Chapter 150: For the Broken World, Strike the Final Movement (Two-in-One)
“So, even so…”
“Do you still aspire to become a Guardian?”
The final words fell into the abyss of the void along with the girl’s unfinished consciousness.
Grey’s soft body fell through the air.
Then, Rast caught her with a gentle motion.
He looked at the girl in his arms, who had sunk into a deep coma due to the strain on her soul’s potential, her eyes tightly shut… with two trails of damp tears still lingering on her pale cheeks.
The indifferent expression he had always maintained in front of Grey melted away like ice and snow at this moment.
“Did I… perhaps take it a bit too far?”
“Although most of it was the truth, sometimes, compared to lies… the truth can hurt more.”
Rast muttered to himself.
This was in stark contrast to the cold and mysterious image he usually portrayed, wrapped in his cloak with a hood obscuring his face.
At this moment, Grey, who was deep in sleep, looked particularly serene.
Her exquisite face still bore traces of youth, and the lines between her eyebrows and eyes held an innocent softness.
“I almost forgot… even today, you’re still not yet twenty years old.”
“In some countries where youth protection systems are well-established—”
“My actions could be seen as abusing a minor… I might even end up in prison.”
A self-mocking smile curved Rast’s lips.
He gently reached out and stroked the girl’s smooth forehead, tidying up her slightly disheveled hair blown by the heat from the fire.
Then, he wiped away the two undried tear stains from her delicate, pale face.
“‘Guardian’, and an entire era of civilization, the fate of humanity…”
“That kind of weight is an unbearable burden for a girl who is not yet twenty.”
“And whether it’s me or Leader Ciser… choosing to force such a heavy mission upon your tender shoulders in this way—”
“That kind of action can only be described as irresponsible.”
Rast looked at the girl in his arms.
His monologue was drowned out by the roaring wind of the flames, unheard by anyone.
“Yet—”
“We have no choice.”
“This was the plan Rast and Ciser reached together.
For the past three years, in order to prevent the Legendary Noah of the Gravekeepers from noticing any abnormalities, Rast and the Guardian’s headquarters had never exchanged any words or information.
However, due to a certain inexplicable tacit understanding.
The moment Rast sensed that Grey had arrived back in Paradise City, he understood Ciser’s intentions.
Whether it was the betrayal at the cliff three years ago, or Rast’s actions towards Grey just moments ago, they were all part of this plan.
The plan to cultivate a qualified heir for Ciser and the Guardian Organization—
In the past three years, due to that betrayal on a rainy night, Grey had undoubtedly transformed and grown.
In just a few short years, she had risen from a silent newcomer within the organization to one of the strongest forces under the legend.
However, in comparison to a truly qualified leader.
The experience gained in just three years was still somewhat lacking.
Powerful strength, excellent talent, potential to achieve legendary status… these are indeed necessary conditions to become the new leader of the Guardians.
But that is far from all.
More important than talent, potential, and the sequence of abilities… is the heart of a ‘Guardian’.
You must understand that, compared to the lifespan of previous Guardians, or their terms of service, three years is merely a fleeting moment.
Long periods of time can change many things—
Turning rocks into dust…
Causing upright youths to lose their edges and become worldly and smooth-tongued, becoming sycophants…
Forgetting the sincere and passionate ideals of the past, twisting former righteous companions into grotesque figures pursuing eternal life at any cost, despicable in appearance.
And when temporary impulses calm down, and youthful zeal is worn down by time…
After enduring centuries of lonely years, seeing the dim and bleak road ahead, realizing that everything done may be in vain, and understanding all of this…
To still adhere to the original intention, and not forget the creed—
Only then can one be a ‘Guardian’.
“So—”
“If, upon waking again… you can still give a steadfast answer to that question.”
“Then, Little Grey…”
“Such you should be able to bear the mission of that starry spark and the weight of civilizational fate.”
“Too bad—”
Rast’s words paused slightly:
“Neither I nor Leader Cisel…”
“Will likely see you truly mature and grow into a qualified leader—”
“When you ascend to legend, that wondrous figure.”
His monologue mingled with the roaring wind of the flames, unnoticed and unheard by anyone.
At the same time.
The seemingly endless black flames that obscured the sun instantly converged.
As the eye of the storm was the distorted, polluted moon in the night sky, the black tide of fire engulfed the entire Frozen Water Town, inciting a torrential storm.
In the pitch-black flame tide—
The buildings of the town, the clock tower, the dark sky, and the endless mists… everything twisted.
The entire world, whether houses and towns or the night sky, lay in fragments.
This was the obvious truth.
Spanning over ten years in reverse, it was an unrepeatable process.
It was Grey, extracting powers that did not belong to her from the depths of her soul… achieving a beyond-reason miracle.
At this very moment.
As Grey, the initiator of the time reversal, fell into a coma, the overwhelming tide of fate lost its restraint and control.
The force that originally supported the two, allowing them to exist on this timeline that did not belong to them, vanished.
What replaced it was the correcting force of the river of time.
The condensed, substantial river of time manifested around the two, roaring and surging, washing away their figures, making them feel illusory and hollow.
With unstoppable, irreversible might.
It aimed to wash away these two impurities that did not belong to this era, or this segment of history…
To push them along the river of time and forcibly return Rast and Grey to their correct history.
As Rast experienced the shattered Frozen Water Town around him, along with the surging, roaring river of time, and the correcting force of history.
He did not choose to evade.
He simply turned around silently.
Then, cradling the asleep Grey in his arms in a princess carry.
The next moment.
Boom—
The tide of time, the torrent of the correcting force washed over the two.
However, it was all shouldered by Rast alone, without harming the girl in his arms in the slightest.
Immediately after.
Their figures were enveloped in the flowing twilight of time.
Under the wash of the correcting force, they flowed downstream through the river of time—
Ten years later, the current moment slipped away.
……
When the flowing twilight of time finally dissipated.
What met the eye was no longer the mist and black flames of Frozen Water Town.
He had returned to the sacrificial altar in Paradise City, overlooking the multitudes below who were devoutly conducting the sacred ceremony.
This was the correct timeline—
Grey had not yet appeared, allowing the sacred ceremony to be smoothly concluded.
And in the void before Rast.
A resplendent, holy object, seemingly gathering all the world’s light, had silently manifested.
The crystallization of the people’s faith, the symbol of the divine realm—The Holy Grail.
Rast maintained the princess carry position, reaching out with one free hand to grasp the illusory Holy Grail in his hand.
In the next moment, the cup filled with the blood of the dusk god, a wishing device that could fulfill all desires in myth and legend… was collected by Rast.
There was not a trace of obstruction.
With such ease, it melded into Rast’s body.
Of course, this did not surprise Rast.
For the past three years, he had worked hard, solidifying his position on the throne of the Underworld—
What he sought was to gather the power of faith.
And as the source of this faith, the revered wise king of the people… it was only natural that he could become the master of the Holy Grail.
Thinking of this, Rast lightly extended a finger, tapping in the void.
The next moment.
A dim yellow crack opened silently beside Grey.
Without making a sound, it quietly engulfed the grey-haired girl’s form within.
This was a spatial rift, a gap between dimensions… also known as a ‘Sub-Dimension’.
Simply put, the Sub-Dimension can be understood as a sub-space plane, the coordinates of which are known only to its owner, a small world that can be carried everywhere.
Some Sub-Dimensions are merely pocket-sized, while others are vast, comparable to the size of a city.
When he first joined Starry University, Mr. Silver had once displayed this incredible skill, comparable to Doraemon’s fourth dimensional pocket, in front of Rast… which is also the reason Rast always regarded Mr. Silver’s race as a cat rather than a silver weasel.
Generally speaking, except for a few special beings who are extremely attuned to spatial rules, or those who fortuitously received the coordinates of an unpossessed Sub-Dimension.
Otherwise, most transcendents would need to at least reach the quasi-legend level to potentially open their own ‘Sub-Dimension’.
In a sense, a personal ‘Sub-Dimension’ is akin to a legendary power unique to legendary strongmen, and can be regarded as a symbol of legend.
For the ancient gods of yore—what is referred to as the divine realm is a superior version of the Sub-Dimension.
At this moment, after fully containing the Holy Grail, Rast finally acquired the ability to open a Sub-Dimension.
Of course, this Sub-Dimension was not opened by him; the actual owner remained that former God of Death.
The dim yellow crack flickered and vanished as soon as it swallowed the grey-haired girl’s delicate body, soon disappearing from sight.
As he watched that vanishing rift, a faint light flickered in Rast’s eyes.
“The Death God’s Chalice, representing the authority of the divine, the Holy Grail, the symbol of the divine realm…”
“The only remaining element of the three components is the last piece of ‘Divine Flesh’, that so-called ‘Remains of the God of Death’.”
Feeling the Sub-Dimension that had been inscribed into his soul, even though it had vanished, he knew he could reopen the coordinates at any time.
Rast murmured to himself.
“Or rather—”
“Akshia.”
His gaze slowly shifted.
From the multitudes still immersed in the lingering echoes of the sacred text in the square… towards the direction of the palace, where the Iron Throne was located.
The matter regarding Grey had already been resolved.
However, for Rast, this was merely the beginning of the story.
The sacrificial ceremony that utilized the entire Underworld and countless souls as offerings had been completed.
The keys to the three ancient bronze doors leading to the divine realm had been gathered, with two already in his possession.
As for the remaining one, he also knew where it was located.
At this moment, Akshia, who was sleeping in the Abyss, was the bloodline of that former God of Death.
A miraculous being that flowed with both human and divine blood, birthed through long years, yet could perfectly blend them together.
She was the exquisite vessel chosen by the ancient god for resurrection, and also the key to opening the last bronze door to obtain the ‘Divine Flesh’.
With this in mind, Rast took a step forward.
As he stepped out, the dim yellow halo suddenly shone brightly, enveloping the young man’s form, making it hard to see.
When the light faded, the young man’s figure had already become illusory and faded, leaving only a dim yellow afterimage.
Utilizing the powers of the King of the Underworld, Rast achieved a near-instantaneous spatial leap.
Heading towards—
The remains of the God of Death beneath Paradise, the place known as the ‘Abyss’.
This was the final place to ascend to divinity, or the site where the ancient gods of yore would be reborn after numerous eras, reclaiming their divine thrones; or where the new generation of humanity would seize the crown of divinity, becoming the new God of Death… everything would be resolved here.
Likewise, this was the stage Rast was heading towards.
The echoes of the era known as the ‘Battle of the Broken Coast’, the final act of the Night World.
The burning curtain had already been drawn.
The Iron Cross clan, the forbidden beasts in the endless seas, the Guardians, the Gravekeepers… and even the gods and principles watching discreetly from the Throne of the Sun.
Centering on the Abyss and the Broken Coast.
From different planes and dimensions—
Beings bearing different positions, agendas, and thoughts congregated around the coastline, brewing a storm that would engulf everything—
Awaiting the moment when the final conclusion of this era is contested, and fate descends.
Your turn to sing finished.
I shall take the stage.
“Well then—”
“Let me strike the final movement for this already fragmented Night World…”
“Strike the final movement.”
The glory of dusk vanished into the light of day, leaving only the young man’s declaration echoing for a long time.
(End of Chapter)
