Stepping out of the research facility, the faint, intermittent red mist vanished from her sight.

  Pandora stopped and took a deep breath. She suddenly felt that the familiar, faint scent of decay and dust in the air was, at this moment, incredibly refreshing.

  This feeling was different from the absolute “purity” after the System’s “Alchemical Purification.” Real air still carried the scent of the earth, the damp scent of plants, and the unique aroma of interwoven fungi from the depths of the forest… All of it was pleasing to the body and soul.

  Pandora looked back.

  She could clearly see the dividing line between the “Frenzy Mist” and the outside air. It was as if there was an invisible, transparent wall, completely confining the scarlet, frenzied mist within the research facility's boundaries. The moment it left that area, it would instantly break apart and dissipate into nothingness.

  “There must be some built-in control method…” Pandora murmured to herself.

  She thought that this control method wasn't just built into the “Frenzy Mist.” It was also built into the behavioral logic of the zombie monsters. And… the “Corpse-Red Mist.”

  That’s right. If she thought about it carefully, the Corpse-Red Mist had similar properties. It was born from the bodies of zombies, would be absorbed by the nearest living person, and would automatically stop infusing once the body reached its limit, but would remain outside, forming a “mist shroud” until it encountered another nearby person who could be “infused.”

  This stuff was clearly not some naturally occurring gas. It was a product, designed with specific rules.

  And, just like the Frenzy Mist, the Corpse-Red Mist could also be selected and absorbed by the System.

  However…

  Pandora just tested the “select” function with her intent; she didn't actually have the System absorb it. Because, compared to the basic Alchemical Elements she now had in surplus—Flesh, Salt-Gold, Ether, which she had almost no use for—the Corpse-Red Mist, an “energy” that could directly increase her strength with almost no noticeable side effects, was the true “rare resource.”

  Even though she was currently “saturated” and could no longer gain any enhancement from it, if she returned to the manor before it dissipated completely, it would, more or less, allow Betty, Aurora, and the others to absorb a little.

  It was a pity that this kind of red mist had no enhancing effect on a pure Alchemical construct like Elsa. She could absorb the Corpse-Red Mist and never become “saturated,” but the mist couldn't provide her with any meaningful enhancement.

  So, in this situation, letting Elsa get too close would actually waste these precious resources and accelerate the dissipation of the Corpse-Red Mist…

  Pandora calculated everything in her mind, and without further hesitation, she broke into a jog, heading back the way she came.

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  ………………

  In the forest, at the border of the Forbidden Forest, sunlight filtered through the layers of leaves, casting mottled spots of light.

  After separating from the adults, Aurora had set off for the manor. But she hadn't gone far before her feet refused to carry her another step.

  It wasn't that she was infected, or that something was wrong with her body.

  It was just… her thoughts were a tangled knot.

  A knight protects her liege.

  She had always striven to be a qualified knight, striving to be her liege’s strongest shield, striving to be a sword that her liege could wield, a sword that could cut down all obstacles.

  But now… she had become her liege’s burden. A useless burden who needed to be saved.

  Aurora was lost.

  When she passed the small pond they had come across earlier, she subconsciously stopped.

  It was a small pond, surrounded by trees, so clear you could see the smooth pebbles on the bottom and the occasional small fish swimming by.

  Her liege’s command, “Clean yourself up,” seemed to still echo in her ears.

  The thought made her lower her guard. Silently, she began to remove the heavy, already scarred armor from her body. When the cold metal left her skin, she even felt a sense of relief.

  Next, she took off the clothes soaked with sweat and blood. Barefoot, she stepped, one by one, into the clear pond.

  “Hiss…”

  The pond water was cold. The bone-chilling chill instantly traveled from the soles of her feet through her entire body.

  The pond wasn't deep; the deepest part only reached her waist. But this cold was perfect for washing. The icy water was just what she needed to suppress her chaotic thoughts, to help her calm down and think about that question.

  When exactly… did she become her liege’s burden?

  In the future, could she escape the definition of “burden” and return to her identity as a knight?

  As she thought, she scooped up the cold pond water with her hands and began to wash her body.

  Underneath the armor, her skin was unexpectedly fair and delicate, without a trace of the tan a knight should have from long days under the sun. Even her muscle lines weren't that defined. On the contrary, the overly full burdens on her chest swayed slightly with her movements.

  In truth, she didn't like her body. It was too unlike that of a proper knight.

  In her imagination, a knight should have skin the color of wheat, or even darker, with a rough texture. Their muscles should be bulging, full of explosive power. Their chests shouldn't be these useless lumps that only got in the way of swinging a sword. They should be… full, firm pectoral muscles.

  She hated how she looked, a hate that even mirrored the way the other knight squire had hated her when she was a child.

  Inadvertently, her hand brushed against a scar on her waist. The scar was long. Although many years had passed, she could still feel its uneven, ugly texture.

  Instantly, her thoughts were pulled back to that past, filled with pain and rejection.

  After coming out of the Forbidden Forest and being rescued by the Viscount, she joined the ranks of the knight squire, becoming the only girl among them. But this identity didn't bring her any convenience. In an age where concepts of gender were unclear and only strength and courage were revered, her different gender, and her appearance, which didn't meet the “knight standard” and was too delicate, made her the target of rejection from all the other children.

  Back then, she was hated by all the children. Even the weakest boy, who was bullied by the others, could gain a sliver of false “belonging” by rejecting her.

  This scar was left by that boy.

  During a sparring session, to prove himself to the others, to be accepted by that group, he had palmed a sharpened training sword and, with all his strength, driven it viciously into her side.

  From the results, he had succeeded. There was a twisted confidence in harming the weak, and it had earned him acceptance from the group.

  But what about her?

  She, who had been stabbed, lay on the cold training grounds, blood flowing continuously from the wound.

  She was going to die.