Chapter 821: Chapter 818: Warmth and Cold

The journey to the Death Node seemed about to reach its end. In the extremely uniform gray-white backdrop outside the ship’s hull, some barely noticeable black lines had started to subtly appear, with physical structures emerging in the distance and slowly expanding ahead of Homeloss and Brilliant Starship.

Yet, for some reason, this scene, seen more than once, felt particularly… lonely and prolonged to Duncan this time.

He stood quietly at the bow of Homeloss, waiting for the warp to stop, as footsteps sounded from behind him. Without turning around, he knew who was approaching.

“Lucy,” Duncan said softly, “we’re almost there.”

“I know,” Lucy came beside Duncan, gazing together at the slowly changing landscape in the distance, “The last node, right? Then it’s back to the resting place of the Storm Goddess… Every journey has its end.”

“I’m sorry, I have to go alone again,” Duncan sighed lightly, aware that he was just inhabiting an “avatar.” Yet, many complex emotions still stirred within him in front of Lucy, and how much of those emotions belonged to “Duncan Ebnomal,” he couldn’t quite say, “I had promised you before…”

He didn’t finish speaking when Lucy suddenly interrupted, “You’ve kept your promise by taking me along to the edge of the world.”

As she spoke, she turned her head toward Duncan with a deep, tranquil look, her expression extraordinarily serious. But after two or three seconds, she suddenly laughed, “What did you expect? That I would act like a naive little girl, wailing and clinging to you, preventing you from doing something important? Or that I would throw a tantrum at a time like this, scolding you and having you embark on such an important journey with regret and dejection? That I’d doom all the hopes of the world over my bad mood at this moment?”

Looking at the “witch” smiling before him, Duncan suddenly found himself at a loss for words, only managing a helpless smile as he spread his hands.

“I’m not a child anymore, Father,” Lucy took a deep breath, a serene smile on her face, looking very seriously into Duncan’s eyes, “Whatever I do, I can’t stop your decision up next, and I can’t find a better, viable alternative to solve the problem for you. The most suitable choice, then, is to keep a smile at this moment…that’s what you taught me.”

“…I don’t remember that,” said Duncan very honestly.

“To smile at each goodbye,” Lucy whispered with nostalgia, “so that if we can never meet again, at least when we recall each other, the last scene in our minds would be a brilliant smile.”

Duncan said nothing, he didn’t awkwardly inquire about a century ago when Homeloss decided to head for the Eternal Veil, about what the scene looked like the last time Lucy and Terrian said goodbye to the captain of Homeloss.

After a moment of silence, Lucy suddenly raised her hand, firmly gazing at Duncan.

“What?” Duncan looked puzzled at her.

“High five,” Lucy said.

Duncan unconsciously frowned: “High five?”

“Promise me, you’ll come back, then high five,”

the witch said calmly. She looked up, gazing at the tall figure standing at the bow, with the slowly moving black lines in the background gradually expanding. Her father’s silhouette seemed to be fading into that transmuting light and shadow. Suddenly, she felt like she was seeing the weathered afternoon at the dock again, her father standing in front of the gangway to Homeloss, watching her like a speechless statue.

“High five, promise me and my brother, you’ll come back safely.” That’s what she had said at the time.

Back then, she was much younger, not yet a “witch” of the sea, and she could not clearly remember if her face had a smile–probably not, because she wasn’t as mature and… hard as she was today.

In her yellowing memories, the tall figure had ultimately turned away in silence.

But the warmth of touch and a ‘clap’ brought Lucy back from those faded memories–she saw her father smiling, his large palm covering hers.

Just like when her father and brother were young, every time he went out.

Then, the floating black light and shadow in the distance suddenly expanded rapidly, filling the entire view outside Homeloss and Brilliant Starship, the gray-white background corridor silently collapsed, accompanied by a distorted, distorted voice into everyone’s mind: “… warp… stop.”

A colorless, vast wilderness composed of different gradients of black, white, and gray appeared before Lucy and Duncan–no coastline, no sea, just a barren wildland, black and white wildgrass growing wildly on the plains, undulating in the wind without making a sound, akin to a dead silencer.

Homeloss and Brilliant Starship were sailing on the undulating grass waves, silently gliding across the Wilderness of Death enveloped by the Eternal Veil.

…

It seemed that the veil of night had become eternal, and the sun would never rise again.

Frem stood beside the great bonfire on the Fire Transmitter’s ark, looking back once more in the direction from whence the fleet had come, back to the boundary of the civilized world, but still he could only see the boundless darkness, seeing the cold, pale brilliance of Creation of the World shining over the ocean like a mirror, as if from the infinite past to the infinite future, the entire world had always been this way.

He withdrew his gaze, continuing to pray beneath the illumination of the great bonfire’s flames.

The cold wind from the northern seas howled past his ears, interspersed with the deep noise of the giant steam engines operating within the depths of the ark. Occasionally, he could hear the distant sounds of shattering ice or the continuous roar like thunder — those were the terrifying sounds of ice being crushed by the giant icebreaking mechanism at the forefront of the ark.

The Fire Transmitter’s ark was heading further north, having already passed a series of “extreme northern City-States,” including Frost, it had now officially entered the Permafrost Sea Area previously deemed “the end of civilization.”

Here, the endless layers of ice replaced the sea, extending into the darkness as if reaching the edge of the world, with mist vaguely undulating in the depths of the ice field, rising and connecting to the sky, and under the Sky Light spilled by Creation of the World, everything radiated a strange and uniform silver brilliance, even… seeming rather “bright.”

After an indeterminate amount of time, Frem finally opened his eyes from his prayer, sensing something slightly as he frowned. A blurry apparition split from the shadows beside him, rising and walking towards the grand bonfire ahead.

As his historical counterpart vanished into the flames, he nodded slightly and summoned a Fire Guardian Attendant who had been waiting nearby, whispering instructions.

The attendant obeyed and left. After a while, deep mechanical rumblings came from the depths of the Fire Transmitter’s ark; this massive feat of engineering was slowly and meticulously adjusting its course, simultaneously resetting the operation of the icebreaking mechanism as it continued deeper into the ice field.

Among the distant sounds of breaking ice, there were some disturbing sharp noises mixed in.

A female priestess wearing a black robe and veil appeared beside the great bonfire, quickly moving behind Frem: “Your Holiness, an axle in the icebreaking mechanism has broken.”

…”Is it still usable?”

“The power has decreased by thirty percent, but it’s still usable,” the priestess quickly said, “However, the mechanical priest has warned that the breakage of the first axle will soon trigger a chain reaction, and the other axles may have problems within the next five to seven days; by then, the icebreaking mechanism will be wrecked.”

“It’s okay, as long as it still works for now. After all, this ‘ship’ was not designed for sailing in the ice sea from the beginning,” Frem said, slowly shaking his head, “Don’t worry, we are almost there.”

The priestess turned her head, looking at the blazing bonfire before the Pope.

“Is the ‘location’ indicated by the Lord right ahead?”

“Yes,” Frem nodded slightly, “The Lord told me in the vision of fire that this is the focal point of the historical timeline in the real dimension. We need to bring the most important archival documents here, this is critical for leaving a ‘mark.’ Unfortunately, the Lord’s voice has been very vague, and I can’t fully understand what He meant by ‘mark,’ but one thing is certain… this is very important.”

The priestess did not inquire further but bowed her head, devoutly praying in front of the great bonfire–she didn’t expect to hear any response from the flames, as the Lord’s vague and muffled whispers had only been audible to the Pope for a long time now, but “prayer” had become a part of the ordinary clergy’s way of life like hers, accustomed even without a response.

The wind over the ice sea was piercingly cold, almost freezing the blood, and no amount of thick clothing or Divine Arts could shield it, but unconsciously, the priests on the ark had also begun to adapt to the cold here. Previously, the priests and sailors who had temporarily fallen ill due to the low temperatures had also gradually recovered, which was somewhat of a good thing.

The prayer ended, and the priestess opened her eyes. The cold wind seeped into her flesh, freezing her blood flow and heartbeat, but she still found a moment of solace from her prayer.

“I will go and notify the mechanics on the ship to extend the remaining life of the icebreaking mechanism as much as possible, to ensure that those hydraulic hammers last until we reach the ‘focal point’. But if the icebreaking mechanism really fails… we will have to use explosives, and we have stored a lot of them.”

“Hmm.” Frem nodded lightly.

The priestess bowed slightly and prepared to leave, but before departing, she raised her head to look at the great bonfire once more and couldn’t help murmuring softly–

“This fire is really cold.”