Chapter 280 Old Dreams and New Flames

When Duncan woke up, the overflowing starlight rapidly converged, and the desert, almost completely dyed by the starlight, quickly returned to its original state. Tarikin also breathed a sigh of relief.

Then, the "Eternal Burning Ember" turned his head to look at Vanna, who was not far away.

When the starlight was permeating the air, Vanna was hardly affected—in fact, she didn't even seem to notice the spreading starlight. She was simply pondering something like Duncan, and only then did she belatedly raise her head and look around.

A few faint purple starlight lingered around the edges of her silver-white hair, as if the starlight had existed long ago, and only at this moment, was it revealed under some kind of "illumination."

"You have been gradually changed by the power of the Flame-Thief, and are beginning to become an extension of his power," Tarikin broke the silence, gently nodding to Vanna. "This confirms my judgment—the essence of the Flame-Thief is not those flames, but what lies hidden beneath the flames."

Vanna finally began to understand what the captain and the "ancient god" in front of her were discussing. Her expression changed several times, her face thoughtful.

"So strictly speaking, you have never truly entered this world, Flame-Thief," Tarikin once again focused his gaze on Duncan. "You have been observing all things in the boundless sea through a veil, only occasionally perceiving the fleeting 'true face' with 'your own eyes.' And that 'end of the flame' you mentioned—I can imagine what it is—is due to this limitation.

"The 'takeover' of Pioneer One is based on the premise that you must continue the Sanctuary. And to continue the Sanctuary, you must maintain the 'cognition' of the Sanctuary's current state, and to maintain the cognition of the Sanctuary's current state… you must be 'Duncan.'"

Tarikin paused briefly, as if giving Duncan time to think, before continuing in a low voice, "Because the Flame-Thief's gaze will destroy this world—its appearance depends on your observational conclusion.

"And this also works in reverse. When you want to execute the 'first step,' you must be the Flame-Thief—because 'Captain Duncan's' gaze will cause the Sanctuary to continue in the flames, thereby ushering in the 'end of the flame.' This is beyond your subjective will, and perhaps the only thing in this world that you cannot control."

The Flame-Thief's gaze will destroy this world…

Duncan didn't speak. He pondered what Tarikin had said, the Pioneer One's plan and his own, and…

The different appearances this world presented in the eyes of "Duncan" and "Zhou Ming."

"I understand," after a long time, Duncan—he still needed to be "Duncan" at the moment—finally exhaled softly. He raised his head, meeting Tarikin's gaze. "Thank you for the reminder, it is indeed crucial."

"That's good." A smile appeared on Tarikin's face. Then, the old, hunched giant reached out and supported himself and the ground beside him, gradually exerting strength, and slowly stood up from the yellow sand with a difficult but firm posture.

Sand rustled down from his body, like the passing years going with the wind. He stood in the desert beneath the night sky, looking up at the distance.

After a while, he sighed softly, "Almost nothing is left…"

"What was this place originally like?" Hearing the other's sigh, Vanna couldn't help but ask.

"Originally? It wasn't a prosperous place to begin with, because from the start, the 'history' in the Sanctuary was just an illusion built on the river of time. It was my 'sculpting,' and the Flame-Keepers constantly performing ritualistic recording, inheritance, and repair that made the outside world seem to be 'developing and continuing normally along time.' But this place… this place was never prosperous.

"But at least, it wasn't a desert then—on that boundless, arid land, there were still extremely scarce rivers and oases, because even in the illusionary flow of time, it reflected things that had truly happened, things that were truly worth recording.

"Back then, there were even cities on this land, and intelligent races lived beside the oases. Those were reflections of the real world, reflected in this dream sculpted by me. And in their memories… the world was once prosperous, and had always been prosperous."

The old giant bent down, grabbed a handful of sand from the ground, and watched it gradually fall from between his fingers, flowing away in the cold night wind.

"Then, I ushered in 'decay.' More and more things disappeared in the real world, and the history of the Sanctuary became riddled with holes. Every 'self-adjustment' of the Sanctuary meant that more and more 'gangrene' appeared in the flow of time. The arid land was gradually covered by yellow sand, the memories and voices of the past echoed in the ruins, and finally became the appearance you see before you."

Vanna couldn't help but think of that city, of the voices she had heard and the relics she had seen while trekking through this boundless sandy sea.

And then, she suddenly thought of something else: she thought of certain heretical "theories" and "academic conjectures" that she had once seen in the archives of the Great Cathedral when she was still in Pland—the two sides of the world.

Some scholars believed that the entire world was two sides of one entity—in some dimension, there existed a "barren land" that was a complete mirror image of the sea and land, a boundless arid land with extremely scarce rivers and oases dotting the drought. That barren land even had intelligent civilizations, mirroring all things in reality…

Vanna's eyes widened. She couldn't help but look into the distance, at the boundless sandy sea, imagining those city-state ruins of various sizes dotting the sand sea…

This was the place that those scholars had speculated about, the place that mirrored the world.

So it really existed—existing at the end of the world, existing in an ancient god's crumbling memory of the world, a god who was gradually decaying.

Vanna suddenly raised her head, seemingly wanting to say something to Tarikin, but just as she was about to open her mouth, a gust of wind suddenly swept through the yellow sand.

The wind and sand were like a curtain rising from between heaven and earth, closing in around her and the captain, and then disappearing in the blink of an eye—the wind stopped, and the hunched giant standing in the desert had disappeared from her sight.

The chaotic light of the sky shone through the clouds and thick fog, illuminating the small island covered in ashes. A breeze blew from an unknown direction, and a layer of fine, pale ash danced in the wind, floating around like a veil.

Vanna woke up from her daze, looking around, seeing only an endless expanse of ashes before her. Sparse columns of smoke rose from the distance, crookedly ascending into the sky.

And not far from her, was a pile of bonfires that seemed about to go out.

Tarikin was sitting there—withered, hunched, almost a pile of exhausted bones. He was the bonfire itself, his flesh and bones were the firewood of the bonfire, and tiny, weak flames burned from between his charred bones and remaining flesh, gently shaking in the breeze.

The giant sat there with his head drooping, motionless. There seemed to have been some things piled up beside him, but now there were only some undulating, shapeless ashes. In his hand, he still tightly held a black stone flake that looked like a chisel—as if until he could no longer move, he was still seriously carving something.

Vanna slowly came to the pile of flames that was about to go out, raised her head, and silently looked at the giant's face for a long time.

In a trance, she seemed to hear that familiar sound again—

Ding… ding ding…

Duncan walked over from the side, gently placing his hand on Vanna's shoulder.

"We should go," he said softly, "while the fire here hasn't completely gone out."

Vanna nodded lightly.

Duncan then took another step forward, reaching out his finger towards a remaining cluster of flames on Tarikin's body.

Silently, that cluster of flames was quietly dyed with a layer of ghostly green, and then the firelight flickered, and magnificent starlight appeared in the firelight, slowly blinking as if breathing.

In the vague perception built by the flame, he silently opened his mouth in his heart, "See you in the new world."

…

In the eternal night, a vast fleet was sailing north.

The night wind blew across the calm sea, bringing the cold unique to the northern icy sea, as if it could gradually freeze people's hearts and lungs. The pale, cold light of the Wound of the World illuminated the entire world, and the large and small ice floes floating on the pitch-black, mirror-like sea reflected the light of the Wound of the World, like hideous and pale ghostly shadows in the night, moving seemingly slowly but actually quickly outside the ship's railing.

Even the huge and sacred bonfire could not dispel the chill that enveloped the entire sea area—Frem stood by the central bonfire of the Cathedral Ark, and for a moment, he even felt that the burning flames in front of him suddenly lost their temperature. What was hitting him was no longer the heat of the fire, but an endless emptiness, a sharp, piercing cold.

The sound of footsteps came from the side, awakening the Flame-Keeper Pope who was meditating with his eyes closed. Frem looked in the direction of the sound, and saw a priestess wearing a long black dress with fire patterns and a veil walking towards him, and bowing to him beside the bonfire.

"Your Holiness, we have crossed the Frost periphery waters and just received a signal from a Deep Sea Church ship. They will rendezvous with us in half an hour and deliver the 'goods.'"

"Hmm," Frem responded, "...Is the archive ready?"

"It is ready for entry," the tall Senjin priestess replied. "The storage areas have been readjusted, leaving space for newly entered documents."

Frem nodded silently.

"Also, the Frost City-State just sent a message," the priestess said again. "Executive Tirian sends greetings to us, the original text is as follows—

"All the good blessings in the world, greetings to those who record and inherit, paying respects, please move forward with peace of mind, all acts of continuation have meaning, also: 'They' have crossed the node of fire and will go to the last stop."

(End of this chapter)