Farosa presented Xu Yang with a rapier, as if it had no thickness.
"This is a weapon I developed after entering high-dinsional space and going through countless hardships," Farosa said.
"After sacrificing the Godslayer Weapon, you indeed needed a new one," Xu Yang said.
"No, no, this is not just a weapon. It’s a true dinsional weapon, developed by referencing the energy potential level difference between high-dinsional and low-dinsional spaces. This ti, it can take us to a known world where everything observed is definitive. Only by severing our connection to that world can we truly develop freely, untethered by words," Farosa said with confidence.
"Sounds impressive," Xu Yang carefully scanned it.
"Watch , I’ll be right back," Farosa said, gripping the sword with both hands.
"Where are you going?" Xu Yang asked, puzzled.
"To eliminate the one preventing us from seeking unknown anings."
Farosa swung the sword in the air, slicing open a doorway in the curtain.
Through the doorway, she swiftly executed the typist within 0.1 seconds.
The sword pierced through the back of the typist’s head, blood splattering on the screen.
Farosa kicked the body off the chair and observed the words recorded on the screen.
She typed on the keyboard, finding that words appeared on the screen, seemingly intended to be sent, concerning so matters about the typist.
The typist seed to have finished writing the story and was about to prepare for a dialogue with the readers.
Ha-ha, is the typist worthy? Farosa mocked. Is this writing a story about ? About the Witch of the Cyber Era? What gives you the right to write it? Do you even understand the Witch of the Cyber Era enough to write?
What was this typist’s life and character like?
What goals did he have for his work? Under what circumstances, when and where, and for whom did he write?
Did what he wrote truly reflect vivid emotions and complex humanity?
Was his writing necessary labor for earning money, serving the readers’ experience, or to express his own inner self?
Because of the uncertainty about the typist’s quality, Farosa decided to kill him and write the epilogue herself.
She deleted all the content the typist had prepared and wrote:
Is anyone reading my story? Does anyone like it?
How do you receive this story?
Who will eventually see this story, into whose hands will it fall?
How many different trials will this story’s text endure? Will it be forgotten or erased?
How many people will choose to accept the writing style of this story, the reading experience it offers, and understand its content?
And also.
Will anyone like ? Like the great Lady Farosa? With such a unique and intense personality, superior to everyone else.
Never mind, it doesn’t matter. After all, I am the most powerful. What you think is irrelevant.
In conclusion,
The real story is the one that remains in your minds.
The true story is the one that lingers in your hearts, never-ending, with countless possibilities.
Your mory, understanding, and acceptance continuously breathe life into this story, far surpassing the bloodied typist.
In your hearts, this story will have many different endings.
If decades later, recalling this story can still bring a smile, it would be its highest honor.
Alright, in any case, I have to return.
The rest is up to you.
After entering the epilogue, Farosa turned to see the typist’s body.
She felt that the typist’s miserable life could still be of so use, using the Law of Recovery to resurrect him, allowing him to continue writing for the readers. Then she returned, continuing her life with Xu Yang, as the good days were yet to co.
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