At this moment, above the disc-shaped Helios, blood-colored torrents surged, converging towards the world's axis, climbing upwards following Publius's luminous tower.
Like the Tower of Babel that once ascended against the gods.
The obsession passed down for thousands of years reappeared at this moment, and the fruits that countless alchemists dreamed of were right before their eyes, reaching towards the sky, towards that high, lofty sun circle.
Publius, no, all the alchemists above Helios, those souls submerged in Hell, the deceased who accomplished nothing, and those filled with unwillingness and pain, reached out their hands to it.
Even after a long passage of time, this achievement gradually lost its meaning.
But the mountain was still there.
Following the path once left by the gods, the alchemist initiated the climb once again!
Boom!
On the tower of light, the alchemist who drank wine stiffened slightly, sighed, and finished the last drop of sweetness by raising his head.
