Chapter 229: You must, you must, come save me
He could no longer remember how many times he had recalled the scene of that ruin.
All around was steam and flame. Metal warped under the searing heat, wooden boards fell one by one, shattering into scattered fragments upon hitting the ground.
A blizzard mixed with shards of ice stole away what little warmth remained on the little boy’s body.
Through the broken floorboards, one could see the sky, scorched black and red by thick smoke and fire, with the air heavy with the decaying scent of dust and ash.
This was a hell, a man-made purgatory called “Canaan.”
The only figure moving within that hell was a woman, wandering in the barren ruins with an expression of grief on her face uglier than tears.
She searched in a daze, like a homeless wandering spirit in the depths of hell…
Until, within the burning ruins, the woman found a boy still alive.
Their gazes met in midair. She stared blankly at him, as though just waking from a nightmare, gradually recognizing a real person, regaining once more the sensation of being human.
Slowly, she squatted down, slowly drew the boy into her arms. That grief-stricken expression uglier than tears gradually transformed into a smile.
A smile through tears.
In the fragmented memory, the woman’s face had already blurred, yet Rast still remembered that smile—
Perhaps it was the most beautiful smile he had ever seen in his life.
…
“At the very beginning, yes, it was merely because of admiration.”
“Just like every child, in the innocence of youth, admired the backs of their elders and so wished that, when grown, they might become astronauts, scientists, teachers, firefighters.”
“My very first wish was no more than that.”
“Because when she rescued me, the peaceful smile on that woman’s face was so happy, so dazzling, that I couldn’t help but long for it…”
“So within me sprouted the wish—【when I grow up, I want to become someone like her】, and thus was sown the seed of the ideal known as the Shoreguards.”
Rast spoke softly.
“Of course, it was just a small, inconspicuous seed…”
“Like many childish thoughts, once grown and looking back, one would only laugh at it as pure black history—”
“If my life had developed normally, perhaps I too would have been ground smooth by the mundane world, becoming slick and calculating, or so-called ‘mature’…”
“Such an unrealistic childhood dream would naturally have long lain buried in dust, never sprouting, reduced only to idle chatter after meals.”
He smiled faintly.
“Only, afterwards… my life never did proceed along its rightful track.”
“Instead, I was trapped within the Echo of History of Deep Blue Port, within that endless time loop.”
“And so…”
“At that time, to keep myself from mentally collapsing in that hell of time loops, from falling into the abyss of self-destruction and despair… just like a drowning man desperately clutching anything at hand, I too clung to that childhood ideal, treating it as my sole straw of salvation.”
Rast gazed into his own heart, and again saw the boy trapped forever in the same day, lost and helpless.
“‘I have not yet become a Shoreguard like her, so I must not fall here, and I must not stop moving forward.’”
“For a long time, that was my only remaining thought, the sole force that allowed me to keep seeking a way to clear Deep Blue Port’s time loop instead of lying down in complete ruin, abandoning myself.”
“That ideal, across the long years, twisted bit by bit, growing ever heavier within me, like a blazing core that drove this broken body endlessly forward…”
“In the end, it became proof that I still existed…”
“As though, so long as I remembered the ideal of the Shoreguards, then the man called Rast still lived, not defeated by that damned fate.”
…
“But now, Rast, you must know well, that was no more than your own self-delusion.”
Emis’s voice sounded as though from afar.
“That woman who saved you from the ruins of Canaan, from the sea of deathly flames—was none other than Sister Grey.”
“Yet it was Sister Grey herself who was the very source of that disaster in Canaan.”
“If not for her making that mistaken wish to fate, the great fire in Canaan would never have happened. Your life path would never have been twisted, but could have been a normal life, like any ordinary person.”
“The Shoreguard you so admired, so longed for, and dreamed of becoming…”
“Was in truth the very culprit who destroyed Canaan.”
For some reason, Emis’s voice was unnaturally cold, frighteningly calm.
“What’s more, Rast, today you are already free of the Echo of History in the Nightworld.”
“You no longer need to depend on that sickly, long-corrupted ideal… as your lifeline, as your anchor of existence.”
“Since that is so, then to abandon this wish that has long strayed, and return to the path of a normal man, should be the best choice, should it not?”
Hearing Emis’s words, Rast fell into silence.
A long moment later, he spoke again.
“Yes, Xiao Ai, you’re right.”
“From the very start, it was an ideal born of misunderstanding and lies.”
“That wish was borrowed from Grey, and after the long years had already been distorted, no longer what it once was.”
“If it were me, fresh from escaping Deep Blue Port, I would have unhesitatingly agreed with what you said.”
“But…”
Rast gently closed his eyes.
Fragmented lights and shadows, countless people and events he had once encountered, all flashed once more through his mind.
…
In the harbor district of Deep Blue Port, after completing the mission to buy twenty minutes of time, facing death at the tides of the Iron Cross Clan… only to be pulled up by the returning Shiltina, who insisted that they must escape together.
In the academy blessed by the stars, his first encounter with a talking ferret.
In the town shrouded in endless white fog, he gave the grey-haired little girl the name “Grey,” sternly warning her of the weight behind the words Shoreguard.
In the Royal City of Paradise, reading fairy tales aloud to Akxia.
Upon a stormy cliff, playing the role of a snarling traitor, just to hasten Grey’s growth.
In the Nether Abyss, resolutely refusing the Gravekeeper’s offer of godhood, and casting “Castling.”
In the Battle of the Fractured Coastline, witnessing Sisel’s death battle, struck beyond measure.
On the rocky shore, though his body was already battered beyond repair, still feigning nonchalance before a grief-stricken Grey.
…
Perhaps back in the Deep Blue Port, he had truly been no more than an empty shell, a walking corpse, moving solely by that one obsession…
But now, within this body eroded and fragmented by memory, there already flowed something new…
Born from countless encounters with people and events of all kinds, these were blazing, surging emotions.
And it was precisely these blazing emotions that wove together the one called Rast.
The unique self, which neither gods nor fate could ever deny.
“Indeed, at the beginning it was because of admiration.”
“But in the end, it stemmed from my own true heart.”
“The wish to overturn that hell, the desire that future generations should never again suffer such torment.”
“And also, that grey-haired girl who spent her life chasing after the mirage called Shoreguards, only to achieve nothing, drifting lonely in the depths of the Starry Sea… her unrealized ideal.”
He opened his eyes, gazing at Emis before him.
“Xiao Ai, even now, becoming a Shoreguard is still my ideal.”
“A wish born from my own heart, without a single trace of falsehood.”
…
“I see.”
“So this is the answer you give, Rast?”
Emis’s voice once more sounded.
She gazed at the scenery outside the window, the quiet town shrouded in night.
In those sky-blue eyes flickered an intricate blend of emotions.
Attachment, reluctance, and also the relief of release… so many tangled feelings interwoven as one.
But joy outweighed sorrow.
“Mm, this is my answer.”
“Since I have chosen to regard becoming a Shoreguard as my ideal, then no matter how much attachment, no matter how much reluctance…”
“I must not be trapped within a gentle dreamland, stopping here forever.”
Rast spoke softly.
“Besides, Xiao Ai, have you forgotten the promise I made to you when we were little, when we built that treehouse?”
“Back then I told you… that one day, we would have a home far larger and broader than the treehouse, a home that belonged only to us.”
He too looked out at the scenery of the town below: “And now, since that treehouse has long fallen into disrepair, ready to collapse at any time, then it should simply be torn down.”
“It won’t be long before we have a brand-new home. Not one rooted in the false branches of lies, but a home that exists in the real world.”
Emis listened blankly to Rast’s words.
After a moment, she suddenly laughed.
“As expected… what was I even thinking…”
“If it’s you, then of course you’d give such an answer.”
She wiped the corners of her eyes, then nodded seriously.
“Mm, I’ll be waiting.”
“For the day when that house bigger and broader than the treehouse is built, when I move in with you and become its mistress.”
…
In the small house at night, silence fell for a time.
Neither Rast nor Emis spoke again.
But in truth, there was no longer any need for words between them. Just those brief exchanges had already made their feelings clear.
Rast slowly extended his right hand, grasping at the empty air.
In the next instant, silver-white motes of light gathered in the void.
A revolver engraved with the sigil of an iron-marked crescent moon fell into his hand.
He raised the “Iron-Marked Moon,” the barrel slowly lifting.
Yet, just as he was about to aim at the girl before him, his wrist trembled ever so slightly… a tremor that should never have appeared in his battle-honed gunplay.
Rast suddenly recalled a scene long ago, within the Echo of History of Frozenwater Town.
At that time, he had been dragged by the Evil God’s contaminant into its woven dream… In that dream too, there had been Canaan, and there had been Xiao Ai.
Back then, in order to escape the dream, Rast had not hesitated to fire at the false Emis within it, shattering the nightmare woven by the contaminant.
That time, that moment—was just like now.
Both the scene and the figure before him were no different.
Only, this time Rast knew—what he faced was no longer a dream woven by a contaminant, but the true Canaan he had lived in for countless years, his Ideal Land, his safe harbor.
But then, Rast felt his raised right hand being held up by a small, soft hand.
That nearly imperceptible tremor—something no outsider should have noticed—had been caught perfectly by Emis.
She extended her hand, gently supporting the wrist that had trembled.
That hand was soft as boneless jade, yet warm and resolute.
“I told you… ‘Emis’ will embrace all of ‘Rast.’ No matter what you do, I will always stand at your side.”
“So, you don’t need to feel torn or in pain.”
“This is not a decision you make alone, but one we make together.”
“The world may be false, but love is real… Even if Canaan began with a fabricated lie, the memories we forged here, the emotions born of them, are anything but illusory.”
“And from this day forth, whatever the future road brings—be it joy or sorrow, laughter or tears—we will face them together.”
So Emis softly guided Rast.
She led the black muzzle of the revolver, bit by bit, until it pointed directly at her heart.
“After becoming an Angel, I sealed my true self within the deepest Echo of History in the Nightworld.”
“To prevent, over long ages, another disaster like the prior Disaster of the Mechanists, where the will of the Judgment Grail went berserk and slaughtered all beings… my self-seal cannot be undone from within, but only awakened from outside by another.”
“The precise coordinates of that deepest Echo of History… as the Nightworld has evolved, it seems to have grown quite dangerous. If possible, it would be best for you, Rast, to wait until you yourself have broken into the Legendary Realm before attempting it.”
With her other hand, Emis gently caressed Rast’s cheek, the distance between the two of them closing until they were nearly touching.
“I will always wait—for the day I become the mistress of your new home… So long as you do not come for me, I will keep waiting.”
“But truthfully… sealing myself in the coffin of the Echo of History is not very pleasant.”
“It’s very dark and very cold there. And I’m afraid of the dark.”
“So you must, you must, you must, you must…”
“Come for me.”
Rast felt the faint touch against his left hand.
Emis’s pinky finger, at some unknown moment, had hooked around his little finger.
It was a gesture Rast had taught her in childhood.
A vow made in this way, they had said, could never be broken, not even after oceans dried, not even by death’s parting.
“Mm.”
Rast nodded: “Pinky swear, hang it high, a hundred years…”
“No, not even in a hundred thousand years may it change.”
The instant he finished speaking—
Rast saw a smile bloom across Emis’s lovely face…
A smile rivaling that of Grey’s when she had found him in the ruins, a smile so beautiful he would never forget it for all his life.
And then, guided by those slender fingers—
The trigger of the Iron-Marked Moon was pulled.
The pure blaze bursting forth from its muzzle swallowed the world whole.