“Hey… Roland…” Nightingale's voice pulled him back from his thoughts. “Are you alright?”

“Uh, what's wrong with me?” Roland cleared his throat.

“You were staring blankly at the blueprint, and your face didn't look good—is there any bad news from over there?”

“No, maybe I'm just overthinking things.” Roland shook his head and briefly explained his guess, “If the world is really like this, then it's too hopeless.”

One undeniable problem is that thousands of years is a very short period for life.

Where were humans when the Radiants and Matchsticks were fighting to the death? Where were the devils?

If the Battle of Divine Will is endless, then what about the civilizations that previously won the Divine Will?

No matter how tragic the war, there will always be a victor.

But why did they also disappear without a trace?

Thinking of this, Roland felt that the road ahead was suddenly much more difficult.

“I see…” Nightingale said thoughtfully, “But even if everything you guessed is correct, I don't think there's no solution.”

Roland looked at her in surprise, “What solution?”

“First, let's make it clear, I'm not Anna, so I can't list the reasons one by one. It's just my personal opinion, and you're not allowed to laugh, understand?”

“I promise not to laugh.”

Nightingale stuffed a piece of dried fish into her mouth, “First, we have to admit that this is not a problem that can be reversed in one or two generations, right? So, the most important thing is to pass the message down until the moment is ripe.”

“Hmm… that makes sense,” Roland nodded, “Then what?”

“There is no then.”

“Huh?” He was slightly stunned.

“Because that's none of our business.” Nightingale said matter-of-factly, “Human lifespan is so limited, it's already not easy to fulfill the duties of this life, why bother worrying about things after that? As for what those people do and whether they succeed, that's their responsibility. Even if you think about it until your hair turns white, it won't make any difference.”

He couldn't help but grin… Is this supposed to be comforting? But in any case, such a simple, straightforward, and clear-cut way of thinking is indeed her style.

“Are you going to laugh at me for being short-sighted?” Nightingale squinted.

“No,” Roland immediately closed his mouth, “You've thought it through thoroughly.”

“That's more like it.” She raised her head, slightly smugly, “And if you're worried that future generations won't have enough ability to take on this responsibility, you can also share it with other races.”

“Share? How?”

“Build ruins and record the «truth» of the Battle of Divine Will—this is also a way to pass on the message. Didn't you discover the existence of the Radiants and Matchsticks from the murals in the Cursed Temple? Build several more sturdy underground fortresses in Graycastle, carve the paintings on the walls to warn other participating civilized races. If the time is long enough, I think there will always be one or two races that can wait for the moment to ripen.”

Roland couldn't help but be stunned. Nightingale's words were not only not short-sighted, but could even be described as extremely profound. Even if humanity is completely destroyed in the war that determines its destiny, and its continuation is cut off, it does not mean that it has withdrawn from the stage. By using this method to pass on ideas, as long as the victor jumps out of the framework, it will inevitably include human civilization in history.

Perhaps even she herself didn't realize the meaning contained in this method.

After a while, Roland smiled and shook his head, pouring her a cup of Chaos Drink, “For your brain, it's already pretty good that you can think of this.”

“You can omit the first half of the sentence.” Nightingale said, but she still took the cup without hesitation.

Indeed, that is the last and most helpless means. He thought. But if possible, he would prefer that humans become the recorders, rather than a recorded symbol.

After calling Sean and entrusting him to give the wrapped stone tablet to Celine, Roland devoted himself to a day's work. In the afternoon, a person he had been waiting for a long time came to the castle.

Camilla Dairre, the steward of Sleeping Island.

Strangely, she didn't come with Tilly, and there was no sign that she had tidied herself up, still looking travel-worn.

This shows that she most likely went straight to the castle as soon as she got off the boat, without even going to Sleeping Spell.

Roland had a vague premonition in his heart.

“You just arrived in Neverwinter?” He personally poured a cup of tea for Camilla, “You've worked hard. Is the expedition to Thunder smooth?”

The latter drank the tea in one gulp, almost choking on the water, “Cough… cough cough, something happened to the Shadow Islands. Joan, she, she… disappeared!”

“Disappeared?” Roland's heart sank, and he couldn't help but exchange glances with Nightingale, “What exactly happened? Tell me slowly.”

“…The general process is like this,” Camilla spent half an hour explaining the whole change, “We waited outside the sea area for two days, but we never waited for Joan to come back. Thunder said that only you might know what Joan encountered underwater. That distorted scene, the floating pillar island… Can such things really exist in reality?”

Such a thing would happen!

Roland couldn't help but rub his forehead. The more he understood the world, the more he could feel its strangeness—he used to think that dreams were full of inconsistencies, but now it seems that reality is not much better.

The elongated stone pillars and sea fish, judging from the description, didn't seem to be caused by external force. A clear piece of evidence is that before Joan was pulled into the deep sea, Camilla saw her fingers suddenly grow. If it was pulled out by brute force, the chief steward in a state of spiritual resonance would definitely feel unbearable pain.

But in fact, neither Joan nor Camilla noticed any physical discomfort.

The only thing he could think of was that space had become distorted.

Although it sounds ridiculous and there is no evidence, he knew he had to say something. The reason why Camilla didn't go to Tilly first, or wait until she recovered from her fatigue before reporting, was obviously because she couldn't wait to know Joan's safety. Judging from her bloodshot eyes, she probably hadn't slept well along the way. What could make Camilla so anxious, besides worry, was probably a lot of self-blame.

That is to say, even if it's nonsense, he has to make up something.

Fortunately, there is the example of the «sea line» perpendicular to the sea in front of him, so no matter how much he exaggerates, it won't be too exaggerated.

Roland rubbed his forehead and pondered for a long time before opening his mouth, “I think Thunder's decision is correct.”

Camilla immediately raised her head, “You also think Joan is still alive?”

“Yes, and it's possible that she went to the east of the sea line.”

“In the blink of an eye, thousands of miles away, is this… really possible?”

“I'm just speculating. First of all, what can be confirmed is that the water level in the entire Shadow Sea has indeed dropped, right? This change can even affect the tides of the Fjord Islands, and the amount of water must be very amazing. So, where did the lowered sea water go?” Roland picked up a quill and drew a circle on the paper, “I guess it's on the east side of the sea line.”

Camilla thought for a while, “Thunder seems to have said that the sea water near the sea line is indeed flowing westward.”

“Because if it's not replenished, the vortex sea will dry up and reach the bottom after only two or three tides.” Roland then drew a second circle, the two circles being about a palm apart, “The problem is, if it's transported from one place to another and then poured out, then the sea water should be in bursts. But the fact is that the water is constantly moving—to achieve this, you must pass through the two circles in an instant. So… what is the fastest path?”

Camilla tentatively reached out and drew a line between the two circles, “Go straight?”

“The theory is like this,” Roland added a straight line to the two circles, “But there is another possibility.” Then he folded the paper, making the two circles overlap, “In this way, it is reached instantly.”

Camilla took a breath, “This—how is this possible?”

“It is indeed beyond common sense, but if it is caused by magic power, it cannot be measured by common sense. Like Nightingale

can also achieve short-distance instantaneous movement, and can also pass through obstacles that ordinary people cannot overcome, and the effect is not much different from this.”

“…” The chief steward fell silent for a while.

“In addition, although this is only a hypothesis, a phenomenon you mentioned is very intriguing.” Roland inserted the tip of the pen into the circle, “If this pen arrives from the front circle to the back circle in the blink of an eye, but it is actually still completing this journey along a straight line—in other words, from the outside world, that fish has almost run thousands of miles in less than a breath. What kind of scene do you think you will see?”

Camilla murmured, “Shrink… small?”

“That's right, the visual rule of near big and far small is still working, so I think it's not that the fish is stretched, but its body is already thousands of miles away from you, so it naturally looks thin and long.”

“Huff…” She let out a long breath, and her expression finally relaxed, “If the outside of that circle is also the sea, Joan should be able to survive.”

Roland nodded.

“Thank you…” Camilla seemed to want to say something else, when suddenly her body tilted and fell diagonally to the ground.

Nightingale caught her in time.

“She's probably just exhausted.”

“Send her to the Witch Building to rest, I'll send someone to notify Tilly.”

“Understood.” Nightingale, with Camilla in her arms, flashed into the mist.