CHAPTER 1039: CHAPTER 1036: MORTAL WORLD SNOW

["Death is the most personal aspect of being human, unrelated to others, certain but uncertain, an insurmountable possibility." —Heidegger.]

[Aside from illness and self-abandonment, it’s hard for us to imagine on which day our own death will arrive. Subconsciously, we assume that we will continue living along a path conceived in our minds. In this mindset, the elderly might consider whether their actions will be limited by their lifespan, but the young do not, for they do not consider "death."]

[Hence the avoidance of thinking about "death."]

[In some sense.]

[It’s also an avoidance of thinking about "life."]

[This view is no different from our perception of the "Number One Player." We all subconsciously ignore the possibility of his "death."]

[This planet beneath our feet, once witnessing the vicissitudes of 4.6 billion years, has seen the birth and extinction of countless races. If time were likened to a long line, human history would only be a fleeting moment—you certainly can’t expect a planet to universally save all living beings, can you? If it favors "humanity" greatly, why then are fish and cattle not its people too? If population groups were classified by "wisdom," the gap between those of extreme wisdom and those with intellectual deficiencies is even greater than the gap between humans and dogs; how then should we categorize its people?]

[I dare not imagine the existence of a "Child of Destiny." Even if humanity were to perish in an absurd game, the lifespan of the planet would remain unchanged. Centuries later, new life will still be born; it’s just us who die, us who are unwilling. So many lives, so much material heritage, so much poetry and literature... will all turn to a speck of ash in the universe.]

[So.]

[The Number One Player has died, and his death extinguished humanity’s hope. Death is an insurmountable "possibility." Once it occurs, it cannot be altered.]

[Unless he hasn’t died, but I dare not imagine this possibility, it’s too minuscule, tantamount to a miracle.]

[Su Ming’an. He really is... capable of dying. We ought to feel grief, regret, and... remorse.]

[Sorry for putting so much pressure on you. Sorry for once criticizing you with the harshest words. Sorry for once gazing at you with critical eyes. It wasn’t until the moment you closed your eyes that I remembered... you hadn’t even turned 20.]

[I’m sorry.]

[Su Ming’an, you were clearly two years younger than me.]

[—Excerpt from a top 10 popular post on the Dream Tour Forum, published by an anonymous player.]

...

Mizushima Kawa Sora didn’t expect this result.

The young man was nailed to the mechanical wheel, his limbs drooping, his entire weight supported only by a Holy Sword at his forehead. The gash appeared at the forehead’s edge, and might at any moment tear along his skull. Under the violent downpour, his black robe clung like a wrinkled shroud.

His eyes were closed, and his expression was no different than when he normally slept, yet he seemed even more pained. His brows were slightly furrowed, bearing vivid traces of regret. It’s evident he couldn’t accept such a death.

"Impossible..." Mizushima Kawa Sora kept repeating.

She believed in the Deity’s judgment. The Deity’s divination ability was extremely precise, capable even of calculating everyone’s actions in this world. Surely, it could calculate that this sword wasn’t enough to kill Su Ming’an’s soul.

Yet, why?

Why...

Why after this sword strike, could she no longer see his soul?

She was trembling.

Early spring in The World of Old Days turned out to be so cold. February 827 still belonged to the chilly days of winter. February’s winds carried the frost not yet melted upon the world, striking her face.

She looked at her hands, white and untouched by calluses, yet feeling as if submerged in fresh red blood. These hands, it seemed, could never be cleaned.

"I..."

She seemed to want to explain something or evade something. But in the next moment, she realized it was meaningless because the person who could listen to her explanation was no longer there.

... The one who always mentioned her sister was no longer there, and the regretful gaze he always cast at her was unseen, his voice was gone too.

So cold.

The Deity paused a long while beside the mechanical wheel. Long white hair veiled His side face, and no one could discern His expression.

Indeed so cold.

"I never expected... it would be like this." His voice was like melting snow:

"Even if you added up all your restarts and multiplied them by several times of fatigue... that sword couldn’t have shattered your soul. Your will... is the most resilient I’ve ever seen, there is no reason for it to dissipate... I never thought it would be like this, it’s impossible from a probabilistic perspective."

"We indeed once knew each other, so I didn’t want you to be burdened. But, my bet with the organizers had to make you be burdened. I don’t know... I don’t know what to do."

"Apologies."

"I know this might be your plan, yet I truly saw your death too and understood your... resolution. So, if you can open your eyes, if you can awake..."

His voice grew fainter.

The temperature seemed to have dropped since the black butterfly ceased fluttering. In that instant—the Holy Sword’s luminescence dimmed, the mechanical wheel’s red glow faded like extinguished flames, and fine white points of light drifted down from the sky. People looked up at those scattered white lights, their eyes filled with bright grief and bewilderment—just like snow sweeping through the mortal world.

Snow upon the mortal world, falling on Lv Shu’s white hair.

He heard a faint crying sound from afar, unsure whether it was real sobbing or the shrill of the wind.

"—!—!"

Wailing, wailing.

More like the shrill of the wind.

For some unknown reason, Lv Shu’s ears gradually lost all noise, and at this moment, his heart was very quiet.

Distant mountains spanned a thousand miles, nestled within the gray rain, as if gazing silently with him. The parasol trees in Dao Ya City grew very tall, like a vast green umbrella gently shielding him.

He slowly hugged himself, and the red butterflies also hugged him. He had never felt so cold, even when he shivered under a bridge years ago in winter, his heart then was warm. Now, the rain washed his stiff cheeks, and he could feel his chest slowly freezing, as though the flames within his heart had gone out.

Rain flowed into his eyes, yet he didn’t dare blink, staring directly at the silhouette in the sky, allowing the sourness to engulf his vision.

... Su Ming’an.

Though he had tried to imagine what it would be like if one day Su Ming’an was no longer there. Just thinking about it sent chills through his entire body, not daring to think further.

He never thought it would be today.

He remembered that whether it was his 19th birthday or during New Year celebrations afterward, that person promised to go home together to see the scenery in various places. Beneath the fireworks that blessed the world, in steaming hot springs, in the vastness of the galaxy on a small boat, they clasped hands in prayer, closed their eyes, and made a wish—

How could such a wish remain unfulfilled, and yet...

This should not be his grave.

This is not home.

"...No, that’s not right." Lv Shu clenched his fists and slowly retreated.

A good man wouldn’t face this ending. Such a hopeless conclusion... should never have beenfall Su Ming’an. Su Ming’an must have a backup plan. As long as he waits, Su Ming’an will appear before people again, it must be so.

He must prepare for Su Ming’an’s return, he must go... yes, he must gather people. He knew he couldn’t think of a good plan himself, so he needed to call back his smart teammates, to think together, think together... pooling ideas and thoughts. And then, Su Ming’an would be able to return.

The white-haired young man turned around—

At that moment, his head was filled with snow from the entire mortal world.

Bells rang, and white doves flapped their wings in the rain.

In the fierce flames of the Holy City, the Spirit Cat was torn apart, leaving only a recorder. It fell to the ground, landing by the feet of Yamada Machiichi.

A wisp of singed golden hair drifted gently from the sky, stained with a few sparks.

...It reminded one of a golden-haired youth, his back facing the sun, his head full of swirling daylight, forming a cohesive gold. His azure eyes made one think of a dust-free sky after rain, as clean as if washed, smiling as if filled with blue flowing rivers.

At this moment, the youth’s smile was gone, leaving only a wisp of nearly charred golden hair.

Yamada Machiichi reached out, cupping this singed golden hair. He didn’t see any equipment dropped, so, whether it was fortunate or unfortunate, it was the fake Noel that died.

"...Thump, thump."

Knees hit the ground. Yamada Machiichi’s eyes were dark, under intense pain, his legs couldn’t support his weight.

He held the nearly burnt golden hair, pressed it against his palm.

He had already heard the judgment of the deities — Su Ming’an was dead, everyone had heard it.

His life was once a river stopped mid-flow, stagnant water once it ceased to flow. Gray sky, gray water, gray schools and books... everything was gray in his eyes. Even entering the World Game, a strong self-destructive urge lingered in his heart, inseparably tied to his depression. Seeing a hanging noose always gave him the impulse to stick his head in it.

Until he met Su Ming’an.

That young man’s eyes seemed to always hold light. His obsession was grim death, the young man’s obsession seemed to be death too, but it was different, a feeling completely opposite to his—like the sensation of "living towards death."

This left him puzzled, feeling a kindred emotion. So much so that... they grew closer and closer, ultimately becoming friends.

From the moment they became friends, Yamada Machiichi realized, his restless, destructive urge finally began to fade. He no longer needed to wear a gray mask, for he finally had sunlight.

But...

"Why are you so good?" Yamada Machiichi whispered.

He clenched the hair tightly in his hand.

"...Why are all of you so good?"

...But why must even this sunlight fade away?

The feathers of the white dove landed on his shoulder.

He too bore the weight of snow upon him.

Soon, more people finally emerged from their unreal sensations, accepting this fact—Su Ming’an had died.

No one expected his death to come today.

The wind continued to blow past the ear, peach blossoms about to open their first petals, wild geese sweeping across the sky in the distance, everything was so ordinary. Just like any normal day for an ordinary person.

But indeed, on such an ordinary day... Su Ming’an died.

Eli and Agnes stood dazedly in place. After a moment, Agnes suddenly went berserk, opening the interface, frantically clicking on the section of "World Forum." She couldn’t take it anymore, she wanted to see everyone’s guilt and regret, wanted to see the scenes of everyone despairing to the point of tears. However, "World Forum" could only be opened during rest periods, her fingertips repeatedly clicking the gray button, without any response.

However, she didn’t need to open the "World Forum," because everything unfolding before her eyes was enough to view.

This hopeless, silent, gray, absurd, painful everything. Like raging flames burning right before her eyes—ah.

"We’re doomed." Player Miao Bu knelt to the ground.

The looming shadow of people lingered in the rain, cluster after cluster.

Raindrops beat against their bodies, covering their lifeless eyes.

"He won’t die, Su Ming’an—" someone sobbed.

"Su Ming’an is dead, the human points progress bar dropped by at least ten percent. The World Game still has more than half a year left, and our progress estimate is only in the twenties, we’re already... doomed." Someone collapsed to the ground.

"It’s all Mizushima Kawa Sora’s fault!" someone vented fury.

"Now Noel, who’s ranked second, will be Number One Player. Didn’t you all trust Noel a lot? Saying things like ’If Su Ming’an didn’t possibly have hidden Authority, Noel should’ve been Number One Player by now’! What’s the point of this despair now? Let Noel lead you then!"

"Will Noel... love humans?"

"If the points aren’t up to standard in the end, will Noel really pay the price to save us? Or will he... embrace the High Dimensions?"

"Who knows..."

Everyone dropped what they were doing, confusion, despair, pain, curse, accusation, remembrance, sorrow...

The myriad forms of mortal life.

Some were wailing, truly grieved by Su Ming’an’s death. Some thought of their family, saddened by the fact that they’d never see them again in this life.

Among so many top-ranked players, who could have done better than Su Ming’an?

Having his perseverance meant lacking his acuity. Having his acuity meant lacking his strength. Having his strength meant lacking his passion. Even if many players had abilities surpassing him, but...

He was the most special.

Just like a unique Morning Star.

...

This heavy snow was so cold.

Foremost was Mizushima Kawa Sora.

People couldn’t blame the deities, so their anger was directed at Mizushima Kawa Sora—look, it was your competition that led to this outcome. Even Edward just wanted Su Ming’an’s power drained, but you? You completely killed him.

——You are the sinner, the executioner with blood-stained hands, the one destined for hell, to be endlessly tortured.

——You should spend a lifetime atoning, even if you can’t die now, you shouldn’t live after the game ends.