Chapter 670: A Murky Future |
This novel is translated and hosted on bcatranslation.
Shirley reclined comfortably on a windowsill inside the enchanting home of the Witch’s Mansion located at 99 Crown Street in Wind Harbor. She looked out the window, observing the familiar street scene. The city-state had grown noticeably quieter, a welcome change, though many locals still grappled with the aftereffects of strange dreams. The recent troubles in Wind Harbor were mild compared to those in Pland and Frost. To an outsider, it might seem like normal life had resumed.
Outside, the laughter of children, now free from a recent blockade, filled the air as they ran past, their colorful pinwheels catching the sunlight.
As midday approached, the remarkable sight of Vision 001 appeared in the sky, causing the striking blue rooftops across the street to shimmer in the sunlight. Occasionally, members of the truth guardians, recognizable in their distinctive uniforms, were seen observing from elevated positions, vigilant and watchful.
Suppressing a yawn, Shirley turned to Nina and asked slowly, “What have you been doing to be so absorbed since this morning?”
Sitting at a small table by the window, Nina was absorbed in a thick notebook filled with complex mechanical drawings, occasionally nibbling on a glowing object resembling a ‘fireball’. “I’m learning about some mechanical designs. I’m taking it to a custom workshop later today.”
Curious yet puzzled, Shirley examined the intricate gears and links in Nina’s notebook. “Didn’t the captain send a letter to Pland about you leaving school? Why continue studying if you’re not taking exams?”
Nina looked up seriously and explained, “I actually finished early. I completed all my high school courses while on the ship. Mr. Morris and Uncle think returning to regular school doesn’t make sense for me now. They arranged for this early graduation…”
Skeptical, Shirley inquired, “Is that even possible?”
However, Shirley was more intrigued by the ‘fireball’ Nina was casually consuming. After a moment’s hesitation, she asked, “You’ve been eating that all day… Does it actually taste good?”
Nina casually offered, “Want to try?”
Shirley quickly recoiled, exclaiming, “I’m not ready to die yet!”
Disappointed, Nina put the ‘sun’ away and said softly, “It’s actually not hot…” Adding sadly, “I wanted Miss Vanna to try it too, but she refused…”
In Shirley’s eyes, Nina eating a fireball was both fascinating and slightly alarming. Keeping her distance, she eyed the glowing orb with a mix of curiosity and skepticism. “Anyone sane would refuse that. It’s concerning that you can eat it,” she remarked cautiously. “Are you sure it’s safe? Did the captain approve?”
Nina nodded, “Yes, after confirming it’s safe for me, Mr. Morris even encouraged me to keep ‘experimenting’ and ‘observing’ it,” she explained. “He thinks my eating this sun might reveal how elements from the old world change and adapt. He believes it could even help us understand the underlying chaos of everything… I don’t understand all the details, but he and Uncle Duncan discussed it at length this morning…”
As she spoke, Nina took another small bite of the sun, “Their discussions are becoming more complex. Just this morning, after Uncle returned from the ship, they had another long talk. I overheard them planning to capture another Ender for research, considering where they might find one…”
Shirley’s attention drifted toward the living room.
There, Duncan and Morris were deeply engrossed in a serious conversation.
Nearby, Alice lay on the floor next to the coffee table, gripping a pencil and fervently sketching her “masterpiece” on a piece of paper.
Morris spoke intensely, occasionally playing with a delicate crystal prism in his hand. Sunlight streaming through the window hit the prism, scattering a spectrum of vibrant colors across the room. “We’ve never been closer to discovering the ‘truth’ about the origin of the world. The ‘collision’ we observed in the deepest memories of Atlantis seems to be the only event so far that can explain the Great Annihilation,” he stated earnestly.
Duncan nodded thoughtfully, his mind heavy with the implications. “The Great Annihilation triggered catastrophic chaos and conflict, deeply ingrained in the essence of all existence… The Third Long Night didn’t resolve these fundamental conflicts but merely postponed them. Now, it seems this ‘postponement’ has reached its limit. The ‘end’ appears inevitable.”
Morris’s voice carried a note of concern as he continued, “The critical question now is what will happen when the ‘end’ arrives and how the so-called ‘Fourth Long Night’ will unfold. Certainly, our current ‘Deep Sea Era’ will undergo significant changes during this time, and the city-states across the Boundless Seas… might vanish like in previous Long Nights.” He paused, then shook his head solemnly, “Or perhaps the outcome could be even more severe.”
Despite Morris’s bleak outlook, Duncan remained silent, preoccupied with a haunting vision he had seen in subspace.
He recalled ancient kings conducting a funeral around a pale, lifeless giant, a being that had perished in order to create this world.
If each “Long Night” corresponded to the end of an era, then what Duncan had glimpsed in the giant’s eye was a vision of such an end.
His thoughts lingered on the faint starlight and the deep, resonant sounds emanating from it.
After a long, reflective silence, Duncan finally spoke softly, “Perhaps, only the ‘Kings’ hold the answers to my questions.”
Morris looked up, slightly startled by Duncan’s remark. “What did you say?”
Duncan didn’t directly answer Morris’s question. Instead, after a moment of reflection, he changed the topic. “According to our latest intelligence, both the Annihilators and the Suntists are actively preparing for the impending doomsday they believe in. The phrase that keeps coming up among the cultists is ‘a new position’ – they aim to establish a foothold in the era that will follow the Deep Sea Age.”
Morris, taking this in, nodded in agreement. “This seems to resonate with the concept of ‘Abandoned Clans’ from the Third Long Night. From the evidence you’ve recently uncovered, it’s clear that not all ‘clans’ were able to coexist after the World’s Creation. Many were expelled from the sanctuaries during the Third Long Night, with the Black Sun possibly being just one example. It’s likely that numerous other abandoned clans vanished without a trace…”
Pausing, Morris sank into deep thought before continuing. “If we start with the premise that ‘the foundation of everything is rooted in conflict and destruction,’ and accept that ‘gods construct the next era upon the ashes of the world,’ then the Fourth Long Night could mark the creation of a new era on the remnants of the Deep Sea Age. The most likely outcome is…”
He hesitated, but Duncan articulated the unspoken conclusion, “The next era will offer a ‘sanctuary’ even more restricted, confined, and crowded than the Deep Sea Age, where even fewer races may survive.”
A brief silence filled the living room, only interrupted by the soft scraping of Alice’s pencil across her paper. The girl, oblivious to the complex discussions around her, continued with her artistic “creation” as enthusiastically as ever.
After a few moments, Morris carefully set the prism he had been holding onto the table.
“More ‘clans’ will be abandoned, with many achievements of civilization transformed into ‘blasphemous prototypes’ for the next era. They will be destroyed, banished, not allowed to exist in our reality, or even in historical records. Many elements we cherish now will be seen as pollutants and taboos in the future, similar to the discarded remains of the Black Sun from the previous age…”
Duncan gave a slight nod. “Thus, the cultists are preparing to secure a position, or at least a place that won’t be easily erased in a more confined ‘world.’ Their strategy includes stealing the power or relics of ancient gods, though it’s uncertain if this will be effective.”
“But what then? A Fifth Long Night, a Sixth? This cycle could continue, possibly even speeding up, until it reaches a breaking point. And throughout, the ‘sanctuary’ will become increasingly smaller, more oppressive…”
Morris’s voice faded, his speech outlining a grim and pessimistic view based on his conclusions.
Embers might be rekindled, but their resurgence has limits. The diminishing flame will inevitably have less and less room until there’s nothing left but ashes, leading everything into an eternal quiet in the cold.
In the coming era, the Boundless Seas might vanish. The last stronghold of civilization could shrink to a single city, then perhaps just a town, a neighborhood, a solitary house, or even just a small piece of rock floating in the void. The last trace of civilization’s confused consciousness, clinging to that rock, lost in memories of former grandeur, and dying in the final dimming dream of awareness.
That would mark the absolute end of everything.
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