Story Reader / Main Story / 28 Polaris Bond / Story

The flames of war burning out the Chamber of Commerce and Kowloong are on the verge of engulfing the entire Tabula Akasha.

Normally, consciousness data extracted and uploaded to the Tabula Akasha can never be reloaded back.

Writing consciousness requires extremely precise operations and stringent conditions. To prevent any potential misuse of the Tabula Akasha and Huaxu for altering consciousness, all uploaded consciousness is considered dead by common standards.

This is why there are no living people in the Tabula Akasha.

Because the fear of death is deeply ingrained in humans, a fundamental instinct.

Therefore, even if consciousness returns to reality, it will be constantly haunted by the conflicting impulses to live and to die.

Death is final, and the dead can never truly be resurrected.

And those who linger between life and death will never find solace in death's embrace.

She can no longer recall how many years have passed within the data realms of the Tabula Akasha.

All she remembers is continents drifting and merging, oceans evaporating and refilling, and planets dying and being reborn.

The final divergence point of the ideal confidence simulation... is your death.

This unit cannot confirm the accuracy of this simulation, but it is the only approximate solution derived under the influence of uncontrollable variables.

Thus, with each cycle she endures within the Tabula Akasha, she suffers—

Just like now.

Even if she orchestrated a logically justified death for herself, Kowloong remains unsaved.

Upon that fragile thread tied to Kowloong lies destiny.

Rising from the mountain of corpses and the sea of blood is the last survivor, the final reign<//SINNER>.

A palace built of bones and lies, is my only dwelling in the empty stars.

<The crimson sky, neither day nor night, makes it impossible to discern where the sun sets. Cries for help echo from all directions, only to dissipate futilely in this forest of death.>

The prophecy is unfolding.

The Punishing Virus and Hetero-Creatures are devouring both the flesh of reality and virtual data, while flames that lick the sky chew on the spine of the Tabula Akasha.

<They might be part of that sea now, claimed by the war itself.>

<I know, it's part of war, a price that must be paid. I shouldn't be so sentimental.>

<Yet, something still urges my "heart.">

<It makes my hands search the ground, filling my nails with blood and dirt.>

<It compels me to search and dig, despite the futility.>

<Time becomes indistinct.>

<All that remains are bodies melded with metal.>

Billions of years and trillions of cycles weigh heavily on me.

They claw at me—

I'm driven by something indefinable.

Among the crumbled walls and the blackened hills.

In the end, I am unable to leave a brighter future for Kowloong and this world.

Sorry.

I see those threads snapping one by one around me.

Your judgment is spot on, as usual, Miss Qu.

Since there's a 'cost,' then surely, 'compensation' is due.

And maybe... just maybe...

If a price must be paid...

Kowloong shouldn't bear that price...

This is what war leaves in its wake.

I couldn't save anyone.

Yet here I am, still searching through the ruins.

In the crimson mire, in an era of ruins—

Until I lift another broken slab and find a strand of blue hair beneath.

But she is still breathing.

But no one responds.

My hands slap her face and press on her chest.

Cradled in her palm is a gleaming medal.

I'm too strict?

Let the rookies complain. This training will improve their chances of survival on the battlefield.

Throughout the brief yet extensive history documented by humanity, the oppressive, dark, and hopeless periods that I've encountered have left a vivid mark across the ages.

I cannot allow myself to step into such an era.

I cannot allow my people to step into such an era.

And I shall make all things right.