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"It is approximately as you\'ve described," the lady said with a rueful smile, "Our initial allegiance to him… stemmed from his revelation of a broader spectrum of possibilities—breaking through the centuries-old magical system of the Etheric Academy, presenting us with boundless hope.

No sorcerer could resist such allure, which is why, at the pinnacle of his career, he garnered a multitude of students and followers."

"As time progressed, he gradually shifted his focus from \'the myriad possibilities of the extraordinary\' to \'the myriad possibilities the extraordinary could bring to the world.\'"

Ansel nodded slightly in agreement: "That is, a transition from self-benefit to altruism."

"Indeed, he is a remarkable individual, one whose heights we all, undoubtedly, cannot reach."

Ronger\'s tone carried a hint of melancholy: "Hence, many chose to depart from him, and with the advent of the idea you\'ve just mentioned—\'the universalization of the extraordinary\'—a great many more left, leaving only a few of us behind."

"From what you\'ve said, Madam Ronger,, you seem to comprehend and affirm Mr. Eileen\'s philosophy. Why then do you believe his choice to be overstepping?" On

"Because that..."

Ronger hesitated for a long while before finally admitting with difficulty: "That... is impractical, or rather, utterly impossible."

Ansel could feel those blunt nails digging into the palm of his hand, yet he merely expressed his surprise: "Impossible? Is that what you think, Madam Ronger?"

"Because it truly… is impossible," Roner shook her head, "Without the ability to manipulate ether, it\'s impossible to use alchemy to create artifacts that would enable ordinary people to wield it, even temporarily. This would mean providing a method for the common folk to harness ether."

"This goes far beyond a mere issue in the field of alchemy; it would be a revolution for the entire... the entire world."

"Such a feat... even him could not achieve it."

"Hmm... We do possess methods to transform ordinary individuals into extraordinary beings, but to endow every common person with the ability to wield ether is indeed unthinkable," Ansel responded, following Ronger\'s line of thought.

"Yes," Ronger lowered her gaze, her expression weary, seemingly reluctant to revisit those dark memories.

"But lady, you still persist with this endeavor, do you not?"

The speaker was not Ansel, but his daughter, Miss Helen.

Her tone was well-controlled, betraying no hint of the subtle longing for the answer she desired.

Ronger was momentarily taken aback, unsure why the timid puppet would suddenly pose such a question, but she instinctively responded: "After all, it is his last wish, and we indeed yearn for the vision he described, that world brimming with possibilities."

"But you do not believe it will come to pass?" Ansel gently patted his daughter\'s head, chuckling softly.

"...Yes, it\'s so absurd, isn\'t it, Lord Ansel?"

Despite saying so, Ronger felt a sense of relief: "Although many departments within the Tower of Babel strive towards this direction, in truth, none of us... believe that future will arrive, to the extent that many current members of the Tower do not particularly hold this ideal."

"If we were to continue changing the world, using his goal as a slogan, we could not possibly recruit enough people to grow to our current size. Thus, the focus is more on \'expanding the new frontiers of ether and the extraordinary.\'"

Ansel offered his considerate and tender consolation: "Recognizing reality is not a sign of weakness, Madam Ronger."

"Weakness, perhaps," Ronger smiled helplessly, "It\'s probably more about the guilt towards my teacher, and the guilt towards... Ravenna, that child."

"Ravenna?"

"You must be familiar with her, Lord Ansel; she is unlike any of us, steadfastly adhering to his convictions, willing to sacrifice everything for them."

In speaking thus, Ronger exhibited a mix of pride and remorse: "The myriad inventions she has brought into existence, all stem from a genuine desire to transform the world. The vast majority, if not all, within the Tower of Babel, are incapable of creating anything comparable to her creations... She is an extraordinary child."

"She has paid a great price for this..." The woman\'s gaze fell, her voice laden with unmistakable guilt, "If she knew that within the Tower of Babel, she alone believed in that future\'s existence, she would undoubtedly be… heartbroken."

How could this world harbor so many visionaries, indistinguishable from madmen, whose insights transcend their era?

Ronger, Hendrik, and the last of Eileen\'s followers, the scholars who erected the Tower of Babel, although they aspired to the era Eileen depicted, their capabilities, vision, and mindset, inevitably led them to disbelief in its realization.

Rather, under such circumstances, their ability to establish the Tower of Babel amidst numerous hardships, striving for the democratization of alchemical devices, already marks them as a group of remarkable idealists.

"Thus, will the future direction of the Tower of Babel change?"

Ansel posed this question as if it were a matter of course.

"Indeed," Ziegler nodded, "Without causing you inconvenience, while ensuring the operation of the Tower of Babel... This is something Hendrik could provide a more precise answer to, Lord Ansel. My explanation might be somewhat vague, but it essentially involves... attempting to create alchemical devices with broader applications while nurturing theoretical and creative talents."

The young Hydral pondered for a moment, then nodded in satisfaction:

"From this perspective, the strategy of the Tower of Babel indeed seems much more reasonable. Mr. Eileen\'s ideas were, admittedly, a bit too... ambitious."

"Do you think so, my daughter?"

He spoke leisurely, as if completely unaware of the tight grip on his palm.

"But even so." Miss Helen\'s tone was somewhat hollow, more akin to that of a puppet, "Control still remains in the hands of the extraordinary, nothing has changed."

This society will only advance a slight step forward, then once again stagnate in a pool of congealed still water—the created alchemical devices will merely become tools for the extraordinary to further dominate the ordinary.

About this, Ravenna understood better than anyone.

Having witnessed countless times, her creations being suppressed or forced into transactions with "significant figures" due to infringing upon the interests of more extraordinary beings, becoming tools in their hands.

And in the end... did those creations aid those they were meant to?

Ravenna did not know; she only knew that continuing this way, she could not see the future she wished to witness.

In her eyes, this was merely a transitional method, to inject vitality into this world, this society, preparing it better for the impending changes.

She had not considered that what she saw as a transition, was seen as an... endpoint by the organization inheriting her grandfather\'s will.

She had not considered that, in reality, everyone, except for herself, did not believe in the future her grandfather depicted could be realized.

"...But this is more logical, after all, ordinary people cannot—"

"Why can\'t they?" The puppet\'s voice rose slightly, "As creators, you should solve the impossible, why bow to the so-called impossible?"

Ronger was taken aback, while Ansel placed his hand on Miss Helen\'s shoulder, speaking softly, "Be polite, Helen."

"..."

Underneath the veil, those lips quivered slightly, and those emotions became increasingly intense until they culminated in a brief response.

"I\'m terribly sorry, Father. I\'m terribly sorry… Madam… Ronger."

"No, I..."

The peculiar feeling in Ronger\'s heart grew more distinct, and the delicate figure began to overlap with the dark-haired girl before her.

"My apologies, Madam Ziegler," Ansel said with a smile. "It seems my father\'s confidence has influenced her. I believe you can understand."

"... Having witnessed Mr. Flamelle\'s capabilities, one could indeed harbor the belief that alchemists are capable of anything."

Ronger forced a smile: "I\'m not really upset, please don\'t worry, Lord Ansel, your... daughter, she\'s very spirited, very vibrant."

"Heh, I think so too."

Ansel affectionately stroked his daughter\'s head: "Helen, be polite, and share your thoughts on Mr. Eileen and the current state of the Tower of Babel."

"Based on our previous discussions, Mr. Eileen\'s... philosophy."

Miss Helen, the puppet, lowered her head, maintaining a tone of indifference that seemed to have become easier for her.

"The current choices of the Tower of Babel are merely transitional means, they should not be... the final endpoint."

"Hmm..." Ansel tilted his head slightly. "So, you still believe that someone can achieve this impossible feat."

Ronger could only offer a wry smile.

"Yes."

Ravenna Ziegler, the undying idealist, shifted her gaze from her grandfather\'s old follower, the few close elder she had.

"I believe such individuals exist, those who share Mr. Eileen\'s philosophy."

"So..."

The devil crouched down, affectionately pressing his cheek against hers, and whispered softly, "Who might this formidable individual be? Do I know him, or her?"

After a brief silence, Miss puppet delicately lifted her veil to reveal her rosy, moist lips and gently pressed them to the side of Ansel\'s cheek.

She wrapped her arms around Ansel\'s neck, yet her gaze was fixed on a somewhat stunned Ronger, as she articulated clearly and deliberately:

"It is you, my... father."

*