Avidia paused, his tone firm: "Falco has paid the price for his arrogance and stupidity, but he was indeed once a brave and fierce warrior."
"He should die honorably on the hunting grounds, not so humiliatingly from the corrupting whispers of the Black Tide. Out of a warrior's morality, I will do my best to help him."
He looked at Herculous, making a promise: "Therefore, Lord Herculous, I will leave this side to you for the time being. I will head to the Bottom of Manes as quickly as possible to find the Wake-Truth Grass and return. Please rest assured, I will not leave the team for too long and will keep in touch at all times."
Herculous looked at the resolute Avidia, then at his ailing companion. Finally, he sighed and nodded: "Very well, young man. Do what you think you must. May your morality... bring about a good result."
Avidia turned and walked briskly toward the direction of the entrance to the "Bottom of Manes" in his memory.
His steps were firm, his heart harboring a sense of responsibility to save others and an absolute confidence in his own experience.
That hellish experience was the cornerstone of his glory, the proof he firmly believed elevated him above Augusta.
According to his clear memory, he should soon be able to find that hidden entrance leading underground—a place once filled with ancient mechanisms that tested courage and wisdom, as well as powerful Tacet Discords.
However...
When he arrived at the exact location marked in his memory, his footsteps abruptly stopped.
Before his eyes... there was nothing.
There was no massive stone door carved with ancient patterns; no deep, oppressive staircase extending downward; no residual traces of fierce battles; and certainly no majestic, ancient resonance energy fluctuations from his memory.
There was only a thoroughly ordinary landscape slightly eroded by the Black Tide, with a few weathered boulders scattered about. Clusters of dark purple crystals stubbornly pushed out from the crevices, emitting unsettling murmurs.
"...What is going on?" Avidia muttered to himself, a flash of confusion passing through his golden pupils. He carefully looked around, even climbing atop a boulder to gaze into the distance.
The bearing was absolutely correct.
He had absolute confidence in his sense of direction and memory, especially for a place where he had experienced life-and-death round trips four times.
He jumped down from the boulder and began to search more meticulously, brushing away the loose soil on the ground with his hands and checking the back of every rock.
"Nothing... nothing... still nothing!"
There was not a single trace! It was as if that unforgettable memory—about that grand entrance, those deep passages, those fierce battles brushing past death time and time again—were all just an ethereal illusion!
"No... this is impossible..." His voice began to tremble as a suffocating sense of fear slowly crept up his spine. "It must be the Black Tide... It's an illusion created by the Black Tide! It's interfering with my perception!"
He forced himself to calm down, attempting to channel his resonance power to dispel the possible hallucination.
However, the surrounding scenery did not change in the slightest.
That empty, desolate land, beneath the dim skylight, denied all his memories and convictions with a cruel silence.
His gaze finally locked onto a rock wall ahead that was abnormally smooth, as if it had been instantly sliced open by some massive force.
In his memory, such a wall simply did not exist here!
Avidia walked step by step toward that rock wall, reaching out a trembling hand to touch the cold, smooth stone surface.
A real tactile sensation; absolutely not an illusion.
"...This wall..." His voice was dry, as if every word cost him immense effort. "No... this isn't right..."
He abruptly staggered back a few steps, shaking his head in disbelief. All color drained from his handsome face, leaving only a deathly pallor and massive terror.
"How could it... be like this..."
"My memories... the Bottom of Manes... four crossings... those battles... that glory..."
Everything he firmly believed in, everything that supported him to reach today, all his confidence to challenge Augusta... at this moment, was smashed to pieces by this cold rock wall that shouldn't even exist!
A thought so terrifying it made his entire body turn ice-cold violently drilled into his mind like the most vicious whisper of a Tacet Discord:
His past... the heroic feats he was so proud of... the very core of his entire existence's value... could it... could it all be a meticulously woven lie?
Could it all have been manipulated and fabricated by some power... by someone unknown?
He, Avidia, the so-called hero who crossed the Bottom of Manes four times, from beginning to end... was he simply a fake puppet pushed forward by the Senate?!
"NO—!!!"
A roar suppressed to the extreme, filled with agony, confusion, and despair, finally burst from the throat of this proud gladiator.
He crashed heavily to his knees, his hands grabbing his hair in a death grip, as if trying to tear those fake memories out of his brain.
The world spun and collapsed around him.
The cornerstone of his conviction was utterly pulverized; the halo of a hero had transformed into icy shackles.
Avidia had fallen into a complete breakdown.
Deep within the decaying stone forest of the Town of Murmurs, the massive tree hollow entrance, like a torn wound, exuded an ominous suction.
The reconnaissance squad—comprising Rover, Augusta, and others, along with over a dozen elite gladiators and Black Shores armed personnel—was locked in a brutal slaughter against the Tacet Discords swarming out from the hollow.
The concentration of the Black Tide far exceeded estimates. The viscous darkness had almost materialized into something tangible, constantly battering the squad's defensive line.
Even more terrifying were the omnipresent "whispers." They were no longer vague noise, but had transformed into sharp, soul-piercing howls and temptations, excavating the deepest fears within everyone's hearts.
"Steady your minds! Do not let it bewitch you!" Augusta roared. Every swing of her greatsword brought forth lightning that tore through the darkness, but her tightly furrowed brows and the sweat on her forehead showed she was also under immense pressure.
A gladiator suddenly let out a crazed howl, turning around to aim his weapon at a comrade. His eyes were entirely cloudy—he had been completely corrupted.
"We can't keep going like this!" The mirror in Bu Ling's hands emitted urgent hums. The clear light it refracted could only barely protect the few people around her. "The whispers are too strong! The signals are severely jammed! It'll be incredibly difficult for us to collect a pure frequency here!"
Rover's eyes were sharp, his golden pupils constantly sweeping across the chaotic battlefield.
His perception pierced through layers of black fog, ultimately locking onto an ancient statue with a bizarre shape, half-buried beneath twisted roots deep within the tree hollow.
That statue seemed entirely out of place amidst the surrounding madness, emitting an extremely faint yet exceptionally stable fluctuation.
"Follow me! Break through in that direction!" Rover shouted in a low voice. The light of his sword surged, instantly clearing out a temporary path.
The squad followed closely behind without hesitation, fighting their way with difficulty to the vicinity of the statue.
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