Welcome to Rewind World Game-Chapter 1397 - 48: Because It’s Happened More Than Once

Chapter 1397: Chapter 48: Because It’s Happened More Than Once

Behind them, there were some experimenters whose figures were unclear.

The most contact you had with them usually was secretly slipping your written stories through the crack of the door. When the stories were returned, they had encouraging words and little red flowers on them.

Therefore, you never knew—

"Bang! Bang!"

"Bang! Bang! Bang! Bang—!"

After a few gunshots rang out, the few figures falling like wheat, what kind of mood did they hold in their hearts at the last moment.

Why did they want to save you?

Why did they want to escort you to the vast golden plains?

Why did they risk their lives to send you out?

You know that you are not a genius. Apart from writing stories, you are incapable of anything else, unable to solve those headache-inducing math problems, you are a waste.

But now you can only run forward—run forward—the gunshots behind you don’t stop, you don’t stop running forward—

...

At this moment,

The inevitably doomed and decaying era took a big turn at this moment.

The world doomed to destruction by the Master of the End of All Things reversed its course at this moment, speeding in the opposite direction.

A few researchers who left no trace in history made an accidental act of kindness that changed the trajectory of the world’s destruction.

A young magpie that would in the future save the whole world began to fly high towards the sky.

...

"Bang! Bang! Bang!" Continuous gunshots rang out.

The guards in the laboratory were still chasing you.

Your physical strength waned, not daring to stop, you could only run forward with all your might. Your heart beat nervously, adrenaline surged, fear of death dominated your entire body.

Your arm was bleeding, but you covered the wound and kept running. Your feet were scraped by stones, but you continued to run on the bruised wounds. Dense pain spread throughout your body, each step felt like it was on a knife’s edge.

Run, run, run.

Stop for a moment, and you would be caught.

You ran until you were drenched in sweat, ran until you were exhausted, ran until your legs felt like they were filled with heavy lead, almost collapsing, your whole body in terrible pain, like a dying bird...

The gunshots behind finally stopped.

You stealthily glanced back, the guards chasing you were finally left behind by you, even the pale and heavy Experimental City was no longer visible. You had gained freedom.

The relief of surviving filled your entire body, the muscle soreness exploded instantly, and the pain obscured by adrenaline made you collapse to the ground, covered in blood red. You were almost suffocated by the intense pain.

Where should I go?

Where can I go?

You don’t have the ability to survive in the wild, your body covered with wounds that could become infected at any time, you’ve lost too much blood, you’re hungry and thirsty, your body on the brink of collapse. Even at the mere age of seven, rationality tells you—

You can’t survive.

Death is very close to you, seeing the speed of your body’s deterioration, it will only take a few minutes before you die.

This moment, you silently lie down, on the blood-stained grass, like a young beast waiting for death.

Wait for death.

You have no other choice.

But before dying, you want to see your death location clearly, whether it is beautiful enough.

You wipe the blood off your face, breathing ever weaker, inadvertently lifting your head—

"——!"

You witnessed the most magnificent scene you have seen in your life.

A deep red fell into your golden eyes.

Cooking smoke painted the sunset red. The sky was drawn with bright red, watery red, rose red, crimson thin clouds by the setting sun, the purplish-red gleaming twilight monopolized the world border. The glistening red fluid covered the wheat field, burning intensely amidst the magnificent red.

In an instant, the dusk and vigor of the whole world rushed towards you.

——It was a grand dusk.

The vast and boundless golden wheat waves danced in the gelatinous Tyndall effect. The wind rolled the golden waves, the storm tore the wheat apart, yet the wheat waves burst forth more brilliant than death and destiny.

Crimson light surrounded your pupils, giving you the illusion that you were burning together.

The sky was vast, yet you never feared your smallness.

——To what extent does a person need to excel to stop pushing Sisyphus’s rock?

——If living is a form of punishment, humans constantly endure the void, suffering the worst like Sisyphus, what should we do?

"...No." You stared at the vast and magnificent golden wheat waves, slightly uttered a word.

The sense of dignity allows one to bring a unique splendor and resistance even in absurd actions, distinct from the gods.

The Gods wish for Sisyphus to fall into eternal despondency, but he simply refuses. He transcends himself and achieves spiritual eternity in the endless absurdity.

You don’t want to die, you want to live.

You want to live.

Even as a mediocrity, you want to live. As a Sisyphus who never fell into the "void ordained by the gods."

——This vast ocean-like golden wheat wave is just the beginning, you want to fly towards the higher and farther sky.

...

[At this moment "you" remembered, at seven years old you once experienced a similar scenario.]

[In the dead of winter, Lin Wang’an was displeased with your music, at the moment the wooden stick fell, you pushed the door open and dashed into the cold winter.]

[The sky was dark, peers were having a New Year’s Eve dinner at home, only you were running in the street, like a ghost without parents.]

[You didn’t know where you could go, nor what you should do. You just wandered aimlessly until you stepped into emptiness.]

[At the moment of slipping into the puddle, you truly thought you were going to die.]

[The icy sting spread throughout your body, cold water over your mouth and nose, causing near suffocation.]

[Next might be the heroic scene, or perhaps a transforming pretty girl reaching out a helping hand, or maybe Lin Wang’an anxiously rushing out of the house to find you...]

[However, there was none.]

[No one ever rescued you.]

[From four to nineteen, no one ever saved you.]

[That night, you erupted with unparalleled survival desire, forcefully grasping the steel bar protruding from the pool’s edge to maintain respiratory. The water rushed repeatedly, twice, thrice, four times...in the below-freezing water temperature, you maintained consciousness through will, until groping the second steel bar, scrambling out of the pool.]

[At that moment, lying on the ground, you looked at your bleeding hand scratched by steel, chest scorchingly hot, repeatedly telling yourself.]

[——I want to live.]

[I’m acutely aware of my insignificance and limitations, also aware of my mediocrity and ineptitude.]

[Even if I am a mediocre person, even if I am a mediocre person who disappoints my mom... I must live on.]

[——I’ve always longed to live on.]

...

"Mom, why does Sisyphus push the stone up, knowing it will fall down again and again? He repeats this task every time, what’s the point?"

Every night before bed, four-year-old Su Ming’an loves listening to Lin Wang’an tell stories. He looks up, tugging at the turquoise green cheongsam of his mother, like a little bean sprout.

Mom is dressed in a new-style cheongsam, with tight stitches and well-cut material, her figure is slender. She wears ruby stud earrings, her skin is smooth and fair, but the most beautiful part is her fingers, like white jade, clearly hands that have never done any work.

"It’s the sense of human dignity." Mom replied: "Human dignity can make action, even the most absurd actions, bring a distinct brilliance and defiance different from the gods. The gods want Sisyphus to sink into eternal despair, but he refuses."

"But isn’t that self-deception? He can’t threaten the gods, and the stone is meaningless." Su Ming’an held his head high.

"In reality, we are far less than Sisyphus." Mom said: "At least Sisyphus has the ’gods’ as targets for revenge, the ’stone’ for effort’s meaning. In our reality—there’s no tangible metaphor, no specific significance for any given era, just bland life, pushing the stone up the hill is impossible for us."

"’On the road’ and ’process’ are already everything, as life inherently moves towards death, the vastness of the universe relative to human shortness means one will never see the moment the stone reaches the top, so humans use absurdity to counter absurdity, use boredom to mock boredom, use repetition to encompass repetition."

After hearing this, Su Ming’an said: "So, Sisyphus did what every one of us has always been doing—seeking meaning in meaningless life, concocting non-existent happiness, naming it happiness."

"But that’s not happiness."

"So will you push the stone?" Mom laughed.

"No." Su Ming’an laughed: "Mom, I was born at the mountain top."

——I was born at the mountain top.

...

The accumulation of red on the wasteland flows towards you, you raise your head.

"Thud!"

A stone at your feet is kicked down the slope by you.

You slowly prop up your bloodied body, with purple hair trailing down.

You stand on the slope, watching the stone roll down.

Under the vast sunset, your figure is so small, dusk freezes your blood.

"...I won’t push the giant stone." You say softly:

"I don’t have to invent a non-existent ’giant stone’ to escape the void. Because it’s already in me."

"The gods want Sisyphus to fall into the void, to find no happiness. But if, for me, the definition of happiness is simply ’once existed’, then what?"

"I was born at the mountain top, if I were to push the stone, it would be from high to low."

You sit on the ground, your breathing growing weaker, the blood flows more.

The residual gunshot wounds from escaping the laboratory cause sharp pain... You clearly feel life force slipping away, you are about to die...

At this moment, you hear footsteps.

A figure stands before you, casting a shadow.

"Hmm?" That person said: "Child, at such a young age, both life and death desire are so intense."

That person squats down, with a gentle swipe of their hand, all your wounds disappear.

You open your eyes in surprise, this person miraculously healed all your injuries instantly.

"Who are you?" You ask.

In the sea of golden wheat, that person turns their head, revealing a gentle face, with white hair cascading down, rabbit ears on top of their head: "I am called Boss Rabbit. Here to inspect Luowasha."

"Inspect?" You ask in surprise: "Inspect the whole world? Are you the god from legend?"

This person can heal you instantly, should be a deity. You’ve heard there are more than twenty gods in Luowasha. Is this Boss Rabbit one of them?

"No." Boss Rabbit smiled with squinting eyes: "I’m a bit higher than the gods, not belonging to your world. You can regard me as... an outsider. I belong to a game system called the World Game. In the future, your world will serve as the final venue for the World Game."

"...?" These terms are so alien, you cannot comprehend.

...

[But ’you’ understood.]

[Boss Rabbit already knew Luowasha is the final venue for the World Game, even personally inspecting it.]

...

"So." Boss Rabbit squats down, pats your shoulder: "Little Sique, you mustn’t die. Before the person I await appears. You must diligently maintain the main storyline of Luowasha until the ’Brave’ appears."

You say: "Regardless of who you are waiting for, I am just a mediocre person. Luowasha’s main storyline is not maintained by me but by generations of great scientists."

Boss Rabbit, however, laughed: "No, you will be the protagonist when you grow up."

You shake your head: "You think too much, other than writing stories, I can do nothing."

Boss Rabbit says: "...Luowasha in the future will need talents like you!"

You are puzzled.

"How do you know what Luowasha will be like in the future? Are you able to prophesy?" You say.

"Because." Boss Rabbit’s voice suddenly becomes mechanical and formulated:

"Be·cause·it’s·not·the·first·time."

Boss Rabbit quickly leaves, other than casually saving you, he did nothing more.

Later, you experience twists and turns, arriving at a village full of golden wheat, enjoying the mundane happiness as a mediocre person, writing playful little stories.

Until... you wrote a floating strawberry crisp.

In the Second Epoch year 150, the Creation System appeared. Science could no longer accurately calculate numbers.

Numerous scientists drunk, laughed, carrying formulas and papers, jumped off tall buildings.

...

["Sique Cultivation Plan"]

[Time: Second Epoch year 150]

[Age: 14 years]

...

You start having frequent dreams.

In the dream, you see a giant tree, black water flows everywhere, under the tree sits a youth with white hair placing sugar cubes in a teacup.

You don’t know who he is, but he always seems like a guide, answering many of your questions, calling you "Mr. Magpie."

Since childhood, you’ve been confined in a laboratory, lacking common knowledge. He tells you about many distant things, narrating the prosperity and fate of civilization, describing the sceneries of various Otherworlds. Though you still don’t understand why he appears in your dreams, you already regard him as your guide, your beacon.

He always accompanies your growth, telling you one story after another.

"What should I call you?" You say.

He deliberates for a long time before giving you an answer:

"Just call me... Mr. Lighthouse."