...
"Hey! Hey! Look at that girl over there, her clothes are so plain—"
The already sharp voice beca gratingly exaggerated when drawn out. Yet, this was the very scene of Hua and Carole's first encounter.
Looking back on that sentence now, there wasn't actually much malice in it. If anything, the speaker was just overly blunt in certain aspects.
Otherwise, she wouldn't have dragged Hua out of her dorm or off the training grounds every weekend afterward, taking her to various downtown shopping malls, helping her pick out all sorts of clothes.
And so, the girl who had arrived alone from a small town finally took her first step towards integrating into the big city before her.
Hua sat leaning against the corner wall, reminiscing about these past events while gently rubbing the light green sweatshirt in her hands with her fingertips. This very sweatshirt was one Carole had helped her pick out.
And the white visor cap... Hua picked it up from beside her leg and gently placed it on her head. Even without a mirror, she carefully adjusted it.
Despite Carole being outspoken and boisterous, she was actually very considerate—Hua knew this deeply.
Carole's family was wealthy, but when they hung out, she always took Hua on the cheapest public transport, ate with her at the cheapest noodle shops, and when picking clothes for Hua, she always managed to find items that were reasonably priced yet well-made... And, she never paid for Hua.
This might disappoint soone looking to take advantage, but for Hua herself, this kind of interaction better preserved her self-esteem as a "country bumpkin" from a small place—that kind of "small favor" felt more like condescending charity, whereas splitting the cost (AA) was a true reflection of equal friendship.
Speaking of which, their relationship back then was so close that Carole even used her family's wealth ("money power") to get transferred into the sa dorm room as Hua.
Late at night, when they should have been sleeping, she would climb into Hua's bed, drowsily recounting the day's amusing events, eventually falling asleep mid-conversation... Of course, given her volu, her voice was never quiet.
Because of this, they were even caught red-handed by a teacher doing a surprise late-night inspection.
Among those bored, gossipy girls, rumors about the two of them even circulated...
These were all mories from long ago. Six years. When a relationship is just beginning, people always feel ti stretches endlessly ahead; six years seem like a fleeting mont. But regardless of the length of six years itself, the six years they experienced completely divided the world in two.
One world, without Honkai, where one could walk towards a happy future as an ordinary person.
The other, filled with death and despair, where loved ones die inexplicably, and oneself might also die inexplicably soday.
How Hua wished... how she wished these mories didn't exist in her mind. Or, even if a person couldn't simply delete mories, could they... could they not be so clear?
Just a slight thought, and her brain would naturally replay every past event with perfect accuracy—this hyperthysia was a side effect of the ta-Morph surgery. When Michael asked about it back then, she thought it was no big deal, even felt a little pleased, because she would never again worry about "forgetting things."
She could imprint everything deeply in her mind, retrieving information more conveniently than a computer. Yes, before this, she never considered hyperthysia a side effect, but rather a convenience.
And similarly, before this, although she understood her own power was limited, she always believed there were things she could do, things she had to do, so she never felt that power was insignificant.
Until now...
"I can't do anything..."
"Haaah..." Hua tried to let out a long sigh, but the breath caught in her throat, producing only a faint, muffled sound.
Mobius had asked her earlier: "Did she ever ntion her parents to you?"
"No. Not after the Third Eruption." Hua answered silently in her mind.
But Mobius wouldn't understand—during the sa Third Eruption, Hua lost her father, while Carole's parents survived. Whether through sheer luck or using connections, the fact remained. So, for Carole, not ntioning her parents in front of Hua was also a kind of... taboo.
Hua pressed the light green sweatshirt against her chest, silently curling her legs up, wrapping her arms around them. She had been lost in thoughts of her past with Carole like this for who knows how long. Yet, the thoughts abruptly stopped there.
Mobius was right about one thing: the actual ti she and Carole spent together, counting on fingers, amounted to only a few months... total.
But Michael had also said that feelings couldn't be asured by any single "dinsion," not even ti. So people know each other for ten, even dozens of years, yet remain like strangers. While others, upon first eting, feel as if they've known each other for fifty thousand years. Perhaps her situation with Carole belonged to the latter.
And because of that, it made the regret even sharper. She had always thought, soday, Carole would casually take her hand, and she, slightly shy, would want to pull away but ultimately wouldn't. They would walk together, just like six years ago, through the streets of the rebuilt Shanghai City.
Yet now, all possibilities were erased.
Co to think of it, Michael once said dreams are strange things. Perhaps when we dream, our souls leave the real number space, entering the so-called Imaginary Space, browsing the futures experienced by our other selves in other worlds... And the future she envisioned, it had never appeared in her dreams, never.
Her arms, hugging her legs, suddenly tightened neurotically. Her whole body curled tighter, face buried between her thighs, like paper folded into thirds. But this action, which would be almost self-mutilating for others, brought her no pain at all.
Perhaps due to her early martial arts training, perhaps due to the fusion factor and SWARA's enhancent, this level of stretching wasn't difficult for her.
But that wasn't what she wanted. She craved tangible pain. Tangible...
Ding-dong! The doorbell rang incongruously.
*"Who is it?"*—Hua instinctively wanted to shout, but didn't. The words reached her lips, her vocal cords tightened, unable to produce any sound.
Ding-dong— Ding-dong— The doorbell rang impatiently twice more. Hua still made no sound, no movent. But a sliver of anticipation blood inexplicably in her heart—At this ti, who would co looking for her? It could only be those two, right?
She desperately wanted to open the door, but dared not. She feared reality wouldn't even grant her this last hope.
Ding-dong!
Ding-dong!
After two more rings, the doorbell fell silent. The person must think no one's ho and left, right? Hua even thought she heard footsteps fading away. She assud it was auditory hallucination, but reality wasn't entirely so.
It wasn't until the lock clicked open with a snap that she realized the sound she mistook for footsteps was actually the sound of soone using powers to manipulate the lock chanism.
"It really is..."
"Yo! Sorry, rang the bell for ages, no answer. Was worried sothing happened to you, so had to resort to this." Michael poked half his head in. Seeing Hua at first glance, he imdiately scratched his head apologetically.
"Actually, even if you didn't do this, you could have asked Pardo, surely there's a way in," the thought flashed through Hua's mind, but she didn't voice it. Even among family, entering soone's room so abruptly was, to so extent, taboo.
But right now, Hua felt no displeasure, only a sense of anticipation fulfilled... not exactly satisfaction, but perhaps more like the feeling of finally stepping onto solid ground after a three-day flight. A grounding sense of security.
The feeling ca abruptly, irrationally. Hua buried her face deeper between her legs. "But... doing this, will Michael think I'm trying to drive him away?" An invisible hand clenched her heart again.
She dared not look up, dared not make a sound, even her breathing beca long and faint. Fortunately, Michael didn't misunderstand, or rather, Hua's every action, every flicker of thought, was within his expectations.
He silently closed the door. Elysia was certainly concerned about Hua's state too, but she hadn't followed him.
And the reason Michael knew Hua's every move, every thought, wasn't because he used the power of the Eighth Herrscher. It was simply out of understanding and shared experience. Understanding of Hua, and his own past experiences.
If it were Elysia, she would probably tell so cold jokes or sothing to cheer soone up. But Michael didn't do that; he wasn't good at telling cold jokes anyway.
He put himself in her shoes, casting his mory back two years, thinking about what he wanted most back then.
So, he silently sat down beside Hua, pressing close against her, curling up just like her. Beyond that, he did nothing, said nothing.
Michael had contemplated the aning of death countless tis. From a realistic perspective, it ant the destruction of the physical body. From a fairy-tale perspective, it ant another star appeared in the sky, watching over your remaining life.
From the perspective of consciousness, it ant the end of one person's connection with another, with a group. He/she could no longer form new connections, write new stories.
So, even having thought about it countless tis, Michael still couldn't offer words of encouragent, because all language felt pale and powerless before the sheer weight of "severing all connections."
Not entirely useless, though. To overco the weight of this severance, one had to bravely establish more new connections, not hesitate and retreat. But regardless, this first step had to be taken by the individual themselves. So he said nothing, because many words weren't ant to be spoken yet.
But he did do sothing. He sat beside Hua, offering her support and warmth, allowing her to realize she wasn't alone in the world. Allowing her to realize she had connections beyond just Carole.
But these weren't things that could be grasped instantly, achieved overnight.
The two sat curled up against the wall, letting ti flow by silently. Hua didn't move, Michael didn't move, seemingly unconcerned about the ongoing Tenth Eruption.
It wasn't until the sparse croaking of frogs drifted in from outside that they realized a whole day had passed in pointless sitting.
"Sorry." That was the first thing Hua said after lifting her face from between her legs.
Michael blinked, as if rembering sothing embarrassing, then couldn't help but lift the corner of his mouth slightly.
"You've been here with all this ti... Is it okay? The Tenth Eruption..."
"It's fine. The battle plan is all set. Don't worry."
"Oh." Then nothing more. Silence fell in the room again.
Michael wasn't anxious. He stared silently into the darkness ahead. Hua sotis couldn't resist glancing at him out of the corner of her eye, but couldn't decipher his thoughts. For a mont, she couldn't tell whose subjective will was driving this silence. Was he silently accompanying her, or was she silently accompanying him?
The answer was obvious, just a fleeting, unreal illusion. It felt strange; when Hua first sank into this state, she hadn't been without fantasies of Michael being right beside her. But no matter how she imagined it, the imagined "Michael" never spoke, just sat silently beside her, offering minimal support and warmth, never uttering a word. Just like now.
Between the two of them, there truly was an inexplicable synchronicity.
"Chirp chirp— Chirp—" Birdsong suddenly sounded from outside. Both simultaneously looked towards the window on their right. A sliver of dim, gray-white light seeped through the heavy curtains, but it was ultimately overwheld, only managing to dye this self-isolated dark world with a faint touch of brightness.
But even this slight brightness was enough to clear the lingering turbidity from one's mind in the darkness. Of course, it also reminded Hua that another night had passed. She felt it was ti to say sothing.
"Michael, do you rember... five years ago, when we went to Eastern Europe looking for Kalpas..." Hua began, but Michael naturally picked up her thought:
"Are you talking about what we said in the house after we reached Kalpas's village?"
"Yes."
There was no trace of Honkai energy flow, aning—Michael had completely guessed her current thoughts purely through that mysterious ntal synchronicity. This should have been miraculous, noteworthy, but happening between herself and Michael, Hua already found it unsurprising.
But two individuals are ultimately different. Even if the so-called "synchronicity rate" was high, it couldn't possibly reach 4%... 100%. So Michael imdiately followed up with a question:
"Are you asking why, this ti, compared to after the Third Eruption when you learned that your hotown... no one survived, your father also... anyway, why this ti, you feel even sadder?"
"Yes."
Michael knew it. Although he always considered himself knowledgeable about Hua, and their personalities shared similarities in many aspects, there were never two identical people in the world.
Unlike Michael's self-destructive tantrums born from despair, Hua's current emotions were more complex. Sadness, doubt, unwillingness, self-bla, guilt all mixed together. For instance, on one hand, she felt the current sadness was heavier than the grief after learning about the deaths of her father and everyone she knew, but on the other hand...
"You also feel," Michael continued, articulating her inner conflict, "that even this current sadness doesn't quite match the finality of death. So you feel guilty, wonder if you're too cold, wonder if the separation of several years faded your feelings. But considering your reaction after the Third Eruption, you still conclude you're too cold-blooded, that your current emotions, your attitude, are wrong."
"...Yes."
"Honestly, there isn't so much right or wrong." Michael's hand rested on her cap, gently rubbing it a few tis. "The reason you feel relatively sadder about Carole's departure is actually simple—compared to the paternal love you received from birth and your relationships with neighbors, the relationship you two built later, initiated by Carole and passively accepted by you, was more difficult to establish. Of course, this is just my personal opinion."
"Mm," Hua responded chanically.
"And regarding sadness, I told you before, it's because you possess so little to begin with. Compared to others who already have much, their process of loss is from having to nothing, but yours is from nothing to having, then back to nothing. You're better adapted to this nothingness. You yourself believe this too, right?"
"Mm."
"But, Hua... have you ever considered that perhaps this isn't the cause, but the result?"
"What do you an?"
"I an, perhaps it's not because you're better adapted to this nothingness that you're so strong. Rather, it's because you are so strong that you think this way when facing loss."
Hua snapped her head around. Although it was dark, the faint gray light seeping in happened to illuminate Michael's face. And so, she saw that gentle smile. She wasn't unfamiliar with it; Michael almost always smiled like that when he patted her head.
But he called her "strong."
"I... No, I don't deserve those words. I'm just..."
"At the very least, you're stronger than ."
"No, I..."
"Alright, let rephrase. If a Herrscher attacked right now, would you fight?"
Hua fell silent instantly. But after a few seconds, she stubbornly lifted her head again, speaking in a tone that even Michael felt sounded like she was defending him: "No, that's not a concept that can be compared horizontally. Michael, I understand, what truly made you reluctant to fight back then wasn't Seele's death itself, but your constant attempts to change a predetermined outco, only for things to return to the original track, or even worse.
So back then, it wasn't that you didn't want to fight, but rather you felt since your efforts always led to the worst result, it was better to just let everything proceed along its original path."
Michael raised an eyebrow. This was the first ti soone had accurately articulated his state of mind back then. "But how did Hua guess about the predetermined outco... Alright, maybe she mistakenly thinks it was Aponia's prophecy." Michael thought silently, a mocking smile gradually appearing on his face—mocking himself:
"Speaking of back then, Hua, do you know what I regret most about that incident, even now?"
"I don't know," Hua answered frankly.
"It was when I realized my inaction not only failed to return things to the original track but led to an even worse outco, I didn't make a tily choice—either let go completely, let fate play its cruel joke and allow the world to be destroyed then; or promptly correct my mistake, bravely fight the Seventh Herrscher. I failed to choose in ti."
"But in the end, you didn't..."
"That was Mobius yelling awake. But you, you're different, Hua. I genuinely feel you are the strongest among us. In terms of accepting reality, neither I nor Kevin can compare to you. We are destined to live in the past. But you live in the present, and potentially, live in the future."
This sudden praise caught Hua off guard again. The implied aning further confused her—why specifically ntion him and Kevin?
"Of course, back to the previous topic," Michael continued. "I've said before, every individual is different, and they express grief differently. Not everyone needs tears or hysteria to convey their sadness. For you, constantly raising questions, struggling, questioning yourself, is a form of expressing grief. This grief might seem much paler than ours, but its strength lies in... its length."
"Is that so... Then I'm still, very..." Hua's voice suddenly choked. Michael's eyes, shadowed against the light, could still see the glimr in hers.
Was Hua crying out of sadness, or because of his words? Michael wanted to know, yet was unwilling to use Sentience to probe this point. Perhaps, it was both.
He cupped Hua's face with his hands, but only gently brushed away her tears with the back of his hand. Two years ago, he might have comforted her: "It's okay to cry. All emotions need an outlet. Being able to cry isn't necessarily a bad thing."
Didn't he want to say that now? But for the sake of that future, he had to say sothing else, though those words also ca from the heart:
"Don't cry, Hua. Crying can only save yourself. These tears won't save anything else, can't undo anything, can't change anything." He was saying this to Hua, but also repeating it to himself—repeating the words seared into his heart two years ago.
"Death ans the end of everything," Michael had once said. But now, he didn't think so:
"Death isn't the end of everything. It symbolizes the end of one person's connection with others, and no new connections, no new stories will be ford. But the traces of their existence, the connections they left behind, the stories they created still exist, unerased. They will forever beco a part of you and , and through us, be passed on to more people. Yes, death is never the end of life, but a continuation, a new beginning. Hua, this is how humanity has constantly passed down the torch to reach today."
"Mm, I understand. I just..."
"But that's not what I wanted to talk about either."
"Ah?"
"Hua, if I told you I have a way to reverse everything, a way to make every hurt inflicted upon this world by the Honkai cease to exist, but not through erasure... would you be willing to trust ?" Michael suddenly stood up, extending his hand towards Hua.
"I've said it before: I, Kevin, even Su... we are people living in the past. Only you consistently live in the present, and potentially live in the future. Therefore, you are the only one capable of connecting the past and the future. And Hua, the thod I just ntioned, to reverse everything, requires your help. Are you... willing?"
"I..." Hesitation lasted only an instant, or perhaps never existed. Hua naturally placed her hand in Michael's—even though her conscious mind hadn't fully grasped his words.
"Very good." Michael pulled Hua to her feet, giving her a brief hug. Their forms touched and separated instantly. Michael's hand rested briefly on her back, unnoticed, implanting sothing resembling a feather into her body.
Hua gradually ca back to herself, and the hesitation that should have been there arrived belatedly. This hesitation stemd not from distrust of Michael, but of herself— "I... I don't know if I can help... I, I can't do anything..."
"No, Hua. I told you, you possess that unique potential. You just habitually underestimate yourself. You are not the you from six years ago."
"O-Okay..." Hua still didn't understand what Michael needed her to do, or how, but it didn't stop her from agreeing.
"Hua," Michael said softly, his voice carrying a new weight, "Welco to World Serpent."
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