Chapter 5: Completely Clear This Hopeless Cycle
Rast sat back down in his seat, resuming his earlier expression.
As if the distorted, hideously grimacing corpse not far away, eyes wide open in death, did not exist at all.
He spread his hands. “Of course I know I’m a living human being. There’s no need for Miss Shiltina to emphasize it again.”
Shiltina—that was the name Rast had heard from the masked woman’s mouth.
The stern look on Shiltina’s pretty face did not lessen in the slightest at Rast’s teasing.
Even after confirming that Rast was not a projection but a human, the mysteries surrounding him had not diminished.
On the contrary, they had only grown.
The Nightworld was extraordinarily dangerous.
Even those who held the token and were favored by the Lord of Silence—the so-called Night Travelers—could only stay in it for a very limited time on each visit.
And yet, Rast, who knew nothing of the Nightworld or tokens, had managed to survive in the Nightworld with a human body for such a long time.
Clearly, this could not be explained as merely an accidental entry.
What’s more, he had used what appeared to be a High Tower Sequence ability.
According to what Shiltina knew, this Sequence had long since been lost in the present world, with only vague references scattered across historical texts.
“When one has an endless, nearly infinite amount of time, naturally they’d want to try some whimsical things—like developing superpowers or something.”
“Although there’s no flashy magic in Deep Blue Port, or combat aura developed to its peak… I still managed to tinker something out.”
Rast looked at the silver-white pistol in his hand.
“That thing just now—in your words, would be something like a Sequence step, right?”
“Using that kind of ability isn’t easy for me either. In the beginning, it only had a very small chance of triggering when I was truly on the brink of death.”
“Later, after many refinements and practice, I was able to actively use it through self-hypnosis.”
Rast pointing the gun at his own temple and pulling the trigger earlier hadn’t been for show.
That gesture was, in fact, the mental trigger he had set for himself.
When the trigger was pulled, the part of his subconscious named Rast was truly killed once.
Shiltina remained silent.
Though she had also stepped onto the path of the High Tower Sequence, it was only after inheriting a complete system of supernatural knowledge in the real world, and after long study and training.
To develop a completely new Sequence from scratch, without relying on any prior knowledge… was unheard of.
Shiltina had not ruled out the possibility that Rast, like the dancer of the Shadow Sequence, had followed her into the Nightworld through some special means, and that the so-called time loop was just a ruse.
But she instinctively denied that guess.
The man’s familiarity with the world was too natural—not like herself or the dancer, who clearly didn’t belong.
He seemed to have truly lived in this small harbor city for a long, long time.
…
“More importantly.”
“If my guess is right, when you entered Deep Blue Port, you must have also received some kind of request or forced mission from the Nightworld, right?”
“After all, the one who created the Nightworld—whether or not it’s the Lord of Silence—surely had some purpose.”
Shiltina gave a slight nod.
“That’s right.”
“This time, the Nightworld task I received is to survive in Deep Blue Port until seven o’clock in the evening on October 9th.”
Shiltina glanced up at the wall clock. It was now one in the morning on October 9th.
“Compared to other Nightworld echoes I’ve experienced, this mission’s objective is extremely simple.”
“Which suggests that, aside from the infighting between Night Travelers, there must also be some hidden danger—or disaster—lurking here…”
“Surviving in Deep Blue Port until seven tonight is no easy task.”
She had chosen to enter this hotel to investigate potential threats and gather intel.
But she hadn’t expected the hotel’s clientele to be… rather unique.
Rast glanced at Shiltina. “In your world, is there no detailed record of Deep Blue Port’s history?”
“No.”
Shiltina shook her head.
“In the current world’s historical records, there’s a gap from a thousand years ago called the ‘Pale Interregnum’.”
“Before the ‘Pale Interregnum’, all history of past civilizations and eras seemed to have been shrouded in mist—completely untraceable.”
“All our knowledge of pre-gap history comes from explorations of the Nightworld.”
“All I know is that Deep Blue Port was destroyed by a hidden Descent of the (Evil) God.”
“And a few weeks after its destruction, starting from this very place, a plague called the ‘Iron Cross’ swept across most of the continent.”
“As for the exact details of that Descent and the plague that followed, the intelligence passed down from the Nightworld contains no record.”
She looked at Rast, a vague guess surfacing in her mind. “You mean to say…”
“Seems like the Nightworld isn’t very friendly to you so-called chosen of the Lord of Silence.”
Rast shook his head.
“Unfortunately, the Descent you mentioned… happened precisely at dusk on October 9th.”
“That is, at six-thirty in the evening—seventeen hours from now.”
“That was also the endpoint of this same day, every time I went through the loop.”
“In other words—”
“To survive in Deep Blue Port until seven in the evening, you’ll have to face a fully awakened ancient evil god.”
Shiltina’s light brown eyes narrowed slightly.
The Nightworld held echoes from various historical periods and epochs, spanning immense stretches of time.
And in these different echoes, the form of civilization, culture, and supernatural systems varied widely.
However, in every era, every epoch, in every language—
The meaning behind the word “god” was always the same.
Shiltina did not believe that, in the face of a resurrected ancient evil god, her fate would differ from that of the native projections in Deep Blue Port who were obliterated by the aftermath of the Descent.
She hadn’t expected that this entrance to the Nightworld, found buried in some ancient ruin…
Would hide such a ten-deaths-no-survival—no, a zero-chance-of-survival danger.
“Looks like we now share the same goal… and a basis for cooperation.”
“The token you mentioned, which allows one to become a Night Traveler and freely enter the Nightworld—there should be one on that dead woman’s body, right?”
“Then, let’s make a deal.”
Rast stood up again, looking at the Shiltina in front of him.
“I’ll help you complete your Nightworld mission—help you survive until seven o’clock tonight.”
“And in exchange…”
He paused slightly, then spoke word by word.
“I need you to assist me.”
“To completely clear this endless, hopeless Deep Blue Port…”
“Once and for all.”