bookbashuk Page 25
Page 25
Admittedly, thanks to his past experiences, he has a clear awareness of his own uniqueness. As fellow participants in [Hive], aside from those who started out like rootless duckweed, in some [Hive] with complete worldviews, he is decisively different from his teammates like Touma and Kazusa.
For them, their origins are merely fragmented pieces of information, stopping at the level of understanding their environment.
For him, his birth meant complete memories, so detailed they were terrifying—but that was the very beginning. Now he was used to it, because in most cases it simply meant more detailed information that allowed him to perfectly immerse himself in the role and then thrive.
But this time was an exception, one of only two special experiences to date, which made him recall a memory from six months ago. As the memory resurfaced, the bone-chilling stench of blood also appeared in the form of a hallucination between his nostrils.
Is the problem with this girl, or with Hive?
The conversation in that bird-of-paradise garden resurfaced in her mind. The believer carefully reviewed those fantastical fragments of conversation and concluded that what she was looking for existed in this world.
He had already found two pages of the thirteen-page "Fragments of the Divine Comedy," and each page had greatly benefited him, revealing an absurd secret while also granting him corresponding forbidden knowledge.
Now, Mr. Hearn felt a bit of a headache. In the past few days, he had been thinking like a schizophrenic. On the one hand, he was clearly aware that he was just a passerby who would leave after achieving a certain goal. The most important goal right now was to meet up with Touma and the others, and then find a way to take down that stingy and cheap classmate named Tsukiyama Seiichi.
On the other hand, he was thinking like a true chief witch hunter of Skybreaker, racking his brains for his next move. The truth about being wanted was still shrouded in mystery, and the only clue came from the absurd investigation report released by Skybreaker. No matter how he thought about it, he felt that he had been framed and was indignant.
As for the girl in front of me...
"Now, let's talk about our situation."
"How to say?"
“I don’t believe Qingtian’s internal report. I think you either exposed the true nature of [Shihai] or you were framed. My purpose in coming here is to help you get out of trouble.”
really……
Things were getting complicated. Xin Nu's real plan was to find a way to send this young lady back to Qingtian, then change course to meet up with her companions, and leave after dealing with her cheap classmate's [White House] as originally planned.
“First of all, thank you for your trust. Secondly, I can assure you that I have absolutely not revealed my external powers to anyone. You are the only living person who knows this.” The believer briefly recalled the events before replying to Weiss.
“Emmmmmmmm…does that sound like I’m a prime suspect?” Weiss raised an eyebrow.
"If it were you, then you'd be either a genius or an idiot to come knocking on my door right now." The believer rolled her eyes.
"I can understand being a fool, but what about a genius?"
“A genius is someone who has even considered this step. Considering all the time wasted before and after, I think the Sky-Piercing Witch Hunters are already in place by now—Sky-Piercing has trained you very well.”
"If that's the case, I'd rather you just think of me as a fool who impulsively crossed the continent to come here."
"Yeah, that's true."
As soon as they finished speaking, the two of them turned their heads at the same time and looked out the window.
Above, the roar of aircraft engines could be heard.
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Chapter 48 Scorching Feedback
The Falcon-class jet bomber swept low over the cold night sky, its silver-white streamlined fuselage adorned with a black-and-white national emblem on its tail. The emblem consisted of a circular ring with regular grooves, concentric irregular gears, and a weapon emblem resembling a long-handled axe, giving it a strong metallic feel.
After three falcons, flying at a high degree of synchronization and a fixed distance, skimmed low over the abandoned settlement on the snow-covered ground, a series of rapid, increasingly sharp whistling sounds followed by a series of loud explosions, then silence. The three falcons quickly swooped down and then rapidly climbed back up, moving away from the ground in the shortest possible distance at top speed.
The rising flames, like a red lotus purifying the world, were enough to vaporize the settlement more than five times over. A massive fire dust crystal bomb was airdropped onto that land.
The night sky was dyed a deep red. Captain Levitt Morningwind, the pilot of Falcon 01, belonging to an air squadron of the Sky-Piercing Kingdom stationed in the Cold Wind region, reconnected with the two wingmen: "02, 03, this is Falcon 01. Please respond. Tracking signal has disappeared. Repeat, tracking signal has disappeared. We will conduct one more low-altitude patrol. After confirming that everything is correct, we will prepare to return. Over."
"02 received."
After dropping the dust crystal bombs, the three Falcon fighters, thanks to their powerful thrusters, were able to move away from the blast center in a very short time. The three Sky-Piercing military aircraft were now climbing to an altitude of about 3000 meters. If one were to look down from above, they could spot a bright orange spot on the ground at a very limited distance. It stood out conspicuously against the snowy night. Levitt knew what it was. The high-density dust crystal bombs developed by the Snow Ni Dust Crystal Group had never disappointed the military. That bright orange spot in the night would only be a patch of scorched earth.
"03, 03, please respond!"
After wingman number 2 finished responding, wingman number 3 failed to respond on the communication channel for a long time. This was an intolerable dereliction of duty for the military, which adheres to the principle of strict obedience. Levitt had no doubt about the execution ability of his two comrades, so his first thought was that the communication channel was malfunctioning.
Almost at the same moment that thought crossed his mind, the streamlined fuselage of the No. 3 Falcon suddenly transformed into an orange-red flame in the night sky, and soon disintegrated and fell with billowing black smoke.
"No!!!" Levitt witnessed it all through the transparent windshield of the closed cabin. It happened too suddenly and without warning. He let out a roar of shock and anger, but it was immediately drowned out by another roar from a colleague on the communication channel.
Eighty years have passed since the end of the Great War, but regional conflicts surrounding extremist groups still frequently occur in the cold wind region. Years of military service have inevitably led Levitt to hear those inhuman roars—grotesque screams of irrationality that humans and Funa people only make when they are on the verge of death. The will to survive and the fear of death have completely distorted the vocal system of those involved.
The roar on the communication channel abruptly stopped. Falcon No. 02 maintained its high-speed cruise at a constant speed, but its flight altitude and stability plummeted. It eventually crashed into the south side of the Changxiaoling Mountains, turning into a fleeting firework in the night.
Throughout the entire ordeal, neither of the two wingman pilots managed to deploy their parachutes. The Sky-High emergency ejection system is highly efficient; even during an emergency ejection at an altitude of 1,000 meters, the fluorescent parachute kit clearly marks the pilot's descent trajectory in the night sky—except for underwater missions.
"Damn it! What on earth happened..." With two colleagues killed one after another for unknown reasons, Levitt found it hard to remain calm. The radar detection system was completely silent; there were no surface-to-air missiles, and no enemy aircraft relentlessly pursuing them. At an altitude of over three thousand meters, what could possibly threaten the Sky-High's active-duty jet bombers? Damn it, could it be the Ghost?! A Ghost hovering at three thousand meters altitude had devoured them all?!
Before Levitt could finish speaking, the fully enclosed cockpit windshield in front of him shattered with a crash. In the last moment before the sudden change occurred, Levitt saw a dark shadow appear out of thin air in his field of vision and rapidly expand—the Falcon 01 had crashed into something that shouldn't be there!
Even a high-speed cruising aircraft could be destroyed and killed if it collided with a pigeon during flight, let alone a black shadow that was more than ten times larger than a pigeon!
In the instant the windshield shattered, Levitt felt a large amount of hot, sticky liquid cover his face. The cold wind was permeated with the rusty stench of blood. The ensuing impact completely destroyed this professional soldier who had served the Sky Kingdom for many years. In the last moment before his vision and consciousness remained, Levitt saw fragments of flesh and blood of his two comrades gushing out from the shattered cabin. The next moment, his comrade's broken ribs pierced straight into the man's eye socket and exited from the back of his head.
What destroyed the Falcon 01 was the mutilated remains of two wingmen pilots! They suddenly appeared out of nowhere on the Falcon 01's high-speed cruise route, and ultimately caused the pilotless Falcon 01 to vanish into the vast snowfield and dense forest as a streak of fire.
"Cough, cough..." Sun struggled to emerge from the ruins. The high temperature and thick smoke made him cough incessantly, forcing him to stop exploring. Behind him, a door leading to a deep cellar opened upwards.
This lucky young man from the Fna stumbled upon a metal door leading underground while heading to the kitchen to check on an unexplored room. The seemingly simple but actually somewhat thieving son of the desert couldn't contain his curiosity and, without notifying his companions, pried open the sealed cellar door and entered.
It was his curiosity that saved him. Beneath the metal door was a sturdy cellar, which appeared to have been specially built by the past inhabitants to avoid the invasion of Grimm. Most settlements in the Coldwind region had such a bunker, which stored large amounts of food and fresh water year-round for emergencies.
After entering the second level of the cellar, Sun planned to turn back the way he came. He was lucky and found survival supplies left behind by the previous inhabitants on the second level of the cellar.
But just as he was about to climb the steps, a sudden change occurred. Outside the cellar, the ground shook violently, and explosions continued. As a prospective hunter, Sun naturally recognized that the ground was being bombed. He instinctively tried to go and rescue Hearn, who was still in the mansion, but the dense explosions outside made him realize that if he went out rashly, he would only be in danger.
Once the outside world had calmed down, the son of the desert from Sanus released more than ten clones in one go. With the help of the high-purity energy dust crystal left to him by Hearn, they were able to push open the metal gate along with the building debris covering it and return to the ground.
The surging heat and suffocating smoke hindered his progress; he paced futilely near the cellar entrance, surrounded by scorched earth and desolation.
Sun felt a deep sense of powerlessness and regretted breaking his promise. The dust crystal that served as a deposit was still lying quietly in his pocket, while the client had died a violent death in an instant. The promise he made at that time still echoed in his ears, but now it seemed so ironic and jarring.
The young man named Hearn, amidst the scorched earth, looked up to the sky and let out a long howl filled with resentment and guilt.
……
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Chapter 49ContinueStories
Deep within the red-brick fireplace, orange flames flickered, filling the room with a warm, slightly sweet aroma—the scent of baked, refined wheat flour products. Wearing thick, heat-resistant gloves, Blake reached into the fire and retrieved a baking tray, charred black by the embers, from the depths of the fireplace. A plate of pale yellow pastries, twelve in total, each about the size of a child's fist, was revealed. They were irregularly shaped hemispheres, their crisp crusts topped with finely crushed black sesame seeds, and glowing with a unique, caramelized aroma.
Blake carefully transferred the pastries from the baking tray one by one to the waiting white plates, then placed the baking tray back on the rack. He then left the kitchen with the white plates full of pastries and went to the living room.
She brewed herself a pot of handmade black tea, the tea leaves coming from the tea garden nursery in front of her house. Amidst the rising steam, the large catwoman's golden pupils were slightly moist. She tentatively sipped the still slightly hot tea, carefully picked up a piece of still-warm pastry, and broke it open, afraid of using too much force. The pastry would snap open, revealing a fluffy inner structure beneath a crisp, layered crust baked to distinct layers. A layer of purplish-black wrapped around an orange-yellow filling—a combination of purple sweet potato powder and salted duck egg yolk.
With a mix of anticipation and unease, Blake took a bite of the multi-layered pastry in her hand. Her cat ears trembled slightly, and a moment later, a subtle smile of happiness appeared on her face.
Light snow was falling outside the window. It was already midnight. Redwood Japanese-style paper lanterns were scattered all over the small island in the middle of the lake, and their warm yellow light illuminated the night, which should have been lonely.
Blake savored the handmade pastries she had made herself, took a sip of warm tea, and her gaze drifted casually to the handmade calendar on the living room wall. She kept track of the years according to the Shubuzi calendar she remembered. Spring came and autumn went, time flew by, and this was her thirteenth winter spent here, everything as usual.
Fortunately, time had not left any trace of age on her, a dead person. Blake gazed at her reflection on the smooth, mirror-like coffee table, at the familiar voice and smile, still the same as when she was seventeen.
Although her physical needs for food and drink have long since disappeared, the faint sense of happiness and accomplishment from eating the handmade pastries that she had finally managed to eat after many attempts still brings her joy—the spiritual needs become more apparent after the loss of material needs.
In spring, the season of beginnings, she would plant her favorite crops in the vegetable garden in front of her door and in the ground. In summer, the season for travel, she would stay in the treehouse she built by the sea, gazing at the azure sea and the sunrise and sunset. In autumn, the season of harvest, she would prepare fruits and vegetables for the winter in advance and try to develop new seasonal dishes. In winter, the season of languor, she only wanted to return to her villa in the middle of the lake, light a warm fire, read classics under the bright light in her study, and write down her thoughts on the year.
Blake no longer hides the cat ears that belong to the Furnards on her head with a bow. She wears a loose-fitting silk robe woven from silkworms and dyed with purple rose extract, both elegant and comfortable. Her old outfit from the White Fang era is sealed away in her wardrobe, a kind of closure to the past.
She had long since become indifferent to the racial entanglements between the Funa and humans that had lasted for thousands of years. In the past years, she carefully reviewed every detail from the time she could remember, and found that her past seventeen years, which seemed to be full of hardships, were indeed full of hardships. They were vividly described on the paper, but only a few pages long.
Revenge is a process that accumulates nothing of value.
Blake once wrote in her diary that she sincerely regretted the choices she made in the seventeen years of her life, but now she had to let go and accept them.
Thirteen years have passed in a flash. She has become indifferent to many things and seen through many things. She felt deeply sorry for her past self, but it was all in vain. Fortunately, she devoted her energy to learning the knowledge left by her predecessors in order to soothe her spiritual loneliness.
The knowledge left by predecessors is vast and covers all aspects. In the first few years, Blake devoted most of her energy to several disciplines closely related to survival and began to carry out practice based on theory. As the days and months passed, the island in the middle of the lake became more and more prosperous. Recently, she has gradually turned her attention to the knowledge system closely related to the psionic reactor underground. It is a kind of idealistic spiritual energy with a relatively low entry threshold. Nobu's notes record in detail the rituals of how to resonate with psionic energy.
Nobu is Blake's short name for the ex who found her on the beach, the one who lingered there for over a decade before finally passing away. Blake is deeply grateful for everything Nobu left her and for the path he showed her—saving her from the abyss of despair and eternal madness.
In the letter Nobu left behind, he told her that all she needed to do was reflect on her life, which was already over, and find peace in it, while also taking care of herself, waiting, and holding onto hope.
During her first winter, Blake meticulously sewed a silk doll filled with fluffy wool. Because of the maker's own design, the doll resembled a creamy white kitten. Blake used light blue thread to sew Nobu's eyes and dark thread to draw Nobu's eyebrows, outlining the rest of the facial features. She carried Nobu with her, whether out and about or resting at home. When she felt particularly moved, she would confide in Nobu. Every night, she would place Nobu by her bedside. Sometimes, when she felt lonely, she would hold Nobu and drift off to sleep. In this world where she was all alone, Nobu was her only friend.
A soft rustling sound came from outside the window, like sand and pebbles falling on grass. Blake, holding a teacup, went to the inner transparent window and saw that in the courtyard in front of the mansion, colorful dust crystals of uniform size and height were cascading like a waterfall from a dark blue crack 2 meters above the ground...
As two tall, brown horses passed by, they left a trail of horseshoe footprints on the snow-covered ground. The horses were harnessed with finely crafted leather reins, which connected to a wooden wagon about three meters high. Iron sheets and rivets secured the wagon's key parts to ensure it could be loaded properly without falling apart. The top of the cargo hold was open, piled high with fluffy, bright yellow hay.
The snow stopped, the sky cleared, and the biting wind subsided, granting this land a rare moment of peace.
The lush coniferous forests on both sides receded into the distance with the soft creaking of the wheels. A silver-haired foreign girl, dressed in a long, pure white trench coat with black trim and accessories, and matching over-the-knee heels, her silver hair tied back in a single ponytail to the right with a black thorn ribbon, her pale, icy blue eyes reflecting the equally azure sky, reminiscent of icebergs on the distant sea. Weiss lay casually on top of a haystack, a suitcase in a similar color to her clothes tossed aside. Dawn was breaking, the sunlight still dim, and she gazed at the distant horizon above the clouds, her chest rising and falling slightly.
Her gaze gradually moved upwards, directed towards the unseen distance ahead.
"Hearn".
"I'm here."
The one who answered was the young man sitting in front of the warehouse, or at least that's how it appeared—he wore a black silk robe with red maple leaves from the Eastern Kingdom, wooden clogs, and white cloth socks. His long, black hair was also tied into a ponytail with a ribbon, but the way he did it was much more casual than the previous one, which resulted in the ends of his hair on both sides being different lengths, creating an asymmetrical look that was subtly harmonious. A blade of grass, which he had picked from under the snow somewhere, was dangling from the corner of his mouth, and a slightly upturned smile played on his lips, revealing a mischievous glint. His crimson-gold eyes shone with a bewitching light, hidden behind his darkly drawn eyebrows.
A young wanderer from the East and a noblewoman from a foreign land—this bizarre combination subconsciously evokes the era of the Black Ships.
“All numbered dust crystals produced by Xue Ni Dust Crystal Company possess complete mana sniffing and positioning functions before use,” Weiss said softly, maintaining her posture, a hint of regret in her voice. “I should have reminded you.”
“After all, it’s a trade secret. Besides, you were on the second floor at the time, so you couldn’t possibly know that I gave that Desert Son a piece.” The believer’s reply was quite relaxed, and he seemed to be quite open-minded. “Besides, aren’t we doing well? The same goes for that monkey guy. He used that dust crystal when he left the bunker, and the mana pheromone positioning on it no longer exists.”
“You seem to have forgotten to say goodbye,” Weiss said cryptically.
"Let's forget about it. Some things are hard to explain, my lady." The believer chuckled softly. "Do you want to force him to confess to a stranger like me that he's just a Sanusian stowaway who stole a luxury SUV to get by, or do you want me to confess to him that I'm a wanted criminal with no real reason, and that you're just a hostage I kidnapped while I was on my way out? I don't think either outcome would be good, so leaving without saying goodbye is the best solution."
"Of course I understand." The noble lady was inexplicably a little sullen.
"However, I still appreciate you informing me of Xue Ni Company's trade secrets in time, otherwise I might have done something very rude to a lady." The young wanderer seemed somewhat regretful.
"?"
"For example, we'll give you a comprehensive physical examination to see where there are any implanted tracking devices, including in the mucous membranes."
"Hearn!" Miss Xue Ni, embarrassed, scrambled forward and poked her head out from the front of the cargo hold, angrily berating the coachman below, "When are you going to change your ways...?"
"Watch out, I have terrible driving luck!"
Miss Xue Ni's words came to an abrupt halt. Almost at the same moment she leaned forward, the car experienced an abnormal jolt, as if the wheels had rolled over pebbles hidden beneath the snow. The final result of this chain reaction was...
The believer managed to catch Miss Xue Ni, who was "pounced" down from above, with a steady hand, despite her seemingly frail appearance. Mr. Hearn spun Miss Xue Ni 180 degrees, bringing the slightly disheveled Weiss back to her senses. Fortunately, her side ponytail was securely tied with a black thorn ribbon. She straightened her hair and collar, her cheeks slightly flushed, but she still maintained a serious demeanor and spoke sternly to the young man before her: "Thank you very much, and please let me go. I'm not used to sitting on someone's lap, nor am I used to being held in someone's arms."
"Of course, it was my fault." The woman glanced at the two overweight, swaggering horses in front of her and sighed inwardly that these two wild beasts she had captured were truly the Makishima of horses. "I am not very good at driving vehicles, but this kind of primitive vehicle seems to be quite reliable."
After he let go, Miss Xue Ni shrank to the edge of the platform, but after a moment she cleared her throat somewhat affectedly and moved closer, sitting down a few centimeters away from Xin Nu with a solemn expression and her gaze fixed on the distance.
As dawn broke and the sun gradually rose above the clouds, it gilded the snow-covered land with a layer of shattered gold. The young wanderer and the noble lady in the carriage simultaneously raised their hands to their foreheads to shield their eyes from the sunlight and gazed eastward.
In the distance, beyond the vast forest and snowfield, an ancient city built vertically against the mountain can be vaguely seen.
"We're almost at safe harbor."
"...But we have no money. Without money, life in the city might be even worse than in the wild."
"..."
"Don't look at me like that. Your account has been frozen by Qingtian, and I'm still a minor. If I use my dad's card, my whereabouts will be exposed. Do you have any valuables on you?"
"Damn it, I processed that batch of dust crystals into mana in the [Sea of Time]."
"..."
"Moreover, we can't just walk through the main gate into the city. The haven is the capital of the cold winds, so there will definitely be a lot of identity verification. However, the black market in the lower city is world-famous, so there must be many secret passages into the city."
"To be honest, I really don't want to go to a place where scumbags gather."
"Of course, you're as eye-catching as an LC-grade diamond swan on the streets of the lower city. I suggest you wear a hood to cover your face, otherwise I'll probably be forced to wipe out the largest black market on the Anima continent and then continue my escape with you."
"But aren't we witch hunters? It is our duty to eradicate the festering sores beneath the glamorous facade of the four kingdoms."
"I have rendered meritorious service to Qingtian and shed blood for Qingtian, but in the end I was inexplicably framed and didn't even have the chance to see the Commander-in-Chief. There is also a group of colleagues on their way to execute me. I'm sorry, I really don't think this is a promising profession."
"That's why you need to work even harder to atone for your sins, Hern. Of course, I will be there to assist you."
"My dear lady, listen to my advice and retire with me."
"Don't even think about it!"
……
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Chapter 50 On the Countryside
Kingdom of Cold Winds, a safe haven, the suburbs.
Perhaps due to various reasons such as the urban heat island circulation, the snow depth in the suburbs near the harbor city is much less than before.
The Coldwind Kingdom is recognized by the four kingdoms as a major cultural exporter, but also as a weak nation in heavy industry, only slightly better off than the Vacuum Kingdom, which has been barely hanging on for decades. However, with the gradual implementation of a series of mutually beneficial agreements signed with Skyward, capital from the North is injecting new vitality into this ancient continent with its mature industrial system.
As a result, the entry procedures for this capital city of a country with a style that is very similar to the cultural complex of the Far East on Earth are so complete that it is unbearable, at least for the two "wanted criminals" and "hostages" who cannot be exposed to the light of day.