Chapter 156: At the End of the Story, the End of the Fairy Tale... Reunion
Beneath the pitch-black sky, upon the sea formed by the Nether Abyss.
Rast stood amidst the howling storm.
In his hand, a solid chess piece silently appeared, then was firmly gripped within his palm.
It was the "Rook" piece from Western Chess, corresponding to the "King" piece held by Akxia.
These two chess pieces were also part of the gift bestowed by Dean Silver, alongside Barbalossa's "Holy Grenade," before Rast entered the Remnant of the Age.
Within the rules of Western Chess, there existed a special move.
One could simultaneously move the King and one of the Rooks—shifting the King two squares toward the Rook, and moving the Rook past the King to rest beside it...
Simply put, it was a positional swap between the King and the Rook on the chessboard.
This move could only be used once per game by each player.
It was a technique employed when the "King" was surrounded on all sides by countless enemies… sacrificing a "Rook" to move the King to safety—castling, the final trump card of every chess player.
And at this moment, it manifested into reality.
When everything upon the stage named the Nether Abyss—be it the actors or the unfolding performance—progressed precisely as Rast had envisioned, reaching the predetermined point without deviation…
Rast finally played this trump card—his final move as the player.
Amid the roaring wind, the corners of his lips moved slightly:
“Castling—”
“Complete.”
...
Though faint, as if it might be consumed by the frenzied gusts at any moment...
Yet the instant those words were spoken—
Regardless of whether it was Rast, falling from the top of the tower into the Nether Abyss, or Akxia, just awakened from slumber within the Ice Coffin...
The two Western Chess pieces, seemingly ordinary and inconspicuous in their tightly clenched palms, erupted at that very moment in blinding, searing brilliance—so dazzling it outshone even the wave of light unleashed by the Holy Grenade.
Both of their figures vanished into the void, only to reappear in the next instant.
However, when their forms reappeared—
Rast and Akxia's positions had completely switched.
Akxia now hovered above the brink of falling into the Nether Abyss, while Rast’s broken figure had appeared inside the Ice Coffin on the verge of collapse, sharing the same space as the frenzied Remnant of the Death God.
Just as the original meaning of "Castling" in Western Chess—
With the sacrifice of soldiers and the war chariot… to help the King, surrounded by thousands of troops, escape from peril.
...
Amid the gales high above, Akxia’s icy-blue hair fluttered wildly in the wind.
She now stood where Rast had been moments ago, with the roaring Phantom Ocean churning just below.
By normal descent speed, she should have already plunged into that dim yellow sea.
Yet now, countless illusory waves splashed mid-air and solidified into Solidified Twilight.
Gently bearing Akxia, they prevented her further descent.
This was the Nether Abyss’ affinity toward Akxia.
As the blood descendant of the Old Death God, the blood of the Death God already coursed through Akxia’s body.
Sharing the same origin with the Nether Abyss before her, that dim sea resonated with her presence and naturally responded.
And within the frenzied wind surrounding Akxia, broken blood splatters from that young man’s wounds still lingered.
But the youth’s form had already vanished.
Only the tattered book, opened in the wind, remained.
Even as she plummeted through the sky, Akxia immediately recognized the disordered, worn-out book.
It was a relic, a fairy tale book titled Chronicles of the Silver Wing, left to her by her mother—and the most treasured treasure Akxia had always held dear.
Though in hindsight, her mother likely had also been a pawn arranged by the Old Death God for his resurrection, this particular fairy tale book that had accompanied her for hundreds of years in that dim palace, Akxia would never mistake.
On that sunset-stained cliff, Akxia had offered this most treasured fairy tale book to Rast as a parting gift.
Never did she expect that today, Rast would return that book to her through "Castling."
The wind howled.
The book rustled loudly in the wind, its pages flipping rapidly... until reaching the blank final page.
And at this very moment—
Upon the once-blank page, drops of crimson blood splattered, outlining clear and distinct words.
This was a part unknown even to Akxia’s memory... a story written in blood, detailing what happened after the ending of Chronicles of the Silver Wing—
After the male and female protagonists built a small wooden cabin deep within the forest and enjoyed a time of peaceful marital bliss, disaster suddenly struck.
The story’s heroine was actually the reincarnation of an ancient Evil God who had brought cataclysmic destruction to the continent a century ago... Her mere existence would bring plague and disaster to the world, killing countless living beings.
And now, the will of that Evil God was reviving through the girl’s body... devouring her consciousness and humanity bit by bit.
After painful internal struggle and torment, the youth who was the story’s male protagonist chose to seek aid from the Church, hoping to use its power to kill the reviving Evil God.
But—
The cost of such an act was that the story’s heroine—a girl born in a remote village who had once dreamed of becoming an adventurer—would also be erased by the divine radiance, along with the reviving ancient Evil God.
For the sake of justice, for the world’s stability, the boy who once dreamed of becoming a knight had to use every brutal skill they had learned throughout their journey... to kill the girl he loved most with his own hands.
It was the most logical ending. For the safety of the masses and the righteousness of world peace, sacrificing one insignificant individual was utterly correct—a choice no one could fault.
However, beyond the standard Normal End, there existed another option, another path.
To gamble life and death, and stand upon the table against the ancient deity.
To offer himself in place of the girl—allowing the remnants of the reviving Evil God to switch vessels, and instead take root in his own body.
...
Rustle.
Rustle.
The fairy tale book, guided by the howling wind, turned to the final page inscribed with blood-red words.
Then, the book suddenly radiated a brilliant glow.
That radiance was a vivid crimson red, as if the blood congealed into words on the page had ignited, releasing a searing brilliance.
【The Unfinished Fairy Tale Book】
【Category: Emblem Armament】
【Description: This fairy tale book titled Chronicles of the Silver Wing is the treasure of a girl named Helen, and also bears all the dreams and longings of a caged-bird-like queen...
And the hazy, budding feelings that grew in the heart of that caged bird, for the boy who opened the window for her and helped her glimpse the dreamlike scenery beyond the cage.
Even though later, the play between the caged bird and the boy came to an end, and the girl learned the whole truth—that the encounter between the boy and the girl was not destined, but a carefully orchestrated script.
And that she herself was not Helen, but Akxia—an actress who had taken amnesia-inducing drugs to enhance the performance and portray the heroine of the play.
But “the fairy tale is false, the love is real.”
A story born of lies and fabrication could still yield sincere fruit.
Even to this day, the girl firmly believes in and longs for this somewhat naïve thought...】
【For some reason, there remain a few blank pages after the ending of this fairy tale book】
【As if an unfinished story still waits to be written by someone to come】
【Armament Effect 1: When blood drips upon the title page of the fairy tale book, the illusory tale shall become a real landscape.】
【Armament Effect 2: Unknown (Unlocked after Emblem Armament is completed)】
Recognized by the Nightworld, this worn fairy tale book had already been elevated into an Emblem Armament.
And at this moment, the flame burning like blood on its pages was the power of this Emblem Armament—
"To transform an illusory tale into a real landscape."
This was a skill no different than Command-as-Law, and one that could only be used once...
As long as the most basic narrative logic was met, and such development was within the realm of possibility, then the fairy tale would become real.
Thus—
As the unfinished fairy tale continued to be written—
The reality unfolding in the Nether Abyss at this very moment was being interfered with and revised...
The torrent of fate rippled slightly... then began to diverge, flowing toward the direction set by the fairy tale book.
Turning illusion into a tangible, visible landscape.
...
Atop the Sky-Piercing Tower, within the Ice Coffin.
Watching the flood of holy light melt the Ice Coffin, intending to erase everything within.
That remnant of the Death God... suddenly noticed that the Perfect Vessel, which had once carried the blood of both man and god, had vanished without a trace.
In its place stood a strange human male.
To the Old Death God, this was like seeing a life-saving straw.
This newly appeared human body, while it did not, like the meticulously prepared former vessel, already contain the Death God's blood and thus perfectly match with the remnant soul—allowing for a direct inheritance of all past Divine Authority and power upon fusion...
However—
Correspondingly, this also meant the body had not undergone modification by the "Death God" Sequence... and naturally would not be especially vulnerable to the holy light with its sacred attribute.
To choose this human body as the new vessel... was the Old Death God’s best option for preserving itself at this moment.
There was no time to ponder why the original Perfect Vessel had suddenly vanished, or why Rast had appeared in the Ice Coffin.
Just like a drowning man clutching a straw, the remnant of the Death God directly invaded Rast’s body.
In the next instant, the holy light engulfed the entire Ice Coffin.
...
By the time the radiant torrent fully dispersed, the magnificent Ice Coffin had vanished completely.
All that remained was the black-haired, black-eyed youth.
A faint white glow swirled around his body, but never once penetrated his flesh.
"Silent Disqualification · Withering Pebble"
After using "The Fool’s Library" to replicate and deploy Professor Barbalossa’s Night Blade, the explosion of the Holy Grenade had indeed not harmed him in the slightest.
With a thought, Rast quietly summoned three emerald-green rhombus crystals in his right hand, then crushed them all at once.
Simultaneously, several potion bottles appeared in his left hand, which he poured into his mouth without reserve.
This was the "Instant Healing Crystal" that Shiltina once used on him at Deep Blue Port, to keep his body—ravaged by beast-grade stimulants—hanging by a thread.
And various alchemical potions, created by pharmacists or Nightworld Transcendents at Starfall University using Night Blades... for emergency healing.
Even before entering the Nightworld for this battle, Rast had already planned for this brutal conflict, and thus had prepared various healing potions in advance... or in other words, the red health flasks from a game.
Now used all at once without restraint, his body became flooded with an unimaginably rich vitality.
The healing crystals instantly shattered, turning into thousands of emerald-green shimmering fragments, falling upon Rast’s body riddled with holes from the bloom of the "Flesh Blooming."
In a daze, he saw the ripples of water. Rast felt as if he were bathing in a warm spring, with a tingling sensation coming from every wound.
Under this desperate and unrestrained consumption of potions, the loss of Rast’s vitality halted... his flickering life force, like a candle in the wind, steadied once more, and his wounds began to slowly mend.
Forcibly dragged back from the brink of death, from the near-death state triggered by “Desperate Plea,” with only a sliver of blood remaining.
However, at this moment—
More fatal than the slowly recovering, healing body—
Was the remnant of the Old Death God that had abandoned Akxia and chosen Rast as its new vessel, invading deep into his soul.
In the depths of the soul, within the illusionary sea shaped by the spiritual world, the invasion from the Old Death God had already begun.
It sought to devour Rast’s consciousness and soul, to become the new master of this vessel.
This was a duel between an ancient god and a mortal—where the loser would lose everything.
Yet, after restoring his severely damaged body enough to regain basic movement, Rast did not confront the tidal remnant of the Death God attacking his spirit world.
He merely walked to the edge of the tower, to the cliff's brink.
Then, lowered his eyes.
He gazed toward the cliff below, at that dim yellow sea.
Or rather, in the direction where Akxia was.
...
Sky and sea.
Tower and abyss.
Their gazes met across an unfathomable distance, separated by howling wind and tide.
It was a gaze spanning three years.
Three years ago, the girl had been the sovereign of Paradise, the queen of the Netherrealm… while the boy had merely been a servant by her side.
And three years later, everything had changed.
Yet the eyes of the black-haired boy remained unchanged, clear and bright, like pristine starlight.
Just like when they had first met.
Upon seeing the continuation written in that unfinished fairy tale book, and upon seeing that familiar look in Rast’s eyes, Akxia understood everything—she realized the truth.
“Why…”
Her pale lips quivered slightly.
“Why… would you go this far for me?”
After the memory once suppressed by the rules of the Nightworld had returned, Akxia had already come to understand it all.
This was nothing more than an illusory performance.
Everything between them… whether it was their first encounter beneath the sunset in the palace—
Or everything that followed, all originated from the lofty Nightworld, from one of its whimsical jokes.
They were merely actors playing the lead roles in a stage play. The curtain rose, the curtain fell… all following a script long since written and sealed.
And once the performance ended, the actors naturally ought to leave the stage and return to their real lives.
Stripped of all born-of-lies illusions, the relationship between Rast and Akxia was merely that of two schoolmates at Starfall University, who had met once through Dean Silver’s introduction… and nothing more.
Such a relationship—was not worth all that Rast was doing for her now.
“Why… indeed?”
Perhaps sensing Akxia’s confusion, a rare trace of puzzlement surfaced in Rast’s pitch-black eyes.
He too was pondering the answer to that question.
If he were still the same boy from Deep Blue Port, mindlessly repeating life within a time loop like a machine, surviving solely for the sake of "existence," then he truly would never have done such a thing.
To place himself in danger for someone with whom he had no real stake or benefit.
If he were to follow his usual approach—evaluating based on "profit and loss"—then everything he was doing now was undoubtedly foolish, a decision with negative return.
“Because… perhaps it’s gratitude.”
Looking at the girl borne upon illusory waves, Rast gave his quiet answer.
“Even if everything between us originated from lies and coincidences, if not for playing the male lead and personally experiencing the fairy tale you wove…”
“Then maybe I would never have understood what Xiao Ai was trying to tell me back then.”
“And I would never have recovered what I lost and forgot during those three hundred years in Deep Blue Port.”
He gently placed his hand over his left chest, where the Flesh Blooming had once blossomed.
Even after countless healing crystals and alchemical potions, a large, gruesome scar still remained.
And Rast let his fingertips brush that gruesome wound, feeling the faint but unmistakable heartbeat pulsing beneath skin and flesh.
“In the past, because I yearned for that woman’s smile from my memories… and to anchor my crumbling self, I clung to the ideals of the Shoreguards like a drowning man to a straw, using them as the meaning of my life.”
“But that was only blind mimicry born from admiration. Like how children imitate the clothes and actions of adults… never knowing the meaning behind those actions.”
“I was like those children mimicking adults—just a ‘Shoreguard’ imitator, mechanically applying their creeds as my dogma, as the reason for my existence… without ever truly understanding what it meant to be a ‘Shoreguard.’”
“But now—”
“I think I’m beginning to understand, just a little.”
He smiled slightly. “The concept of ‘living’ isn’t about waiting to die inside a small cage, but about running forward without end.”
“And the meaning of the Shoreguards isn’t about hurling oneself into death like a moth to a flame for some impossible goal.”
“Indeed, it might begin as a child’s unknowing admiration for adults… but at its root, it’s a wish that sprouts from deep within each person’s heart—”
“A wish to end this sorrowful fate that has persisted across six eras, to overturn this hellish world.”
“To entrust hope and Fireseed to future generations, to believe in the power of successors, and to labor tirelessly—even to the point of death—for the vision of each generation that came before…”
“If not for you… perhaps I would have never understood any of this, and would have gone on living like a Wandering Spirit.”
“So, if I must find a reason for everything I’ve done…”
“Then let it be my gift in return—for helping me understand it all.”
Rast’s voice softened slightly.
“Also, just as you once said—‘The fairy tale is false, but the love is real.’”
“I truly hope from the bottom of my heart… and long for such a belief.”
Because, if that were not true…
Then based on all the clues he had gathered—Canaan, and Xiao Ai, too, would be no more.
Just like bubbles and phantoms vanishing under sunlight.
Nothing could remain except for “love.”
That thought merely flickered in Rast’s mind. He did not say it aloud.
A mysterious silver gleam flashed in his eyes as he looked down at Akxia in the Phantom Ocean.
And within the vision of the Eye of Secret Insight, the form of the blue-haired girl was already shrouded in the delicate veil of night, slowly fading, being peeled away from this world.
As a Night Traveler, Akxia had already lingered in the Nightworld far too long.
Now that she was finally freed and had regained her liberty… the rules of the Nightworld moved to expel this overdue Night Traveler from the Nightworld and return her to the real world.
“So—”
“Classmate Akxia.”
Rast smiled slightly.
“Let us meet again at the end of the story, the end of the fairy tale…”
“Where we’ll reunite.”
As his words fell.
The gauze-like night gently veiled the graceful figure of the girl—until she vanished completely.