YM778.TV Chapter 749: Walking Against the Light
Chapter 749: Walking Against the Light
Duncan, with a gesture of his hand, silenced Shirley’s excited outbursts, his attention unwavering on the unexpected visitor, “I was wondering when your group would decide to make your presence known to me. I hadn’t anticipated it would be quite so soon.”
The elder in the white robe, taken aback, inquired, “You anticipated my arrival?” His tone was a mix of surprise and curiosity, though his face remained impassive.
Duncan replied, acknowledging the inevitability of their meeting, “You were destined to seek me out sooner or later, as ‘Twilight’ has already commenced. It’s likely that any members of the Doomsday Survey Team who have managed to maintain their sanity would be keen on meeting with me. And indeed, I’ve been wanting to converse with you,” he glanced around the room before adding, “This location is unsuitable for our discussion. Let’s find a more appropriate setting.”
As Duncan spoke, Shirley, Dog, and Morris—who were applying various protective enchantments to himself—all showed their vigorous agreement with his suggestion…
Yet, the uninvited guest appeared oblivious to their enthusiastic responses, focusing solely on Duncan, “That would be preferable, perhaps somewhere nearer to subspace. I find those surroundings more to my liking.”
Duncan’s brow furrowed slightly at the mention of a place closer to subspace, but after a brief moment of contemplation, he acquiesced, “Very well.”
Morris reacted with a mixture of astonishment and concern, “Captain, are you certain about taking him…”
“It’s alright,” Duncan reassured with a dismissive wave of his hand, “I’m aware of what I’m undertaking. Shirley, proceed to my quarters and retrieve my brass lantern.”Before long, Duncan, with the brass lantern in hand, was navigating the lower decks of the Vanished alongside the man in the white, frayed robe. They traversed the cargo hold where the illumination seemed to defy natural laws, and now they were making their way down the final corridor leading to the staircase down to the hold, at the corridor’s end.
The brass lantern emitted an eerie green glow, piercing through the surrounding darkness. The silence of the empty corridor was occasionally broken by their footsteps, though Duncan noted that at times, only his footsteps echoed, suggesting the Ender’s presence was not entirely anchored in this reality. At moments, the Ender moved with such silence, as if he were a disembodied spirit, and at times his presence seemed to diminish entirely, as though he had momentarily transcended to a distant realm…
This vision piqued Duncan’s curiosity, yet he chose to maintain his composure and refrain from inquiring.
As they approached the final threshold, the Ender, who had remained quiet throughout their journey, voiced an observation, breaking the silence that had settled between them: “You actually don’t require this lantern—it is designed for mortals.”
Duncan halted in his tracks, absorbed in thought for a brief moment before proceeding onwards, replying, “But this ship benefits from its presence.”
“…You are indeed a being of great benevolence,” the Ender remarked softly, his voice infused with genuine admiration.
“It’s a thought that would have seemed unthinkable to me not too long ago that I would one day escort an Ender through this ship in such a tranquil and amicable manner,” Duncan reflected aloud, a note of casual contemplation in his voice, “Our initial meetings were far from friendly.”
“Have you not ever wondered if the first of my kind you encountered is actually me?” inquired the white-robed Ender, a mysterious smile playing on his lips, suggesting a calm admission, “At least, I was one of them.”
Duncan turned to scrutinize the Ender’s visage under the lantern’s glow.
Before him stood an aged wanderer clad in a white robe, his posture stooped, his face marked with the intricate lines of countless years, and his eyes, deep-set, gleamed with a faint golden, metallic luster. He emanated a sense of peace, his smile tranquil, the only sign of the passage of time being the quiet depth in his gaze.
Duncan averted his gaze and resumed walking, “I don’t recall your face, but whether you were among those I’ve brought aboard in the past is irrelevant. The significance lies in the fact that you’re here now, engaging in conversation with me.”
“It appears you’ve gained a deep understanding of us.”
Without affirming or negating the statement, Duncan reached for the doorknob of the final door.
“We’ve arrived at the location on this ship that lies closest to subspace.”
With those words, he opened the dark, wooden door to reveal the interior of the ship’s hold, which was now visible.
The immortal light filled the cabin, showcasing the once-damaged structure of the hold, now meticulously restored to its original state following the events at Wind Harbor. The robust shell, crafted from the essence of ancient deities, encompassed the space, shielding it from the chaotic beams of light and the soft whispers emanating from subspace—the ominous wooden door that led directly to subspace remained in the cabin’s depths, securely shut, standing in silence.
Duncan, leading his “guest,” entered the cabin, the Ender trailing close behind, his gaze wandering over the walls and ceiling of the cabin, eventually letting out a nostalgic sigh: “Ah… You’ve managed to mend this space…”
“You appear to possess considerable knowledge,” Duncan remarked nonchalantly as he placed the lantern on a hook nearby and turned back, “At some point in history unknown to me, have your kind visited this place before?”
“I have witnessed its destruction. Perhaps in a past era, or possibly in the future,” the white-robed elder seemed lost in thought, his expression slightly pensive, “…Engulfed in flames, plummeting into darkness, a spectacle both vivid and magnificent, utterly captivating.”
Duncan remained silent on the elder’s revelation, his mind a whirlwind of contemplation and speculation throughout their journey. After a moment to collect and arrange his thoughts, he finally addressed the elder, seeking clarity on a pressing concern, “How many members of the Doomsday Survey Team, who have retained their sanity like you, are still present?”
He briefly paused before specifying, “I’m referring to the current moment in time.”
The white-robed elder took a moment before responding, his demeanor unchanged, serene: “Only I remain.”
Upon hearing this, Duncan experienced a brief, arresting halt in his breath and heartbeat.
Then, the elder’s voice reached him once more, “Captain, are you familiar with the sensation of blindly searching through darkness?”
The elder, the last coherent survivor from Crete, slowly extended his arms as if he was still enveloped by the impenetrable darkness he described.
“The term ‘Doomsday Survey Team’… It’s been ages since I’ve heard it. By the time we embarked on our mission, that name had already become a relic of the past.”
“From the onset, we understood that ‘time’ in this world had its limits. The entirety of the Boundless Sea, the entire era of the deep sea, resembled a meticulously designed clock, programmed to tick for only a predetermined span. Our solitary aim was to discover a means to ‘rewind’ it, to prevent the gears from halting…”
“Your astute disciple is on the verge of constructing a comprehensive ‘world’ model, for the first time incorporating ‘time’ as a crucial dimension, which seems even more tangible, substantial, and unyielding to our perception.”
“Our mission involved traversing the timeline, observing and intervening at every possible historical fork, striving to prolong the sanctuary’s existence, all the while seeking paths to persevere beyond the confines of time.”
“Through our lenses, this endeavor felt akin to… striding against the brilliance of light.”
“The inauguration of Vision 001 in the experimental arena signified the dawn of enlightenment, the most stable epoch for the sanctuary. In that budding phase, resources were plentiful, the timeline was unshakable, and all appeared idyllic, almost as if it was destined to endure eternally. We embarked from that brilliant morning, leaving the radiance behind, venturing into the gloom of the end.”
“As we distanced ourselves from that ‘commencement,’ we witnessed the gradual decline of the world. The minor yet inevitable imperfections present at its inception began to magnify, morphing into myriad lethal threats. The light dimmed, and darkness encroached. We pressed on towards the twilight, away from the dawn, with the shadows deepening with every step we took. We endeavored to adapt, scrutinizing the fading possibilities in hopes of staving off the encroachment of darkness… to some degree, we were successful.”
“The shelter was initially designed to last for 8,000 years. By minimizing wear and tear, reducing disorder, and lessening the strain on our artificial ‘sun,’ we’ve managed to extend its operational life by an additional 2,000 years. However, our achievement seems insignificant in the grand scheme of the endless march of time. Eventually, all traces of our success will vanish without a trace.”
“Time’s passage inevitably leads to darkness, a point at which all light fades. Despite our efforts to prolong the brightness of our beginning or to gather fleeting sparks of light as we journey through an ever-darkening path, we can’t illuminate the end of time, which looms like an insurmountable wall of darkness. We find ourselves crashing into this vast obscurity, floundering in the dark, trying in vain to find our way. Then, we reset our timeline, reassess all possibilities, and strive to push the future further ahead, only to collide with the darkness again and again… This cycle has repeated itself countless times.”
The elder, dressed in white robes, paused, his gaze fixed on a shadowy corner of the dimly lit cabin. After a moment, he continued, “There’s no way forward. That was the final message from the first among us who descended into madness before his departure. As a pioneer, he had spent more time at the end of time than any of us, explored every possible outcome, and ultimately chose to surrender, even deciding to… return to the past, to ‘rectify’ those futile efforts.
“He was known as the first ‘Herald of the Enders,’ according to the lore of our world… He lost his grip on sanity not too long ago, and it’s been so long since I last saw him that I can’t even recall his name.”
Duncan had been listening in silence, absorbing every word. After a lengthy pause, he finally spoke, “And yet, you, who have managed to maintain your sanity until now, have clearly presented yourself before me.”
“Yes,” the elder in white robes replied, turning to look directly at Duncan, “because at this precise moment, I have come into your presence. At a time when the very fabric of our world teeters on the edge, where cause can follow effect.”