Chapter 165: Survive, Hold On Until the Moment the Epic Ends (5k)
A feeling of weakness seeped from the depths of the soul, and the last remnants of the God of d*ath’s divine power that had sheltered Rast until now were finally exhausted at this moment.
The curtain of night quietly enveloped him, and according to past experiences, this was a sign that the Night Travelers were about to completely depart from the Night World.
However—
This was a process Rast had experienced countless times before, one he should have long since grown accustomed to when leaving the Night World, yet it was abruptly interrupted by a certain magnificent external force.
As if a radiant sun were rising at the end of a dim river.
The brilliant sun obscured the light of the holy sword, shining at the end of the zenith.
The disheveled old man stood before Rast, facing the brilliance of the Zenith Sword.
In the next moment—
The holy sword, falling from the end of the sky with gravity as its bowstring, slowly came to a halt before the old man.
The Zenith Sword, which had pierced the oceans and mountains, penetrated the crust, annihilating the Royal City of Paradise and the entire Abyss along with the Avatar of Abundance of legendary status—was now being blocked by that elderly figure, unable to advance even a fraction.
Immediately after.
A crack suddenly appeared on the sword of divine wrath, which was crafted with a certain malleable Emblem Armor at its core and designed to withstand any legendary attack without damage.
Then, it shattered within that radiant solar corona, becoming part of that glorious sunlight.
Countless fragments of metal overflowed, transforming into scattered silvery light points, drifting in the flowing brilliance.
Destructive radiance once again swept across the world; this was the final wave that erupted after the Zenith Sword shattered.
In the scorching light vortex, all factors within the Abyss, whether the God of d*ath’s divine power or every drop of flesh and bl**d, were completely vaporized, turning into hollow voids.
This was a self-destruct device especially set for the taboo weapon in the forbidden catalog by Ophelia and the Tower of Secrets. Once the Zenith Sword’s confidential structure was externally damaged, the self-destruct device would automatically trigger, ensuring that this weapon would never fall into the hands of others to be studied by potential enemies.
And the old man’s action only bought a few seconds of stasis.
But that mere few seconds were already sufficient.
The dark space fissure flickered once more.
And when that annihilative destructive light came again, within the Abyss, the figures of the two men had already vanished.
…
The world spun chaotically, and the disordered space rose and fell around him. Rast felt as if he were a small boat on an endless ocean, traversing through the rifts of planes and the void of dimensions.
However, instead of being torn apart like a drifting boat might be by the sudden emergence of void rifts and dimensional gaps, he was caught by a large and powerful hand.
It pulled him through the dark depths of the dimensional abyss, never losing direction.
When Rast’s consciousness revived again, he felt a warm, moist wind brushing against his skin… and the sound of waves crashing against the rocky beach.
What came into view was a dazzling night sky sprinkled with stars.
This was a rocky beach along a coastline—
“Broken Coast”.
The name of this location instantly emerged in Rast’s mind.
He lay on the broken rocky shore, letting the salty, warm sea breeze wash over him, fluttering the tattered remains of his clothing, which were barely hanging together.
Rast’s vision gradually darkened, the coldness enveloping him caused his senses to dull.
Even deep within his soul, an indescribable feeling of weakness spread, extending to his limbs and bones, causing his awareness of his body to fade until it was almost non-existent.
This feeling was not unfamiliar to Rast; it was the shadow of the God of d*ath shrouding him… just like the countless times he had died in the time loop of Deep Blue Harbor before being consumed by the Iron Cross.
The occurrence of such a situation was also an expected fact.
After the blooming of the Flesh Flower, he had relied on the effect similar to that of the legendary sword Si Ming called “Desperate Plea” to retain his last shred of bl**d skin.
The reason he had been able to hold on until now was entirely due to the control he gained over the Abyss after devouring the God of d*ath’s lingering soul, allowing him to continuously use the residual divine power of the God of d*ath—to resist the arrival of d*ath.
At this moment, both the Grim Reaper’s Star Cup and authority had been returned to Akshia and reverted back to the timeline of the real world… and everything the old God of d*ath had left behind, be it Paradise or the entire Abyss, had been buried in the light of the Zenith Sword, completely turning Rast’s last reliance into nothingness.
Now, he had lost all temporary identities and external forces from the Night World… and was merely a severely injured, drained ordinary person.
But just then.
Rast felt a light in his left chest… that illuminated the emptiness of his chest that should have held nothing, lighting up the nearly extinguished shell of his body.
In a daze, Rast saw ripples; they were warm waters, bathed in gentle sunlight.
He immersed himself in the spring water, the darkness in his vision dispelled by light, and the coldness driven away by warmth.
The flow of Rast’s vitality stalled, and the flickering flame of life, akin to a candle in the wind, no longer swayed, as his wounds began to heal slowly.
“Cecil… Leader?”
Rast lay on the broken rocky beach, gazing at the pure black sky, whispering softly.
Though he couldn’t see the old man’s face clearly, upon seeing the ray of sunlight that also overshadowed the brilliance of the Zenith Sword, Rast knew the old man’s true identity.
“Sounds like this ‘Leader’ title carries a bit more sincerity this time.”
“And it’s not like when we first met at the Watchtower, where it felt more like a performance, half-hearted and unwilling.”
Cecil’s voice held a hint of teasing.
At this moment, his tone did not sound like that of a high-ranking individual, a powerful figure, but more like that of a peer joking around with Rast.
“To gain your genuine acknowledgment… this is the highest honor I, as the leader of the Guardians of the Shore, could achieve.”
“Why do this?”
Without responding to Cecil’s jest, Rast merely gazed at the empty pure black sky and spoke calmly.
“I know your strength; even among legends, it’s deep enough to be described as unfathomable… nothing like Noah.”
“But you have transferred the ‘Library of Fools’ to Grey; that flame seed no longer exists within you.”
“Even if you can still wield the power of the ‘Library of Fools’, it’s only remnants, the ashes left after the firewood has burned out, still holding onto a bit of heat… nothing more.”
“In such circumstances, forcing your way into the Abyss to endure the ‘Zenith Sword’ and forcibly pull me out from the annihilative abyss… is undoubtedly a blind and unwise choice.”
He stared at his own battered body, where many wounds were so mangled that he could even see the stark white bones, keeping his words calm: “The power and authority of the God of d*ath have already vanished from this world. I have become nothing but a useless shell.”
“Even if you manage to save me, in my current state, I cannot influence the upcoming battle.”
Rast paused slightly in his words: “Rather than using the last remnants of your already dwindling embers to save me…”
“Using all remaining power for the impending great battle, or preserving yourself is undoubtedly the most rational choice after weighing the costs and returns.”
“You’re right; that is indeed a rational optimal solution.”
Cecil showed no sign of anger at Rast’s unflinching questioning of his decision.
He simply smiled and nodded.
“But, just like what you’ve insisted in the past, this mechanical approach to survival that arises from a broken and empty heart is no different.”
“A value judgment made by machinery based on comparisons of input and output, its so-called correctness is only correctness.”
“Ultimately—”
“Even you, yourself, feel regret, don’t you?”
His voice dissipated in the violent sea wind of the Broken Coast.
“The power of hatred, that resentment and loathing that gnaw at the spirit… indeed makes Grey grow.”
“Allowing the once innocent girl to learn caution, to hide her abilities and identity, to always be wary of others, to never hesitate to regard others with the utmost malice…”
“In the end, this loathing and hatred will become her sustenance—”
“Becoming the force that drives her forward, ultimately to reach the peak of the world.”
“But—”
Cecil’s words paused slightly: “To nourish with hatred, to cultivate on lies…”
“The fruits ultimately nurtured… no matter how beautiful, are flowers that bloom on an incorrect path.”
“Feeding on the hatred that cuts to your heart, Little Grey will one day become strong, ascend to the world’s top, becoming a true legend…”
“But at the end of such a path, she will ultimately become a ‘Graveminder’ like Noah—”
“Rather than a ‘Guardian’.”
“In the absolute rationality of always making the correct choice, and the end of the path of benefit decisions, this will be the inevitable conclusion.”
Cecil’s words slowed slightly: “What you just said is indeed the correct choice.”
“But precisely because of this, you underestimated humanity… forgetting the brilliance that frail humanity can ignite.”
His gaze dropped slightly, meeting Rast’s as they looked at the sky, his smile becoming clearer.
“Am I right?”
“From the new era…”
“The future Guardian of the Shore?”
Cecil’s words reverberated in the humid sea breeze.
Though it was a question, the implication in his tone was not inquiry but a firm assertion.
Listening to the old man’s voice, a smile involuntarily etched across Rast’s pale face.
“Turns out, Leader Cecil already guessed my origins… and knows the truth of it all.”
“I had originally thought to use reasons like ‘copy eye’ to fool you a bit more.”
“Of course.”
Cecil sat down on a rock, placing himself on an equal level with Rast, who was too weak to even sit up.
He chuckled casually: “If, as the holder of the ‘Library of Fools’, I couldn’t even notice when someone with the same Night Blade as mine appeared before me—”
“Then my nearly a thousand years of existence as a Guardian would have been in vain.”
“The special weapon you just used, which exterminated Noah’s Avatar of Abundance, which you call the ‘Zenith Sword’, comes from future technology, right… I can assure you, nothing like that ever existed in the historical past.”
“Furthermore, combining your identical ‘Library of Fools’ Night Blade… a time traveler, that’s a conclusion that’s not difficult to reach.”
The old man raised his gaze slightly, looking out into the dark depths of the ocean’s horizon: “The future Guardian of the Shore… will face a more difficult situation than ours at this moment, more than the Guardians of the Shore in the Sixth Epoch.”
“Indeed, there may no longer be anyone to accompany you.”
“After all…”
He cast a glance at Rast, then chuckled lightly: “You don’t look like someone who grew up under the company of companions or the guidance and protection of elders.”
“Your past way of survival is like that of a lone wolf… wandering in a boundless wilderness, not needing fellow travelers, pursuing your goals alone.”
“However—”
“That is the future, not today.”
He slowly stood up from the rock, straightening his back.
In his aging eyes, there was a gaze that resembled a young eagle soaring high in the sky, surveying its territory with pride.
“No matter what happens in the future, no matter what the Guardian of the Shore Organization becomes, I only know one thing at this moment—”
“Whether it’s Little Grey or you, Rast, you are both my juniors, the ones I need to protect.”
“Just like when I was still weak—”
“What my teacher, the previous Guardian of the Shore… did for me.”
He gazed at the distant dark sky, his words drifting in the sea wind, as if he were speaking to himself.
“Remember, as the inheritor of the ‘Library of Fools’, the leader of the Guardians of the Shore… beyond being a machine that always makes the right decisions and maintains rationality, you are also a living person.”
“You will never walk alone…”
“So, leave no regrets, and do not let that little one be blinded by hatred.”
“Live on… hold on until the epic legend reaches its conclusion, and everything comes to an end.”
“And then, bid her farewell with your own lips.”
Rast leaned against the rock, silently listening to the old man’s discourse in the wind.
His right hand unconsciously touched his chest, feeling that heartbeat that had become solid and strong once more, and the warmth slowly spreading.
Including the centuries spent in the time loop of Deep Blue Harbor, this was the third time Rast experienced this inexplicable feeling.
The first time was in the hell of a day-long prison, in the depths of despair, when he reached that sunny little border town called Canaan for the first time, meeting Xiao Ai amidst the melodious sound of the flute.
The second time was at the finale of Deep Blue Harbor, in the tide about to be consumed by the Iron Cross, a young girl with chestnut hair, shining like a morning star—the sword-wielding girl named Hiltina.
And the third time was at this very moment.
Rast believed his spirit was strong enough, strong enough to have calculated everything, arranged everything… he never trusted people and didn’t need to rely on anyone; for hundreds of years, Rast had lived alone, long accustomed to this wolf-like mode of survival.
However, in Rast’s journey, there were always some people who unreasonably barged into his life.
Then, like a mother hen guarding her chicks, they took it upon themselves to protect him even when Rast thought he was already resilient enough and didn’t need anyone’s shelter.
That heart, which had wandered in the empty red wilderness for hundreds of years, long sealed away like a wooden fish, felt as though it had been struck hard…
Dust fell down, and a heart roared to life.
As if the bl**d vessels of this world reconnected with him, Rast once again felt the joys and sorrows of being alive… as if he was no longer that wandering soul that had emerged from the hell called Deep Blue Harbor, lost and roaming the world.
In the heart of that crimson wilderness, a bit of green was beginning to sprout…
Just like that overwhelming, indescribable warmth filling his heart.
“In the end, can you tell me about it?”
The sea breeze lifted Cecil’s white hair.
In that moment, his eyes seemed hazy, and although his face was so aged, filled with sharp, stone-like lines, his gaze appeared so warm.
“The future world, and future human civilization…”
“What have they become?”
………………………………..
PS: I overslept yesterday, attended classes all day, I’ll try to catch up later, and there will be one more update soon.
(End of this chapter)
