NOVEL Don't confiscate my identity as a human race Chapter 844 - 690: Lanci’s Huadu Endgame_6

Don't confiscate my identity as a human race

Chapter 844 - 690: Lanci’s Huadu Endgame_6
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Talia agreed.

At this moment, their conversation was exceptionally peaceful.

Rarely could they quietly sit down and talk like this.

"Do you think there is salvation after such despair?"

Lanci asked her.

"Is there still a way to save it?"

Talia asked curiously. 𝙣𝒐𝒗𝒑𝒖𝒃.𝙘𝙤𝒎

"Actually, there is."

Lanci nodded but didn’t give the answer.

Talia pondered for a moment.

"To rescue it from this miserable situation and place it in a spacious, warm environment, providing it with an assortment of delicious foods and fun things, allowing it to eat whatever it wants and play with whatever it desires, while also being absolutely safe with friends for companionship?"

Her tone was uncertain as she guessed.

Lanci simply looked at her without speaking.

Even without telling her the answer, she understood in an instant.

"It can’t be saved,"

Lanci said.

The hesitation in Talia’s reply signified that all the aforementioned methods were futile.

"Then how can it be saved?"

Talia frowned.

"Remember we implanted electrodes in it during the times it experienced happiness? Simply by repeatedly stimulating the marked neural cells, that is, awakening its beautiful memories, it could be completely healed in just a few days and nights."

Even if he didn’t continue, he believed Talia understood.

What can save the soul is not the sensual pleasure of the moment but the beautiful times once had.

That’s why a happy childhood is so important.

"The moment I saw Enon, I knew she had never had a beautiful moment in her heart, never knew what happiness was, she didn’t have a childhood that could heal her for a lifetime,"

Lanci believed.

It was the same with Siegler back then; regardless of what kind of childhood she had, he firmly believed that filling her life with beautiful memories could give her hope to live on firmly even if one day she faced struggles or lost herself. Just by recalling those memories, hope might sprout in her heart.

He felt the same way about Enon.

In the moment before her memory awakened, she was like a pure white infant.

Lanci would naturally carry his principles through to the end.

But he didn’t expect what brief brightness in eternal darkness meant to Enon.

Recalling the original Enon, who pursued desires, unleashed arbitrarily, understood the struggle, and no matter how wretched, she desperately clung to life.

Yet, after Lanci’s rescue, when all she desired was no longer difficult to achieve, she chose death.

"It turns out that what I gave to Enon was not redemption, but true despair... She told me with her death that sometimes there really are people I can’t save,"

Lanci muttered to himself, his gaze clear, like a profound pool reflecting the boundless sky.

"Tata, you won,"

he admitted.

Regarding their previous bet, Talia was right; he was wrong.

Enon died in a way he could least accept.

He had been too confident, sometimes believing he’d won a perfect ending, when in fact, it was a near success ending in failure.

"..."

But the gloating smile from Talia that Lanci had anticipated didn’t come.

Talia hugged his head, letting him rest on her chest, telling him not to overthink.

"There is no such thing."

She said softly, with a gentleness like a mother’s to Hyperion.

"You taught me to be firm,"

she whispered into Lanci’s ear,

"Every miracle has its conditions. If you don’t persist, even the Goddess of Destiny won’t look your way. So please continue to be steadfast, and when you waver, I will guide you."

"..."

Lanci’s eyes widened, yet he didn’t stir, until his expression gradually relaxed.

On the rooftop, neither spoke again.

They just silently listened to each other’s hearts.

Lanci finally felt sleepiness wash over him and slowly closed his eyes.

Dawn illuminated their figures from above the clouds.

The church’s stained-glass windows let out a faint blue light, and the rainwater trickled down the contours of the building, as if singing an ancient lament.

Until the rain stopped and the fog cleared, and the east was white.

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