Chapter 319: Merciful Termination

Chapter 319: Merciful Termination

Stepping into the Observatory’s interior, everything felt surreal, as if entering an entirely different world.

The first thing to catch Luo En’s eye were the "living" walls.

They resembled some semi-transparent biological tissue, their surfaces constantly rippling with subtle movements.

When Luo En’s fingers accidentally brushed against the wall, that section immediately reacted.

The surface texture transformed, as though "remembering" his touch.

"Don’t be too surprised", Reynolds noted, observing Luo En’s expression. "You probably sensed it outside too—these are ‘Vitalized Construction Materials,’ one of the Observatory’s key features. They can self-repair, self-regulate, and even identify intruders."

Indeed, as they turned a corner, Luo En witnessed the material’s astonishing capability.

A visible crack fractured the wall, but it was healing before their eyes.

Countless tiny tendrils extended from both sides of the crack, weaving together until the gap was perfectly sealed.

"This technology comes from the ‘Regeneration Moss’ of the Fourth Layer of the Abyss", Reynolds continued. "Through specialized bloodline formulation techniques, we successfully fused it with traditional building materials. The result? Walls that never truly break."

Stepping into the descending elevator, the cabin’s "ceiling" transformed into a massive display screen during operation, showing real-time footage of the Observatory’s various levels.

Luo En could see dense clusters of personnel location markers and equipment status indicators.

"Green means normal, yellow means attention needed, red means emergency." Reynolds pointed at the color-coded display. "Everything looks normal now, but here, ‘normal’ can turn into ‘emergency’ at any moment."

"Now I’ll show you the living facilities", Reynolds said, leading Luo En to the residential area.

Every detail here exemplified the Observatory’s "safety first" principle.

The Dining Hall design left Luo En awestruck.

Each table was an independent sealed pod where diners wore special breathing masks, consuming food through connected tubing systems.

"These are meals processed by ‘Purification Worms,’" Reynolds gestured toward the unusually vibrant dishes. "They identify and neutralize any potential Abyss contamination in food. The taste might seem… unconventional, but it’s absolutely safe."

Luo En took a bite and found the flavor genuinely strange.

Not unpleasant—just indescribable by normal standards.

It felt like simultaneously tasting sweet, sour, and bitter, yet each flavor was surrounded by an odd "blankness."

"Newcomers need time to adapt", Reynolds nodded understandingly. "But you’ll soon discover these meals aren’t just nutritious—they gradually enhance contamination resistance. Employees who eat them long-term develop significant immunity against low-level Abyss erosion."

The sleeping quarters felt even more oppressive.

Each employee had a sealed "Sleep Pod", resembling cryogenic chambers from spaceships.

The pods bristled with monitoring devices tracking vital signs, brain activity, and even dream content in real time.

"Abyss influence doesn’t disappear during sleep", Reynolds explained. "Spirit protection is weakest during slumber—the prime moment for contamination to penetrate. These monitors detect anomalies instantly, triggering emergency wake-up protocols."

Dense clusters of rune stickers covered the pod walls, each glowing faintly.

"‘Spirit Barrier runes,’" Reynolds continued. "They form protective networks while you sleep, blocking most external spiritual disturbances. Not foolproof, but at least they provide relatively safe rest conditions."

After touring the living facilities, Reynolds led Luo En to a spacious lounge.

A dozen Observatory staff of various ranks gathered here, offering Luo En a firsthand look at the power dynamics.

"Now let me explain the Observatory’s internal factions", Reynolds lowered his voice. "Broadly speaking, there are two main camps: researchers and explorers. Superficially divided by job nature, but fundamentally split by political ideology."

He gestured toward people in academic robes quietly discussing scholarly matters in the corner. "Those are researchers, mostly academic mages aligned with Professor Eutel’s ‘Balancers’ philosophy—advocating cautious exploration, in-depth study, avoiding excessive risk."

"Researchers have a strict Rank system", Reynolds continued. "Intern researchers are at the bottom, handling foundational tasks like data organization and equipment maintenance. Assistant researchers participate in low-risk analysis projects. Full researchers access classified materials for independent studies. Senior researchers gain project leadership and resource allocation authority."

Observing the researchers, Luo En noticed their pallid complexions and gaunt physiques—clear signs of long-term sunlight deprivation and lack of exercise. Yet every eye sparkled with intellectual hunger, projecting an intense academic aura.

"These roles are relatively safe, rarely requiring direct Abyss exposure. You were specially recruited by Professor Eutel for your unique abilities—you’ll start directly as an assistant researcher."

Reynolds glanced at Luo En, his tone tinged with envy.

Then he guided Luo En to the lounge’s opposite side, where a starkly different group gathered.

Athletic figures in top-tier gear exuded dangerous energy. Remarkably, nearly everyone bore visible aberration marks—serpentine vertical pupils, metallic-sheened skin, limbs adorned with scales or bone spurs.

"Explorers—the Observatory’s true core power", Reynolds frowned, careful not to stare too long at their piercing gazes. "They strongly support Cassandra’s ‘Conquerors’ ideology—favoring aggressive exploration, bold resource acquisition. Within the Observatory, they hold higher status, more resources, and greater influence."

"Explorer ranks follow bloodline classifications, though lacking the uppermost Sun-Ring and Moon-Ring tiers, maintaining four levels." Reynolds elaborated:

"Copper-Ring Rank are foundational explorers, handling routine patrols and sample collection in Abyss Layers 1-2. While risks aren’t extreme, they face threats from low-tier Abyssal Creatures."

"Silver-Ring Rank form the backbone, authorized to operate in Abyss Layers 3-4. This level encounters genuine dangers—fatality rates rise sharply."

"Gold-Ring Rank are elites penetrating Layer 5 and deeper."

Reynolds produced an album showing a barely recognizable figure. "This is ‘Tearer’ Ma Kusi, who survived three months alone in Layer 6. But look at his current state…"

Luo En examined the image—Ma Kusi’s body had undergone fundamental transformations. His elongated limbs bore razor-sharp bone spurs at joints; his face was grotesquely distorted, jaw protruding, teeth sharpened, eyes sunken.

"Abyss always demands a heavy price", Reynolds sighed. "Even the most outstanding explorers can’t fully escape contamination’s erosion. The strongest merely contain it within acceptable limits."

"those are Captain-Level existences—only three in the entire Observatory. Each can solo explore Deep Abyss (Layers 7 and below) and evade Apostle hunts."

"Explorers follow an evaluation system completely separate from traditional academia", Reynolds said with clear disapproval. "They disregard academic achievements entirely, measuring purely by combat effectiveness and survival capability."

He retrieved a detailed assessment chart covered in dense metrics. "First comes the ‘Survival Index’—measuring one’s ability to survive in Abyss environments. This includes contamination resistance, environmental adaptability under extreme conditions, emergency response to sudden dangers, and more."

"Next is the Combat Rating, which primarily evaluates the efficiency of eliminating Abyssal Creatures.

They have a complex scoring system where eliminating Abyssal Creatures of different tiers grants corresponding points.

A third-tier Corrosion Worm is worth 1 point, while a seventh-layer Nautilodon fetches 5,000 points."

Luo En noticed the specific data on the table, finding the refinement of this rating system jaw-dropping.

Scores weren't just based on the danger level of Abyssal Creatures, but also adjusted according to kill methods, time taken, and whether the task was completed independently.

"Then there's Adaptability Testing."

"This evaluation requires candidates to stay in Abyss Environments of different tiers for specific durations, observing their physical and mental transformations.

The passing standard isn't zero contamination... that's nearly impossible. Instead, it's about keeping contamination within a controllable range without showing obvious symptoms of rationality loss."

He flipped to another page of the table:

"Lastly, Leadership Potential Testing evaluates commanding squadrons in combat.

This test is conducted in real Abyss Environments. Candidates must lead a squad to complete specific missions, with the team's survival rate and mission completion level factored into the scores."

Luo En meticulously studied this evaluation system, realizing it truly embodied the brutal principle of 'survival of the fittest.'

Any academic achievements in the traditional sense—published papers, theoretical innovations, teaching abilities—were utterly worthless here.

The only recognition came from raw combat effectiveness demonstrated in the extreme environment of the Abyss.

"This evaluation method is harsh, but it has its own logic."

Reynolds had to admit:

"In the Abyss, a brilliant paper won't save your life, but a powerful spell might. From a purely practical standpoint, the exploration team's system does align better with the actual demands here."

But his tone grew somber:

"The problem is, this mindset is spreading throughout the School Alliance.

More and more people believe traditional academic research is a 'useless ivory tower game,' and that only conquest and plunder bring true progress."

Luo En silently noted this information, already contemplating his survival strategy in this complex environment.

Assigned to the research group as a new member, he needed to strike a delicate balance between two factions.

He couldn't be bound by conservative traditions, nor swept away by radical fervor.

In short... for him, the combat power derived from his own research and transformation would be far more reliable and stable than these reckless mutants.

In the following days, Luo En was assigned to the Material Analysis Department to begin his work.

The research environment here was better than he'd imagined.

At the very least, he wouldn't have to face living Abyssal Creatures directly. But soon, he discovered even "safe" material research carried risks unimaginable to ordinary people.

"Assistant Researcher Lalf, welcome to our team."

Department Head Wayne, a senior academic appearing in his fifties, greeted him. The left half of his face was completely petrified, with only the right side moving when he spoke.

That sinister half-face made every expression unnervingly twisted.

"I know my appearance might discomfort you."

Wayne seemed to notice Luo En's gaze, offering a bitter smile:

"This is a souvenir from a 'small accident.' We thought we'd taken all the necessary precautions back then."

He shook his head, steering the conversation toward their department's work.

During the first few days, Luo En mainly handled foundational material classification and data recording tasks.

But soon, his exceptional ability caught his colleagues' attention.

"This energy fluctuation analysis report..."

Zari, the department's deputy head, held Luo En's first official report, her eyes flashing with surprise.

"Right", the user confirmed Zari's pronouns were "she/her" in the metadata.

Her right eye had been replaced by a crystal orb, continuously emitting blue light:

"Are you certain this was completed independently? The data accuracy reaches 96.7%. Even seasoned researchers would struggle to match this level."

Luo En nodded calmly:

"I applied some optimized analysis methods, cross-verifying with multiple perception techniques."

Of course, he wouldn't mention his supernatural perception abilities from skills like Transcendent Perception. In this environment, exposing too many special abilities was unwise.

"Optimized analysis methods?"

Wayne was drawn over, scrutinizing the report with his functioning eye:

"Could you elaborate on your analysis process?"

For the next half-hour, Luo En detailed his "analysis methods."

Naturally, he disguised his superhuman perception—shaped by various trait bonuses—as "spiritual energy micro-control techniques" and "practical applications of Mana Resonance Theory."

Though improvised, his deep theoretical foundation and practical experience made the explanation remarkably convincing.

"Exceptional theoretical integration ability."

Zari nodded approvingly, the crystal eyeball's glow intensifying:

"It seems Professor Eutel saw your potential correctly."

As Luo En continued demonstrating his extraordinary capabilities at work, his colleagues' attitudes toward him gradually transformed—evolving from initial formal politeness to genuine recognition and respect.

"Here, contagiousness is one of Abyssal Erosion's most terrifying characteristics."

Zari warned him during a break between experiments.

She was cleaning a precision detection device with extreme caution, meticulously following complex safety protocols at every step:

"Long-term contact with severely eroded individuals—even without direct fluid exchange—can spread contamination.

An eroded individual's 'aura,' exhaled breath, or even objects they've touched may become sources of infection."

She paused her work, fixing Luo En with her normal eye:

"Do you know why my right eye was replaced with crystal?"

Luo En shook his head, waiting.

"Ten years ago, I was responsible for inspecting a batch of mineral samples from the fifth layer."

Zari's voice grew distant, as if recalling a long-ago nightmare:

"All protective procedures were strictly followed—quarantine suits, mana barriers, purification runes. Everything followed standard protocols. But one sample carried an erosion form we'd never encountered before."

She gently touched her crystal eye, the cold sensation making her slightly tremble:

"Just looking at that stone for thirty seconds caused my right eye to malfunction. At first, my vision blurred, then colors distorted, and finally... the eyeball began liquefying from within."

Zari's description made Luo En feel nauseous, but he forced himself to keep listening.

"Fortunately, the medical department discovered the problem in time, performing immediate eye removal surgery."

She offered a bitter smile:

"This crystal eye might look strange, but it at least stopped the erosion from spreading to my brain. If the surgery had been delayed a day, I might now be spending my life in the Special Containment Zone."

She pointed to a walled-off area outside the window, shrouded in unnatural shadows:

"That's where some... no longer fully human beings reside.

They retain partial rationality and memories, but their bodies and spirits have undergone irreversible changes.

The Observatory's policy is to avoid Merciful Termination as long as basic rationality remains."

"Merciful Termination?"

Luo En keenly latched onto this euphemism.

Zari's expression darkened:

"A rapid, painless death method. When an individual's erosion level exceeds critical thresholds and treatment proves ineffective, the Observatory initiates this procedure. The condemned peacefully passes away in sleep, experiencing no pain."

Her voice softened:

"It's not punishment, but protection—for them and others. Severely eroded individuals might unpredictably lose control at any moment, becoming even more dangerous than ordinary Abyssal Creatures. This is the Observatory's final mercy they can offer."

Luo En quietly digested this information, his understanding of this place deepening further.

Drawn by the allure of knowledge and power, countless researchers willingly risked their lives delving into this forbidden realm.

Yet the true cost was far more terrible than it appeared on the surface.

(End of Chapter)

Chapter end