Chapter 227: What Kind of Place Is Canaan to You?
Sky-blue eyes met pitch-black pupils. The gazes of the two met in mid-air.
It was clearly a reunion after a long separation, yet Aimeith's eyes were as calm as ever...
As if this truly was a peaceful afternoon, with lunch shared on the hillside behind the town, and Rast taking a nap in the warmth of the gentle breeze after the meal.
During that time, Aimeith had quietly kept watch by his side, the tips of her golden hair swaying in the wind, her hands clasped and resting on her knees... like a serene sculpture, untouched by the flow of time.
“So as I thought… Little Ai, you already know everything about the outside world too, don’t you.”
“Mm.”
Aimeith lightly nodded. “After Sister Grey opened the Night World, and I myself attained the angel of the ‘Judgement’ Sequence… due to the ‘uniqueness’ of angels, this individual that remained within ‘Canaan’ was also myself—there’s no distinction anymore.”
“However, it is unlike the other imprints and incarnations of me left in different nodes of the historical stream.”
“In order to prevent you, Rast, from sensing anything unusual within Canaan… I took the initiative to seal most of this incarnation’s memories—whether it was the truth about Canaan, the ‘Artificial Angel’ Project, or everything regarding the ‘Night World.’”
Aimeith’s voice was gentle. “And to remain synchronized with your own memories, I only retained what we had from before Sister Grey summoned us across time, while we still lived in the future, in the real Canaan town… All the little bits of life we shared in this border town.”
“Though it was done with good intentions so that you wouldn’t learn the truth too early, it was still ultimately a lie… A dream called ‘Canaan,’ woven by me and Sister Grey.”
She put away the wind flute in her hand and stood up, gazing into the distance, at the snow-capped peaks.
“Since the end of the Sixth Era, and the beginning of the Seventh Era… I’ve been waiting.”
“Waiting for you, Rast, to break free from the shackles of the so-called Night World and return to reality… and gradually grow strong enough to seek out, with your own strength, the truth buried in the dust of history.”
“And now, that day has finally come.”
Aimeith turned slightly, her gaze fixed on Rast’s eyes. “Now—”
“It’s time for you to make that decision yourself.”
“To decide the fate of this illusion called ‘Canaan,’ this bubble born of a lie…”
“Its final conclusion.”
……
“So it really is like that…”
Upon hearing Aimeith’s clear, definitive, and unambiguous words, Rast let out a long breath.
This question had plagued his mind for so long, making him toss and turn through countless days and nights in Deep Blue Harbor, repeatedly questioning the form of ‘Canaan’s’ existence.
But when the truth was finally laid bare before him, what he felt instead was relief.
A profound and liberating sense of relief, as if a heavy stone had fallen from his heart.
“Little Ai, you just said… that I should decide Canaan’s conclusion?”
“That’s right.”
Aimeith nodded lightly. “Regardless of how it started, or whether it came from good intentions, both Sister Grey and I… ultimately deceived you, Rast. We deceived you for hundreds of years.”
“This dream called Canaan is a lie woven because of you, Rast.”
“Therefore, naturally, only you are qualified to decide its fate.”
Indeed…
It has to be me who decides the ending of this world…
Rast slowly closed his eyes.
When he opened them again, he didn’t answer Aimeith’s question directly.
He simply rose gently and stretched under the tranquil hillside breeze.
Then, Rast took a step forward, heading down the slope toward the small town bathed in the still, quiet evening light.
At his side, Aimeith also stood up, placing the wind flute and the utensils from their earlier lunch into a small basket woven from rattan.
Just like that, she carried the small basket and followed behind Rast, two or three steps away, walking down the mountain closely behind him.
Both Aimeith and Rast had lived here together for a very, very long time—so long that words were no longer needed between them. Most of the time, a single look, a subtle movement, was enough to understand each other’s hearts.
Thus, Aimeith would not take the initiative to ask where Rast was going, nor would she urge him to make that final choice.
She would merely follow quietly behind the black-haired youth, no matter the ends of the earth, no matter the decay of heaven and earth.
……
It seemed that this nap of Rast’s had lasted far too long, for the sun had already set at the far edge of the sky.
The heavens looked like an overturned crucible, and the molten twilight spilled like copper through the cracks in the clouds.
Below the hillside, that small lake with its white windmill, like a silver mirror, was also dyed by the twilight, tinged with a dusky yellow hue.
The two of them stepped over fallen leaves and wild grass, walking down the slope dyed red by the setting sun.
At times, the descending path was cut off by small streams. Aimeith would lift the hem of her plain white skirt, holding Rast’s hand, and cross the water by stepping on the smooth river stones.
It might sound unbelievable to others—after all, Rast was only one step away from the Legendary rank, and Aimeith was a true angel who, regardless of time or space, could display the status of a genuine Mythic Race.
Yet at this moment, neither of them had even a single thought of using supernatural power… they were simply like two ordinary townsfolk from Canaan, walking down a mountain path once used by their forebears to gather firewood.
Soon, that small border town nestled at the foot of the mountains, with a white windmill, came into distant view.
Rast and Aimeith walked along the stone-paved path.
In the distance, cooking smoke was rising from every household in the town.
Looking at this familiar dusk scene he had witnessed hundreds of times, Rast felt his heart gradually grow calm.
His steps came to a halt at a fork in the mountain path, just before fully entering Canaan.
“Here…”
Rast looked at the other end of the fork in the road, a small path that led deep into another forest, and a trace of confusion flashed in his eyes.
“This… seems to lead to a cave in the back mountain.”
“Mm.”
Aimeith nodded gently.
“That cave—we used to play there often when we were little.”
“There was one time I got lost in the mountains alone, and even when the whole town was called in to search, no one could find me…”
“Finally, it was you, Rast, who found me in the cave amidst the pouring rain.”
As she spoke, a slight curve rose at the corners of her lips—a ripple of memory. “But back then, the heavy rain triggered a flash flood, cutting off the path down the mountain. We were trapped in the cave and couldn’t get down, and the adults couldn’t come up either.”
“In the end, we spent the night in that cave, only waiting for the adults to come find us after daybreak.”
“That’s right…”
Rast nodded.
In his mind, memories long buried in the attic of recollection—almost impossible to recover—began slowly to resurface.
The heavy rain, the muddy mountain path, the dark and cold cave…
And the little girl curled up in a shadowy corner of the cave, her eyes full of fear and wariness, like a frightened kitten… until their gazes met, and the wariness in the little girl’s eyes gradually faded, as though she had awakened from a nightmare and recognized the real person before her.
And that cold, rainy night, he wrapped their only coat around the both of them, warming each other with their body heat to get through that unbearable night.
That was indeed his own experience. He had truly been to that dark cave and had huddled in the corner with the girl before him, sharing warmth.
“But… that was all before we were summoned by Sister Grey into the Sixth Era, wasn’t it? It’s been so many, many years since then.”
“To us who crossed through time, it’s a whole era’s span… and even to people at the current time node, it’s already been two hundred years, hasn’t it?”
Aimeith smiled softly and walked over to Rast, whose eyes revealed a look of reminiscence.
Then, she took the initiative to hold Rast’s hand. “Come on, it’s getting late… I still want you to try the new dish I’ve been working on for dinner.”
With Aimeith leading the way, they quickly entered the town.
Along the way, some residents of the town would pause from their work to greet them, and Aimeith would politely respond to each of them while still holding Rast’s hand.
“This is Granny Sally. She runs a dessert shop. Her pancake-making skills are top-tier… Back then, I pestered her endlessly during my free time just to learn her technique.”
“It’s just a shame that your reviews of my cooking have always been only two phrases. One is ‘really delicious,’ and the other is ‘really, really delicious’… Every time I work hard to improve my cooking, I always end up hearing the same unchanging answer. Honestly, it’s a bit discouraging.”
Though those were her words, the golden-haired girl’s face clearly held an expression of happiness.
“This is Uncle Mudd. He’s the best hunter in all of Canaan Town… When you were little, you got along really well with him. One winter, you even sneakily took his hunting dog and, who knows where from, assembled a wooden sled out of tree branches.”
“You said you wanted to let me experience the ‘dog sledding’ you read about in books on the snow… As for the result, it goes without saying—it was absolute chaos. Wait, no, people flipping over, or should I say dogs flipping over.”
As Aimeith spoke, she burst out laughing. “Afterward, Uncle Mudd even said he’d cut ties with you, but he couldn’t resist your sweet talking… After only a few days of coaxing, he let you tag along behind him again, sucking up as usual.”
“Well, that’s just because Uncle Mudd’s dogs were way too weak… They couldn’t even pull two kids who were just seven or eight years old.”
Rast laughed as well. The distant, fragmented memories in his mind became increasingly vivid, flashing through his head with unmistakable clarity.
Ripples spread across the lake of his heart.
“But there was no helping it. After all, they were hunting dogs, not sled-pulling Alaskans.”
“If it were now…” Rast’s smile deepened. “I think I’ve got a much better sled dog option.”
Aimeith blinked her sky-blue eyes, and a playful arc quickly formed at the corners of her mouth. “The way you said that, Rast, sounds like it’s hiding all kinds of mischief.”
“That mischievous grin of yours… Let me guess, the sled dog you’re thinking of must be Dean Silver, right?”
“Knew you’d get it right, Little Ai—”
“Ferrets and sleds, I mean, they match perfectly in terms of wordplay. If I ever get the chance, I definitely want to try that combo.”
“Rast, I think you’re itching to get flying kicked by Dean Silver’s ferret again.”
The scenery of the town remained ever so peaceful. Some townspeople still lingered in Rast’s memory, while others merely looked familiar, though he couldn’t recall exact details.
But whenever they encountered a resident, Aimeith would always stop, without the slightest impatience, and recount the past connections those townspeople had with the two of them…
Eventually, their steps came to a halt before a wooden cabin.
The furnishings inside the cabin were simple, but everything was clean and tidy, giving off a unique sense of warmth.
This was the home of him and Aimeith.
In those already rekindled, fragmentary early memories within Rast’s mind… both his and Aimeith’s parents had passed away when they were very, very young. Orphaned, they grew up little by little with the help of the townsfolk.
“Rast, wait in the living room. I’ll go prepare our dinner…”
Leaving those words behind, Aimeith entered the kitchen and busied herself, while Rast sat alone at the dining table in the living room, gazing at the lights gradually illuminating the world outside the window.
Orange candlelight flickered on, as if stars had appeared, soaking into the darkness of night.
“Dinner’s ready… Tonight’s main dish is slow-braised lamb.”
Soon, Aimeith brought a steaming plate to the table. “Uncle Drew’s lambs really are adorable, but what can I say—you happened to run into someone determined to become the best chef. Sorry, little lamb.”
“You’re really becoming more and more like a head chef.”
Rast looked at the steaming lamb dish before him and offered a word of praise.
“Little Ai…”
He looked at Aimeith, who had pulled out a chair opposite him but hadn’t started eating, quietly waiting for him to take the first bite, and suddenly spoke softly.
“To you…”
“What kind of place is Canaan?”