Welcome to Rewind World Game-Chapter 1602: Finale · Guardian Shore Line · "OE: Perished by the Sea (17)
The deity with white hair and golden eyes spread its wings and stepped onto a desolate star—this was Alger’s resting place. There was no intelligent life here, only a group of cold machines.
"Clatter—!"
The deity shed all softness, fighting its way through, the sword’s edge like a cold star, tendrils like fireflies. When its Devouring Claw tore apart the mechanical remnants, amidst flying rivets and currents, its eyes of golden, icy flames remained cold.
The planet’s defensive barrier was nothing to its sword, thousands of mechanical men were futile, like mantises trying to stop a chariot, when Su Ming’an cleaved the planet’s core—a towering church’s door, a red-haired young man slowly turned around.
Beneath the heavenly light, a magnificent and holy rainbow halo shone through the window, like a bridge leading to Heaven.
"Swish—"
Snow-white tendrils spread in all directions like a beautiful white peacock, yet full of killing intent.
"Alger, I’ve come for your life."
The Sword of Yarman dragged on the ground, ringing all the way. The cross chain on the forehead did not shake, not a leaf touched the body.
"Did you kill Atlanda?" Alger looked at the approaching white-haired deity.
"Swish swish—" Only the sound of the sword tip dragging closer.
"I heard the judgment on Eni is going to be held soon," Alger said.
"Swish swish—" The pure white tendrils flowed on the ground, like crisscrossing streams.
"You’re really strong, Su Ming’an, all my defenses are like cutting cake in front of you, it seems you’ve burned yourself to the extreme... how much longer do you have to live? It used to be decades, now it’s probably..." Alger said.
"Swish—!"
The sword tip rested against Alger’s neck, the white deity’s eyes reflected no scenery.
If Shadow saw this sight, it would probably be ecstatic, for He had become a decisive deity.
Even though He had once fallen into the agony of death, He was now as pure as snow. Even though He had once feared the departure of old friends, His sword was not dull.
"You’re just a pawn," Su Ming’an said.
The Eighth Thrones didn’t care about Alger’s life or death; not being by his side all the time, allowed Su Ming’an to find an opportunity.
Alger, however, reached out, trying to place Su Ming’an’s palm on his chest.
With a "slash," the blade cut off his hand, the bloody hand fell to the ground, yet he laughed wildly:
"Those who hold firewood for others are destined to die in the cold of December!"
"Those who hold fire for others are destined to die when the firewood is exhausted!"
"Look, Su Ming’an, spring has arrived! The spring you promised has arrived! But why are you still in pain, still fighting!?"
Faced with the questioning, Su Ming’an remained silent, raised his hand, drew his sword.
Alger was not as calm as Atlanda when facing death, his eyes full of a desire to live, with a low roar, he turned into a Flame Giant, broke through the church, clapped his hands towards Su Ming’an.
The white deity raised its swan-like neck, wielded the sword single-handedly, the cross light of space and the devouring blood light simultaneously flashed across the tip, cleaving through the clear sky, tracing a glorious, sun-like "one" shape in the sword.
"Swish—!"
The Flame Giant melted like encountering the severe winter, the central body was pierced by a sword, split open, turning into Alger’s blood-stained body, he gasped, "thumped" to the ground, blood flowed all over.
Su Ming’an sidestepped the blood traces, moved his heels sideways.
A hand suddenly grasped his, it was Alger, devoid of any divine power fluctuations, grasping His hand before his oil dried out, pasting it to his chest.
"You heard..." Alger murmured:
"The same heartbeat sound as ours in our chests?"
"Slash!"
With one sword stroke, the church fell silent.
Everything returned to stillness.
Su Ming’an always discovered during the battle that Alger had intentions of protecting something; this person’s desires were heavy, selfish, and he betrayed his hometown for power, he must have obtained something valuable in betrayal.
Something that even in betrayal Alger protected must be something even High Dimensions desired.
Su Ming’an moved forward with his sword, thinking he would see some treasure, only to behold a crystal ice coffin.
Inside lay a sleeping maiden, her complexion rosy, skin full, countless daisies and baby’s breath adorned her surroundings, the arrangement was very meticulous. Her face resembled Alger about seventy percent, the gem in her arms preserved her corpse from decay, faintly showing signs of rebirth.
Su Ming’an saw the girl’s portrait on the adjacent painting, saw the meticulously trimmed sunflowers, saw the drooping crystal lamp, saw the gifts Alger had meticulously prepared one by one...
"This is what you fought to protect at all costs..."
This is who Alger betrayed his hometown to protect.
This is the direction Alger always protected during battle.
His sister.
To revive someone, could so many wrongs be done, even ignoring the entire world?
Su Ming’an placed his hand on the girl; she had already lost her soul, even with the Soul Ferry could not revive, Alger was merely daydreaming, trying to catch the moon in the water. The Eighth Thrones must have deceived Alger with "rebirth," yet Alger wasn’t a fool, he probably figured out rebirth was hopeless but still chose to act.
Chasing a phantom... a wrong obsession, a wrong life.
Humans always hurt themselves and others for things that cannot be.
Su Ming’an closed his eyes, turned, returned to the small world.
"Clang—!" Distant bells rang, it was Judgment Day.
Today was the trial regarding Eni’s attack on Yamada Machiichi.
Considering Eni was under the mental influence of the Eighth Thrones, not wholly active, the tribunal intended to overlook it, yet while taking Eni to the trial, someone screamed.
"Ah—!"
"Bang!"
A similar bullet, the same gunshot.
This time, Eni pointed the gun at himself, his bones bursting into streamers, his spine blossomed flowers.
Today was a beautiful day.
Su Ming’an raised his head, saw an all-encompassing, impurity-free blue, like the clearest seawater in the world.
A deep, full, vast blue, like a giant piece of colored glass, extending recklessly to the edge, beyond the uneven city outline, past the undulating distant mountains, disappearing beyond the horizon out of sight.
Standing under it, a sense of insignificance arose, yet strangely encompassed by this vastness, as if the soul also stretched and broke free from the shackles of the earthly world.
"Rustle—"
Flying birds surged, turned into white lines, swept across the boundless blue sky.
He walked from the White Jade Bricks towards the Judgment Tower, the sky was cloudless.
"Clang—" A bell rang.
Like a yellowing scroll unfolding before him.
Lu died in bravery.
The most unrestrained mafia died for guardianship and honor.
Shadow’s voice echoed in the ears:
...
"We did not choose to be born into this world, this body, this historical context, this cultural symbol system of our own volition."
...
"Clang—"
Yamada Machiichi died in courage.
The once timid student finally made up his mind to pull the train lever, which became his death warrant.
...
"We cannot ’choose’ not to become our starting point. This starting point, along with its physics laws, biological inheritance, historical accumulation, has woven a web of possibility that even a butterfly cannot break through."
...
"Clang—"
Eni died in arrogance.
If he didn’t have killing intent, he wouldn’t have been influenced by the Eighth Thrones to fire that shot.
But his killing intent was a collective cause of companions, relatives, interests, personal emotions... inevitable, indispensable.
...
"The changes we make by paddling hard only alter our instantaneous position in the river, yet can’t shake the predetermined flow direction and force that sweeps us along."
...
"Clang—!"
Eleven died in destiny.
Her life should have been long, with a boundless future, yet it ended due to an attack, like a destined termination. No resistance, no possibility of escape.
...
"Every moment is the future accumulated from past causality. Every decision is deeply rooted in causality — genetics, environment, education, unconscious impulses - that we cannot fully comprehend, and free will is just a lie."
...
"Clang——"
Atlanda died from indifference.
His omniscience of life and the future fostered this inherent indifference. When everything has been seen countless times, what joy in life remains?
...
"If ’my’ choice is merely a predetermined outcome in the vast web of causality; if ’freedom’ is only the consciousness’s affirmation and confirmation of inherent necessity."
...
"Clang——"
Luna died from time.
Thousands of flavors, countless joys and sorrows, all turned into things external, nothing retained.
...
"Then how is ’responsibility’ possible? How can ’meaning’ stand? How can ’self’ be established?"
...
"Clang——"
Alger died from greed.
For an illusory phantom, he abandoned the world, even forsaking himself.
He was unwilling to accept the future commanded by Su Ming’an, one without his dearest person.
...
"Thus, freedom itself is born amidst profound limitations."
"Human freedom, in the end, is merely... ’freedom within circumstance’."
...
Su Ming’an looked ahead.
He saw himself on a rock called necessity, holding a hammer and engraving knife, sculpting his own presence again and again.
Sculpting his eyes to be merciless, sculpting his lips to be steadfast, sculpting his cheeks to be sharp, sculpting his arms to endure countless wounds yet strong and powerful, offering his skin to the people, freezing his blood into ice.
Angels sang sad songs, the white sheep stood silently.
He ceased fighting against what could not be changed, instead gazing at it, understanding it, rushing towards it, folding his bones, burying them in flesh, embracing the heavy shackles.
Like Sisyphus of Camus, he recognized the inevitable downfall of the giant stone but still bestowed dignity upon the futile act of pushing the stone uphill.
He transformed himself into the deep and indispensable bass line within this symphony.
He became the freedom of the limited, dancing at the edge of destiny’s abyss.
He plunged forward, he leapt into the river.
...
Lü Shu opened his eyes to darkness.
He thought it was merely the adjustment after waking, yet after a moment, his vision remained dark, perceiving nothing.
"...Lü Shu." Someone grasped his hand.
"Su Ming’an." Lü Shu instinctively gripped, no need to see, he could perceive who it was.
"No need to be afraid." Su Ming’an seemed to smile: "There will be no more sorrowful events."
"Did you revive me?" Lü Shu clearly recalled the burning pain before his death, feeling his body being gnawed away by ants. He was surprised he could still perceive warmth.
"What price did you pay, you—" Lü Shu understood this was not simple.
Road cannot be revived, for existence itself was erased, although Lü Shu’s divinity remained, reviving him was still difficult. What did Su Ming’an do to bring him back?
He felt his eyes being closed, Su Ming’an seemingly not wanting him to continue witnessing the desolate void.
"Why can’t I see?" Lü Shu asked in confusion.
Those emerald eyes lost their luster, staring blankly in the direction of Su Ming’an.
His vision was taken in that battle, unable to return, even Su Ming’an was helpless.
Under the silent moonlight, Lü Shu felt the person cut through the moonlight, walking into the night.
"We cannot return home... can we?" The person did not answer, only softly asked.
Because the last time they returned, they were nearly annihilated.
Therefore, they could never return.
"..." Lü Shu felt the person’s fist tightly clenched, the evening wind brushed against his forehead.
"This place is home." Lü Shu stood, amidst the pitch-black view, stretching out his hands to feel his way forward:
"Wherever you are, that’s home."
Though he could not see, Lü Shu could sense where Su Ming’an stood.
"If we cannot go back, then let’s walk, if walking falls short, then let’s run, no matter how far, no matter how long it takes... I can catch up with the future and catch up with home." Lü Shu stumbled forward, holding onto tables, walls, lights.
He still had so much sharpness and brilliance to show the world, why could they not return home?
For a moment, Lü Shu pondered—
Gods and Buddhas ultimately do not ferry men.
"...If you don’t ferry them, then I will ferry you, we will ferry you." Lü Shu raised his head resolutely, attempting to hold onto something.
He spoke of Su Ming’an’s image in White Sand Paradise, spoke of him climbing Yun Shang City, injured yet still raising roses, spoke of his final climb under extreme cold to the Central High-rise, spoke of the wind at Qiongdi, spoke of the rain from The World of Old Days, spoke of Roseblood, spoke of spring, spoke of many birthdays far beyond twenty celebrated worldwide in the future.
Spoke of his fear of the idealist whose eyes had lost light, feared that the Savior had laid down the sword.
Do not forget home.
Suddenly, Lü Shu noticed Su Ming’an had not answered.
Unable to see, Lü Shu grew increasingly anxious, raising his voice to ask: "Su Ming’an—are you there?"
Answering him was a somewhat bewildered voice.
"Who am I?" Su Ming’an’s voice.
"Su Ming’an." Lü Shu said.
"Strange, I am... who?" Su Ming’an’s voice grew more bewildered.
At that moment, the sound of the world—the traffic outside the window, the neighbor’s laughter, the ticking of the clock on the wall—all sank into a thick, suffocating sea of silence.
A panic-stricken speculation took root and grew in Lü Shu’s heart, almost unbelievable. The weight of sorrow surpassed the limit tears could bear, accumulating heavily in his organs.
Lü Shu could not believe, knowing this was the late symptoms of Acto... beginning to forget.
He began to forget.
Was the previous attack exhausting him greatly? Was repeated shuttles through time consuming too much? Was the flesh experiment draining too much? Was pursuing enemies draining him excessively? Was reviving him exhausting too much?
Listing them all, there were too many things leaving him covered in scars.
The most painful—was that he too was a part of this layered harm, that he rooted and grew from Su Ming’an’s flesh and blood, an indirect executioner.
Bitter buds sprouted on his heart, swiftly growing into towering trees, the world faded into a grey and precarious silhouette, all sounds as if through thick frosted glass, distant and distorted.
Lü Shu gazed at the abyssal void of everything, powerless, could not rise from his knees, yet his eyes remained open, distinctly feeling the torture of this incendiary heart.
Su Ming’an looked at Lü Shu, those beautiful green eyes, once so warm and tepid as tea, now only held dim and hollow emptiness.
He thought after everything ended, he could hear laughter, hear gratitude, hear the cheers and screams of countless people, hear celebrations and spring winds. But ultimately, there remained only his heavy and urgent breathing, and the sound of waves gradually rising.
He almost used all his strength to swallow the sob choking in his throat.
He struggled to raise his hand to wipe away tears.
"Stop crying."
Those he saved continued to die.
Clear memories and names in his mind continued to fade.
Only the gingko outside the window remained unchanged, never following the flashy and altering currents.
Dazedly, it seemed he saw faces, beneath the fireworks, before cakes, under flowering trees, smiling, laughing, warm, pure, pretty, like spring, like ginkgo leaves, like Bai Xue...
——They all looked towards him.
...
The seawater finally submerged his neck.
...
"Lü Shu, who am I?"
"I am..."
"I am... Su Ming’an."
"I am..."
"Who."
...
