Chapter 280: Congratulations, You’ve Fully Conquered the Nightworld
When consciousness returned once more, Last realized he was in an unbelievable place.
What met his eyes was a sunset so blazing it seemed as if it might set the entire sky aflame.
Underfoot lay a heavy crystal floor. Beneath the transparent flooring, clouds dyed in crimson light slowly drifted.
Gazing into the distance, he saw the sunset-tinted sky stretching endlessly toward the horizon.
And amidst those clouds glowing with golden-red brilliance, parallel to Last’s line of sight, countless crystalline forms floated up and down, glimmering as if made of pure crystal.
Each crystal was surrounded by a faint veil of night, and each multifaceted surface reflected a vastly different, resplendent scene—
A knightly nation adorned in blooming summer flowers, island clusters perpetually shrouded in gray mist…
Towering Mage Towers rising from the ground, and the bustling high-rises of a technological era…
“If I’m not mistaken, those crystals are the symbolic manifestations of each distinct Nightworld.”
A clear, youthful voice rang beside his ear.
At some point, Shiltina had come to stand by Last’s side, watching with him as the clusters of crystals floated and sank amid the sea of clouds.
“Each flash of those crystals represents an era—a civilization’s rise and fall, its flourishing and its demise.”
“I’d long grown used to walking endlessly through different Nightworlds as a Night Traveler… Yet to see all these Nightworlds from an external perspective like this—it’s still astonishing beyond words.”
Shiltina spoke softly.
“But for all seventy-two Nightworlds that ever existed to appear before us in this form… it can only mean one thing—this place must be the source of the Nightworld.”
“In other words—”
“We’ve cleared the final Nightworld instance of the mythic age.”
She blinked lightly, the crimson glow of the clouds reflecting in her light brown eyes.
“Back at the beginning, I had already prepared myself for a long war… even the possibility of devoting the rest of my life to this.”
“But still, this has truly been a long, long journey.”
“This is… what year now, since we entered the Final Nightworld and arrived in the Age of Gods? It must be over two hundred years, right?”
“Two hundred and thirty-seven years.”
Last smiled. “To be precise, two hundred thirty-seven years, nine months, and thirteen days.”
“It took nearly a century to lead humanity’s tribes of the Age of Gods to rise and establish a new scientific civilization… And then, using technology to battle the Mythic Clans blessed by the Old Gods—driving every mythic species off the surface of the world and founding an era that belonged solely to humanity—that was another hundred years.”
“Only in these past few decades did the Age of Gods finally decline completely. All the Old Gods were driven out of the Material Plane—either perishing in silence, or lingering wretchedly at the ends of the Threshold of Seraphim.”
“Two hundred years… It really doesn’t feel real.”
Shiltina’s voice carried a tinge of disbelief.
“I know you and Xiao Ai had already experienced several hundred—thousands—of years in the Nightworld before this, and long since grew used to the passage of time…”
“But for me, two hundred years is ten times the sum of my previous life.”
“I was worried that such a long stretch would completely change my mindset, that I’d never be able to return to who I once was.”
“But now it seems… this time hasn’t changed me that much after all.”
She gently raised her hand, gazing into her pale palm. “Looking back now, I guess that’s all thanks to you, Last, and Xiao Ai.”
“I had originally thought to clear the Final Nightworld alone…”
“But now, thinking about it—if not for you both being there, wandering alone through the Age of Gods for over two hundred years—even if an angel’s body doesn’t age, my mind probably would’ve turned into that of a lifeless old crone…”
“Unable to return to my original mindset, unable to live normally ever again… even losing my human perspective entirely, and falling to the same level as those lofty so-called gods.”
At her side, Last gave a slight nod.
He could fully understand Shiltina’s feelings.
After all, before meeting her and returning to the Present World, Last himself had endured more than three centuries of repeated timelines in the Historical Echo of Deep Blue Port—falling into the abyss of mental collapse countless times.
If not for that safe harbor named Canaan, and the girl called Emis, then even if his body had been remade through temporal loops, his soul likely would have perished within that Historical Echo—becoming an undead shell, neither alive nor dead.
But just then, Last noticed the chestnut-haired girl beside him suddenly smile.
“Oh, right—I just remembered, it’s been quite a while since we last did that, hasn’t it?”
“These past days you’ve been stuck to Xiao Ai all the time. You’ve totally been neglecting me.”
A playful curve danced on the corner of Shiltina’s lips. “I guess times really have changed. The childhood friend trait must be way too broken in the current version—us ‘fall-from-the-sky’ types can’t compete at all, huh?”
“What do you mean, neglect you? We literally just did it the day before yesterday…”
Last replied helplessly, “Besides, based on the schedule you and Xiao Ai made, yesterday was supposed to be her exclusive day.”
“And all we did was play It Takes Two.”
During the mythic era, the three of them had spent over two centuries together. Aside from leading the rise of human civilization and resisting the Mythic Species of the Age of Gods, they’d also found plenty of free time.
To pass the time—and to preserve their original selves during that endless span—Last, using his powers as an angel, and Emis, with her abilities as a Creator of Mechanical Lifeforms, recreated many classic games and entertainment works from his past life.
Novels, manga, anime, films, games—he finally fulfilled his dream of being a shameless plagiarist.
“Well, since you and Xiao Ai played It Takes Two, you can’t be biased. Once we’re out of the Nightworld, you have to play Shadowscape Twins with me.”
“So that’s what you were angling for.”
Seeing Last’s helpless expression, a touch of smug cunning appeared on Shiltina’s pretty face.
Then she tilted her head slightly, gazing toward the boundless sky above.
“So… is this the end of our journey?”
Her question was met with a long silence… and the sound of breaking glass from the sea of clouds.
Within the sunset-stained clouds, the crystals cloaked in night began to fade—becoming more and more transparent.
“They’re… disappearing.”
It was Emis’s voice.
The mechanical angel, her iron wings folded away, stood quietly behind Last, staring at the crystals that gradually melted into the night.
These fragments—resonating with history, echoes of the past, the foundation of the Nightworld—were now irreversibly vanishing, disappearing.
Becoming more illusory, more transparent, cracking apart until they fully collapsed, returning to pure nothingness.
Sometimes, crystalline shards fell from the Nightworld’s core. Some scattered like light, some crumbled downward… And if one listened carefully, one could hear a deep rumble woven into the wind.
This was the world’s final curtain. The end of that which was called the “Nightworld.”
With the clearing of the Final Nightworld, these Historical Echoes that recorded, witnessed, and carried the weight of six full eras would now be erased forever—never to exist again.
It wasn’t only the crystals representing the seventy-two Nightworlds that vanished, but the world above the clouds itself.
At some unknown point, the oppressive sky dome had disappeared.
What replaced it was a vast, resplendent, star-filled night sky.
A sky so wide it took one’s breath away.
Was it because they had been imprisoned in the Final Nightworld for over two hundred years? Or was it simply that tonight’s stars were especially clear…
But right now, that winter night sky was beautiful enough to make one forget everything—to soothe old wounds.
In that moment, both Last and Shiltina couldn’t help but recall the inscription they had once seen carved onto the Starfall Obelisk at the gates of Starfall University.
“Each star in that vast celestial sea is a gravestone for the fallen.”
“Countless travelers perished within the echoes of the old days, becoming lights and sparks in the distant sky, forever watching over this land—nameless and unremembered.”
“They gave themselves to the darkness, yet shone brighter than any star.”
…
“Beautiful view, isn’t it?”
Suddenly, a voice whispered in Last’s ear.
When he turned around, he realized—at some unknown moment, a man had appeared there.
From the figure, the other party appeared to still be in middle age, though their appearance remained unclear.
However, for some reason, when his eyes met that hazy gaze, Last could clearly feel that the other party was already incredibly old—having lived through countless ages.
“Who should I address you as?”
“The creator of the Eternal Night Stele, the first leader of the Gravekeepers…”
Last looked at that indistinct silhouette whose face could not be seen:
“Or perhaps—”
“The original owner of the 『Fool’s Library』, the Nameless Fool who brought an end to the Age of Gods?”
……
“A name is nothing more than a code. Compared to things that will be forgotten after hundreds or thousands of years, only those that can truly be passed down alongside the history of mankind are truly precious.”
“This truth… I believe you understand very well.”
“O inheritor of my 『Fool’s Library』… this generation’s Shoreguard.”
Hearing the Nameless Fool’s calm voice, Last couldn’t help but speak, “You actually know about the events after the Age of Gods? Then what exactly are you now?”
“A ghost? A consciousness? Or a remnant soul like that grandpa in the ring?”
“Neither a ghost, nor a consciousness—and definitely not, as you imagine, some old undying remnant soul lurking around, ready to possess someone at any moment.”
As if having guessed what was in Last’s heart, that hazy phantom seemed to smile.
“In actual history, the Nameless Fool who created the Gravekeepers, the Eternal Night Stele, and the 『Fool’s Library』… has long since passed.”
“The me that exists now is merely a residual imprint left within the Eternal Night Stele. Before long, even this will completely fade away.”
He slowly turned, his gaze sweeping over the three of them, finally resting on Last.
“I have been waiting… for someone who could surpass all previous trials…”
“Someone capable of retracing the path I once walked—perhaps even surpassing me.”
“Wait—you’re saying the trials of the Nightworld were within your expectations?” Last raised an eyebrow at the imprint of the Fool before him. “I thought you simply created the Eternal Night Stele to record history. Wasn’t the Nightworld born from Grey’s wish?”
“When the historical Remnants accumulated to a sufficient degree, the Nightworld, meant to test civilizations, would inevitably be born. That was the original reason I created the Eternal Night Stele.”
The Nameless Fool shook his head. “That young girl favored by fate merely accelerated the process, nudging the birth of the Nightworld forward by several eras.”
“Then why did you do all this?”
Shiltina’s voice rose in the evening breeze.
This was a question she—and indeed, every transcendent who had ever fought within the Nightworld under the title of Night Traveler—had undoubtedly harbored.
The answer she received was a brief silence from the Nameless Fool.
“Why, huh... That truly was a long, long time ago. Why was it, again?”
“I was born during the height of the Mythic Era. At that time, humanity lived entirely as vassals, side characters, even slaves to the Mythic Races that walked the world.”
“And so, from that moment on, it became my one and only wish—to let humanity carve a place for itself upon the earth dominated by mythic beings… no longer as vassals or slaves, but as an independent civilization.”
The Fool’s eyes, filled with serene light, lingered on Last for a moment, before drifting away toward the misty sea of clouds in the distance.
“As one of humankind, I understood better than anyone… just how frail our kind truly is.”
“No sharp fangs or claws, no mighty physiques, no bloodlines that allow for natural spellcasting or magical eyes… nor the thousands of years of lifespan granted to the mythic races.”
“The only things we could rely upon—were knowledge, and experience.”
He paused slightly.
“I believed that for every enemy in the world, every danger, every problem… there existed knowledge, and from knowledge, skills and tools born to counter them.”
“But each person, in their lifetime, could only remember so much, master so many skills, store so many tools.”
“So, in order for feeble humanity to stand against dragons, elves, bloodkin, and other inherently powerful races… I crafted a kind of power—one that only the dull-witted humans could use. What later generations would call Transcendent Knowledge.”
Humans, indeed, had no fangs or claws, no gifted bloodlines or long lifespans.
But the transmission of knowledge, the passing of civilization’s spark… these were treasures only the weak and fragile humans could truly understand—and through them, defeat mighty foes.
Even if, in the beginning, the knowledge passed down was little more than worthless scraps of summarized experience—like hunting skills, or fire-making methods.
So long as it continued to be passed down from generation to generation, refined over time, and perfected through the march of civilization…
Then, one day—
The once-tender sapling would grow into a towering tree, encompassing all things under the heavens.
And the faintest spark would become a roaring blaze, igniting the entire world.
And so—
Gradually.
No one knew how many years later—the Age of Myths came to an end.
Ancient Dragons, High Elves, Demon Wolves, Giants, Bloodkin… these mythic races faded from the stage of history.
Humanity—became the sole protagonist of this era.
“However, even then, I saw the end of civilization approaching—the inevitable conclusion of the era.”
“I tried everything. I calculated every possibility. But in the end, I found that it was a calamity that, with the knowledge and progress of that time, could not be resisted or reversed.”
“And so, I created the 『Fool’s Library』 to pass down my strength, and the Eternal Night Stele to record and safeguard the future of civilization… just as my predecessors had passed knowledge and experience to me, I entrusted all I had to future generations.”
He paused slightly.
“I chose to believe in the accumulation of knowledge. I chose to believe in the power of the passing flame.”
“I believed that even dull-witted humans—so long as they continued to accumulate, continued to refine—would one day craft a power great enough to surpass the gods, and find a way to reverse the fate of civilization.”
“That was the original purpose behind the founding of the Gravekeepers.”
As he spoke, a tinge of lament entered his voice.
“But… I overlooked human nature.”
“I forgot that no matter how pure the ideals, how steadfast the will, time would eventually corrupt them. The original intent would be lost. Everything would rot, until the legacy was on the verge of complete collapse.”
“The Gravekeepers, once created to safeguard human history, instead became its greatest obstacle.”
“However, fortunately—”
“That 『Fool’s Library』, after lying sealed for countless years, finally encountered a new owner like you…”
His gaze once again fixed upon Last.
“Angels can exist across the entire River of Time, present in every instant that bears their ‘footprints.’”
“And thus—the more upstream an angel can leave their mark in the River of Time, the stronger they become… for to be ancient, is to be powerful.”
“You, until now, were merely angels born in the Seventh Era, whose oldest traces, even with the Eternal Night Stele, only reached back to the Sixth Era.”
“But now, with your completion of the Final Nightworld, you’ve replicated the achievements I once accomplished…”
“The footprints I left in the Age of Gods—have now been completely replaced and overtaken by you.”
“In other words, at this very moment… you have become the beginning and the end of the entire River of Time, occupying every node of history—surpassing all existing gods…”
“The true Ancients.”
The Nameless Fool’s voice faded along with his form, growing nearly transparent in the twilight.
Just as he had said—he truly was nothing more than an imprint lingering within the Eternal Night Stele… after enduring the baptism of seven entire eras, his remaining strength was but a flicker, a flame on the verge of extinguishing without need for wind.
“The me of the past… failed to lead humanity toward that radiant, infinitely vast future.”
“But I believe in you… in the version of you that has surpassed who I once was. Perhaps—you truly can accomplish what I never could.”
Looking at his increasingly faint, nearly vanished form, he spoke in a calm and gentle voice.
“It seems… my time has just about run out.”
Silence returned once more to the twilight sky. Neither the wind-blown Nameless Fool, nor Last, Shiltina, or Emis spoke again.
Looking to the distance once more, one could see that even the areas beyond the Nightworld Crystals had begun to crumble.
The once-endless sea of clouds and red sky were being devoured by white light in the distance… Light Erosion was spreading, slowly creeping closer.
This was inevitable. The Nightworld, after all, was a realm woven from countless illusory shadows of history. And with the end of the Nightworld, all such glorious echoes and reflections would vanish.
“Oh, right… I almost forgot to tell you all something…”
Just as the white light reached the trio’s feet, Last once again heard the Fool’s voice beside his ear:
“Last, Shiltina, and Emis.”
“Congratulations.”
“Congratulations on fully clearing the Nightworld.”
As the old man’s final words fell, the blinding white light shattered everything.
Then, the endlessly rising particles of light carried all things—into another world.
……