Welcome to Rewind World Game
Chapter 606 - 603: "Is This Rollback... Different?

Chapter 606: Chapter 603: "Is This Rollback... Different?

Emptiness, darkness, as if one was placed at the quiet bottom of the sea.

This was the all-too-familiar death.

Su Ming’an opened his eyes.

The steady beating of his heart returned to him, and everything felt tangible again.

The moment Dong An’an cut open his neck, he decisively ordered the Cloning in the Hawk Hound Army to commit suicide, to prevent his save point from freezing after his death.

Somehow, this death hadn’t been as painful as before, even giving him a feeling of having had a short nap.

...Was it because he was becoming accustomed to death, or rather, had he become numb to it?

The concept of "Player Death" had always been depicted ambiguously in the world of games, where players could resurrect and participate in the next instance after clearing all their Points and strength.

But the rules never explicitly stated what the concept of "Death" in the instance really was.

It was known that at the very moment the game started, players’ bodies were datafied, they were no longer their original bodies. People were more like in an "online world," playing with "virtual bodies."

Death within the instance seemed more like a symbol of "game over," where people’s souls and consciousness still existed and could be resurrected.

The death that occurred in the Main God World, however, was true death—irrevocable and final.

Some suggested that the "game instance" and the "Main God World" should be linked in a nested relation. The "game instance" was like a pavilion built upon the Main God World; death in the instance led one back to the Main God World, whereas death in the Main God World meant complete obliteration.

The Main God World was more like a storage room for their souls.

The cost and nature of dying in these two different spaces were different, fundamentally altering the nature of death.

This made Su Ming’an’s "Death" somewhat intriguing—whether he died in the game instance or in the Main God World, it triggered a rollback.

Even if his character in the instance died, he would not return to his body in the Main God World. Instead, he directly triggered the death rollback—it was odd.

Logically, if he died in the instance, it shouldn’t be considered true death; his soul and consciousness were still alive, just that the character’s body in the instance entered a state of death.

Therefore, he speculated—his death rollback might be a kind of "judgment."

Once he met some "failure" criteria, the rollback triggered. Whether he died in the instance or the Main God World, both met the criteria of "mission failure."

Therefore, if there existed a "truth" in the instance that could only be seen after a player’s death, that would be problematic. After all, once he died, time would inevitably rollback.

But this could only remain a question; he might never see the world after his own death.

He blinked, his fingers moved slightly, and the surrounding scene was bright and spacious, with rows of motionless robots standing next to a table laden with exquisite dishes.

This place was... the large building in Central City.

The basement of this building housed Acto’s ashes, the top floor was the control room of the Dawn system, and the rest of the floors were ruins, uninhabited by humans.

It seemed he had returned from the night of the sixth day to the night of the fifth. That was when he had threatened Dawn using the "Dawn Code."

"...You want to shut me down with the Dawn Code? Just because I proposed the persona exchange plan?"

A perfect visage appeared before him.

The city-state god, known as Dawn, was standing right in front of him, less than half a foot away. The simulated expression somehow evoked a "pitiful" feel, matched with an extremely high charm value, enough to soften most people’s hearts.

Su Ming’an steadied his mind, suppressing the side effects brought by death.

"In any case, the persona exchange plan is not acceptable, I do not approve." He turned and headed toward the room, "Dawn, do not force me to shut you down."

Dawn quietly watched him walk away.

Its eyes flashed with extensive data calculations, its method of "thinking," seemingly weighing something.

Gambling with the Dawn System using the code, Su Ming’an had to always remain in disguise, lest it anticipate his motives.

Upon entering the room, Su Ming’an kept a high level of tension. Dawn was a voyeur, and this building, solely belonging to it, definitely had pervasive surveillance cameras.

This room seemed as if Dawn had been preparing it for a long time, having been cleaned spotlessly by robots. Medicines were arranged on the table, each bottle tagged with the effects of its contents. Extended from a pristine white carpet, a rosewood cabinet held several brand-new lab coats, while warm paintings and photos adorned the walls. The room’s decor style perfectly replicated the Doctor’s room in Central City.

In such a ruined building, meticulously preparing a room like this... What exactly was Dawn expecting?

Was he expected to move in here forever?

Was he expected to make this his home?

...

He didn’t rest, he continued with the route from the previous cycle, exploring this building.

As he drew near the bronze pocket watch buried in the ruins, his attention was highly focused—

He finally saw a fleeting shadow in the corner.

...It was this person!

Last cycle, when he picked up the bronze pocket watch, he inexplicably received a Dawn Code, the system alerted him that he had encountered the key figure, Lv Shu, but he hadn’t seen anyone at that time.

Now it seemed, this person had hidden too well, even fooling his observational skills.

At this moment, Lv Shu was clearly roasting sweet potatoes in the Fringe, so who was this person?

Su Ming’an teleported toward the fleeting shadow in the corner.

Suddenly, a cross light in the space lit up, he teleported closer to the other, reaching out with all his might—grabbing the black robe of that figure.

The figure also extended their hand, protecting the robe, and both began a tug-of-war over the fabric, the only sound in the darkness being the fabric’s plaintive hiss.

The person’s figure was hidden in a cloud of black mist, their face obscured, but the exposed back of the hand bore burn scars.

"Who are you—?" Su Ming’an shouted.

The person didn’t answer but hurriedly moved backward. With a "rip" of fabric tearing, the black robe Su Ming’an was holding tore apart, and the figure, like sliding away, swiftly retreated several feet.

Su Ming’an wanted to release a spatial vibration, but the person was already slipping away faster, even quicker than his continuous spatial displacements.

...It was likely that the other party was not a player.

At this stage, no player possessed such swift movements.

Su Ming’an took one last look into the distance dark, teleporting back onto his wheelchair, picking up the pocket watch from the ruins.

A bronze pocket watch with a gold chain, glowing with a metallic luster.

"Ding Dong!"

At the moment he acquired the pocket watch, the system alert chimed as expected.

...

[You have encountered the key figure, "Lv Shu".]

[Acquired Number One Dawn Code.]

[Syllable: "Hui".]

...

At first, Su Ming’an didn’t notice anything amiss.

Upon entering the elevator, planning to return to his room, he stared at the system alert and suddenly froze.

He remembered, from the previous cycle, the first Dawn Code wasn’t the syllable "Hui", but "Mo Yi"...

What’s going on.

Why, after reverting the save, did he find... a different syllable?

"..."

He controlled his breathing to be as steady as possible, yet his heartbeat uncontrollably sped up, pounding furiously in his chest.

His chest felt as if a thousand catties pressed down upon it; he didn’t want to consider a possibility.

—He suddenly remembered the Sixth World’s White Sand Paradise, where Yuanyuan, who had never appeared before, suddenly did in a certain loop, only to disappear again in the next.

At that time, different events occurred at the same moment across different loops.

But Yuanyuan’s sudden appearance should have been a hallucination caused by his low SAN value... Logically speaking, different loops should be exactly the same.

So why, after this reset, was the information obtained different from the last loop...?

He closed the pocket watch with a "click," and his heart skipped a beat.

Fear that he couldn’t contain rose, accelerating his heartbeat.

He didn’t want to believe in the possibility of parallel worlds.

...Right.

...This must be due to some mechanism of the instance, the code appears randomly, changing every second, so it’s different in each loop, it must be so...

It must be so...

There couldn’t be any other reason...

"Squeak—"

The elevator, scraping, emitted a harsh noise, and his expression flickered, as if split in two by the external light.

He stared at the broken pocket watch, his fingers unconsciously caressing it.

Through the smooth reflection of the pocket watch, a flash of bright red seemed to pass across his eyes.

...

[Instance Activation·Day Six]

[Core Area·Constantine University]

He had scheduled this day very tightly.

The music class in the auditorium went from six in the morning until twelve noon; he quickly pushed his Emotional Value to the full mark of 2000, leaving no time for rest.

The students, who had come because of his reputation, wanted to attend the class in the afternoon but were informed that Professor Lewis had resigned.

Reed from the personnel department wanted to retain Su Ming’an, but he refused.

Since his Emotional Value was already maxed out, staying here had no meaning. He couldn’t indulge in such campus life, despite there being a youth exploration club here, which he found interesting in psychology.

Other players could immerse themselves in this city-state, which closely resembled their homeland, cheer and jump for joy, and take holidays for it... But he couldn’t.

An incomparable urgency enveloped him—he needed to do better than the last loop, seize even the smallest moments and opportunities, strive for even the slightest advancement...

Otherwise, he always felt... as if he had lost something.

After discussing the handling of the Hawk Hound, Kaskining Feiluo, he quickly headed to the biochemistry laboratory at Constantine University, pushing his "Biochemistry" skill to level 10 before evening arrived.

He completed in one day what had been planned for two days in the last loop.

"Cough, cough, cough..."

Coughing, he heard the system prompt as "Biochemistry" reached level 10 as he had wished.

He displayed a weary smile.

This way, with both "Mechanics" and "Biochemistry" at max level, he was only missing "Artificial Intelligence." This module required him to return to Central City to study.

Even though it meant that his body couldn’t withstand such a large workload; he had been busy all morning for a full six hours accompanying the piano, not only was his body starting to numb, but all ten fingers were also beginning to hurt.

He remembered his childhood, where, apart from eating and sleeping, he played the piano from dawn till dusk without stopping, until his fingers were sore. Playing the wrong note would result in a slap on the hand.

When other children could play outside, he could only play the piano indoors.

The neighbors all praised him—they said they were raising a piano prodigy, one who would grow up to be as exceptional as his mother, who held concerts.

He might have thought the same back then.

However, in this world, what’s most abundant is the reversal of fortune. Ultimately, that dream was never realized.

But now, beside him, were thousands of admiring students—as well as hundreds of millions of people looking at him from across the world.

They, like the neighbors back then, admired him—boasting about him with admiring gazes.

They said he—could surely hold a perfect concert embodying human emotions in this cold city-state known by data.

There was no longer anyone by his side, staring feverishly at him, ready to slap his hands whenever a wrong note was played.

However...

Now, he indeed would no longer play a wrong note.

"Meow~"

The black cat jumped off his shoulder, its eyes reflecting his pale face.

After reaching level 10 in biochemistry, it received new modifications, came with an A-grade Charm value, and even without perching on his shoulder, it looked very likable.

"Hei Yu," he softly called.

It tilted its head, its eyes filled with childlike confusion.

"City Lord, are you alright..." inquired a nearby researcher noticing his coughing of blood.

"I’m fine," Su Ming’an smiled: "Thank you for your efforts. That will be all for here."

He left the laboratory building.

Tonight, after seeing Dong An’an, he would make a trip back to Central City to replenish ammunition and medicine.

He looked up, brilliant stars twinkling in the night sky above the campus like a slowly moving beam of light.

Glancing at the bustling barrage, he was somewhat bewildered to see a topic that people were wildly discussing.

As if sinking into an unreal dream, swimming freely in an invisible ocean, his thoughts blurred as he blinked, unconsciously ignoring the content people were discussing.

"Meow~" Hei Yu turned over; he watched the cat in his arms, a smile appearing on his face.

Moments later, his smile stiffened.

As the haze faded, he suddenly realized the meaning of the topic people were passionately discussing.

It was like a bloodied wound blatantly ripped open before him, countless comments flying before his eyes—shrouding him with overwhelming words, informing him of a stark reality.

While he instinctively wanted to ignore it, instinctively wanted to divert his gaze,

Some things, once seen, cannot be avoided; they stick like a thorn in the eye, and unless one gouges out both eyes, it cannot be removed.

His gaze desperately trembled, struggled, but felt nailed within the sockets, his fingers aching bloodily the same.

...

[Number One Player, there’s good news.]

[Your mother has woken up.]

...

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