Welcome to Rewind World Game-Chapter 1541: Finale · Voyage Across the Sea [31] · “Where Is the End?”
Noel spoke:
"You still think ’perfection’ is better, don’t you?"
As it was Noel’s memory, Su Ming’an couldn’t see his pair of blue eyes, only catching a glimpse of Noel’s slightly moving lips from the corner of his eye.
"Yes." Qin Si looked at Noel and said.
"It’s okay, you pursue yours, and I’ll pursue mine... Maybe, there’s a possibility that we both achieve our desires." Noel withdrew his gaze from the air and shrugged at Qin Si.
"How do you know this information? Even if you overturned Luowasha, you couldn’t know." Qin Si asked.
"The Master of the End of All Things." Noel said.
Noel had more information than Su Ming’an, which was related to their respective roles. As the Number One Player, Su Ming’an couldn’t ally with the Master of the End of All Things to obtain information, but Noel was different. Noel had more freedom of action and didn’t bear the heavy responsibility of "leading everyone alive"; he could boldly lean towards the villain.
So,
"So, Noel, you are unwilling to accept the formation of the ’Book of the Universe,’ you don’t want to be bound by ’perfection,’ and you choose the side of the Master of the End of All Things, believing He can help you change everything, right?" thought Su Ming’an.
— But you died, Noel.
What does it mean if you’re dead, what can death change?
Or do you think death isn’t the end, isn’t the conclusion?
Is that mysterious Manzusha Flower proof that you believe ’death isn’t the end’?
...
Su Ming’an opened his eyes.
Memories were read completely, Noel’s body was assimilated into his own through the "Devour" Authority, white light swept up his sleeves, his clothes’ hem, and his silvery long hair.
Snow drifted into the tree, brushing past his furrowed brows and eyes.
"Su Ming’an, let’s go, catch up to the small world." Lü Shu looked towards the distant sky.
"...Mm, let’s go." Su Ming’an replied.
Lü Shu released his fist, feeling a relief as if the dust had settled... Finally, it was over, all suffering stopped here.
Everyone left, leaving only an empty Luowasha, the white snow of the Master of the End of All Things—destroying this place would be meaningless; the last instance was cleared, their mission accomplished.
Yet, Lü Shu still felt a strong sense of disbelief, like just finishing a long marathon, still in extreme fatigue, unable to snap back, as if they had awakened from a dream they thought would never end.
After the initial confusion and bewilderment, besides the pain for Noel, came a strong sense of relief.
"Su Ming’an, catching up to the small world isn’t easy; we need to heal, and we have to guard against other enemies’ opportunistic strikes, so we can’t catch up in the short term." Lü Shu turned back, smiling:
"But the good thing is, by the time we catch up to the small world, the situation there would have stabilized. Yamada Machiichi and the others would surely handle everything; all you need is just rest. Everything has ended..."
"We can go travel, though it’s not the scenery of the original Zhai Xing, it looks similar, and we’ll find the original position of Zhai Xing sooner or later. You can go back to being a university student under a hidden identity. After all, the tasks are delegated to Yamada Machiichi and his group; you can rest well..."
Lü Shu witnessed Su Ming’an’s pain, perhaps more than anyone.
Although he thought, if the price for ending the World Game was unacceptable, it might as well never end, he still hoped more for Su Ming’an’s dreams to be realized. Fortunately, the result now was quite satisfactory; bright days lay ahead.
Su Ming’an would certainly like such a new world.
Yet Lü Shu took a few steps outside and realized Su Ming’an hadn’t followed.
Su Ming’an remained where he was, not moving forward, his back intertwined with the branches of the World Tree, his long hair all dyed white, standing silently, like a solitary maple tree.
"You..." Lü Shu’s lips moved. Why not follow, why stand still, when happiness was so near?
He looked, feeling a strange sense, as if the person standing under the tree had silently become a statue of purity.
His heartbeat began to race, his palms started to feel numb—he actually realized, he had long realized, but his brain had deceived his thoughts, making him not think deeply about a single thing, thinking that as long as it wasn’t mentioned, it wouldn’t happen.
—And the white-haired, red-eyed youth descended at this moment.
The scarlet balance clicked, surrounded by candle-like crimson, thunk, thunk, like the sound of blood flowing, like the sound of a heart beating. Ruby-like eyes looked at Su Ming’an under the World Tree, as Boss Rabbit raised a finger to their lower lip, their voice indifferent:
"According to the first wager—if [Zhai Xing finally falls], Su Ming’an wins, and the organizers must spare Zhai Xing. If [Zhai Xing finally doesn’t fall], Su Ming’an loses, and the organizers take him."
"The wager result is determined: The organizers take Su Ming’an."
"According to the second wager—if [Su Ming’an fails to clear the Luowasha instance], Su Ming’an will be taken by the World Game."
"The wager result is determined: Su Ming’an is taken by the World Game."
"Settlement complete."
Su Ming’an listened calmly, his body stained with Noel’s blood.
—He did not go with everyone to the small world, having stayed here, so he was not released from the scope of the World Game. Thus, the wager came into effect.
The moment he chose to stay here, he knew the World Game would come for him.
"No, before, Su Ming’an had cleared a TE called The Last Supper, he told us about it, where he even returned to the Main God World. How do you count Su Ming’an’s failed clearance of the Luowasha instance?" Lü Shu immediately retorted.
Boss Rabbit said indifferently, "That’s fake."
Before Lü Shu could speak, Boss Rabbit continued, "To want a perfect ending, everything must be perfect. Did you perfect the Luowasha instance?"
"So, what," Su Ming’an’s low voice came:
"what counts as ’perfect’?"
Boss Rabbit cast a gaze, seeing the crystalline figure under the tree.
Su Ming’an looked up at it.
In such a conclusion where most people survived, it didn’t count as ’perfect?’ Is resolving all truths needed to be ’perfect’?
The World Game’s criteria for judging a civilization’s worthiness for survival is whether this civilization is interesting enough, so whether there’s a "Perfect Pass" or not, depends on whether what the players uncover is interesting.
Whether it’s visually appealing, entertaining, shocking... this is the standard for ’perfection.’ As if a civilization’s tragic epic is placed on a movie screen for amusement and critique, interesting ones survive, uninteresting ones are destroyed.
Like Sique Olivius once inquired in confusion, if a person must experience tragedy to shine, then must they endure tragedy?
If a world must go through the nightingale’s bloody lament, the pioneer’s demise, and heroic epics to be ’interesting’ enough, then must it endure such pain and sacrifice?
What Noel Agnini opposed was precisely this life/world/universe graded by ’appeal,’ ’interest,’ and ’high ratings.’
The scarlet wax came, like blood constantly flowing, a large blood-red hand reached out, touching Su Ming’an’s white hair.
Due to the obsession with "Full Perfect Clear" and the almost enchanted pursuit, from beginning to end, he was the person the most driven by ’perfection;’ he would even be moved by others’ "Perfect Pass" markings on their hands, naming hope as a "Lighthouse." However, at the moment approaching the end, he no longer concealed his confusion.
"Lighthouse" was a disguise, he had always known, he had always been hypnotizing himself, deceiving himself.
It was just for "Zhai Xing," using "Lighthouse" as a pretense, manipulating people to self-identify with "Lighthouse Theory."
What he truly wanted was the ship illuminated under the light, not the light itself.
He placed his left palm over his right, covering his hands as if the "Perfect Pass" mark, like a white flower, was hidden. After a silent moment, when his hand was moved away again, blood covered his hand’s back, the white mark seeped through the ruptured flesh.
—Under long-term self-hypnosis, being controlled by obsession is dangerous; he severed his obsession by hands, making his own hand messy with torn flesh.
Even though those marks remained indelibly engraved, all he could see were the bloody scars.
People were safe; he no longer played the "Lighthouse."
"Boom—!"
Lü Shu drew his sword.
He tried to sever the blood-red hands but couldn’t cut through the power of the World Game’s rules.
Was there any way to avoid the wager, any way... he gritted his teeth.
It shouldn’t end like this; something had deviated.
Just watching Su Ming’an leave like this, it wasn’t right. Noel’s death was too easy, the conclusion too sudden, giving him a strong sense of unreality, as if... a melody suddenly stopped.
Sique... Starfire... Su Liujin... Eleventh Thrones... who can change this ending, who, who...
"—Ha, hahahaha! Hahaha!!!"
Suddenly, a burst of laughter.
A shrill, wild, noisy laughter.
"Ahaha, haha—!!!"
"Hahaha, hahahaha!!!"
Deafening, intense, sharp.
The familiar seven-colored stream flows, gradually forming a twisted semi-liquid. The person wearing a clown mask laughs back and forth, and as soon as he appears, a blood-red hand suspends immediately.
"Kasadia, taking him away is a judgment of the rules," the Boss Rabbit said lightly. "Protecting him, do you want to be erased by the rules?"
The newcomer is none other than the long-missing Eleventh Thrones, Shitposter Demon Kasadia. The demon hovers in the air, continuously flowing with seven-colored paint, laughing:
"If I remember correctly, it was at the end of the World Game that these bets were judged."
"But—if I say, the World Game isn’t over yet?"
His words are very strange. The players have all run, the Luowasha people have also fled, so why doesn’t the eleventh instance count as over?
"An instance is over only when the big boss is defeated. Now the big boss isn’t dead, how can it count as over!?" The Shitposter Demon laughs loudly, the sharp and high voice cutting through the mask: "I apply—World Game! You, give me a judgment, judge the survival of the big boss!"
The Boss Rabbit’s eyes flicker.
Bai Xue seems to hover at this moment.
Lü Shu grips the knife tightly.
The swaying branches freeze for a moment.
In the next moment—
The World Tree branches behind Su Ming’an suddenly turn blood red.
This isn’t a simple change of color; the branches pierced through Su Ming’an’s chest in an instant.
"Cough...!"
Several branches drenched in fresh blood protrude from Su Ming’an’s chest, almost lifting him up.
If he hadn’t already dissolved the "Symbiosis" skill between the World Tree and Lü Shu and the Cloud City God, these branches might have pierced through them too.
From within the World Tree comes a childish voice: "He hasn’t returned to the Main God World yet, and the settlement hasn’t popped up, but a new boss has appeared. The Luowasha instance isn’t over, so—the World Game isn’t over, you can’t take Su Ming’an yet."
This voice is the consciousness of the World Tree, the consciousness of the Savior who willingly became the tree.
At this moment, Su Ming’an’s head aches, and he suddenly hears an illusion:
...
["As the World Master, I wish this planet, this world, to find happiness."]
["After long observation and slumber, the plan I thought out with a success rate of 99.999% to make this planet happy is,"]
["—the extinction of humanity."]
["Let the humans who have always been causing pollution and slaughter for millions of years die, turn into fertilizer and return the energy, then this scarred planet can regain health."]
["Humans are harmful."]
["The above is an answer to your question."]
["May this planet obtain happiness."]
...
...when were these words spoken?
Why would these words ring in his mind? If these words were said by the World Tree, it indeed has a reason to become the boss.
"Does dragging this out help?" the Boss Rabbit said lightly. "Since it’s the boss, if one side loses or lacks fighting spirit, it will still end; it’s just a little delay. You’re just a tree; you can’t take him away."
But, there’s still one way to break this; Su Ming’an could directly perform a Death Rebound. But he didn’t. Because in doing this again, the situation won’t change; he needs enough information or things to change the situation.
Su Ming’an grabbed the branch with one hand on his chest, activating the "Devour" Authority, and a scarlet mouth opened in his palm, dissolving the branch as if digesting it.
He gasped a breath, his complexion improved for a moment, and decisively turned around.
—World Tree, your consciousness finally awakened, let me see who you truly are.
"Swoosh!" With one hand, he shoots back Puppet Threads, instantly binding the World Tree’s trunk, and pulls back swiftly!
His body bends like a water pipe, forming a crescent shape; he flips about using the branches on his back, stomping hard onto the trunk’s surface.
The left hand reaches forward with the Devouring Claw, sending a sound of tearing that makes one’s head tingle, breaking through layers of the trunk.
"Swoosh!"
The trunk opens with a burst, revealing light.
Inside the World Tree, there is a figure, the embodiment of the World Tree’s consciousness.
In the past, because of the World Tree consciousness being muddled, this person’s appearance couldn’t be seen, only the roots dark as night. But now, as the consciousness awakens, this person becomes distinct.
—And Su Ming’an unmistakably sees this person’s appearance.
Long black hair, slightly round dark eyes, not too sharp nose, and slightly upturned lips.
"You..."
There’s a high probability that Su Ming’an expected to see an unfamiliar face, as this savior who became the World Tree belonged to a very early period in the history of Luowasha, during which Su Ming’an hadn’t yet arrived at Luowasha, he couldn’t possibly know them.
There’s a small probability he’d see a familiar face, like a Su Ming’an bot deployed by the Dawn System, or the Cloud City God hiding their history of becoming the World Tree. These possibilities are absurd, almost impossible.
But there’s one absolute zero possibility that he has seen.
Someone who absolutely couldn’t be the World Tree.
"Su..." Su Ming’an, clutching the branches, looks at the figure within the layered leaf shadows.
—The girl calmly looks at him.
Time seems to reverse.
Space seems to intertwine.
They gaze at each other through the layered branches, through the floating joss paper scent, through the suspended air and solidified time.
A few strands of black hair lift, brushing against Su Ming’an’s pale hair tips.
The girl’s form drifts forward, her whole body tangled with extremely heavy branches, countless branches tightly restraining her within the trunk, like a spider’s cocoon. She stretches out arms pulling countless blue threads, her hands cupping Su Ming’an’s blood-stained face, bringing their distance to less than ten centimeters.
Through the trunk’s opening, she holds Su Ming’an’s face, like a fool inside a cave, gazing at the sage returning from beyond.
Excitement, complexity, joy, anticipation, pain, struggle, hesitation, sadness... too many indescribable emotions slide through those eyes filled with a lifetime of experiences, like leaf after leaf drifting over the ocean-riding snow-white skiff, like flocks of wild geese slicing through the waves.
"I... have waited for a long time." She hoarsely whispers, a smile hanging on her face, bitter as music.
Her hands gently tremble, Su Ming’an’s blood drops fall between her already treelike fingers, drop by drop into the abyss-like tree hole opening.
Only the breath is silent.
Only the fingertips are scorching.
...
"—Father God."
...
Only one person would call him this.
Only one person would gaze at him like this.
This person has no reason to be the World Tree.
...
[It was the spring of hope, it was the winter of despair;]
[We were all going direct to Paradise, we were all going the opposite way—In short, that period resembled the present very much, the loudest authorities insisted on its being received, for good or for evil, in the superlative degree of comparison only.]
[It was the best of times, it was the worst of times.]
[—Charles Dickens "A Tale of Two Cities" ]
...
