Apocalypse Forecast-Chapter 628 - 523 Staring_1

They were waiting for dusk.

In silence, the three people in the locomotive cabin looked at each other, frowning.

Huai Shi poked his head out. Through the window, he could see the decrepit scene of the deserted station and the sunlight falling through the cracks in the canopy.

It was unclear whether the sunlight here was a natural phenomenon, a reflection of the Current Circumstances in the Abyss, or some terrifying miracle or Disaster. But generally, this should be the time when the midday sun is at its most intense. If there really is a day-night cycle here, dusk is probably still a long time off. But the question is—why wait for dusk? And why is there no one in this well-constructed station?

After a long contemplation, Andrea suddenly asked, "Do we have any signal response?"

"Too much noise. The Source Substance signal here decays too quickly; normal communication methods are useless. Plus, the branch has been silent for a long time. It might not respond to us," Raymond said. "All we can do is wait."

In other words, after leaving the Ivory Tower, this support team had arrived in Hell but had bizarrely lost contact with the branch codenamed Iron Crystal Throne. It was like going on a long trip, arriving to find the gates firmly shut, unable to enter the guest house even with an introduction letter, unable to contact anyone even when trying to make a call. One could only feel the strange gazes around them on the empty street, and then realize they knew nothing about the local area.

"Is it possible that something has gone wrong with the Iron Crystal Throne?" Huai Shi asked. He estimated the level of dust accumulation and decay outside the window. It looks like it’s been unattended for at least a month or two. He became cautious.

Worst-case scenario, the Iron Crystal Throne might have been fine when they left, but by the time they arrived, it was gone... But the school wouldn’t let them continue to leap into this pit if something so major had happened. Even if Luo Su was insane enough to want to arrange a death for me, he wouldn’t have burdened himself with so many people as collateral. Rather than that, I’d prefer to believe we encountered an unknown current as we descended and accidentally jumped years ahead in time. In Hell, anything possible and impossible can happen. It’s just a matter of probability.

After silently recalling the Abyss survival guide Lucian had given him, Huai Shi was still at a loss. In many cases, having numerous ways to cope is actually useless; faced with the Current Circumstances, one must make decisions. Otherwise, one can only mark time, waiting to die. What if we just wait here, and some mighty kun descends from the sky, opens its mouth, and gnaws the station away? That would still be the most relaxed way to die. In an unfamiliar Hell full of unknowns, nobody knows if their actions will invite deeper calamities. Sometimes one can only choose the lesser of two evils; when about to die of thirst, drink as little poisoned wine as possible.

"Seal the carriage, set up the Aerial Armor, and prioritize maintaining the Depth Balance Instrument’s operation." Team leader Andrea lifted her head, making the first decision. "Raymond, I remember you brought your car with us?"

"Support vehicles, man. Even Hell needs drivers," Raymond extinguished his cigarette and said. "Should the students all get on? The instruments are crammed inside; it’ll be a bit tight."

"It’s more spacious than a coffin, that’s enough. Don’t worry about it; that’s the plan," Andrea said. "If they stay outside, any help they could provide at a critical moment might not outweigh the chaos they could cause."

"Should we wait?" Huai Shi asked, taking one last look at the stone stele. "Could this be a trick of the Ivy League? Or did we... go to the wrong place?"

"Abyss diving requires the dual guidance and identification of the Current Circumstances’ Lighthouse and the destination beacon," Andrea explained. "The Ivy League might be able to interfere with the operation of the Lighthouse, but they wouldn’t dare take any action at such a critical location unless they’re prepared to be blacklisted by the Astronomical Society. Besides, with their technical capability, trying to crack and imitate the Ivory Tower’s beacon... they’re 300 years too early for that."

Andrea took one last look at the stone stele and assured him, "There is no doubt about the Great Grandmaster’s handwriting on the stele. If it weren’t for him, that stele and the surrounding signs wouldn’t have survived. There’s no need to worry about authenticity.

"Before we entered Hell, we had already sent an arrival signal from the outside. As volunteers who are unaware of the specific situation, it’s better to follow the Great Grandmaster’s instructions."

The Great Grandmaster: the highest honor issued by the Stone Pot Society upon reaching the pinnacle of Alchemy.

However, generally speaking, after reaching such a Rank, whether one would even acknowledge the Stone Pot Society was another matter entirely, much like how Creators never cared for awards that would make Scholars’ eyes red with envy. No one at that level cared about such insignificant praise.

Of the only eleven Great Grandmasters currently alive, just one resided in the Ivory Tower: Mikhail Ivanovich Zyaytsev. He was the master forger who, thirty-one years ago, led the construction of the world’s largest Border Jail’s Furnace. He was the highest authority in this Hell district, the direct controller and builder of the Iron Crystal Throne.

The catalog of Border Relics contained over four hundred alchemical formulas derived from his theories and inspiration. All contemporary Source Studies research could not bypass his "Crystalline Material Melting Compendium"—a work that was merely a draft he had casually written at twenty-nine while waiting for his then-wife to finish her makeup.

My own Alchemy skills haven’t even scratched the surface of the research field he was in forty years ago, Huai Shi thought.

If such a titan told them to wait here, then wait they must, even if heaven and earth were to shatter.

Despite the strange and complicated situation, Huai Shi still breathed a sigh of relief upon hearing Andrea mention the Great Grandmaster’s name. It’s as if we’ve found a walkthrough for a horror game with an almost certain-death outcome: Do not leave the vehicle. Lower the curtains. Maintain indoor temperature. Keep the lights on. And then... wait for dusk.

Soon, with a deep rumble, layers of armor emerged from the train’s body, overlapping and expanding until the entire train was encased like an iron turtle. The long train contracted by almost a third of its length.

All the students followed instructions and headed to the cargo hold, entering Raymond’s car. The armor isolated the interior from the exterior, Raymond’s truck added another layer of protection, and the Depth Balance Instrument maintained the internal depth, resisting the Abyss’s erosion.

Under this triple-fold protection, as long as the three leaders—Huai Shi included—didn’t perish, the students were absolutely safe.

What followed was a patient wait.

They sat before the surveillance monitors, staring at the dilapidated station outside. Despite the Great Grandmaster’s hints, a heavy sense of dread settled over them, and they dared not relax in the slightest, let alone chat. 𝗳𝐫𝚎𝗲𝚠𝚎𝗯𝕟𝐨𝘃𝚎𝗹.𝗰𝗼𝗺

But the longer they waited, the more Huai Shi felt... something was off.

Time. He lowered his head and pulled out his phone to check. If he remembered correctly, five hours had passed since their arrival. Yet the sunlight outside showed no change whatsoever, not even the slightest hint of fading.

He paused, a shocking realization dawning on him: The day-night cycle here is definitely problematic... The regular twenty-four-hour system most likely doesn’t apply. Polar days and polar nights are quite possible—days lasting three to four months, nights stretching for half a year, while dusk is afforded only a few short days.

Just as he was about to speak, his body suddenly stiffened, as if he had fallen into an ice cellar. He was unable to move, a surging Death Perception rising up his spine, freezing him.

On the monitor directly opposite him, a bland face had appeared at some unknown time. It looked like the swollen face of a drowned person, devoid of features or expression. Only an abnormally large right eye occupied a third of its face. Droplets of water trickled down from hair plastered to its forehead.

It was as if it could see Huai Shi behind the monitor, staring directly through the camera and screen. Its lackluster pupil gradually began to reflect Huai Shi’s face.

It sees me.

In the silence, Huai Shi returned its gaze with equal calmness.

In his hands, sharp crystalline steel rapidly proliferated, grinding against itself, sparking and emitting a low, piercing sound that was almost a roar.

Under the gaze of that single eye, Huai Shi held his sword, motionless, yet the muscles beneath his skin rippled subtly like water, as though bowstrings were being wound tighter.

An itching, splitting pain emerged on his face as the eye watched him. His skin began to peel away inch by inch, and the muscles beneath seemed to come alive, detaching from tendons, undulating slowly, brushing against his cheeks. The cold crept closer, inch by inch.

Huai Shi held his breath. Veins bulged on his sword-holding hand.

Amidst the deathly silence, his eyes did not blink. The Sword of Virtue roared in fury, but it could not stop the ashen color from spreading across Huai Shi’s skin. A wave of icy coldness surged from his chest, as if he had been thrown into a frozen river; thick liquid mixed with shattered ice and blood began to flow from his nose and mouth.

On the screen, the lifeless face slowly lifted, its mouth corners gradually forming a stiff arc, as if it were smiling.

It was at that instant that a blazing light leaped out of nowhere from the narrow cockpit, as if the sun had suddenly descended upon the place.

Huai Shi exploded into action, stepping forward.

Inside his emaciated frame, the dormant Soloist’s Stigma trembled violently, unfolding a Disaster Miracle from the Abyss amidst the roaring flow of Source Substance. After a prolonged buildup, the sword thundered as it vibrated, and an unbearable brilliance erupted from its sharp Sword Blade.

The dead silence was shattered by this soul-shaking, deep note.

Through the transcription of the Performance Method, the overture to the "Fifth Symphony" began—like a knock on the door suddenly resounding through the vast, long night.

It was Fate. Fate knocking at the door.

As Huai Shi’s arm swept out, the voice of Fate erupted.

A brilliant flash, gone in an instant!