svetikya Chapter 88 is incomplete...
Chapter 88 is incomplete...
The vast torrent of memories finally receded, leaving behind an almost vacuum-like silence and a dull, bewildered pain after the soul had been thoroughly washed away.
Qingyuan hovered in the center of the now calm Memory Sea. The magnificent fragments of the Star God War, the desperate roar of the Great Blue Sparrow on the verge of collapse, and the tragic and resolute will when it finally split itself apart, were like burning marks, deeply engraved into every fiber of her existence.
She "knew" too much, so much that her mortal cognitive framework was crumbling, so much that her newly awakened essence as a "seed" was humming uncontrollably in the face of these overly ancient and heavy memories.
who am I?
This most fundamental question, after the information frenzy subsided, was not answered; instead, it rebounded with even sharper force.
"I am Qingyuan," she mechanically repeated in her mind, trying to grasp this most superficial identity, like a drowning person grasping at the last straw, "a member of the Immortal Boat Alliance." But the concept of "Immortal Boat" was as insignificant as a speck of dust in the grand narrative she had just witnessed, which was measured by the Star God Era and the fate of the universe.
The name "Qingyuan," carrying twenty years of life memories, now feels as thin as paper, like a meticulously drawn curtain, concealing something deeper, more primal...
"No, no, I'm Qingyuan! I'm not Qingque, I'm a transmigrator from Earth. Before that, my name was... what was my name again?!"
A completely heterogeneous thought, without warning, sharply pierced through the newly established understanding of "seeds" and destiny!
It comes from the deeper part of consciousness, a level that seems to have been forgotten and buried, yet is being stirred up and surged up in the violent upheaval of memory at this moment.
A time traveler? Earth?
Qingyuan's thoughts froze instantly, then plunged into a cold chaos. She desperately searched her memories, trying to grasp the self that belonged "before the transmigration"—name, appearance, experiences, emotions... all the details that should have constituted another independent life.
However, there was only a thick, impenetrable fog there, empty and blurry, like a pencil sketch erased by an eraser, leaving only some vague traces and an inescapable sense of "foreignness".
She remembered a virtual world called "the internet," the steel forest of skyscrapers, the sky and air composition that were completely different from the Jade Realm of Immortal Boat, and even some fragmented pieces of knowledge about "physical laws" and "historical events"...
But these memories lack warmth and concrete anchors, like reading a poorly written biography of someone else.
The most crucial part—who am I? What is the core self-identity of the "I" who has lived on Earth for twenty years, possessing an independent personality and history? —It has disappeared, or rather, it never truly existed clearly.
A chill, even more intense than when facing the oppressive power of the Star God and the erosion of "nothingness," originating from the very essence of existence, instantly gripped her heart.
If even the identity of "time traveler" is vague and incomplete, then what about the identity of "Qingyuan"?
The camaraderie among companions, the yearning for the starry sky… these memories, so real, so vivid, forming the foundation of her current emotions and thoughts, could they also be…?
"No, those are real!" she denied in near horror, instinctively clutching the memories that belonged to Qingyuan as if clinging to the last piece of driftwood.
These feelings are so real, these emotions so full, how could they be fake?
But where did that "Blue Star transmigrator's" cognition come from? It wasn't an externally implanted memory; it carried a deeper underlying tone regarding "worldview" and "cognitive structure," possessing a certain "authenticity" in her consciousness, yet it couldn't be reconciled or unified into a coherent "self."
Who am I? Am I Qingyuan, who accidentally obtained the power of the "Seed", or a soul from another world, Blue Star, who somehow occupied this body and inherited the "Seed"?
Or perhaps... both of these are part of a grander design? Even the "time travel" itself is a step in the "sowing" plan, used to conceal or activate the "seed"?
It's chilling to think about. If Qingyuan's life was woven from the very beginning, if even the source of her "self" is questionable, then how much of her will, her choices, her joys and sorrows truly belong to "her"?
The Great Bluebird's line, "All roads lead to this moment," no longer sounds like a tragic destiny, but rather a chilling declaration that fate is completely predetermined.
"What...am I?" she murmured, her voice hollow and fragile in the silent realm of memory. The faint light in her left eye and the shadow in her right eye seemed to sense the violent tremor in the core of her consciousness, and began to swirl uneasily, the inner "Möbius strip" structure emitting a faint, almost disorienting ringing.
For someone of her unique nature, the collapse of self-awareness is no less dangerous than a direct external attack.
Just as her consciousness was on the verge of dissipation due to this fundamental identity crisis, and the balance of power within her body was also in grave danger—
"Don't be afraid."
A voice rang out. Calm, gentle, with a strange clarity that seemed to penetrate all chaos. At the same time, a pair of warm, strong arms gently embraced her from behind, steadying her slightly trembling body.
The sensation of this contact felt so real, so... ordinary.
It lacked the cold, viscous texture of memory, and the overwhelming oppression of divine memories; it possessed only the warmth and gentle strength of human body temperature.
Qingyuan's body reacted before her consciousness—stiffening, followed by an uncontrollable trembling. She turned her head sharply, her pupils dilating in shock.
Before her eyes came that familiar face. Gray hair, golden eyes, always carrying a hint of curiosity and straightforwardness, yet now tinged with a deep, unfathomable tranquility and... vicissitudes she had never seen before.
"Star...?" Qing Yuan's voice was dry and almost incoherent. How could it be Star? How could she be here? In this place, a depth of memory that even the "family" struggles to penetrate, filled with violent memories and cosmic echoes?
Moreover, how did she so easily penetrate the barrier of memory and come to my side as if taking a stroll?
What sent chills down her spine even more was that she clearly felt that the high concentration of memory matter around her, which had a strong corrosive and oppressive effect on consciousness, retreated obediently as if it had encountered an invisible barrier when it touched Xing's body, without being contaminated in the slightest.
Xing stood here as naturally as if he were standing in his own living room, completely out of place in this dangerous environment.
"No," Qingyuan suddenly broke free from her embrace, staggering back two steps, her eyes filled with vigilance and confusion, "You...you're not Xing. You are...the Last King?" She recalled the icy gaze of "The End" in her memory, and the special nature of Xing in the Star Core Hunter script, and a terrifying conjecture emerged.
But the feeling of the "star" in front of me is completely different from the image of the absolute annihilation of the "end" in my memory.
She didn't have that sense of nihilism that negates everything; instead... she possessed a tenderness that bordered on compassion?
"Star" looked at her, its golden eyes swirling with complex and indescribable emotions, seemingly containing the sediment of billions of stories.
She did not deny it, but simply sighed softly, a sigh that seemed to travel through endless time, carrying a heavy echo.
"Because the 'plot' has ended," she began, her voice still calm, yet as if stating a truth on a cosmic scale, "In the 'time' you've spent immersed in these memories, searching for your own roots—although the concept of time itself is quite vague here—outside, in the 'story' experienced by the Star Train, the chapter that was meant to unfold has reached its predetermined finale."
Qingyuan's mind was buzzing. "Plot"? "The pre-set finale"? I had just finished chapter 3.7 before I transmigrated!
"But the story has ended, but the world hasn't," Hoshi continued, "so I'm going to the future (the past)."
Qingyuan recalled Kafka's mention of "Elio's script" and the Star Core Hunter's seemingly fateful modus operandi.
Could it be that the star, or rather the being currently occupying the form of the star, is also part of the script?
Now that the script is finished, the character "Star," one of the actors... has completed her mission?
"You... what exactly are you? The Last King? Or a star? Where are you going?"
"What do 'future' and 'past' mean?" Qingyuan asked in a jumble of questions, her mind a complete mess from the barrage of questions.
Xingwei smiled slightly. Even though she had become a star god, there was not a trace of divine indifference in her smile.
She took a step forward, getting closer to Qingyuan again. This time, she didn't try to hug her, but simply gazed at her quietly, her gaze seemingly able to smooth the wrinkles of her soul.
"After becoming the 'Last King,' regarding the fate of the 'End Times,' I want to tell you this:"
For ordinary people, for most beings who stand in the 'process' and look up at the 'ending,' all of the Last King's words are perceived as 'upside down.'
"Upside down?" Qingyuan repeated subconsciously, the word reminding her of a kind of mirror or paradox.
"Yes. Because the perspective of the 'destination' is completely opposite to the perspective of the 'middle'."
What appears as destruction, disappearance, and a hopeless end "on the way" may hold a different meaning when viewed from the "end."
Xing—or perhaps more accurately, the being that reveals the true nature of the Last King—said slowly, her voice echoing subtly within the memory space.
"If the Last Queen herself were to describe it, the 'end' path she walks is actually called..."
She paused, her golden eyes shimmering as if countless rivers of time flowed and died within them. Then, clearly and calmly, she uttered that word:
"Not yet finished."
Not over yet? It’s not over yet!
This word was like a key, instantly unlocking a certain line of thought that Qingyuan had been blocked by a vast amount of memories and chaotic cognition.
The end...not yet finished...what does this mean?
Does this mean that "the end" is not absolute? Does it mean that "the ending" itself might be a misunderstanding?
This means that what the Last King represents may not be a pure end of the world, but rather some kind of authority concerning "incompleteness," "residual possibility," and "continuation beyond the end."
Xing saw the sudden gleam in Qingyuan's eyes, a mixture of shock and understanding, and knew that she had touched upon the key point.
Her expression grew increasingly gentle, a gentleness that came from looking towards a precious "possibility" after a long period of loneliness and heavy responsibilities.
"So, Qingyuan, or rather... you who carry a wisp of 'her' yet forged your own path," the Last King's voice was gentle yet firm, carrying an undeniable promise, "Please believe, and please remember—"
"I will save you, no matter how many times we have to do it again..."
The moment the words fell, the figure of the Last King (Star) began to blur, as if it had materialized into billions of tiny dust particles shimmering with pale golden light.
The surrounding memory matter silently boiled, not violently, but as if in homage, rising in regular waves directed in a certain direction.
She is leaving, heading towards what she calls the "future" (past), to fulfill her destiny and duty, which is beyond the comprehension of ordinary people and is called "unfinished."
Before that figure completely disappeared, Qingyuan seemed to see her take one last look back, a faint, vibrant smile that seemed to belong to "stars" curving at the corners of her lips, before she completely merged into the vortex of memory and time and space, vanishing without a trace.
Only that promise remained, echoing deep within Qingyuan's soul, intertwined with all her previous memories, confusion, and fear.
"No matter how many times we start over..."
Salvation? Salvation from what? From the erosion of "nothingness"? From the destiny of being a "seed"? From the loss of self-awareness? Or from... the collapse and despair on the seemingly inevitable path of "existence"?
Qingyuan floated alone in the now silent Sea of Memories, the faint light in her left eye and the shadow in her right eye having returned to their calm flow.
The fog surrounding her identity had not completely dissipated, the dangers ahead remained numerous, and the balance of opposing forces within her remained fragile. But the appearance of the Last King (Star) and his words were like a strange, never-falling star being cast into her pitch-black universe of consciousness.
"End" means "not yet finished".
So, does the current impasse on the path of "existence" also mean... "not yet over"?
She slowly clenched her fist, feeling the touch of the "Azure Kite" entity coming from her fingertips.
Whether it is a remnant soul from another world or a vessel for fragments of a star god, the one here at this moment contemplating, making choices, and feeling hope and fear is "me".
"No matter who I am..." she murmured to herself, her voice gradually becoming clearer and firmer, "No matter how many times I have to 'start over'..."
She raised her head, looking in the direction where the last king had disappeared, and also looking towards the unknown "future" that awaited her.
"My journey truly begins 'from this moment'."
The first step is to leave this deep sea and return to Pinocchio, where the "story" has ended but the "world" continues. She needs answers, she needs strength, she needs to find... "the other 'us'".
And to witness, to participate in, the story that may have been promised to "save" her.