vessels, destroy their organs, and take away their last breath of life.
“You’re a madwoman, completely insane!”
Roronora suddenly sat up, pointing at Jelia and shouting, but due to his weakness, he had to stop to catch his breath after a few words, resting momentarily.
Watching Roronora’s vehement reaction, Jelia remained unmoved.
Of course, she was mad; she knew what was most important to herself.
So what if she guessed wrong?
To die here without hope or to die on the road with hope, which death was more fitting, more preferable?
Everyone wants to live, but Jelia had seen clearly, this legacy offered no path for mere survival!
Either push through to a new life from a place of certain death, or sink here and die regardless.
Roronora was actually wavering.
He had been here for who knows how long, familiar with every detail of this place.
He had certainly noticed the oddities Jelia mentioned, but just surviving each day had consumed nearly all his energy, leaving none to analyze or seek a way out.
If Jelia hadn’t shown up, he might have continued to live like this indefinitely, or perhaps one day the mice would run out, and he’d starve to death.
Neither was a good end.
One last gamble?
“Jelia, how confident are you?” Roronora asked, looking into Jelia’s eyes.
The question was somewhat meaningless.
If she was right, even the slightest chance could lead to success.
If she was wrong, even the greatest confidence would only lead to a dead end.
“Fifty percent.”
Not more, not less, just the right number for a gamble.
If correct, life would resume under open skies, with freedom as boundless as the ocean.
If wrong, death would come, lying in this cold place, nameless, with future explorers finding nothing but two suicidal corpses, one of which would be as thin as a skeleton.
The rats would probably like it, they say they eat anything.
Did the mice I ate, eat people?
Or corpses?
Even in such circumstances, Roronora’s thoughts couldn’t help but wander.
“If you make it out, could you help me?”
Roronora’s gaze, filled with a hint of hope, fell on Jelia, only to meet her cold smirk.
“Why should I?”
Jelia didn’t just verbally agree but clearly stated her conditions.
There’s no such thing as a free lunch in this world; effort and reward are always proportional.
Only then will more people be willing to put in the work.
“If you succeed, if you take me out with you, I’m willing to do three things for you! Anything!”
“If you succeed, if you take me out with you, I’m willing to do three things for you! Anything!”
“I’m a level 1 magus! If you save me, I’ll be your bodyguard for ten… twenty years!”
“Moreover, I have countless treasures, all outside. If you want them, I can give them to you! I can tell you where they’re hidden, how to find them, and even help you find a way to sell them!”
“Just save me, and I’ll fulfill everything I just said!”
Roronora’s gaze was fervent, not caring whether Jelia would succeed, blindly placing his bets on her.
However, what met him was Jelia’s icy stare.
“Death extinguishes life like a snuffed candle; all that you’ve mentioned holds no meaning to me.”
If I fail, naturally, I’ll gain nothing.
But if I make it out, and the situation reverses outside, who knows whether you are friend or foe.
But now, expecting Roronora to offer anything of value seems unlikely.
Even if there was anything, it would probably just be dried mice.
Not even a wild cat would eat such things, so they would be of no use to Jelia.
Frowning, Jelia continued, “I don’t want any promises from you. If I can get out, I’ll help you out of moral obligation. But whether I’ll succeed, and what the outcome will be, I cannot say.”
In other words, fate decides life and death, and staying or leaving is up to destiny.
If, in the end, the legacy allows only one person to leave, Jelia would undoubtedly not give up her spot.
“Agreed.” Roronora paused, then nodded.
He still couldn’t bring himself to commit suicide, even though he had never feared death on the battlefield.
Yet, he showed fear before his own blade.
The unknown always brings fear, for its obscurity breeds terror, leaving one hesitating in place, seeking a once familiar balance.
Is this cowardice?
But Roronora once challenged the legacy trial, even being among the closest to success.
No one can judge.
Jelia raised the shortsword, its tip glittering in the cavern’s dim light, resembling a distant star in the sky.
Beautiful, yet deadly.
Roronora watched Jelia, silent.
Her gaze shifted upwards, and with a resolute heart, Jelia’s hand holding the shortsword suddenly exerted force!
Pain!
Agonizing pain!
Am I wrong?
The sensation of the blade cutting through skin felt all too real, warm blood spraying from the vessels onto Jelia’s sword-
wielding hand, carrying a mix of warmth and slickness.
Jelia withdrew the blade, collapsing to the ground weakly, a “heh” sound escaping her throat, unable to speak as her windpipe was severed.
Was I right?
Jelia felt as if something was fading within her, aware it was her life force ebbing away.
When it fully dissipates, that would mark her complete demise.
Lying on the ground, waiting for death, is truly unbearable… so painful, so very painful!
Jelia’s eyes, devoid of life, stared at the cavern ceiling, twinkling like the night sky with stars, the enormous legacy crystal still emitting a cold light, neither brighter nor dimmer.
Jelia tried to lift her hand, but the muscles no longer responded to her will.