Chapter 13: The Evil Spirit Returned from Hell
Listening to Rast’s account, Shiltina scooped up a spoonful of egg fried rice and brought it to her mouth.
Immediately, her light brown eyes widened slightly.
The fried rice was cooked to perfection, each grain evenly coated in golden egg, mixed with the fragrance of black matsutake mushrooms.
Yet this alone wasn’t enough to truly move Shiltina—she wasn’t someone unfamiliar with fine dining.
Compared to the dishes made by real palace chefs, this fried rice had far too many flaws in both ingredients and technique.
But for some reason, compared to the mysterious, unreadable Rast of her past “game life,” who mixed cocktails with dazzling skill, this version of Rast—who had just made egg fried rice—felt much more approachable.
The distance and aloofness he once gave off were gone, replaced by a more tangible sense of humanity.
At that moment, the sun rose, illuminating the gray sky. Light streamed through the window panes and into the desolate manor, driving out darkness and shadow alike.
The moist sea breeze came in through the window, brushing against Shiltina’s face and interweaving with the sunlight, bringing a gentle warmth.
If one listened closely, one could faintly hear the sound of waves crashing in the distance.
Shiltina suddenly felt that the air in this city wasn’t quite so stifling and suffocating anymore.
It was a nice season, the end of summer and beginning of autumn, with a pleasant climate.
Deep Blue Port was, in fact, a beautiful seaside city—clear blue skies, a vast ocean, and rich fishing grounds.
If this weren’t the Nightworld, if the pollution known as the Evil God’s curse wasn’t silently brewing in the city like a ticking time bomb, then perhaps she could have enjoyed a lovely vacation on the sandy shores.
The two of them didn’t speak during the rest of the meal, simply eating in silence.
Fifteen minutes later, Shiltina put down her utensils.
She sat on the sofa, the tension that had gripped her heart gradually easing.
“You seem to be in decent mental shape.”
Rast had also finished his breakfast and was slowly sipping hot milk.
“That’s good news. I’d hate for my teammate to suddenly bottom out on mental stamina mid-fight and turn around to stab me.”
“Actually, I’ve got a question.”
Shiltina leaned back into the soft couch, feeling a wave of fatigue wash over her.
“If you’ve got the time to dabble in mixology and sculpture, then why not dive into more specialized academic fields instead?”
“If you have enough time—almost infinite time—then the knowledge you could master should easily surpass all the sages and wise men of the past, right?”
Rast sprawled lazily on another sofa.
“I actually did consider what you’re suggesting. For several decades, with every cycle, I devoted myself wholeheartedly to scholarly research.”
“After all, knowledge is power, right? If I really could become a grand sage who saw through everything and understood the truths of the universe, maybe then I could use that to break the infinite loop of Deep Blue Port.”
“But unfortunately, that’s impossible.”
Rast chuckled.
“No matter how hard I tried, I could never surpass the era I lived in.”
“All I could do was study what others had already discovered.
“Repeating the path of our predecessors is easy—just takes enough dedication. But pushing the boundaries of a cutting-edge field forward… only the very best in that field can pull it off.”
“To surpass the era and break through the limits of knowledge inheritance—that’s a privilege reserved for true geniuses.”
Rast placed the now-empty milk glass down and closed his eyes.
“It’s like the recipes and culinary knowledge stored in Deep Blue Port—no matter how hard I try, I’ll never be able to cook that kind of dazzling, clothes-exploding supreme cuisine.”
The manor returned to silence, the only sound being the sea breeze rustling the curtains.
The limits of the era… and of talent…
Shiltina pondered Rast’s words, just about to ask more.
But then she heard the sound of even breathing beside her. Rast had already fallen asleep on the sofa.
Unlike her usual impression, Rast’s sleeping posture was extremely well-behaved, curled quietly in the corner of the sofa, as docile as a cat curled in its nest.
Only now did Shiltina realize she may have overestimated Rast’s physical age.
When awake, Rast gave off a mysterious, unpredictable aura, as if everything was within his grasp, making one overlook his appearance.
But asleep, his youthful face looked far more tender. His facial features lacked sharpness and instead carried a softness—one might even describe them as innocent or pure…
At most, he looked to be about the same age as Shiltina.
Which meant—
He had been seventeen or eighteen, perhaps not even an adult, when some kind of accident drew him into the Nightworld’s historical remnant, trapping him in Deep Blue Port’s endless loop for hundreds of years.
Shiltina looked at Rast’s peacefully sleeping profile, and felt that the mist shrouding him hadn’t lessened—it had grown even denser.
Nearly one hundred thousand loops. Hundreds of years…
Such an immense span of time would be enough to wash away every trace of passion and memory, to strip away all human emotion, leaving behind only a numb shell, an empty body like a walking corpse.
This was absolutely not something that could be overcome simply by “role-playing” for entertainment, as Rast had once claimed.
To repeat the same day endlessly, with no chance of progress—this, to a human, was no different from hell.
And one who could return from hell… was likely a demon, driven by a singular obsession.
In the depths of his soul, there must be something far deeper—like the furnace core that powers a steam engine—sustaining the body called Rast, worn down and battered by time, urging it ever forward, until it appeared before her.
That fire, one that had not extinguished for centuries, and still glowed even when reduced to ash…
What on earth could it be?
Could it have something to do with that person named Xiao Ai?
But no matter how curious she was, if Rast didn’t want to talk, no one would ever know.
Drowsiness truly was contagious.
Looking at Rast’s serene sleeping expression, and feeling the warm, moist sea breeze on her face, that cozy wave of sleepiness washed over Shiltina as well, gently wrapping around her.
…
When Shiltina awoke, daylight was already streaming through the windows. It must have been well past noon.
The moment consciousness returned, she instinctively sat upright and looked toward the manor’s entrance.
Rast, on the other side, seemed to have awoken even earlier.
He was sitting calmly on the sofa, looking in the same direction as Shiltina, silent.
Time passed slowly in that silence.
Until the sound of footsteps approaching from the manor’s entrance grew clearer and clearer, finally stopping outside the door.
Knock knock knock—
A knock sounded.