"Is there some... overlooked factor or condition?"

Moen followed teacher Mela's line of thought, pondering further, but found nothing out of place.

Well, that made sense; if even teacher Mela couldn't escape the dark god's insinuation, how could he possibly notice anything unusual?

But speaking of insinuation...

Moen narrowed his eyes, and his thoughts suddenly leaped far ahead.

A suspicious point in a prior event seemed to be coming into focus as well.

That banshee...

"Anyway, all I can do is keep moving forward." Moen let out a sigh and muttered softly to himself.

No matter what, if he didn’t hurry to his senior’s side, there would be no way to address anything.

"Oh, you have courage, but recklessness is not a good thing," teacher Mela chuckled softly.

"Reckless? I won’t be reckless anymore. Recklessness, naivety, and arrogance—these are all things I must abandon."

Lowering his gaze, Moen stared at the exquisite Sea of Flowers. Through the vibrant blossoms, he seemed to once again see that fleeting girl, as ephemeral as the flowers themselves.

"Ho, that’s not a bad look in your eyes. I’m not sure what might’ve happened in just a few short days, but it seems you’ve qualified for the second stage," teacher Mela remarked, her expression suddenly turning satisfied as she caught a glimpse of Moen’s expression.

"Huh? Second stage?" Moen was thoroughly bewildered.

"Forgot already? The reason I had you procure the ancient dragon’s heart blood."

teacher Mela clapped her hands lightly, and the colossal mechanical construct that had eclipsed the heavens withdrew, revealing the Sea of Flowers swaying once more in the gentle breeze, its waves mesmerizing as ever.

At the center of this floral ocean, however, sat an object drastically out of place amidst the beauty of nature.

It was... a bed. A metal bed, its design oddly familiar—exactly the one teacher Mela had been tinkering with earlier.

"Alright, lie down," teacher Mela said with a small pat on the icy, metallic bed, her smile radiant.

"This... this is?"

Although teacher Mela’s smile was warm, kind, and filled with the unique cuteness of a petite, white-haired lolicon, Moen couldn’t help but take an instinctive, cautious step back.

A deeply familiar sense of impending doom was tugging at him like a mischievous child from the neighbor’s house, yanking on his hair urging him to flee, flee immediately!

"It’s just an ordinary bed; no need to worry," teacher Mela said, her smile growing even more brilliant, her eyes shimmering with a peculiar delight.

Rubbing her small hands together, she exclaimed with enthusiasm:

"Don’t worry, you don’t have to do anything. Just leave it all to me—I’m very skilled at this!"

"Can you not make it sound like I’m being lured into some shady whorehouse?!"

Before his brain had even made a decision, Moen’s body instinctively prepared to bolt. But before his legs could step away, his vision spun wildly, and his next sensation was his face slamming into a cold, metal surface.

The moment he regained some awareness, a series of crisp "click" sounds filled the air.

They were the unmistakable sounds of locks fastening. With growing dread, Moen looked back to find himself bound firmly to the metal bed—his wrists, ankles, even his waist clamped tightly by metal restraints that had sprung out of nowhere.

"T-teacher Mela, what are you trying to do?"

Moen’s neck was the only part of his body still capable of some movement. He twisted it to look back at teacher Mela, only to discover that at some point, her attire had changed entirely.

The pink nightgown was gone, replaced by a crisp, professional white coat. Her slightly round, cherubic face now adorned with a mask and protective goggles. As Moen watched in disbelief, she snapped on a pair of rubber gloves with audible precision.

Why did she suddenly look like a deranged doctor preparing to transform him into some unspeakable monstrosity?

And why did this metal bed suddenly remind him of something familiar? Wasn’t this just like the surgical tables from his past life?!

Doctor.

Surgical table.

And this position.

Could it be that... teacher Mela's so-called second stage was going to start by harvesting his kidney?!

"Noooo, I haven’t even lived enough yet! teacher Mela, can’t we try a gentler method? Or—how about just one?! The entire Campbell lineage is depending on me to carry on the family name!"

"I don’t know what’s running through your head, but relax. This is different from when I kicked you into the Mercury Well—this won’t be life-threatening."

Teacher Mela tilted her small head, thought for a moment, then added:

"Probably?"

Probably?!

What do you mean by probably?!

You clearly aren’t confident at all!

And this is blatantly treating me like a lab rat!

Sure, you mentioned that from the start, but come on—this lab rat needs to rise up and resist!

If you’re going to play mad doctor, couldn’t you at least... wear black tights under the white coat? A white coat without black tights has no soul!

"Be quiet!"

Teacher Mela suddenly flicked her finger against Moen’s forehead, jolting him out of his absurd musings.

He quickly focused, discarding those random thoughts.

"The so-called second stage entails establishing an initial link between your physical body and the Clock of Eternity, provided your body has a strong enough foundation," teacher Mela began explaining.

"For this purpose, I’ll inscribe a large alchemical matrix onto your body, which will then serve as the core to branch out thousands upon thousands of magical lines, connecting you to the Clock of Eternity."

She retrieved the metallic container Moen had handed over earlier. With a wave of her hand, the container opened, releasing an overwhelming, bone-chilling pressure. A dark, majestic spectral dragon emerged, letting out a ferocious roar that threatened to crush every soul that dared challenge it.

But teacher Mela cast but a single crimson-eyed glance, and the massive illusory dragon immediately recoiled in terror. Its roar died halfway through, cutting abruptly to silence as its form shattered like fragile glass, leaving only a trembling crystal vial containing a single drop of gleaming blood.

Plucking the vial delicately between her fingers, teacher Mela examined the ancient dragon heart blood against the light and nodded in satisfaction.

"Good purity. Saves me the trouble of refining it."

She then took out a glowing flask of five-colored liquid, crushed the crystal, and allowed the drop of blood to fall within.

"ROAR!"

A furious yet frightened dragon’s cry echoed once more as a now palm-sized, dense spectral dragon thrashed its wings, trying to escape from the liquid-filled flask.

But with a press of her fingertip, teacher Mela shoved it back in.

The dragon’s ferocity turned into pitiful wails as the ancient blood merged with the liquid. Intense reactions flared within the flask, but none of it escaped teacher Mela’s control. Gradually, the mixture transformed into a pure, luminous gold.

"Wow, that’s amazing," Moen, who had been mesmerized by teacher Mela’s brutal elegance, couldn’t help but exclaim in admiration.

Then he shuddered.

Because the moment the concoction was completed, teacher Mela’s gaze shifted... to him.

"For the first inscription of the alchemical matrix during the second stage, I’ll need to carve approximately 7,564 strokes into your body. This will take about an entire day of work."

With a flick of her hand, she produced a scalpel, its blade impossibly thin.

Another flick, and the single scalpel multiplied—a cluster of blades nestled fiercely between her tiny fingers.

"My dear disciple, are you ready?"

Teacher Mela’s sweet, high-pitched voice rang out as she fixed her gaze on Moen’s now deathly pale face. With an unsettlingly gentle smile, she cooed:

"I’m getting... to begin now."