Chapter 816: Chapter 813 The Fundamental Point of Divergence

Ding… Ding Ding…

That is the sound of a god bearing history, carving sand with a stone chisel in the burned-out pages of history.

The giant sat on the ground, seemingly unresponsive to the approaching uninvited guest, still with the appearance remembered by Fenna–aged, towering, his face etched with the vicissitudes of history like grooves carved by ax and chisel, his hair and beard unruly, and his eyes hollow.

But compared to Fenna’s memory, he seemed even more aged, more stooped, and on his tattered robe, one could still see a flickering dark red glow, as if embers were still burning on his body, occasionally sending off tiny sparks with his movements, which fell on the desert, emitting brief and blurry illusions.

The giant lifted his arm again, the stone striking the chisel, the chisel falling into the loose sand, yet sparking as though metal striking stone and producing a crisp sound. However, sand ultimately cannot be carved–no marks are left in the sand, only the crisp sound of the chiseling echoing hollowly in this vast sea of sand.

Fenna stood neatly beside a sand dune, watching the familiar figure not far away, and after a brief hesitation, she finally followed the captain, tentatively taking a step forward.

Then, the giant’s deep and hoarse voice finally broke the silence, entering her ears: “Time… is an illusion imposed by Observers upon the changes of things, and history is the shadow cast by intelligent races within this illusion of time. To an intelligent Observer, all meaning is built upon the foundation of ‘humanity’… Without humans, there is no meaning.”

Fenna stopped a few meters away from the giant.

“A long time ago, there were stones here, and history could be carved upon stones, but now there’s only sand left, and even the flame has dwindled to this tiny fire,” the giant muttered to himself as he watched the bonfire flickering in the cold wind, “It’s about to end.”

“Civilizations begin with fire and stone and shall end with them…” Fenna couldn’t help but say–this was what Tarrikin had personally told her in that prolonged dream at Light Breeze Harbor.

Finally, the giant raised his head, his gaze landing upon Fenna.

“I recently had a very short dream, that dream came from a time long, long ago, only fragmentary shadows remain… But I saw you in those shadows,” he gazed into Fenna’s eyes, his face creviced into a smile, “Thank you for accompanying me on that journey, although I no longer remember clearly… I still recall that the journey was supposed to be very lonely.”

Fenna’s eyes widened slightly: “That was something that happened within the Dreamscape of Silantis, you… also know about it?”

“When time is about to close its loop, all events that occurred in the stream of time are interconnected,” Tarrikin nodded gently, “When the Shelter was first established, I was deeply bound to its timeline… Now, I know many things.”

After that, he turned his head to look at Duncan, who stood beside Fenna.

“I have been waiting for you for a long time, Usurper of Flame,” the giant spoke with a faint smile, “But it’s just as well, this is the only thing that still has meaning in this place of nothingness.”

“To be honest, I didn’t expect it to look like this,” Duncan exhaled, candidly expressing his thoughts, “I thought… As the chronicler of civilization, you would be in a better state than other ‘deities’, after all, ‘memory’ is one of your domains, you should be more resilient against ‘decay’.”

“An unintuitive truth is that when the process of a disaster is prolonged to a certain extent, ‘history’ often perishes before the race itself,” Tarrikin shook his head, “It’s not always ‘after a race perishes, then their history follows’. Often, while a race is still alive, their history has already ended… Oblivion is a terrifying thing.”

The giant paused here and sighed softly, “…Oblivion is fearsome, especially so in a world where many things suddenly vanish. The ‘corrections’ inside the Shelter can’t fully mend those voids left by ‘profane archetypes’, and so history is left with countless lesions and tears. I have done my utmost to cover up those historical distortion points that could spread contamination, to re-carve the memories of the mortal world, time and time again, time and time again… Stones finally turned into sand, sand into ashes, now there’s almost nothing left to mend.”

Tarrikin shook his head and casually dropped the stone and chisel from his hand–upon hitting the sand, they instantly shattered, turning into grains indistinguishable from the surrounding sand.

Duncan took a step forward, approaching the giant who was taller than the tallest humans even when seated: “You must know what I’ve come for.”

“I do, Navigator II has already contacted me,” Tarrikin remarked calmly, “You are here to end this world, just like the scene I saw a long, long time ago… You will burn everything, and all things will ultimately be destroyed by your hands–that is your first step in saving them.”

Duncan faced the giant squarely, his curiosity prompting him to ask, “Are you referring to the time before the Shelter was established when you and the other ancient monarchs first discovered ‘me’? From that moment, you have called me ‘Usurper of Flame’… Is it because you foresaw the future?”

“I don’t have the capacity to calculate the entire world like Navigator II, but I have eyes that can look far along the timeline–although they’re not always that reliable,” Tarrikin chuckled, a nostalgic tone in his voice, “In the old world, those who worshipped me believed I could do it, and so I was able to.”

“I’ve always been worried that ‘to burn everything’ would lead to that ‘end of fire’,” Duncan pondered and said, “This concern arose shortly after Navigator I proposed that ‘takeover plan’ to me–a Doomsday Preacher showed me that ultimate outcome. In that historical branch, I too burned the world, but the apocalypse was still inevitable.”

He paused for a moment and then frankly expressed the worry that had always been with him: “This is what I’ve been worried about all along, and it is the only thing I am worried about so far. That ‘fire’s end’ looms like a shadow; I always feel… the conditions for it to occur are alarmingly close to the ‘first step’ I’m about to take. When I complete the ‘first step’, will I inadvertently enter a historical branch leading to the fire’s end?”

Sitting in the desert sand, Tarrikin slightly leaned forward, staring intently into Duncan’s eyes for a long while before the old giant withdrew his gaze.

“Thus, there exists a key divergence point,” he began, his voice deep, “whether it is the plan of “Leading Number One” or your current plan, ‘Burning Down the World’ is an unavoidable ‘first step’. The difference, however, lies in… who you are when executing this plan.”

Listening to the words from the “Everburning Tinder”, Duncan suddenly felt a stir in his heart!

He finally vaguely seized that key point… that which he had always sensed but hadn’t been able to pinpoint clearly.

He subconsciously took another half step forward, his eyes fixed intently on the giant’s: “You mean…”

“Captain Duncan’s power has its limits,” Tarrikin stated calmly, “you have been in this avatar’s body for too long, but… it is, after all, just an avatar.”

Duncan’s eyes widened slightly, he lowered his head to look at his hands, and realized what had always felt off, understanding why he had those instinctive worries…

It was his “self” bound within this body that sensed the avatar’s limitations, sending a subconscious warning.

He is not Duncan; he is Zhou Ming.

Duncan, just one of his avatars, like the antique shop manager of Prand, like the graveyard keeper of Frost–the captain on Homeloss was but one of three avatars.

Duncan’s first traversal through the Spirit Realm commenced the moment he activated that brass Compass–whereas Zhou Ming’s first traversal started when he pushed open his bachelor apartment door, passing through that dense fog!

He took a gentle breath, letting thoughts in his heart slowly settle down.

In fact… he had already realized these things before; as “Zhou Ming”, he recognized that his so-called “physical self” on Homeloss bore no fundamental difference from the two “corpse avatars” of Prand and Frost, realizing that “Duncan” should have been his first avatar in this world, but he had never fully contemplated the deeper implications of this–

Whether he was Duncan or Zhou Ming, this question had been key from the very beginning.

Key from the very beginning…

Zhou Ming suddenly furrowed his brows, recalling the first words the goat-headed being uttered upon meeting him after he arrived on Homeloss and the question it would always ask for confirmation–“Name?”

“Oh, it looks like you are beginning to understand the essence of the problem,” Tarrikin’s voice suddenly came from beside, startling Duncan from his reverie, “Could you perhaps control your thoughts a bit–the starlight is about to burn my eyes.”

Duncan came back to his senses only then, noticing a faint layer of starlight that had already spread around him, shining upon the surrounding desert sand, as if gradually dyeing the desert with the vastness of the starry sky.

Tarrikin lifted his tattered robe to shield himself from the starlight falling on him, his tone seeming somewhat resigned.

Meanwhile, Fenna, standing beside him, seemed unaffected, just standing there somewhat lost in thought.

There was a certain beauty to it, like a sports student standing next to the teacher, struggling to keep up with the thoughts.

Duncan coughed awkwardly: “Uh… sorry.”

The diffusing starlight gathered around him slowly receded.