[Eternal Dawn: Forcibly maintains optimal Spirit state, Cooldown Ti 1 hour. You will feel none of your body’s negative effects or pain; your five senses will remain continuously sharpened and enhanced.]
...
Su Ming’an knew Violet was referring to this Skill. His current Divine Power was indeed enough to sustain this Skill for a long ti.
"Activate it now, otherwise you really won’t be able to hold on later." Violet said worriedly.
"Thanks for the concern, I..."
(I indeed can walk.) Suddenly, Isabelle’s androgynous ssage ca through. (And you indeed have deduced almost all of the truth—but there is one thing you got wrong—your identity.)
"...?" Su Ming’an frowned.
Suddenly, he realized sothing:
"...Su Wenli."
He hadn’t forgotten that this ti, he had co here by Possession of the World Master’s Heir, Su Wenli. Yet the World Master had never married; Su Wenli had rely been brought up by Hui Chi, who endowed him with the title of "World Master’s Heir" to ensure the legitimacy of inheritance. After that, the Great Demon Perlo and Deceit Demon Evelyn had always guarded Su Wenli, appearing at his side of their own accord, refusing to obey Hui Chi’s orders, focused solely on protecting Su Wenli.
...
["Evelyn wasn’t among the Zhai XIng people who migrated here; she’s a native of Luowasha. Why has she always been protecting ?" Su Ming’an said.]
["Mm." Perlo sighed. "This involves a secret...I’m bound by a contract; even if I’m about to die, I can’t say it. But as long as you keep moving forward, you’ll know the reason Evelyn protects you."]
...
Since Su Wenli had been picked up by Hui Chi and was not the World Master’s Heir, what exactly was his true identity?
On what grounds did he have two Demons at his side from the mont he was born, guarding him without taking a single step away, willing to pay with their lives for him?
"Your Highness."
Su Ming’an suddenly heard a soft call. Looking back, the bright and enchanting Deceit Demon ca towards him in a long dress.
...The Great Demon Perlo and Deceit Demon Evelyn had never regarded him as the true World Master’s Heir, so why did they call him "Your Highness"? Could it be that this "Your Highness" wasn’t addressing the World Master’s Heir at all, but rather...
Those echoing, blurry, androgynous, endless hallucinated voices rang in his ears once again—
...
[Suddenly, Su Ming’an felt a wave of dizziness. He covered his forehead, feeling faint, elusive hallucinations sounding by his ears.]
["I love you..."]
["I...love you..."]
...
["Child...my child...I love you so much...I miss you so much..."]
[That voice again.]
...
No.
—It wasn’t Lin Wang’an.
He had instinctively assud that the one using this sort of thod had to be Lin Wang’an. Yet "Su Wenli" should still have a real mother sowhere; this was a mother calling out to him.
He looked towards the Demon Mother Goddess before him and suddenly understood the source.
He had long heard of Isabelle’s na as a Deity: She had a particular passion for reproduction. As early as the late First Epoch, she had already propagated tens of thousands of Demon Race, and birthed several Demon Kings who controlled Evil Demon Power, standing toe-to-toe with the Light Elent faction.
Back then, no matter how fast people killed, they could never surpass the rate at which Demons were born. In order to save Luowasha, several Braves stepped onto the stage of the World and beheaded several Demon Kings in succession; thus Luowasha’s First Epoch was called the "Heroic Era."
But human ethics and morals did not apply to the Mother Goddess. The so‑called "mother and child" relationship in fact didn’t exist. She rely used Magic Power to craft her own Followers, vassals, and slaves, not true blood kin. How could re humans be worthy of calling her "mother"? —they could only call her "Mother Goddess."
"So that’s why you’re called ’Mother Goddess’..." Su Ming’an suddenly understood.
All Demons under Heaven were her offspring. For the Dark Side faction, she was, of course, their "Mother Goddess."
She had called Su Ming’an "child" again and again, trying to lure him into quickly reaching the Source Point to awaken her, delivering himself to her doorstep.
Having learned the truth, Su Ming’an felt no psychological burden. He would not acknowledge this "mother"—not on a biological level, and not on a ntal one either. Never mind how he viewed it; Isabelle herself didn’t see him as family at all—she had just said she wanted him to beco her lover earlier, which was utterly absurd.
His palm tightened, the sword blade stabbing deeper. A surge of purple‑black nourishnt poured into his body as he stared coldly into those scarlet, inhuman pupils:
"I get what’s going on. So what? You don’t actually think a single ’child’ from your mouth is enough to make willingly let you brainwash and command , do you?"
(Huh? It isn’t?) To his surprise, Isabelle sounded confused. (Isn’t that how you humans are? "Love" is a brainwashing tool. As long as you say "love" with your mouth, you can make others sacrifice themselves for you at will. Whenever you run into difficulties, as long as you utter the word "love," others must give to you unconditionally; afterwards all you have to do is say "thank you" and that’s it. Isn’t this the lowest‑cost, easiest, and most socially approved ans of brainwashing? Shouldn’t you love ?)
In her eyes, once the "love" label was attached, one could naturally demand devotion and sacrifice, expect unconditional tolerance and Redemption. She believed that once she revealed this identity, even if no blood relation truly existed between them, Su Ming’an would at least hold back sowhat.
However, he did not waver in the slightest, even showing a look of disgust.
Everything he had experienced, guarded, and borne along the way was far from sothing that could be sumd up by a single word like "love" or "bloodline."
She couldn’t even comprehend Yi Song’s Doctor sense of responsibility... She thought Yi Song’s feelings towards her were that of obsessive love. Yet in this World, many kinds of "love" were not romantic love.
(Wait...!) Seeing that she couldn’t lure Su Ming’an, Isabelle imdiately said, (I didn’t lie to you. I really can’t break the seal—it’s not that I don’t want to leave.)
Su Ming’an narrowed his eyes.
"She’s probably telling the truth." Yi Song was sitting on one of her tendrils. He was the only one who hadn’t been attacked by her just now. "She didn’t hide in here on her own. It was the Shitposter Demon who stole her Key, which has kept her from ever getting out. The Key you used just now works, but you’re still missing one more catalyst."
...The Shitposter Demon? Why is she everywhere.
Su Ming’an said, "What catalyst?"
(...This body of yours.)
Countless black hands pointed at Su Ming’an, stopping ten centiters in front of his body.
Su Ming’an narrowed his eyes again.
He pointed at his own chest and let out a soft laugh:
"...I see."
"So the Key doesn’t require all mbers of the Rin Clan to be killed to appear—that rumor was indeed fake news you released."
"Because for you to break the seal, the most crucial catalyst is—the Life of the things you propagated."
"You spawned so many races in order to leave behind backup anti‑seal Props. The Whispering by my ear wasn’t because you truly loved , but to tempt into coming to find you."
"You circulated the rumor, ’Only by killing three mbers of the Rin Clan can you awaken her,’ for the very real purpose of luring , the one destined to be the final victor, to appear before you and be eaten by you."
Su Ming’an knew there was no persuading the Demon Mother Goddess before him; breaking the seal seed to have beco a paradox.
Things outside were on the verge of collapse. With every step of the Radiant Mother God’s descent, this sandbox was being torn to shreds. There was no Ti left to stall—Su Ming’an had to decide imdiately: kill the Demon Mother Goddess, or leave the Demon Mother Goddess imprisoned here.
The forr ant he needed to push the "Devour" Authority even further, when his current state was already at its limits. The latter ant that everything he’d done along this path would be almost in vain; he still wouldn’t have drawn the Demon Mother Goddess, this major Combat Power, out.
The Deceit Demon Evelyn’s essence was human. Even after Kasadia’s Transformation, she still didn’t count as a propagated being.
Of everyone present, aside from Su Ming’an, no one could break the seal.
Su Ming’an took a deep breath, raised his hand, and aid at the Demon Mother Goddess—
(You really want to kill ? To go head‑to‑head with , right before a great war?) The Demon Mother Goddess’s consciousness instantly beca chaotic and noisy.
"You can offer a better solution," Su Ming’an said.
Even if Isabelle wasn’t in peak condition, if he killed Her, it would most likely be mutual destruction. Sure enough, when he made ready to fight, Isabelle was forced to give a second option:
(—Ask that Deity who has been hiding behind you for so long! As long as They reveal Their true form and join forces with , we can directly break the seal!)
Su Ming’an froze.
...Behind him, where was there any Deity?
He turned and looked at Violet. Violet imdiately waved her hand; she was only a Third-level God, utterly useless in a scene like this.
He looked at Chen Yuhang... Chen Yuhang was still unconscious, by no ans resembling so long‑hidden Deity.
Then he looked at Yi Song, but obviously it didn’t an Yi Song either.
Even less could it be Lü God; his current White Wolf form had been obtained who‑knows‑where, but it definitely didn’t possess Divine Power.
Beside him, Si Nian was kneeling on one knee, attempting to use the "Resurrection Right."
The Demon Mother Goddess let out an angry roar, and everyone turned to look at him. He slowly raised his head and stared back in bewildernt.
"...What?" Si Nian replied blankly.
Why were they all looking at him? What had happened?
He was just the most ordinary, most average, most powerless one among them. He had struggled with everything he had to assist the legendary Savior, even to the last tiny scrap of his own strength.
The Knight’s bullying, his lover’s death, the cruelty of war, the old Class Leader’s passing... any disaster could easily crush him. He was incredibly lucky to have co this far, hoping that the great Savior might spare a glance for wretches as ordinary as them.
Why, why,
why—was everyone looking at him at this mont?
He was still pushing himself to the limit, trying, confused as to why he couldn’t resurrect his lover Chun Tang. Why Isabelle said she did not exist at all.
Sashari’s vineyard, Koleya’s white wildflowers on the bandages, the old Class Leader’s laughing curses, the dead veteran’s canteen, the yellowed photographs, Chun Tang’s ragged puppet...
What were they talking about.
What were they looking at!?
A surge of fear rose up out of nowhere. Si Nian clenched the ragged puppet Chun Tang had given him, pinched the photo and the little white flower, and backed away step by step, his gaze turning to Su Ming’an in a plea for help.
...
[Tosolius, Tosolius.]
[Supre Lord of Genesis in this World, shepherd of Destiny and Causality, Ruler of Joy and sorrow!]
[I knock upon You—]
...
"Su, Su Ming’an...?" The man’s eyes widened as he stamred, "What’s... wrong? What happened? Why are you all... looking at ?"
The young Savior was looking at him, with an indescribably complex gaze, with a gaze both suddenly enlightened and astonished.
Why that look of sudden realization?... What had you thought of? What had you deduced?
...
[—If Valrosa is to be deed the land of calamity, where Wandering Sinners suffer the Twelve Tornts, enact all the heavens’ disasters and ferry fates through the Nine Serenities—if such is Heaven’s decree, then why grant us the benediction of Yijulai’er?]
...
"Wandering Sinner... If I rember right, Si Nian, you said that you were a Wandering Sinner," Su Ming’an said.
Si Nian nodded blankly.
Yes, by a twist of fate, he had beco a Wandering Sinner: as long as he endured twelve kinds of suffering, he could realize any wish... He had already endured five Tornts...
"The Wandering Sinners are Followers of the God of Chaos. And the God of Chaos split off the Reincarnation God Mobius," Su Ming’an said.
"Legend has it that the Reincarnation God Mobius is the ancestor of the ’Reincarnation Siren’ clan. He possesses the Follower ’Rebirth Sun’; they believe that at set intervals, people are reborn beneath the Sun. Another Follower is the ’Inverted Man,’ those whose age regresses as they grow. The Reincarnation God governs the Authority of Reincarnation. In order to practice and exalt His Way of Reincarnation, He often personally experiences the principle of Reincarnation, incarnating as a mortal, casting Himself into Luowasha, growing up from childhood to old age, tasting the life of ordinary people, then reclaiming the insights and Soul of that life after Death to nourish Himself and grow stronger this way..."
That account made quite a few people suddenly understand.
At this mont, Si Nian saw the look in Su Ming’an’s eyes.
—It was a look that mingled realization with empathy.
...
[—If His attachnt were nothing but a passing glance of pity, a distant, void side‑profile, then why let all living beings take root in the great tree, let the leaves of civilization blossom into flowers, let the Rin Clan of Babel fall into the mortal realm?]
...
Isabelle’s consciousness surged forth like a psychic howl: (—Mobius, you should wake up now! Help break the seal! If you don’t wake up, then just wait for everything to be ruined! Are you really going to, for the sake of one mundane and diocre lifeti, for the sake of a lover who doesn’t even exist, a heap of comrades’ ashes long since consigned to annihilation, an utterly false life—betray the great Savior of your holand!?)
In that instant, it was like a bell tolling.
Like a giant hamr smashing down on the red‑haired man’s heart. His mouth hung open, no words coming out, the white flower in his palm drifting to the ground.
It was as if he saw many people looking at him, looking at him with grief and pity... the round‑faced young soldier, the old veteran holding his canteen, the new recruit he himself had run through with a bayonet, the old Class Leader clapping his shoulder and laughing...
The mories of the battlefield were real, the fighting side by side was real, his life was real... but his essence was false.
He was "Si Nian"... he was not "Si Nian"... No, how was he supposed to define himself?
So he had been the first to betray his own class.
Si Nian took a few steps back, then quickly raised his head. His face was streaked with tears, and fresh blood surged from his eye sockets, weaving together into bloody tears.
"I am Si Nian... you fucker... you fucker!" Si Nian trembled all over, tears spilling down in torrents,
"You’re telling it was all fake?"
He pulled the rifle off his back and aid it at the Demon Mother Goddess, towering like a mountain—within the boundless Source Point of the Universe, a tiny human lifted his gun toward a lifeform above the High Dinsions.
"—Fuck your Mother Goddess!"
"—Fuck your Destiny!!!!! Ah!!!!"
...
[—Do not flinch, pull the trigger! Believe that your courage and sacrifice are glorious!]
[—The Mother Goddess is rciful to us, She bestowed peace and saved all beings...]
[—Si Nian! What the fuck are you spacing out for! Pass the bullets! If you want to live, be smart about it!]
[—Hey, brother, try this. My wife snuck it to , this is the last little sip.]
[—For the King! For the glory of Luowasha! Charge—!!!]
[—Brother Sinian... when the grapes ripen... you must co... the wine I brew... is so sweet...]
[—Rember, you are the shield, the sharp sword! Your sacrifice will forge an eternal monunt!]
[—It hurts... it hurts so much... mom...]
[—Live on, Si Nian. For us... go see what peace looks like...]
[—Long live the Red Tower!]
[—Long live the King! Long live Your Majesty! Long, long live the Mother Goddess!]
Voices he had once heard circled in his mind again and again, and he scread like a madman:
"You motherfucker—!"
"Mother Goddess!!! Aaaahhhh—!!!"
...
["Sashari was several years younger than , from a border farm, a head of ssy curls, clumsy as hell, always ssing up in training. He kept talking about the vineyard back ho, saying when the war was over, he’d expand it, make the sweetest wine. He also kept saying there was a childhood sweetheart in the next town waiting for him to co back."]
...
No answer. Only the deeper, more abyssal silence at the bottom of the Source Point, as if mocking the ant-like roar he made.
"Bang! Bang! Bang!" One shot, another shot, and another. Bullets flew and shattered, the gun grew hot and scorching, even his tears were burning, burning so much the man couldn’t hold anything steady, couldn’t even stand.
He had never imagined the future would be brilliant and dazzling, nor did he dream of wealth and glory. His greatest ideal was to live upright like a person with dignity. Not like a dog, like an insect, like an ant, living in the sewers, in the mud, in the reeking blood pools of the battlefield.
But why... why...!
...
["Koleya was one of the dical officers with the army. She was a very quiet woman, from the sa hotown as Sashari. Once Sashari had a fever and started rambling, calling out his childhood sweetheart’s na, and Koleya sat by his side almost the whole night."]
...
The Demon Mother Goddess’s awakening was like a Key turned in a lock. More and more mories surfaced in his mind... what the Sky Curtain looked like, what the Court of the Gods of the Stars looked like, what Divine Authority and Divine Power were, what his own Divine Symbol and characteristic object were, the scenes of Reincarnation one after another...
He could no longer lie to himself that he was still the ordinary "Si Nian". Otherwise, how could he explain these wretched mories ceaselessly awakening in his head!?
But what was now carved deepest into his bones, what he understood most clearly and would never change... was his life as "Si Nian"!
"Bang—!"
Bullets whirled, the gun chamber burned hot, and finally it went completely dead. Demonic Qi surged over his face, the rifle turning to ashes in an instant; the weapons crafted by human Wisdom were utterly vulnerable before Demonic Qi.
...
["Later, Sashari, Koleya, and I, the three of us often huddled together. When we weren’t fighting, we’d share a bit of hard candy secretly stashed away in a corner of the camp. Sashari would talk about his vineyard and his childhood sweetheart, and Koleya would talk about the lilacs that covered the hillsides in her hotown every spring, a whole slope of white, the wind full of bitter fragrance."]
...
"—Si Nian." Su Ming’an spoke.
The man turned his head and looked at Su Ming’an.
"You have the freedom to choose," Su Ming’an said. "If you don’t want to, I’ll do it."
If others were unwilling, he would step in to shoulder that price. Just as Violet had said, no path was the only narrow one; if this road was blocked, he would simply take a side path.
The man’s shoulders shook violently. Staggering, he looked again at his own trembling hands. These hands had gripped guns, been stained with blood, crawled through mud and gri, done everything there was to do.
"I’ve tried..." he ground his teeth,
"I used every thod, everything the Rules allowed and didn’t allow... I wanted Chun Tang to live in a spring with no smoke of war. But it turns out I couldn’t resurrect her, not because my ’Resurrection Right’ wasn’t strong enough, nor because the price I paid wasn’t high enough..."
He slowly raised his tear-filled eyes to Su Ming’an, his gaze a kind of grief hollowed out to the core.
"...but because I simply have no right to resurrect soone who never existed."
He had carved Chun Tang onto his own bones. If she had never existed, who had he been talking to all this ti?
...He had been talking to himself all along.
All of a sudden, he beca unnaturally calm.
He drew a Glock-style pistol from his waist, black, inlaid with silver stars. He flipped the gun and pressed the muzzle to his heart.
Only when this cycle of his Reincarnation ended would the Reincarnation God truly awaken... otherwise, he was rely the most ordinary, most common Luowasha person, Si Nian.
He wanted to speak for ordinary people, but if he hesitated here, how many ordinary people outside would die?
The old Class Leader, his comrades, the enemies on the battlefield... they had cast their "support vote" in the tenth round to send him out. The only one who could break the deadlock now was himself. Everyone else would have to pay a trendous price to get out.
And he only needed to cast aside this ordinary life, this ordinary existence—wasn’t that too easy? Sashari, Koleya, Chun Tang... those were already ordinary human lives scattered like grains of sand, never to return, and yet he still clutched those searing mories, tossing and turning, unable to move on.
—If he cast aside his hatred of war, who would he be?
—If he cast aside his self-recognition as an ordinary person, if the only ordinary Luowasha person in the team turned out to be the Reincarnation God in the end, to which class’s representative were people supposed to pour out their pain?
In whose arms could they cry their hearts out without sha? Who would care about their laughter, and who would care about their tears?
"I once wanted to find that lofty Deity and make Them paste back the pages torn from the book for ..."
The man’s smile was exhausted, like a Traveler who had walked through the desert for far too long and finally reached the end, only to discover there was no oasis at all,
"Turns out, I’m also one of those ’lofty Deities’."
"Sashari, Koleya, Old Class Leader..."
Suddenly, a hand seized his wrist. The youth’s pitch-black eyes looked at him: "If you don’t want to do it, then don’t. Believe , I can do it even without you."
Hearing this, Si Nian froze for half a second, then as if sothing had been poked awake, he burst into loud laughter, tears at the corners of his eyes:
"Don’t bla for being blunt—having a barely-adult youngster shoulder the price in place of so shitty Deity like , making you pay for our holand for nothing—there’s no way I can do that! You’re already turning transparent; if I morally blackmail you again, that’d be fucking shaful! I’m no coward!"
"Su, when you get out and see Doggy Wang, when Chen wakes up—tell them I’ve gone ho to farm, and I can still hold a hoe steady! Anyway, they’re not Players, they should go ho too!"
Like the most ordinary Luowasha soldier charging to his death, he viciously tore open his ragged shirt, exposing his scar-ridden chest, and slamd the gun barrel against his heart.
Like a tiny human standing before a mountain of corpses and a sea of blood, his small figure stood atop the pitch-black flesh and gore, muzzle aid at himself, yet as if roaring in defiance at the Mother Goddess and Destiny.
"This identity of ’Si Nian’, this life, this span of living—were given to by you Deities, by this damned Destiny, by this fucked-up World, by all of you together!" His scarlet eyes blazed with fury and madness,
"Now, I’m giving this life you gave back to you! You lost to Su Ming’an, and I want Su Ming’an to win!!!"
The man snapped his spine straight, the bones under his tattered uniform, battered again and again by suffering, crackling loudly.
"I, for fuck’s sake—"
"—didn’t lose to you!"
...
"Bang!"
...
[No.8 "Legend of the Wandering Sinner"]
[Story Type: Drama-style Adventure]
[Creator: Si Nian]
[Story Summary: A devout believer of the Dawn Goddess, who nonetheless yearns for the life of the Wandering Sinner, the God of Chaos—craving other people’s stories, questioning life through the twelve forms of death by execution. On this day, the Prophecy Stone Wall tells him that he will beco the new god of Luowasha...]
...
"Hey, Si Nian, that ’Chun Tang’ of yours, what does she look like?"
"Just imagine her based on this puppet. I don’t have a photo of her."
"How am I supposed to imagine that? This thing looks like a goddamn mop spirit!"
"Leave that, Si Nian, tell a story to keep us awake. Tell that one you’re always talking about... that Sinner sothing. And then what? Did that Sinner end up becoming a god?"
"Mm, he did."
"Once you’ve beco a god, does that an you never have to squat in this shitty trench again?"
"Yeah. A God just needs to say one sentence, give this place a single glare, and it can make it so we never fight a war in this lifeti."
"God, oh God, look at us! If I were a god, that’d be great... I’d make sure none of you ever had to fight! Bellies full, at at every al!"
...
Bang.
The man’s pistol slipped from his hand, his body swayed. Blood seeped out of the black hole in his chest, soaking the fabric that had been washed almost white.
He tried hard to stand straight, just like he had done countless tis on the battlefield. But his knees gave out, and he fell forward onto them.
The thing in his hand slid free.
A roughly folded white lilac, made from bloodstained bandages.
And a yellowed group photograph—on it, a smile so young it was almost unfamiliar, inside an ill-fitting uniform; in the eyes, fear, confusion, and also longing.
The photo tumbled in the air, spinning.
The scorching sun of boot camp, the freezing nights in the trenches, the roar of a charge... countless faces flashed past at high speed, until finally freezing on the image of the man himself, grinning through mud and filth.
Young n and won crowded together, with makeshift barracks and distant trenches in the background. They all looked different—so had furry animal ears, so had skin faintly flushed red or with the sheen of scales, so had strangely colored eyes. But they all wore ill-fitting uniforms, faces grimy, wearing the sa fearless, foolish grins.
East Border Red Tower Defense Zone, Sixth Squad.
The years have passed for too long; for the World, it is still no more than the snap of a finger.
Ti stopped forever in the spring of year 271, at that far shore they’d once believed they would reach "soday," yet could never arrive at.
Pa.
The photo landed lightly on the ground.
Crimson eyes like fla gazed across the yellowed years and the cold reality; red hair spilled down, covering a face that was slowly losing its light. His fingers twitched in a spasm, as if trying to grasp sothing.
Perhaps it was the grapes Sashari used to imagine, perhaps the sea of lilacs that Koleya had described, perhaps a lover who had never existed.
He caught nothing.
Only dust, falling in silence.
The mortal story nad "Si Nian" had written its final punctuation mark.
An ordinary soldier, and all his mories and love—burning, precious, worthless, and yet heavier than a mountain.
...
"Ssshua—!"
When Mobius awoke, He inherited the entire mory of this pitiful ordinary man, "Si Nian."
A shriveled, dull, painful, and gray life.
He absorbed those mories; a life like Si Nian’s, an ordinary person’s, He had experienced countless tis—mayfly lives, born in the morning and gone by dusk, offering no nourishnt at all, a whole life at the rcy of others, utterly aningless.
But in the recollections He searched out entries related to "Su Ming’an," and from there branched out to "Source Point," "Demon Mother Goddess," "Savior"...
A vast, archaic aura stirred awake. Si Nian’s body lted into the pool of blood, like an old photograph licked by flas. Skin, bones, fibers... every mortal part was being stripped away, transforming into a giant serpent that bit its own tail.
The serpent’s body was almost transparent, carved from flowing Ti itself. Countless fragnts of lives flickered and cycled between its scales like an endless revolving lantern. The head and tail joined to form a self-devouring ring, and at its center rippled a mass of chaotic gray fog.
The true form of Mobius, the Reincarnation God—"Ti-Snake," sustaining His existence by Reincarnating Himself.
He turned His inhuman vertical pupils, first looking toward the bloodstained bandage-lilac and the yellowed photo on the ground. They were slowly fading, a sign that the relics of a "nonexistent person" were being corrected by the World Rules.
The gray mist in the serpent’s eyes churned faintly and finally settled on Su Ming’an.
An ancient Divine Thought resounded: (Contractor Su Ming’an, what thou seekest, I already know.)
...Contractor? Su Ming’an froze.
This must be the imprint of knowledge Si Nian left behind as he died, making the exalted Reincarnation God regard Su Ming’an as an ally... That ordinary man, even at the cost of his life, had still sched against "the God Himself," so that after his death he might help Su Ming’an.
For a ladle of filthy water that could keep you barely alive, for a chunk of moldy bread that could fill your stomach... the towering Concepts crowned with the na of "Glory" and "Ideal," once they fell into the mud, reverted to naked, lowly scrambling.
In the man’s eyes, just before he died, there had been a faint shred of expectation that even he himself had never noticed.
Expectation for what?
Perhaps he was waiting for a day when there would be no more need to fight over anything.
Waiting for the day when children no longer had to beat each other bloody over half a loaf of bread; when lovers no longer had to say goodbye under the shadow of guns and artillery; when hos no longer turned to scorched earth in the na of sothing "noble." Waiting for the day when worth was no longer asured by the efficiency of killing, but by the ability to create beauty.
Maybe such a day would co—
On the charred plains of Luowasha, plowed again and again by Spells and artillery, naless Wildflower seeds lay buried deep in the soil, waiting.
Waiting for the day when gunfire finally fell completely silent.
Waiting for the day when countless hands that held guns would, at last, tremble and set them down, only to pick up hoes or trowels instead.
Waiting for the day when the roar of struggle would be slowly carried away by the wind, and two forr enemies, eting by chance amidst the ruins, would halt and look toward the sa violet bud pushing its way, trembling, out from a crack in the rubble.
He seed to "hear" the man’s low murmur.
"On that day, the wind on the grasslands will once again carry the scent of soil and plants, and not of smoke and blood. In the shadow of the ruins, new Life will bloom in the spring."
"We will let Singing rise again. Not for so Deity, nor in the na of victory. But to sing of freedom, to sing of a future where there are no more lies."
"Su Ming’an, I believe that day, when it cos, will belong to you all."
...
Normal World Line.
Red Tower, beneath the Bell Tower.
The collapsed Bell Tower leaned upon the ruins, a few shafts of light spilling through gaps in the clouds, illuminating the shattered city walls.
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