All known common sense was cleared, and the world of normalcy completely collapsed.

Lorenzo felt as if he was in a continuous free fall, shattering one world after another, from crashing through the streets of Old Dunling to the boundless ocean above, until everything plunged into a bizarre darkness.

This is a mental world, born from the struggle between two consciousnesses.

Rage obscured Lorenzo's thoughts; how could a metal sword blade possibly cut through consciousness? Not to mention everything now is built upon a mental foundation.

Lorenzo let out an angry growl; he was just so close, just so close to completely killing Dean Lawrence.

Pouring all that resentment, but then he calmed down, carefully observing the darkness before him.

Rationality, maintain rationality.

After the rage came a sober fear; now his consciousness was entwined with Dean Lawrence's consciousness. While influencing Dean Lawrence, Dean Lawrence was also influencing him.

"Watson!"

Lorenzo called out; he had no idea about the battle within the [Gap], and now could only place his hopes on that eerie Pseudo Holy Grail.

But there was no response. Within the pitch-black only Lorenzo's own voice echoed, like being at the bottom of a deep well, and no one paid heed to his existence.

"Watson!"

Lorenzo roared again.

He had made a deal with Watson; she would assist Lorenzo in killing Dean Lawrence, but now she no longer responded to Lorenzo's calls.

He stared somewhat blankly into the darkness, with no one answering, like a child crying out to himself, with no one caring.

After a long silence, Lorenzo sneered coldly.

Sure enough, this damn thing was not trustworthy!

Lorenzo was frustrated, but then that damned metaphor arose again in his mind.

Perhaps Watson was still adhering to the agreement, only from her perspective, the agreement was somewhat peculiar.

Indeed, in Watson's metaphor, she was human, while he was just a pitiable ant. How could a humble ant see the scenery of humans?

A fine voice echoed near his ear, as if hundreds of snakes were slithering, and the friction of those cold scales made a faint yet chilling sound.

Having lost anything to refer to, Lorenzo couldn't even tell how much time had passed here; perhaps days had gone by, but it might have been only a few minutes. In absolute darkness, human will is terribly frail.

Perhaps people who have undergone a prefrontal lobotomy face just such a world.

Nothing could go out, and no one could come in, with only despairing cries echoing within this eerie darkness.

No...this isn't right.

Lorenzo seemed to realize something as he looked into the darkness, his once confused eyes began to harden, like a rock.

"This is the mental world."

He emphasized, his voice like thunder.

Therefore, a fissure appeared in the darkness, from which light was emitted, and then completely disintegrated.

Seeing familiar Dean Lawrence, who watched Lorenzo with light applause, beyond the black curtain.

"You learn quickly, child."

It was still the battlefield of the wilderness, but it was as if time had flowed backward; all the traces left by the previous battle had disappeared. Like Lorenzo's [Gap], no matter how it was damaged, when Lorenzo returned, there would always be a damned bench standing on the deserted icefield.

This time Lorenzo no longer harbored the previous rage as he calmly looked at Dean Lawrence. As he said, this was the mental world, where the common sense of the real world does not apply. The true ruler here is the strength of willpower.

Just now was Dean Lawrence's trap. If he hadn't realized this, he would have fallen into that deep darkness, eroded like in a dream, slowly becoming a puppet of a Demon.

"So...is this thing merely decorative?"

Looking at his Folding Blade, it still had traces of blood on it, as if Lorenzo's previous struggles were powerless attacks.

"No, you indeed hurt me. At this moment, we are the manifestation of willpower. Killing each other would be equivalent to real death."

Dean Lawrence said slowly.

"You learn fast. My first attempt at the [Gap] was much more miserable than yours."

Lorenzo clenched the Folding Blade, a bit hesitant.

He wasn't sure of the truth in Dean Lawrence's words; this old fellow was extremely cunning.

"We are the masters of this spiritual world, like clay, we can shape it into any form we desire."

Dean Lawrence waved his hand, thus the densely burning clouds were cleared, and beside the crimson sun, there was nothing.

Lorenzo remembered this, Medanzo had explained to him before that once they possessed the power of the , everything followed their thoughts.

"If that's truly the case, it is quite interesting."

Lorenzo replied, gripped his hand firmly, and suddenly the entire ground began to collapse. Solid rocks overturned from beneath the surface, like a stone forest rising up, overlapping like spears forming a cage.

"Yes, exactly like this."

Dean Lawrence smiled and nodded, completely unconcerned by the rocks gradually enveloping him.

It seemed Lorenzo really didn't understand the composition of this world, this is the world of the spirit, the world of the ... Dean Lawrence's .

This was his territory, he always held the advantage, yet he kept feigning weakness. Just as Lorenzo said, while Dean Lawrence was eroding Lorenzo, Lorenzo could find him, and at this moment, Dean Lawrence was infinitely close to Lorenzo. He was gradually eroding Lorenzo, and he didn't even notice.

The Folding Blade flew over, and rather than saying it caused damage, it was more like two wills were battling fiercely.

At the moment they were about to touch, Dean Lawrence suddenly erupted.

The rocks shattered, dust rose, and then the Nail Sword struck down, narrowly missing the Folding Blade, and directly hit Lorenzo's chest.

The solid armor resisted the sword's push, but soon Dean Lawrence twisted the sword's edge, folded it through the armor's grooves into the gap, and pierced through Lorenzo.

The erosion began.

Using the Nail Sword as a medium, a bizarre madness arose in Lorenzo's mind, past memories began to flicker in his sight, overlapping continuously until the massive amount of information almost tore Lorenzo's mind apart.

This was the true battle of wills, everything before was merely Dean Lawrence's probing.

Then a painful familiarity emerged, just like when Lorenzo killed Horner.

This was the way a will dies, only now it was Lorenzo's turn.

"Child, you have many things to learn, unfortunately, there's no chance now."

Dean Lawrence's voice echoed in his ear, he had prepared for all this for a long time. He had known about the power of the for a long time, but it was only today that he truly used it.

He was like a leaf in a torrent, constantly tumbling, crushed and reforged by nameless forces, the "Lorenzo Holmes" name was about to vanish in that violent erosion, using his last bit of strength, clinging to the faint rationality, Lorenzo shouted.

"Watson!"

Whispering the demon's name, thus she was summoned.

At this moment, the two wills were completely entangled, Dean Lawrence had caught Lorenzo, conversely, Lorenzo had also caught him... Watson caught him.

Thus Dean Lawrence was terrified to see the arm extending from Lorenzo's wound.

The pure white slender arm, still stained with dots of fresh blood, then she forcefully pulled, like a newborn from its mother's body.

She tore open Lorenzo's chest.

It was a blasphemous scene, like a mysterious parasite, half of a woman's body extended from Lorenzo's torn flesh, grasping the Nail Sword tightly with one hand, while the other hand held Dean Lawrence's cheek.

No matter what, Dean Lawrence would never have imagined that Lorenzo's will mixed with such bizarre things, she was the seasoned predator, waiting for this crucial moment to strike, assassinate.

She stroked gently, Dean Lawrence couldn't help but meet her gaze, on that exquisite face, familiar appearances flew by, all the faces remembered in his mind flashed one by one.

Very strange.

Dean Lawrence instead calmed down, he had an inexplicable familiarity, like he had seen this woman somewhere before.

Then followed a peace he had never felt before, as if dying now wasn't so bad.

In the woman's eyes, he saw his aging self, like overlapping mirrors extending endlessly, Watson's gaze pierced through his vision, tracing along the .

Her hand moved downward, bizarrely merging into his body... or rather, into his will, she slowly grasped the beating heart, squeezing tighter bit by bit.

In the distant port of Reindona, the Plague Doctor seemed to sense something. He looked towards the other side of the cabin, where Dean Lawrence was quietly sitting in a chair, surrounded by melted red candles, wax flowing along pre-carved grooves like some mysterious, esoteric ritual.

This was another mysterious Alchemy Matrix, different from the one used for suppressing "Winter", this Alchemy Matrix's function was to enhance the range of traversal. Scientifically, it strengthens signal coverage, allowing Dean Lawrence, even from here, to reach Old Dunling.

The old man on the chair began to twitch slightly, the Plague Doctor curiously walked over. In his impression, Dean Lawrence had never behaved like this during traversal.

Yet his steps halted soon, it was a hard-to-describe intuition, something seemed to have arrived, some indescribable creature had reached here... using Dean Lawrence's body as a medium.

The Plague Doctor felt a deep chill from the heart, and then saw blood dripping down, fresh blood slowly seeping from Dean Lawrence's tightly closed eyes.

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