Now, regarding the red light, Duncan had grasped two pieces of information:
Firstly, before the Great Annihilation occurred, before the apocalypse descended upon those "old worlds," a deep crimson, like dark coagulated blood, would first appear in the sky—its "essence" was reflected deep in cosmic space, but its thod of propagation did not conform to optical laws. From any location on the planet, one could see its specific position in the sky, and this position did not change with the rotation of the planet, as if it were directly projected into the observer’s vision or mind.
Secondly, the red light seed not to exhibit any direct "destructive" effects; it was more like a "phenonon" or "characteristic" produced by the universe itself during the stage of the apocalypse. It was a representation of collapse, not collapse itself.
Third, the apocalypse was not an imdiate event that ca and went. The entire destruction process would take so ti, accompanied by an increase in various strange phenona and a continuous distortion and mutation of "laws" until the fundantal laws of the world could no longer withstand this distortion. Therefore, the warriors and their companions had their final ti to start a journey, and The New Hope had its final chance to ascend and set sail.
To Duncan, this third point was especially crucial.
The apocalypse did not happen instantaneously, which ant that people had enough ti before the apocalypse to observe the appearance of the "red light"—but in his mory, he had never seen that shade of deep crimson.
He had been trapped in that "studio apartnt" overnight, and before that, he hadn’t seen any strange red lights or supernatural phenona, nor had he seen them appear outside his window afterward...
Studio apartnt?
Duncan’s mories suddenly stuck, and after a mont, his eyebrows furrowed bit by bit.
His "studio apartnt"... what exactly was it?
All along, he had believed that directly opposite The Displaced’s Gate was his holand. Outside his studio apartnt, deep in the thick mist, was still the bustling crowd of Earth, the ordinary, peaceful everyday life; he was just trapped in a room, separated from his holand by a re wall—but with the appearance of the "moon" and the gradual validation of the "World Convergence Theory," this possibility had virtually reduced to zero.
If he had had a premonition about this before, it was now clearly confird—he knew he couldn’t go back.
But only now did another question suddenly occur to him: if the place opposite The Displaced’s gate was not his holand, then what fundantally was the place of his leftover "studio apartnt"?
Every ti he "went back"... exactly where was he "returning" to?
With his eyebrows tightly knitted, in the faintly spreading "sunlight" outside the window, Duncan’s mind suddenly conjured the image of the Longsword and the mass that once was a "human," now a living tal...
"Another part of the world’s fragnts?" he comprehended, though his expression grew more complicated, "The essence of the world’s fragnts... what exactly is it?"
Thoughts turbulent and mories mingling with speculations like continuous choppy waves in his mind, Duncan slowly paced around the room to calm and organize his thoughts. Then, he returned to the desk and casually pulled out a piece of paper, absentmindedly doodling patterns on it—he hadn’t intended to write or draw anything specific, just repeatedly sketching lines and smudging patterns.
Then, he suddenly stopped.
He stared at what he had unconsciously drawn on the paper... a moon outlined by ssy lines.
It was like looking at a holand that was close at hand yet forever unreachable.
Alice had said that if the symbol of one’s holand appeared in a place, then that place was the holand... Not very smart, she occasionally could pierce straight to the heart of the matter with the simplest of thoughts. In a way, what she said was actually true.
The holand was right here, yet it was not whole nor in the form Duncan recognized. It was just a tiny fragnt, and like that warrior turned into living tal—had already transford into sothing incomprehensible.
Duncan reached out a finger unconsciously, touching the "moon" on the paper as if asking soone, murmuring to himself, "Yes, what else could remain..."
Suddenly, a flapping sound ca from nearby, breaking Duncan’s reverie. The chubby white pigeon dropped down from the top of a nearby wardrobe and wobbled over to Duncan, tilting its head, then lowered its head and pecked noisily at the paper moon.
It pecked a hole in the "moon," and looking up, it clamored, "Looking at the bright moon, looking at the bright moon, looking at..."
It suddenly stopped, continuing to tilt its head as it looked at Duncan.
Duncan also stared blankly at it, gazing at the pigeon that had suddenly "mutated" from Compass, watching the bewildering creature that had been following him, and was unusually obedient and affectionate.
"Ai Yi, Ai-Yi, Ai—" The pigeon flapped its wings, making a strange, loud noise, "Ai Yi—"
Duncan suddenly widened his eyes, grabbed Ai Yi’s body, but then quickly loosened his grip a little as if afraid of accidentally killing this tiny "creature." He felt his breathing quicken, his heart pounding, while the pigeon in his hand turned its head and looked at him with a seemingly dazed expression.
Duncan finally opened his mouth, "...Ai Yi?"
The pigeon nodded, "Gugu."
Duncan hesitated for a mont, then tried a more precise pronunciation: "...IE?"
The pigeon quickly nodded again, "Gugu."
Duncan took a light breath, "Internet Explorer...?"
The pigeon thirstily pulled out its wings and began to flap them even more vigorously. In that mont, it seed more excited than ever before, as if it had nurous urgent things it wished to express.
However, after strenuously flapping for a long while, all it could muster was a loud, aningless "coo."
Duncan gently released his hand, watching the bulky pigeon happily walk around on the table, occasionally stopping to tilt its head curiously as it observed its "master." Its mung-bean eyes appeared to perpetually flicker with a light of network disconnection and unresponsive processes—he finally sighed softly, a complex smile erging on his face.
The answer had been written on the problem’s surface from the beginning.
This foolish bird represented another fragnt of his holand that had abruptly extinguished.
He really couldn’t go back.
Duncan sat quietly on the chair, like a stone statue, motionless for a very long ti, with no expression and making no sound.
After an indefinite period, he suddenly "awakened," blinking and then started to think—or rather, forced himself to continue pondering:
If Ai Yi were truly Internet Explorer, then what exactly would its "source" be? The codes? The amassed data? The countless hardware that had supported the operations of Internet Explorer? Or the abstract description behind the word?
Or... possibly symbolizing a brief flash of fire in the process of a civilization’s developnt.
Perhaps world fragnts don’t necessarily correspond to so "entity"; they could even be a vast concept — abstracted from real existence.
Would this hypothesis hold vice versa?
Could the entities that truly existed in the "old world" remain after the Great Annihilation in the form of "abstract concepts" during the deep sea era? Those countless anomalous phenona on this Endless Sea, along with the myriad intangible objects and forbidden knowledge born around them—what had they once been?
And most crucially—the underlying principle behind these changes, what exactly is it? The Great Annihilation, and the essence of that red light, what are they, exactly?
New answers brought forth new questions, each one leading to another, seemingly never arriving at the final truth. Duncan felt his thoughts had entered a deadlock, unable to find a direction to delve deeper without more clues.
Just then, a light knocking sound suddenly ca from behind him, perfectly interrupting his increasingly deep and difficult contemplation.
Duncan swiftly regained his composure, sensing the presence outside the door, and he sighed softly, allowing his mood to calm a bit, "Co in, Alice."
The door opened and the doll girl walked in with a large plate in her hands, on which was Duncan’s missed dinner.
"Captain," Alice’s tone carried a hint of worry, "you haven’t had dinner yet."
For so reason, just seeing Alice’s perpetually pure expression, Duncan felt much calr.
He smiled slightly, "Thank you, put it on the table."
"Oh," Alice casually placed the plate down, quickly adding, "Don’t worry, it’s all normal food, tailored to ordinary tastes—Nina said that the ’traditional delicacies’ here are not fit for human consumption..."
Saying so, she looked up to gauge Duncan’s mood, "Are you okay?"
"I’m fine now," Duncan took a long breath, organizing the issues he had just clarified, a smile slowly forming on his face, "Indeed, with so many findings... I should be happy."
"Oh," Alice listened, half-understanding, but she truly felt the captain seed to be in much better spirits, so she also relaxed, "They were a bit worried about you, so they sent up to check. I’m glad you’re okay."
Duncan nodded slightly, but suddenly felt a touch of emotion.
In this large house, indeed many people were constantly concerned about his "condition," yet these concerns varied widely, and perhaps only the seemingly simple doll in front of him had concerns that were completely pure.
Nina might be the only other exception.
Reflecting on this, Duncan shook his head with a smile and then suddenly thought of sothing else.
"Alice," he shifted his gaze, looking into the eyes of this gothic doll, "I need your help with sothing."
Alice didn’t hesitate, "Ah? Sure!"
Duncan nodded, fished in his pocket, and pulled out the brass key he always carried.
"Alice, I need to use this key again."
"Sure!"
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