Chapter 86 (Part I): The Crown of Thorns and Petals
The Serpent's Soliloquy
"Conviction…" Medusa's voice lingered on the word like a serpent tasting unfamiliar prey. "But this knight abandoned his faith. Does he not lack conviction?"
Bennett leaned against the cold stone wall, his smile edged with irony. "Conviction isn't a cage, Medusa. It's a flame. Hussein may have shattered his old chains, but he's forged new ones from his own truth. Every human clings to something—be it honor, vengeance, or love. Even the most broken soul needs a reason to rise each morning. That's why conviction breeds power. It's why saints and tyrants alike can move mountains… or drown them in blood."
The chamber hummed with silence. Medusa's presence seeped through the walls, invisible yet oppressive.
"I do not understand," she finally murmured. "Greed. Nostalgia. Weakness. Cruelty. Loneliness. These threads you call 'humanity'… they tangle endlessly. How can such chaos birth strength?"
"Because chaos is humanity's first language." Bennett's laughter echoed sharp and bright. "We're creatures of contradiction. We weep at sunsets and wage wars at dawn. We build empires to honor love, then burn them for pride. You've skimmed the surface of three souls and think you grasp the abyss? Oh, Queen of Stone—you've barely glimpsed the storm."
A pause. Then, softer: "Have I passed your test?"
The stones themselves seemed to sigh. "Yes."
The Unmasking
The wall before Bennett rippled like water. A figure emerged—slow, deliberate, her form carved from living stone. Medusa's skin shed its granite veneer, revealing alabaster flesh so flawless it seemed sculpted by divine hands. Her hair cascaded in obsidian waves, each strand catching phantom light. Her body—a hymn of curves and grace—moved with a serpent's lethality and a queen's poise.
But her face.
Bennett's breath died in his throat.
Beauty had no right to wield such violence. Her features—a symphony of angles and softness—transcended mortal aesthetics. Her closed eyelids alone held more allure than a thousand courtesans; her lips, slightly parted, could have launched fleets or toppled kingdoms. Had she opened her eyes, Bennett suspected even gods would kneel.
"You…" He exhaled shakily, "are a walking apocalypse."
Medusa tilted her head, her voice now liquid melody. "Explain."
"If mankind saw you," Bennett rasped, "they'd raze continents to claim you. Wars would burn for centuries. You're not just beautiful—you're obscene."
A flicker of something crossed her stone-cold demeanor. "Yet you do not fear me."
"Fear?" Bennett barked a laugh. "I've met tyrants and monsters. You're just… lonely."
Mirror of Humanity
Medusa gestured, and the floor surged upward, shaping itself into a throne. She settled into it, her movements languid yet precise. "Gragghut said humans tremble at my name. Why don't you?"
"Because I see you," Bennett countered, stepping closer. "Not the legend. Not the monster. A queen who's spent eternity ruling shadows, wondering why her crown feels hollow."
Her fingers tightened imperceptibly on the armrest. "I have no need of mortal trifles."
"Liar." His grin turned wolfish. "You asked about loneliness earlier. Let me return the favor—what does power taste like after a thousand years? Like ash, I'd wager. Even a goddess tires of whispers in the dark."
The air crackled. For a heartbeat, Bennett swore her eyelids trembled—as if something behind them strained to break free.
"You presume much, human."
"I observe." He shrugged. "You could've killed us the moment we entered your domain. Yet here we are—talking. Why?"
Medusa rose, her gown of living stone whispering against the floor. "Perhaps I seek… contradiction."
Chapter 86 (Part II): The Serpent's Bargain
The Beast and the Philosopher
Medusa's gaze sharpened, her serpentine pupils narrowing to slits. "So, you believe me ignorant?"
Bennett shrugged, unflinching. "Ignorance isn't an insult. Wolves aren't evil for hunting, nor are lions cruel for defending their pride. You've lived by your nature—a queen ruling a realm of stone and silence. But nature can be… redefined."
The air thickened as Medusa leaned forward, her voice a blade wrapped in silk. "And you presume to redefine me?"
"No." Bennett met her stare. "I'm offering a key. A key to understanding the creatures who've painted you a monster. Humans fear what they don't comprehend. But fear can be mutual."
A flicker of curiosity crossed Medusa's marble-perfect face. "Your terms?"
"Teach me to lift the石化诅咒 without your eyes," Bennett pressed. "In return, I'll teach you humanity—its joys, its sorrows, its absurdities. Consider it an… exchange of curiosities."
Medusa's laughter, cold and melodic, echoed through the chamber. "And if I refuse?"
"You won't." Bennett's grin turned sly. "You've spent centuries alone, dissecting intruders like insects. But dissection isn't understanding. You crave more. Why else spare us?"
The queen's silence was answer enough.
Awakening in the Lair
Hussein awoke to the scent of damp stone and the low murmur of voices. His body ached, yet the suffocating despair from his trial had vanished. Beside him, Dadaniel groaned, rubbing his temples, while Gragghut—the rat-like chancellor—cowered behind a stalagmite, whiskers trembling.
"Rise and shine, Sleeping Beauty." Bennett's voice cut through the haze. The young man stood at the chamber's edge, flanked by a figure so radiantly beautiful it stole Hussein's breath.
Medusa.
Instinctively, Hussein's hand flew to his sword hilt—only to freeze as Bennett stepped between them. "Easy. She's… with us."
"With us?" Hussein hissed, golden Dou Qi flickering at his fingertips.
Medusa tilted her head, studying the knight with detached fascination. "Your companion bargained well. I've agreed to… assist."
Before Hussein could retort, Bennett tossed Dadaniel a small stone vial. "Inside's a strand of her hair. It'll transform into a dormant Golden-Eyed Serpent. Enough to cure your lady's curse."
Dadaniel gaped, the vial trembling in his palm. "But how—?"
"Later." Bennett waved him off, turning to Medusa. "Now, about that fountain…"
The Twin Springs
Medusa led them through winding corridors, her bare feet silent against the stone. At last, they halted before a circular chamber where a stone fountain bubbled faintly, its waters shimmering like liquid silver.
"The Fountain of Ageless Spring," Medusa intoned. "It halts decay, preserves form—useless to humans, vital to beasts and treants."
Bennett crouched, dipping a finger into the pool. The water clung to his skin, cold and viscous. "And the other spring?"
Medusa's lips curved—a smile devoid of warmth. "Follow."
Deeper into the mountain, the air grew heavy, the walls slick with condensation. A second fountain lay hidden here, its waters black as void, swirling in a maelstrom of shadows.
"This one," Medusa murmured, "accelerates time. A single drop ages flesh by years. I call it… the Torrent of Time."
Bennett's breath hitched. Time. The word ignited possibilities—and perils—too vast to grasp.
Hussein stepped forward, his voice taut. "Why show us this?"
Medusa's gaze drifted to Bennett. "Because your friend's lessons intrigue me. Humanity thrives on contradictions. Perhaps… so shall I."
Whispers of Legend
As the group retreated, Gragghut tugged Dadaniel's sleeve, his voice a panicked whisper. "You know the old tales, yes? Of Medusa's tears?"
Dadaniel frowned. "What of them?"
The rat's beady eyes darted toward Bennett and the queen. "They say if she sheds a tear for anything—man, beast, or blade of grass—she'll love it eternally. That boy… he's playing with fire."
Dadaniel glanced at Bennett, now laughing at some quip exchanged with Medusa. The queen's expression remained inscrutable, yet her posture had softened—ever so slightly.
"Fire's his specialty," Dadaniel muttered. "Let's pray he doesn't burn us all."
Chapter 87 (Part I): The Hourglass of Flesh and Frost
The Second Spring
Time flowed like a ghost through the glacial halls of Medusa's domain. Neither Bennett nor Hussein had anticipated the existence of a second spring nestled near the fabled Fountain of Eternal Youth—a secret even the ageless trees had failed to unearth.
Medusa led them through the labyrinthine corridors of her palace, her movements as fluid as the shadows pooling beneath her feet. The walls, carved from the petrified remains of ancient treants, pulsed faintly with residual magic—a macabre tapestry of war and conquest.
"This entire palace… it's built from treant corpses?" Bennett's question hung in the frigid air, casual yet edged with unease.
"Yes." Medusa halted, her voice devoid of inflection. "Does this trouble you?"
Hussein stepped forward, his armor clinking like frost-laden chains. "Even enemies deserve dignity in death. This is—"
"—hypocrisy." Medusa turned, her marble-smooth face tilted in genuine curiosity. "Humans slaughter beasts for meat and pelts, yet preach respect for the dead. How is my use of treant corpses different? Explain this 'humanity' to me."
The question froze the air sharper than the cold. Bennett exchanged a glance with Hussein. Both men—one a silver-tongued wanderer, the other a knight tempered by bloodshed—found themselves rendered speechless.
Medusa's lips curled, a smile as delicate and lethal as cracked ice. "Ah. So this is another human trait: duplicity. Words and actions forever at odds."
"Sometimes… yes," Bennett admitted, his breath misting into a sigh.
"I dislike this trait. And I dislike humans." With that, she resumed walking, her gown of living stone whispering secrets against the floor.
The Chamber of Decay
The door she opened was small, unremarkable—a sliver of darkness in the glacial expanse. Beyond it lay a room that defied the laws of cold. This was no ordinary winter chill, but a damp, bone-seeping presence that gnawed through flesh and spirit alike. Bennett's fingers numbed instantly; Hussein's beard crusted with hoarfrost.
"This is where I sleep." Medusa gestured to a plain stone slab at the room's center. "Beneath it flows Time's Erosion."
Lifting the slab revealed a spring no wider than a goblet. Its waters shimmered with an eldritch bioluminescence, casting jagged shadows across the walls. Yet its beauty was a lie—the moment the spring was exposed, the cold intensified tenfold. Bennett's joints locked; Hussein's sword hand trembled violently.
"Why… doesn't it freeze?" Bennett stammered through chattering teeth, performing a series of martial stances to reignite his fading warmth. Even Hussein, hardened by decades of battle, now resembled a statue mid-carve—his face sheathed in ice.
Medusa plucked a single hair from her scalp. "The treants never found this spring. But I discovered its purpose."
The strand coiled in her palm, transmuting into a golden serpent no thicker than a child's finger—a juvenile basilisk, its eyes still sealed shut. She cupped water from the spring and trickled it into the creature's mouth.
What followed defied reason.
Forty Years in Five Minutes
The basilisk swelled.
Its scales bloomed from thumb-sized trinkets to armor plating. Muscles writhed beneath gilded skin, stretching, splitting, shedding. Four times it molted—each discarded skin a grotesque chrysalis. Within minutes, the creature ballooned to monstrous proportions, its bulk crushing against the chamber walls. Then, as swiftly as it had grown, decay set in.
The basilisk's vigor evaporated. Flesh withered; scales dulled to rust. Its once-mighty coils collapsed into a desiccated husk, brittle as autumn leaves. From birth to death, forty years compressed into five merciless minutes.
"I call this place Time's Erosion," Medusa said, cradling the serpent's crumpled remains. "Gragghut once mused that its waters would make the ultimate poison."
Bennett's heart thundered. Poison? No. This was something far older, far crueler.
Time itself—the one force no magic could reverse, no bravery could defy. A single droplet could rot a hero to dust mid-stride, unravel a dynasty between heartbeats.
Hussein finally spoke, his voice raw with revelation: "This… is how you've lived so long. You sleep here, letting the spring's power slow your own aging."
Medusa's silence was answer enough.
Chapter 87 (Part II): The Alchemy of Eternity and Dust
The Duality of Springs
Bennett's mind raced as he clutched the vials of water—one shimmering with ageless silver, the other black as a starless void. Why do these opposing forces coexist here? It was as if the universe had carved a cruel joke into the mountain: one spring to freeze time, the other to devour it.
He glanced at Medusa, her face impassive as ever. "You drank the Fountain of Youth to evolve into… this." He gestured vaguely at her humanoid form. "Why not share it with other Golden-Eyed Serpents?"
"Selfishness." Her reply was matter-of-fact. "A second Medusa would mean war. A dozen would mean my death. Survival demands singularity."
Bennett grinned. "Ah, so you've learned humanity's oldest lesson: greed."
Medusa tilted her head. "Is that not your nature too?"
"Touché."
The Alchemist's Gambit
While Hussein scowled at the vials of "Time's Erosion," Bennett stuffed them into every pouch and flask he could find—even commandeering the knight's wine-skin.
"You're mad," Hussein growled. "That water's poison. One misstep and you'll rot a village to bones."
"Mad? Maybe. But imagine—" Bennett's eyes gleamed—"if we dilute it. A drop in a barrel, timed just right… A sapling could grow into an ancient treant in minutes. An army of trees, summoned at will. That's power."
Hussein crossed himself. "You're playing god."
"No," Bennett corrected. "I'm playing alchemist."
The Queen's Exodus
Medusa's decision to leave her glacial throne stunned even Bennett.
"You're… coming with us?"
"With you," she clarified, her voice devoid of warmth. "Humans break promises. I will ensure you keep yours."
Gragghut, the rat chancellor, wailed at her feet. "Majesty! The treants will overrun the valley without you!"
"Let them." Medusa flicked her wrist dismissively. "This was always their land. I grew… bored."
As they exited the gorge, the treant elder Woodroot—a towering behemoth of bark and moss—stomped forward, his roots churning the snow into mud.
"The pact is sealed," Bennett announced. "The valley is yours. But the black chamber beneath the ruins remains forbidden. Guard it with your lives."
Woodroot's branches quivered with gratitude. "The Spring of Youth… restored. Our lineage is saved. Name your reward, human."
Bennett hesitated, then pulled out the golden leaf Woodroot had gifted him earlier. "This trinket—what's its secret?"
The treant's laughter rumbled like an avalanche. He plucked the leaf, folding it with dexterous roots into a tiny golden horn. "Blow this where trees stand, and they will awaken as guardians—until sunset returns them to slumber."
Bennett's grin turned wolfish. An army of treants, even for a day… His fingers brushed the vials of Time's Erosion. And with these…
The Caravan of Shadows
As the group trekked toward the forest's edge, tensions simmered. Hussein kept his hand on his sword, eyeing Medusa as one might a coiled viper. Dadaniel muttered prayers under his breath. Only Bennett seemed unperturbed, humming as he walked beside the queen.
"You fear me," Medusa observed, her golden eyes narrowing.
"Respect," Bennett countered. "There's a difference."
"Is there?"
He shrugged. "You'll learn."
Medusa's lips twitched—almost a smile. "Teach me then. Start with… friendship."
Bennett blinked. "Friendship?"
"Gragghut spoke of it. A bond where humans tolerate each other's flaws. It sounds… inefficient."
Bennett burst into laughter. "Oh, you'll hate it."