“Acelin Omega? The chairwoman?” Rosalyn exclaimed in surprise, covering her mouth as Yvette read the contents of the notebook.

She had seen that woman in her dreams, of course, on the large television in the Light Apartment, where Acelin sat elegantly at the podium during a charitable event, gracefully soliciting donations for local orphans. Her speech was captivating; when she spoke of touching stories, her eyes glistened with tears, evoking similar tears in Rosalyn watching from the screen.

Although her impressions of Black Tower Pharmaceuticals had dulled during her time in the Blackwater District, they did not diminish her positive feelings toward Acelin.

In a sense, Acelin and Rosalyn both belonged to the nobility, sharing similar social standings and goodwill toward the lower classes. If someone accused Acelin of being hypocritical and performing for show, Rosalyn would empathize and feel upset about it.

—Of course, this was on the premise that Acelin was truly a good person.

Yvette nodded, not surprised. If the apocalypse were to descend suddenly, the Abyssal Base hidden within the volcanic lake would indeed serve as a natural refuge. As the CEO of Black Tower Pharmaceuticals’ Ish branch and a “granddaughter” of the powerhouse family, Acelin had every right to seek shelter in the Abyssal Base.

What truly intrigued Yvette were the last two sentences.

The “Divine Transcendence” beneath the God Erosion—what could that be? It seemed related to some sort of “godly” presence. Was it something that even Black Tower Pharmaceuticals couldn’t fully comprehend, leading them to refer to it as a divine entity?

The aberration that arose from the sea implied that the transformation began in the ocean. When it spread to land on a massive scale, it ultimately led to the destruction of the origin civilization.

That was a possibility worth pondering… she hesitated to venture into the sea precisely because it resembled a potent cauldron filled with danger. One never knows what gigantic aberrations lurked beneath the waves, ready to take a bite out of a naive adventurer.

Flipping to the next pages, she discovered nothing more. In other words, Acelin’s final words before dying were disappointingly scant, with an absence of the theories and musings that should have been present.

So, was proving her family’s innocence Acelin’s sole obsession in her final moments?

Yvette closed the notebook and caught sight of Rosalyn rummaging through the boxes like a little detective, her enthusiasm evident.

Suddenly, Rosalyn withdrew a hefty file folder from a dark corner. Most of the documents inside had decayed and become moldy, but a few readable fragments managed to survive. She carefully extracted some pages with legible text and handed them to her teacher.

Yvette took them and began reading aloud while translating for Rosalyn.

“Experiment log F#933, August 9, 2146, near the end of Phase Six of the Everlasting Project—results summary.”

“Recorder: Leo Klaus.”

“…(illegible)… Success rate: 33% (See attachments), a significant increase of 14% compared to Phase Five.”

“The new generation of metamorphic potions, Variant 7, has greatly improved the success rate.”

“Note: Dillon Dempsey’s mental state has returned to normal and can resume leading the experiments.”

“Request: Expand experimental permissions and rapidly advance to Phase Seven.”

“Board Resolution: Approved.”

Undoubtedly, the information in this experiment log revealed far more than Acelin’s will, prompting Yvette to ponder for a while before extracting the key details.

August 9, 2146?

She distinctly remembered that when she first entered the dream, awakening as an orphan in the Abyssal Base, the date was 2125. The year prior coincided with the second time she dreamt and interacted with the Hoffman family.

Thus, this report was written 21 years after the original host first participated in the metamorphic project?

In that span of 21 years, the apocalypse had not yet come?

And “Phase Six of the Everlasting Project” and “New Generation Metamorphic Potion Variant 7” instantly reminded her of her own uniqueness and the medication involved in the metamorphic project.

However, the potion she consumed back then was Variant 2; here, it referred to “Variant 7”—an upgraded version?

Could it be that the metamorphic project was merely a public name for the Everlasting Project? Was curing genetic diseases a farce, while the true research focused on achieving immortality?

Was her potential immortality a successful product of this plan?

But if that were the case, why was she the only one to survive after the apocalypse?

Was there a more profound mystery behind the success path of immortality that could neither be glimpsed nor replicated? So that even Acelin Omega, the granddaughter of the Black Tower medical family, had no choice but to wait for death?

Given this interpretation, a 33% success rate—could it really refer to the potion of immortality? That sounded quite high…

With these thoughts swirling around in her mind, Yvette’s eyes landed again on the name “Dillon Dempsey.”

She recognized that name; during her first dream, the lady who took care of her, Tabitha Clovelorn, was a student of Dr. Dempsey.

Yet Dr. Dempsey seemed unrelated to the metamorphic project, at least she had never encountered him in the ninth underground level. She only heard Tabitha and other researchers mention him in passing conversations.

In this log, Dr. Dempsey had experienced a mental breakdown but had recovered… was there a connection between his mental issues and the Everlasting Project?

…

“Teacher, are you… alright?” After seeing Yvette remain entranced by the experiment log, staring blankly as if turned to stone, Rosalyn finally couldn’t help but speak up after waiting for more than ten minutes, her concern rising.

“Hmm… I’m fine.” Yvette shook her head. The information contained within this document was vast, revealing to her a mere glimpse of the hidden secrets within the Abyssal Base before the apocalypse. Although it couldn’t explain the origins of the apocalypse, it did serve as some reliable evidence regarding her own origins.

Sure enough, the original host was very likely a product of the Black Tower Pharmaceuticals’ creation, hence why she awoke here.

Only, she was perplexed as to why the people who created her were all dead while she managed to survive the apocalypse alone, a mystery surely containing further layers.

Yvette began to peruse the remaining readable experiment logs.

The rest of the logs seemed to focus on the final stages of “Phase Six of the Everlasting Project,” devoid of the “results summary” format, rendering the content unremarkable. They merely documented the monitoring of subject statuses, without delving into deeper secrets or mentioning the mysterious “Divine Transcendence” from Acelin’s will. ɴᴇᴡ ɴᴏᴠᴇʟ ᴄʜᴀᴘᴛᴇʀs ᴀʀᴇ ᴘᴜʙʟɪsʜᴇᴅ ᴏɴ novel⁂fire.net

Setting the logs down, she inquired, “Are there any places we haven’t searched?”

“None left,” Rosalyn shook her head. Although she was somewhat clueless about the potential implications behind the experiments and medicines, she found the archaeological investigation quite intriguing. Thus, she had searched thoroughly and even found several medical specialized books, intending to take them back to the manor.

“Then let’s proceed to the next level,” Yvette suggested.

Exiting from the eleventh level, they descended to the twelfth, where the remnants of life grew scarce.

But this was to be expected; this level served as the “Main Control Hub” of the Abyssal Base—essentially, the server data center.

This was a sprawling, mostly empty metal room with few functional divisions. The cold metallic walls were covered with a gloaming of magelight vines, entangled and coexisting with “cloud containers” that had gathered dust for hundreds of years, illuminating the entire room.

At the center stood a colossal column-shaped machine, encased in a durable glass casing. The exposed, obsidian-like surface was patterned with numerous fine lines. They looked decorative, but Yvette was certain those lines concealed countless intricate arrays of runes, representing the proud knowledge and power of the civilization of origin.

She attempted to activate it, but there was no response, and even injecting mana through the magical conduits yielded no results. She had no idea what the issue could be.

Nevertheless, the resourceful Rosalyn managed to find some logs tucked away in a file folder, presumably left behind by maintenance personnel of the hub. Several were still relatively intact.

Compared to the experimental logs of the Everlasting Project, this was of significantly lower value as it dealt solely with maintenance.

However, after thumbing through the remaining intact portions meticulously, one record caught Yvette’s attention.

It was an experimental record from 2128, three years after the original host had participated in the metamorphic project.

Amidst the extensive decay, only one line of text remained vague yet unmistakably infused with overwhelming terror, crossing through time and space to reach Yvette’s eyes:

“Oh my god…”

“The Firefly Core…”

“It… it lives…”