I have investigated the history of the Alchemists. Driven by the hunger for knowledge, I killed many Alchemists and vaguely inferred some conclusions from their tattered notes.

They were once powerful too, with a strong group known as the Golden Dawn. That should have been the most glorious era for the Alchemists, but unfortunately, there seems to be no record of that era left.

But everything will eventually come to an end. Tall buildings collapse, people die, and even the vast sea might dry up one day. The powerful Golden Dawn was no exception. With the passage of time, it gradually vanished into the annals of history.

I traced this back and discovered that this organization was initially known as the Rosicrucian Order, led by a man named Roger Cruz."

The Plague Doctor’s voice paused, as if he thought of something amusing. Every time he thought of this, he felt a sense of sudden enlightenment.

"I spent a long time investigating these matters, especially that man named Roger Cruz. I found detailed information about him from a fallen Alchemist’s mouth. From his family’s inherited notes, I deciphered that his family was once part of the Rosicrucian Order and also learned that Roger Cruz was a Viking."

"A Viking?"

Lawrence never expected this to be connected to the Vikings. The Viking nations are located in the distant north, covered by cold winds and severe winters. It’s a barren land where survival, let alone knowledge, is challenging.

"Yes, a Viking. If that’s the case, the Rosicrucian Order, this traceable, earliest Alchemy group, is likely to have originated from the north. Think about the legends of your Evangelical Church, where the first Saints received God’s call, traversed mountains and waters, and brought back knowledge to fight against the darkness from the icy wasteland of cold winds."

The Plague Doctor shared his speculation with Lawrence.

"I’ve also read the Revelation. It could entirely be seen as a forbidden Alchemy note. Coupled with Roger Cruz and his Rosicrucian Order, I have every reason to believe there’s chilling knowledge hidden somewhere in the north. Perhaps it was once a Holy Hall left behind by the Rosicrucian Order, or maybe it’s the place closest to the Truth."

Lawrence was silent. It wasn’t surprising that the Plague Doctor could deduce this. However, he was surprised at the details, and he also learned some things he didn’t know from the Plague Doctor’s words.

"The Rosicrucian Order, Golden Dawn... I’ve heard of them. Back in the Demon Hunting Order, some Alchemists maintained the Well of Ascension. I remember they mentioned these, but unfortunately, those guys died on the Night of the Holy Arrival. There is no chance to ask them."

Lawrence continued.

"As it sounds, it’s really like that. Due to the greed and selfishness for knowledge, the history of the Alchemists is shattered and irreparable."

"So, I want to go there, Lawrence. I want to witness the Truth sought by countless people."

The Plague Doctor’s voice was solemn, deepened and oppressed by the bird-beak mask.

"You want to as well, don’t you?"

Faced with the Plague Doctor’s question, Lawrence didn’t answer.

He indeed thought about these things. After realizing that the Revelation originated from the north, Lawrence thought about setting off there more than once. However, reality kept him bound here, unable to move.

"Gaulunaro...no, the Rhine Alliance will next go to war with Ingwig. The entire White Tide Strait will turn into a sea of fire. My Secret Blood Legion will become a surprise force, slaughtering across the battlefield... Regrettably, I need to stay here. This is a legion forged by monsters that require another more powerful monster to lead."

Lawrence said while shaking his head. The closer he was to achieving his dream, the more terrified and anxious he became. He feared making mistakes and could only give his all.

"However, the war with Ingwig was never what I wanted. My target is the Holy Evangelical Pope Kingdom, the Seven Hills, Saint Nalos Cathedral."

"Why there?"

The Plague Doctor was a bit surprised. Amidst the current turbulent situation, the Holy Evangelical Pope Kingdom remains unusually calm, as if all this is unrelated to them, maintaining absolute silence. Even though there’s significant turmoil in the faith within Gaulunaro, there’s no indication from there.

"Because in my prophecy, the Apocalypse begins from there."

As Lawrence said this, he raised his hand and pressed hard on his head. The severe headache in his mind persisted, a result of overusing Authority·Gabriel. His consciousness was fragmented, seemingly on the verge of dissipating in the wind.

"I will lead the legion to conquer there, to strangle the Apocalypse at its source."

"In that case, it seems I will venture north alone. If I come back alive, I will tell you about it."

The Plague Doctor said helplessly.

"Come back alive? Do you think you will die there?"

Lawrence detected something amiss.

"Of course. This is my ideal, my wish. It wouldn’t feel right if it were so easily achieved," the Plague Doctor laughed. "To sacrifice for the Truth, something like that."

The laughter was a bit bleak, echoing back and forth in this empty, dark space, sounding somewhat monotonous. Gradually, the laughter stopped, leaving only silence between the two.

"I mean... Perhaps this is the last time we will meet, Lawrence."

The Plague Doctor felt a bit sad. He wasn’t sure about the journey ahead, but he had a premonition that it wouldn’t be easy.

"Even if I come back alive, perhaps you will have died."

"Why do you think so?"

Lawrence didn’t understand. The Plague Doctor was very aware of Lawrence’s capabilities. Logically, Lawrence was the least likely to die. As long as there was a new body, this mad will could continue indefinitely.

"Why? Lawrence, I’ve seen many lunatics, or rather, ambitious people. They speak of grand ideals to change this world, but in the face of death, they waver, begging for my medical skills to let them live on, even if it meant turning into monsters."

At this point, the Plague Doctor’s laughter turned odd. There was no need to ask; Lawrence could guess the fate of those people. They might survive, but how they lived would remain unknown.

"When I first met you, I thought you were like them, speaking of grand ideals but actually just for your selfish purposes. When truly asked to sacrifice, they only wet their pants in fear and cry for mercy."

Pausing in his narration, the Plague Doctor looked at Lawrence.

"I thought you were the same as them, but actually, you aren’t. You are the true madman, a real ambitious person. Look at you, Lawrence. For your ideals, your desires, how many have you killed? How much have you sacrificed?

You not only threw others into the fire but also leaped in yourself."

Wailing arose, cries from demons below, as their cries and the decapitated heads on the mural of flesh below emitted a resonating sound, like a great organ of flesh playing a forbidden melody.

"You seem to possess everything, but in reality, you have nothing left. The past is buried beneath dust, the future swallowed by hateful despair. Your physical form is consumed by fire, and your will is shattered beyond repair..."

The Plague Doctor exclaimed in delight.

"You are a true desperado, someone with nothing."

Lawrence said nothing, maintaining silence. The black mask obscured his face, hiding any emotions.

"Want a hug? We’ve worked together for so long, after all."

The Plague Doctor said as he opened his arms and walked up to embrace Lawrence, firmly patting his back. This kind of intimate gesture was a first for him, but Lawrence, like a cold statue, showed no reaction.

"Having worked together so long, I feel like I know you well enough, Lawrence. So would you let me go so easily?"

The Plague Doctor whispered in his ear.

"You madman, who stops at nothing to achieve your goals. Even you can easily be discarded, let alone me. If you felt even the slightest possibility that I could become your enemy, I suppose today is fated to be my end, right?"

Lawrence remained unresponsive, but a sharp Nail Sword pierced through the Plague Doctor’s chest, emerging from his back, penetrating his body.

Blood dripped into the darkness below, as if sensing the scent of living people, the demons let out roars resembling laughter.