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Chapter 758 - 755: "Pioneer Immortality (3)" (Update of the 31st)

Chapter 758: Chapter 755: "Pioneer Immortality (3)" (Update of the 31st)

Acto had always made the impression on Su Ming’an as the pinnacle of human Wisdom—various embellishments piled upon Acto were not considered excessive, no matter how complex.

However, for some reason—in this memory, Ming’an felt that Acto was just a youth bound by responsibilities that left him gasping for air, much like himself.

Perhaps it was because he mostly viewed Acto from the perspective of historical records and bystanders.

No one could get close to his heart.

...

[In the trolley problem, the person hated forever is the one who pulls the lever, not the trolley that crushes lives.]

[Only when one knows very little, does cognition not produce contradictions.]

[But I knew everything.]

[So I will face the contradictions on behalf of the people, bearing the pain for those who are ignorant.]

Once again, you sat before the wooden table and wrote down your diary. Today was the 87th day of the war.

You had become the devout Faith of the people.

Your speeches were always passionate and persuasive, your words always enchanting. Humans thronged around you unceasingly, and after each war, you would encourage them to never give up.

You gradually got used to being called titles like "Deity" and "Incarnation of the World’s Will." Sitting in this position, you used your reputation and esteem to allocate resources and command the army, pushing soldiers’ lives to be sacrificed in the right places for the "survival of the majority."

More and more deaths made you grow silent, and besides calling and appealing, you hardly spoke another word to anyone familiar.

You became increasingly distant from normal humans, your Persona completely Metamorphosed, your emotions became indifferent, even a smile seemed like an apology to the deceased.

Noah’s white bird gently brushed your shoulder, your journal was already half-written.

Under the dim light, your eyebrows and eyes were indistinct.

...

[I must confront my sins, but I must not wallow in them, for I have accepted the position of "God".]

[A "God" cannot be dominated by emotions; I need absolute rationality to overlook the whole situation.]

[I am Yasa Acto.]

[Co-ruler of humanity, Embodiment of Civilization, Will of the World.]

[I need to hypnotize myself this way.]

[Until the war is completely over.]

[There will always be people who love me for my power.]

[And there will be people who hate me for my decisions.]

[It’s okay, for their disdain and their joy, I will treat them all the same. Because Xi said... only I am most suitable for this position.]

[I must not distance myself, not dodge, not flee.]

...

"—Why did you make such a decision! Are their lives so worthless in your eyes?"

"—Why did you watch Shanshan go to her death! Do you still feel pain? Do you still remember their names?"

"—When you made the decision to blow up that entire city, did you feel a hint of guilt in your heart? Did you cry for those who died in the city? Are you truly not a machine?"

On a clear day, after you finished a speech, several civilians, hoarse with shouting, rushed up.

"How dare you show disrespect to the leader!" The soldiers pushed them back, but you merely raised your hand, stopping the soldiers, allowing these civilians to come up to you.

Facing their questions, you explained your decisions with rational words:

"That’s right, according to the situation in Karta City, the reactionary forces had already occupied three-quarters of the vital areas in Jinsai District..."

Then, you consoled them with emotional words:

"Regarding the demise of your family members, I deeply regret it, I too have lost many brethren in this war. Please believe..."

Their expressions changed from anger to confusion to sadness, and they began to sob.

Finally, these people clung to your sleeve and wept.

"I’m sorry, Deity,"

"Deity, we only have you now, only you..."

You comforted them and left the podium.

In moments of despair, people always blindly believed in you—like the one pulling the lever of the trolley, you always bore the barbs in their gaze.

They would not consider your position, nor weigh your decisions. Some even wanted to assassinate you, believing that if you died, their loved ones would return.

In their eyes, they only had you.

—But whose sleeve could you grasp and weep into?

Exhausted, you took out your notebook.

[Pay no mind, make no complaint.]

[Contentment with the status quo is the last line of defense for those who have not yet fully submitted.]

[Process is just a word for philosophers and historians. Who could truly place themselves in my shoes and decide what I should now do?]

[No one can. No one can become Yasa Acto.]

[No one can wear my shoes and think from my perspective. They don’t see the continuation of civilization, they only curse me for pulling the lever.]

[What does it matter?]

[Derision is mediocrity’s ode to genius.]

Having written that, you faced the notebook.

You noticed the pages were damp with an unknown liquid, which you were reluctant to admit was tears.

You numbly sat in your chair.

Like you had turned into a solidified, empty shell.

...

On day 132 of the war, you took out the Dawn System.

This was your contingency from the Century Catastrophe. Once activated, humanity would begin the journey of Downgrade Dimension, with no way back.

The number of humans had sharply decreased, and you were forced to consider whether to activate it—this was a risky move. Humanity might continue to downgrade dimensions, possibly even leading to the extinction of civilization.

You thought long about whether to activate the Dawn System and finally, you summoned your eight comrades and held a meeting.

"Ladies and gentlemen, should we activate it?"

At the long table, you sat at the head, holding a blood-red heart in your hands.

The Dawn System was like Pandora’s Box, that if opened, would mean humanity completely retreating from Three Dimensions, hiding in Two Dimensions. Zhuang Zhou dreams of the butterfly, and the butterfly dreams of Zhuang Zhou. Humanity would essentially sink into an unreal dream, transforming from struggling humans to butterflies entering a new spring.

Butterflies flit about, and no one sees the world outside the cage; their eyes see only the flowers on the cage.

This was a beautiful yet cruel dream you had woven by hand.

Your comrades discussed briefly and still decided to leave the decision to you.

You couldn’t make the decision and could only temporarily seal away the Dawn System.

In the shadow, you cut open your left arm, an act that provided you some peace.

...

On day 143 of the war.

You had made many decisions alone, keeping them from your comrades, always alone. Just like they didn’t know, to activate the Dawn System, it required your life.

"Yasa, after the war settles, we’ll go see many, many sceneries."

Hearing this voice, you hurriedly closed the "Dawn System Plan" in front of you, to prevent the other person from seeing it.

A gentle young man with blue hair approached you, his deep blue eyes staring at you. This young man was Qi.

However, Qi did not know that in your plan, if the Dawn System were activated, you were destined to die, leaving no "future" meticulously planned by Qi.

"Okay," you said. "There will be many beautiful sceneries."

"Then, I would like to hear you play the piano," Qi sat next to you, handing you a chocolate popsicle.

You only realise now that it’s already summer. You have even forgotten the changing of the seasons.

Qi always liked to give you something sweet, such as chocolate, lemon drops, ice cream, as he said it would make you feel better.

He was a very gentle person, always smiling and talking, always able to make you feel relaxed. In the alliance, he was an excellent diplomat.

"I can no longer play the piano," you replied.

Your heart... it seemed to have turned into a wasteland.

Art, music, emotions...

"It’s okay."

He said:

"I can play the harp for you, as long as you like. When the war is over, I hope you will carefully listen to the winds of spring, for the sounds of nature are more beautiful than any musical instrument."

His voice was like melted moonlight, allowing one to feel the honey-like sweetness.

"Okay," you promised him falsely.

After he left, you watched his retreating figure.

The blood-colored sunlight fell on your reopened interface, a line reading "Dawn System Sacrifice Plan" with a blood-golden sharpness.

"..."

You stayed silent, fingers on the keyboard, continuing to perfect the textual architecture of the "Two Dimensions" world.

If you hadn’t brought out the Dawn System, you might really do just that—after the war, you would join your comrades to stroll in the spring, peacefully living out your remaining years together.

You really had thought that way.

And truly had hoped for it.

You pulled up your sleeve, and on your arm, were hundreds of closely knit scars.

...

[My greatest regret is that my feelings for this world are still not deep enough. I haven’t experienced enough stories, felt enough people’s emotions, seen enough landscapes.]

[I am nineteen years old this year.]

[I am gradually forgetting the face of the first person who died before my eyes.]

On the 176th day of the war, you began taking medication.

It was the "Mentality Stability Elixir" developed by Tretiya, which could help you maintain an optimal mental appearance, preventing others from seeing the weariness in you.

Deities are not allowed to be tired, you knew this well.

You often clenched the hands of those dying, closed the eyes of the dead, murmured the names on the tombstones in a low voice, and carried away their last wishes and resentments.

In the enduring war, your world seemed to be left only with the concept of "death"—’about to die’, ’not yet dead’, ’just died’, ’long dead’...

Everyone was on a path to "death," and you stood by, empty-handed, unable to hold onto anyone.

—Despite having witnessed death so often, it was still so difficult. No matter how many times you witness it, you can’t be completely indifferent.

"Why are you looking at me like that?"

One day, while collecting the bones of the deceased, you looked wearily to the side at Xi. You noticed something troubling in the way she looked at you.

Xi’s dark pupils slightly dilated as she replied:

"All I see in your eyes now is the resolve to die, Acto."

You blinked, mouth open, unable to say a word, suddenly choking up.

After witnessing so many deaths, your being also seemed to encompass only "death."

The living, like fireflies, gradually faded away one by one. Some had not even truly possessed their own lives before losing it.

Each life, as heavy as a thousand pounds, you viewed as sins committed by you, carried on your back, walking onward with varying depths.

You smiled at Xi, offered her a few words of comfort, and turned away.

No one saw the desolation on your face.

You gritted your teeth in a place where no one could see, burying your head in your knees, almost crushed by tears.

But how could you cry...

Leaders are not supposed to cry...

...

"Noah, are you afraid I will forget you all?"

On the 182nd day of the war, you sat in a pavilion covered with wisteria, asking Noah.

"Afraid," Noah said, his eyes like azure nebulas: "Though I don’t agree with your ideals, I do like you as a person."

Noah had grown much thinner, yet pride still lingered in his brows and eyes.

You realized that the distance between him and you was growing.

Noah was inherently a proud man, his ideals, and will both firmly defined. His unruliness and spirit of resistance manifested in his soul, and your ideals were drifting apart from his.

"I used to respect you, but I don’t know why, now I’m somewhat afraid of you," Noah said.

"Becoming such a person must have disappointed you," you said. "I am truly sorry."

The stream and wind in the courtyard’s virtual environment, were like the hanging wisteria vines. In the quiet, only the echoes of the two of you existed.

He touched the white bird in his arms and turned around, leaving you for good.

You did not know where he went.

Perhaps to the wonderland of his dreams.

(8/9)

...

On the 204th day of the war.

Your black hair had grown and been cut, and cut and grown again; the emotions in your eyes becoming more apathetic, and Yuan Guang accumulating within you like a pair of platinum wings.

Each battle left you exhausted, and you kept mumbling the names of your comrades. Mostly those who were still alive.

Latterly, you had no names left to mention.

You could order everyone to fight for you, and watch them die for this cause. You bore the guilt, watching these burning resentments. Human civilization had not ended; countless bones pushed you onward.

—But you would always remember that day.

The silver-haired woman fell amidst the gunfire, like a shattered glass bottle, her limbs torn off, exposed white bones shockingly expressing the enemy’s malice towards her. It was written on her face, "This woman obeyed the sinner, so she must die."

Those who killed her were the very people she had once saved.

Because she was your comrade, she was killed.

"I still... hadn’t found... my love."

Her face turned towards the sky, her eyes lingering with confusion and bewilderment, as if she did not understand why she was being pierced through. Cruel humanity had torn her apart.

How fragile humans are.

A bit of malice, a piece of sharp metal, was all it took to destroy a person. Their numbers were so vast, yet individuals were so minute.

Watching Yue’s corpse, it was as if something inside you had shattered. The aroma of wine on ground made you cough violently, choking out tears.

"Why do I have to bear so many wraiths?"

You could not help but think.

"Why do I have to witness such purgatory?"

"Why do I have to become... this kind of ’Deity’?"

You pursed your lips, locking the clawing palpitations and screams tightly within your chest, all your blood feeling as if it were about to flow out.

As if your soul had been withdrawn, your breathing slightly tense, temples throbbing wildly.

Deities cannot shed tears, you drank her stored wine and got drunk in the blood pool all night.

You buried her under the moonlight, sprinkling liquor on her tombstone.

(7/9)

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