Clack—Clack—Clack—
The train moved slowly along tracks that seemed to stretch endlessly. Michael leaned against a handrail, his body rising and falling rhythmically with the carriage's movement.
He was still utterly alone in the car. Growth is inherently a process of constant loss, yet also one of gaining something amidst that loss. Regardless, when a person reaches the end of their life, that final threshold is one most must face alone.
It's often only at this point that people inevitably begin to reflect—if I must face my end alone no matter what, did everything I lost and gained along the way… truly have meaning?
Throughout his journey, Michael found a new answer to this question almost every day.
"I existed, I was here, I made changes, that must have meaning." — But after you die, what connection do those changes have to you?
"Even if the fate of death is sealed, I will decide the process of reaching that outcome." — But after death, no matter how beautiful the process, what does it have to do with you?
"Yes, life is absurd and meaningless. Everything we do ultimately cannot escape the predetermined end. Since we're all heading towards that end anyway, and living is so painful, why not end it sooner?"
The world-weary, having seen through this, raise a pistol, stuff the cold, dark barrel into their mouths, and pull the trigger without hesitation.
Death itself isn't really frightening; it's a release—everything that happens afterward, good or bad, has nothing to do with me anymore!
But death is also an escape, a surrender to this absurd and meaningless world.
Whereas living, surviving until now, and continuing to live, required far greater courage from Michael. Because that was the best resistance against this absurd and meaningless world.
Perhaps that's why he hadn't felt any fear of death up until now. Standing here, seemingly resolute—did he truly intend self-destruction? Even he wasn't entirely sure.
After all, for someone who had made countless mistakes along the way, failing to save countless people, sacrificing himself was far easier than continuing to live burdened by that weight...
But even so, he couldn't help but feel that these final moments of life were a bit too lonely.
I wish I had someone to talk to... just a word or two... even just a greeting would be nice...
The empty carriage was cold and silent, a stark contrast to the constant chatter he had grown accustomed to having by his side. Michael found it deeply unsettling.
So much so that... he felt a pang of nostalgia... a reluctance to let go...
Once this thought surfaced, it couldn't be suppressed.
He sat down numbly, propping his elbows on his knees and resting his chin on the back of his hands.
Death was the end of everything, the termination of all connections. From this point forward, no new stories could ever unfold between Michael and Elysia.
It would be one thing if consciousness truly dissipated completely. But what if, after death, one's consciousness was transferred to another space, burdened with the longing for reunion, enduring an inescapable solitude forever? How tragic would that be?
And what about her?
"Kevin, do you genuinely not understand, or are you pretending? Your idea that 'if you don't marry her, Mei can face the future more easily if you die'—that's fundamentally impossible."
Those were words Michael had said to Kevin not long ago. He understood now; they were less a lecture for Kevin and more one for himself.
He had seemingly left the chance to live for Elysia, but was that truly what she wanted?
No, it was merely what he wanted.
He would cease to exist, but the memories associated with him would become an unbearable weight for Elysia. She wouldn't be able to face the future with ease; she would carry this heavy burden until it crushed her completely.
But then again, wasn't Elysia the same? What she wanted to do wasn't what he wanted either; it was only what she wanted.
Both were thinking of the other, yet their actions were precisely what the other couldn't bear.
Perhaps there was simply no perfect solution to this problem—either they both live together, or they both die together. That was the only outcome both could accept, or perhaps, neither could accept.
After all... the sacrifice of just one person was simply too cruel for the one left behind.
Michael took a deep breath. He wished he could stop dwelling on it, but he couldn't.
The reason he could ignore his fear before was simply because he believed his sacrifice would bring Elysia happiness.
But now that he realized it wouldn't make Elysia happy, only make things more unbearable for her, the long-dormant fear surged stronger than ever—he could never reunite with Elysia again. This was more terrifying than death itself.
He even tried to use the Authority of Sentience to numb himself, but it was useless.
Ultimately, however, he reconciled with his fear.
Regardless, time could not be reversed. From the moment he stepped onto this train, everything was set in stone, with no possibility of change.
He rested his right palm flat on his knee, silently gazing at it.
He curled his fingers, as if trying to grasp something, but the sensation in his palm told him—it was empty.
He opened his hand again, clenched it again, opened it again, clenched it again…
After repeating this an unknown number of times, he finally felt certain he was grasping something—the sole hope for this era to overcome Finality.
Yes, he couldn't just think about Elysia. As the most powerful human in this world, saving it was a responsibility he had to bear… even if he himself couldn't articulate precisely why the world needed saving.
Or rather, was this world even worth saving?
But perhaps some things didn't need a reason. Or perhaps, it was because this was also Elysia's wish?
No, it was more than that.
His tightly clenched right fist trembled with emotion.
He had walked through the mortal world, and thus, the world had left its mark on him.
From Mother Ceria at the beginning, to Himeko, Mobius, Phamas, Vashak, Alfred, Aldemir, Harris, then Lezrun, Seele, Ana, Gil, Taro, Mikael, Roigel…
(Translator's Note: Ceria, Vashak, Gil, Taro, Mikael, Roigel appear to be unlisted characters, possibly fanfic-specific or minor. Names kept close to original/phonetic.)
Through these ordinary people, not Flame-Chasers, the world had unreservedly shown him its dark, despicable side, the side that craved destruction. It had also shown him its bright, beautiful side, the side that hoped for salvation.
It would certainly be satisfying to see the dark side destroyed, but darkness and light cannot exist independently. If darkness is destroyed, light will inevitably be destroyed as well.
We cannot eliminate darkness, because then light would vanish too. Rather than stripping away the beautiful side as well, perhaps… it's better to let the world continue existing as it is now.
Having existed for merely twenty-two years, or perhaps twelve, Michael was utterly minuscule compared to this world, compared to humanity's two hundred thousand years, compared to Earth's 4.6 billion years, compared to the universe's 13.8 billion years…
His life was far too short.
In such a fleeting time, he naturally couldn't provide a comprehensive answer to "Why save the world?"
But as long as he could reconcile with himself, as long as he could convince himself that what he was doing right now was the right thing, that was enough.
The trembling in his right hand stopped, but the fist remained clenched, as if determined to hold onto that single chance, never letting go.
After a short while, the entire carriage dipped slightly downward. The sound of wheels on rails vanished. The train drifted forward purely on inertia, slowing down, ever slower…
Michael opened his eyes and looked out the window. The ethereal clouds and faint ruins were gone. Before him lay an endless expanse of starry cosmos.
But Michael knew this wasn't outer space.
The backdrop of the starfield was a vast canvas smeared with intersecting streaks of crimson, purple, and blue. What real universe held such dazzling colors?
It was merely a black curtain sprinkled with untouchable grains of salt.
So where exactly was this place?
No station announcement was needed; Michael knew this was his destination.
Still clenching his right fist, he stood at the carriage door he had entered through. However, the door showed no sign of opening.
Michael bit his lower lip, thought for a moment, then turned and walked towards the front of the train.
The path was unobstructed; the driver's cabin door wasn't even closed… though, of course, it was empty too.
When Michael reached the driver's cabin and pushed the lever symbolizing forward motion further ahead, this train, pieced together from Elysia's memories, began to rapidly disintegrate, dissolving into countless shimmering threads of light that drifted away.
Michael's body began to fall, but he wasn't alarmed. This wasn't his first time in the Imaginary Space. This place lacked the dimensions perceived and defined by humans in the real world—length, width, height, even time, did not exist here.
So-called falling couldn't kill anyone here, and besides…
He imagined himself stopping his descent. Instantly, he felt resistance beneath his feet, and the empty sensation of falling vanished.
He stood there, suspended in the middle of the starfield. Where his feet rested, space rippled like the surface of water.
Only now did he finally have a chance to properly observe the so-called Finality.
"Huh?"
Michael tilted his head, seemingly puzzled.
Before him was a colossal, stone egg-like object. A cross-shaped crack in its center emitted a purple glow. It pulsed intermittently, like the ticking hand of a second clock, but if forced to describe it, it resembled a massive, constantly twitching eyeball more.
No, no, 'eyeball' was too abstract. Given its shape, it was better described as a stone cocoon… Yes, a cocoon. The Cocoon of Finality. Each pulse wasn't a twitch, but the distinct nurturing of something within…
But it wasn't the appearance of "Finality" that puzzled him.
After all, this place was technically within the Imaginary Space. Rather than Finality looking like this, it was more that Michael's subconscious believed Finality should look like this.
Besides, what did Finality's appearance matter to Michael anyway?
What truly startled him was the state of the space surrounding Finality—it was fractured everywhere, jutting upwards, with small fragments drifting nearby.
Everything seen within the Imaginary Space is the subconscious mind's "interpretation" of this realm. This meant that what was seen here might be far more real and trustworthy than what was seen in the real world—provided one could reinterpret the products of subconscious materialization.
And judging by the state of the space near Finality, no strenuous interpretation was needed—it was obvious. This so-called Cocoon of Finality had violently crashed in from the 'other side' of this space, shattering the surrounding area, and gotten stuck here.
"Are you an outsider too?"
Gazing at the pulsing stone cocoon, Michael's eyes narrowed slightly. He suddenly felt a throb and instinctively placed his palm over his heart.
Yes, his core was pulsing like a heart too.
His heart, his core, and the Cocoon of Finality before him—the frequencies of all three silently synchronized.
"As I thought. My guess was correct."
He had realized it after the Seventh Honkai Eruption. It wasn't so much that he constructed the cores of other Herrschers, but rather that he projected his own core onto other dimensions. Back then, he had made a bold guess—was Finality perhaps the same?
After Mei established the model and had Prometheus run the calculations, the probability of this possibility exceeded ninety percent.
But ninety percent wasn't one hundred percent. There was still a chance it was wrong.
Now, feeling his own Herrscher Core synchronize perfectly with the Cocoon of Finality before him, that guess was finally validated.
More importantly, Michael's belief that he could become Finality was largely based on this premise.
Once this point was confirmed, only one question remained—could he become Finality while lacking the authority of the Twelfth Herrscher?
Neither he nor Mei had any certainty about this.
But he had come this far; there was no turning back.
Clenching his right hand tightly, Michael hesitated no longer and walked straight towards the Cocoon of Finality.
The distance between him and the cocoon seemed short, close enough that he could clearly see the uneven, stone-like texture on its surface. But when he actually took a step forward, he found that the distance between them didn't seem to change at all.
Left with no choice, he could only press forward determinedly, losing count of how many steps he had taken.
But he knew how long he had walked—twelve years. A full twelve years.
Now, he finally stood at the foot of Finality.
The cocoon seemed to notice his presence only then. Mid-pulse, it shifted its orientation slightly. The purple, cross-shaped crack glanced in Michael's direction, and then, a figure appeared before him.
The figure radiated a brilliant white light, obscuring its facial details, but Michael could clearly see its silhouette—it was his own form.
This entrance was remarkably similar to the "Will of the Honkai" from the Current Era he remembered.
"Hello."
The white figure didn't speak, and it was debatable whether it even could, yet its intended meaning abruptly appeared in Michael's mind. To put it bluntly…
It was as if the thoughts were being poured directly into his brain.
"We finally meet, my child."
They were only an arm's length apart. The figure extended a hand towards Michael.
"Does the missing authority of the Twelfth Herrscher matter?"
"You have arrived here. It will return soon. You will become the complete Finality."
More thoughts poured into his brain.
"Is… that so…"
Michael's right hand loosened and tightened, loosened and tightened… After repeating this several times, he suddenly, without warning, punched the white figure square in the face.
The white figure staggered back two steps. Cracks rapidly spread across its left cheek. The white, luminous shell crumbled away, revealing flesh and blood underneath.
"Who exactly are you?" Michael asked coldly.
The white figure opened its mouth to retort. Its voice was identical to Michael's, yet devoid of joy or sorrow, as if it had anticipated this all along:
"How did you figure it out?"
Michael froze for a second, adopting a wary stance. "It was Elysia who reminded me at the very end. I almost forgot—the so-called Finality should still be chaotic at this point, incapable of clear consciousness. Which means, if I truly felt those four probes from the Imaginary Space before, it couldn't possibly have been Finality. Someone else must have already usurped Finality's authority."
As he spoke, blue light flickered in his hand, coalescing into the basic form of the Key of Domination—he had given Abyss Flower to Mei, and he had no use for Divine Keys now anyway.
Except… if this person before him had truly stolen Finality's authority, how much resistance could he possibly offer?
Either way, I can't just wait to die!
Michael held the sword horizontally before him, narrowing his eyes to hide the fact that his gaze kept drifting towards the Cocoon of Finality—
He had made a promise with Elysia. If he failed to obtain Finality's authority, he had to create one last chance, sever the so-called threads of fate.
Even though he had no idea how to actually do it.
Even though it was just… a one-sided promise.
He braced himself, but unexpectedly, the white figure merely sighed softly:
"Sigh… How many times has it been? Getting punched by myself every time… even I'm starting to feel it."
"!"
"Michael, this is already… the fifth time!"
The cracks from his punch had spread across its entire face. Now, as it curved its lips into a slight smile, the entire white layer peeled off, revealing the face beneath—a face Michael knew better than his own.
"You! No! This is impossible!"
Michael's head suddenly spun. He couldn't even stand steadily, stumbling backward in panic. He couldn't maintain his authority; the Key of Domination in his hand rapidly dissipated.
Simultaneously, memories previously buried due to the time paradox surged forth as time once again flowed past the already anchored node…
"Let me try again!"
"Let me start over! I absolutely won't let tragedy happen again!"
"No… impossible! Give me another chance!"
"I still couldn't stop her… Give me one last chance! Just one last time!"
"Ah!"
Just as the Michael standing before him had said, this was indeed the fifth time they had met.
"How… How can this be…"
Those four gazes from the Imaginary Space weren't probes; they were anchors in time, proof that everything had been reset.
And Michael never needed to become Finality, because…
"Since I obtained the authority of Finality, I have looped hundreds of billions of times, just to finally obtain a possibility where Origin diverged from me."
"And you—the other me in this world—you've only looped five times, and you already can't bear it?"