BIOLOGICAL SUPERCOMPUTER SYSTEM

Chapter 1222: Barely alive

Erik’s consciousness returned slowly. The first thing he saw was the crystal-clear blue sky above him, unmarred by the chaos and death that had filled it earlier. His mind felt fuzzy, struggling to piece together what had happened. Pain ravaged him, but it was in truth just a ghost.

As his awareness grew, pain flooded back into his consciousness like a tidal wave—every cut, every torn muscle, every broken bone screamed for attention at once. The agony was so intense it nearly made him black out again.

Then he turned to study his surroundings, and he saw a concerned face intently studying him. It was one of the Chimaeric Demons, its features tight with worry.

The clone had kept its human form rather than the wyvern shape. Then Erik glanced around, noting the absence of the massive provision boxes each clone had to bring to Mur.

Those containers were so large they required the Wyvern form to transport—each Chimaeric Demon in that shape being the size of a small house.

The missing boxes showed the clone must have left them behind. This made sense—without the large containers, they would be harder for enemies to spot from the sky.

But of course, it might have also been that he lost during the battle against the three-headed void ravagers.

"Master! Thank the gods you’re awake!"

The clone spoke with a mix of joy and worry while tears formed and fell from his face.

"Are you alright? Can you move?"

Erik tried to sit up, wincing at the stiffness in his muscles. His body ached, but it was a familiar pain—similar to what he’d felt after other brutal battles.

He still felt pain where the three-headed void ravager that sneak attacked him hit, yet he was alive.

"I’m alright," Erik assured the clone, giving him a wan smile. "There’s some pain, but nothing I haven’t dealt with before."

He paused.

"Where are we?"

"A small island between Hin and Mur, Master. It was the only safe place I could find to tend to your wounds." The clone’s eyes darted nervously to the horizon.

Erik’s mind raced. "What happened to the army? Why is it just you and me here?"

The clone’s face fell. Deep grief etched its features, but beneath that simmered a burning rage—the kind born from an overwhelming desire for vengeance.

If even 50 thousand Chimaeric Demons stood no chance against a small flock of flying thaids, what could a group of ten thousand do?

Erik fought back his growing anxiety.

"Did you try to contact them?"

"Yes, master, but... Until now, no one replied. I don’t know what to do anymore."

This didn’t necessarily mean they had died. They might have reached Mur safely, but their communication systems could simply be out of range. Without Erik present, the clones could only communicate through technology—meaning they were either dead, their devices were destroyed, or they had lost their way.

Besides, they were also out of Erik’s range. While Instability allowed him to establish a mind link with everything Erik wanted, this ability had clear limits.

His power to connect mentally with others had limits—he couldn’t reach minds that were tens of thousands of kilometers away. The distance was just too great.

Erik then noticed how much the clone’s hands trembled, how its shoulders sagged with exhaustion. Through Instability, Erik felt the clone’s bone-deep weariness—he had spent every ounce of energy keeping him alive these past three days, and since there were no provisions, it was likely the clone hadn’t eaten at all.

Turning to look at the island, Erik’s heart sank. He didn’t turn behind and thought they were just on the edges of whatever this place was. However, as he turned, he saw the sea again.

That explained why the clone had left him exposed to the sky, rather than hiding within a jungle.

The island was barely more than a sandy outcrop, perhaps twenty meters across at its widest point. Nothing but bare rocks and sand stretched from one edge to the other, with not a blade of grass breaking through the barren ground.

"You have eaten nothing, have you?" Erik asked, though he already knew the answer. He reached for the pouch at his side, fingers closing around the seeds he’d brought with him.

Kneeling, Erik pressed several seeds into the sandy soil. He poured his mana into them, and within moments, green shoots burst from the ground. The plants grew at an impossible rate—vegetables swelling to ripeness, fruit trees sprouting and bearing fruit in minutes rather than seasons.

The clone’s expression transformed from desperate hunger to excitement. It lunged at the nearest fruit tree, devouring ripe peaches ravenously.

Juice trickled down its chin as it consumed one piece after another, its famished body finally receiving nourishment after days without food.

"Thank you," Erik said, watching his clone eat. "For saving my life. For everything. Now rest and eat. Once you’ve recovered your strength, we’ll leave this place."

The clone kept eating hungrily, nodding as it grabbed more grapes. Erik felt its feelings through their mental link—deep thankfulness and relief that needed no words to express. As the clone finally got the food it desperately needed, its tense shoulders relaxed.

Erik looked at the sea.

[Indeed, we were...]