Chapter 1348: Farewell on Your Journey

The middle-aged man curled up on the ground blinked hard, as if his memory, thoughts, soul, and body had been torn apart by some force and scattered across different planes. He couldn’t think or comprehend what was happening before him as a whole person would. This state lasted for several seconds until fragmented, chaotic thoughts slowly began to piece themselves back together in his mind. Finally, he remembered who he was—and who the woman before him was.

“Bertilla…” he hesitated, his voice hoarse and barely human. The fog in his mind pressed against his consciousness, and as his memories gradually returned, his expression grew more and more terrified. “I… I… what have you done…”

Suddenly, he stopped, as if only now realizing something was wrong with his own body. He looked down at his human form, shock and panic flashing across his face. Then, almost crawling, he pushed himself up, trying to stand while muttering, “This can’t be real… it’s an illusion. What have you done to me? Don’t joke like this…”

“This is the final peace for your soul, my ‘kindred,’” Bertilla said quietly, watching him the entire time. Her tone was calm and steady. “You can never go back. Your body—if you can even call it that—has collapsed and mutated from confronting the divine. It’s now slowly disintegrating. I have brought your consciousness here, deep within the neural network, into a space I constructed using my own thought nodes. Bertram, if you still have even a shred of reason and humanity left, then recall everything you once did. We don’t have much time to waste.”

Bertram—or rather, the Bertram conjured from memory—suddenly froze. He stopped struggling to stand and stared ahead with unfocused eyes, as if gazing into some endless, distant past. Then bit by bit, he collapsed, kneeling amid an infinite field of flowers, clutching his head tightly as he let out a howl no human should be able to make.

Bertilla watched him until he quieted briefly, then spoke slowly: “I’m sorry. This is the only way I could forcibly bring back the original ‘you.’ But it seems that an early version of you cannot bear the dark memories of the centuries that followed. It has placed unbearable pressure on your conscience.”

“We wandered the dark, hopeless wasteland for centuries… We calculated, we simulated, we rooted ourselves in the rotting soil, coexisting with powers beyond mortal comprehension, trying again and again to find a path… We came to a conclusion, we came to a conclusion…” Bertram murmured, “It was a dead end. We calculated it three hundred years ago. A dead end… impossible to succeed…”

“Yes, impossible. We know that now. But fortunately, we are not the only ones trying to survive in this world. The Cecilians found another way. You were trapped in the depths of darkness, your minds trapped there too, unable to see any other path,” Bertilla lowered her gaze. “Bertram, even now, I still thank you for the sacrifice you made when you first charged into the wasteland. I believe your oath was sincere at the start—only that darkness and despair were far beyond what mortals could withstand. We all misjudged the malice of this world.”

“It’s too late now. It’s too late to say these things…” Bertram finally lifted his head, his face twisted and distorted before Bertilla. “I don’t know how long I can hold this state—great anger and hatred are gradually overwhelming my mind. I even want to… kill you. Ask quickly, Saintess. I’m barely able to recognize your face anymore.”

“What exactly are you trying to do?” Bertilla stopped wasting time. “You placed those rune stones in the Deep Blue Network—what do you intend to do with them?”

“Deep Blue Network… rune stones… I remember now,” Bertram’s facial muscles twitched. As he dredged up the secrets of the Dark Cult, boundless malice and rage filled him. Fighting against it, he spoke rapidly, “It was the plan of High Priest Borken. We… we need to tame this planet beneath our feet. The planet’s natural magic circulation system, which runs through the entire world and can influence both the material and immaterial realms, is the perfect ‘rein.’ We want to hold the reins in our hands…”

He suddenly coughed violently, gasping for breath for several seconds before continuing. “All our suffering, all the malice in this world, comes from two sources: the gods, and the periodic ‘mana shocks’ that sweep across all stars. The former… brings divine catastrophes that destroy everything. The latter… temporarily alters the boundaries of all things. The mana tide… yes, that’s what we call it—the mana tide…”

“Periodic mana shocks sweeping across all stars?” Bertilla’s eyes sharpened at the phrase. “What does that mean? Is that your understanding of the mana tide? How did you come to this knowledge?”

“I don’t know… It wasn’t our discovery. It was told to us by those two elven sisters. They said the universe resonates with a primordial mana shock, like layers of interwoven nets drifting between the stars. It’s the original form of all things, the ‘baseline frequency’ of magic. When this force passes over a star, all ‘ethereal stars’ ignite and shine brightly, while all ‘physical stars’ are bathed in a powerful force field… The minds of all sentient beings are affected, their perception diverges from reality, and the boundary between physical and non-physical blurs. They also mentioned… they mentioned…”

Bertram’s gaze suddenly grew vacant, as if another consciousness was about to take over his mind. But the next moment, Bertilla gripped his shoulder, forcing him back to awareness as she pressed him, “What else did they say?”

“Amplification and distortion of the observer effect… projections in the deep sea and ‘archetypes’ in the physical universe losing their boundaries… That’s all I know. Most people only know this. Maybe High Priest Borken knew more behind it, but I’m not sure…”

“It seems this is the Voyagers’ understanding of the ‘mana tide,’” Bertilla said gravely. She studied Bertram’s condition for a moment before asking, “How does this relate to your deployment of the rune stones? And what do you mean by ‘taming’ the planet?”

“To block that mana shock… We want to create an eternal, safe world… Seven hundred years ago, the Great Explosion of the Deep Blue Well wasn’t the real mana tide. On the contrary, a powerful planetary-level mana surge erupted, blocking the residual shockwave that passed over the planet at the time. We want to replicate and control that process,” Bertram’s voice was low and hoarse, sometimes faltering, his mind occasionally slipping into haze, but Bertilla could understand his words. “We want to use the rune stones to control the entire planet’s Deep Blue Network, then deliberately trigger a massive explosion. If controlled precisely, the planet itself won’t break apart, and we will have a shield enveloping the world…”

“This shield will last forever. It will isolate our planet from this hostile universe, forever free from the mana tide. It will sever the connection between the mortal world and the gods, becoming a high wall between the present and the deep sea. The gods will never find us… like a baby returning to a safe swaddling, forever and ever…”

Bertilla’s eyes widened slightly as she stared at Bertram. For several seconds, she said nothing. Then suddenly, she asked, “Do you really believe this will bring eternal safety?”

“That’s what the High Priest said. The elven sisters said so too,” Bertram whispered. “If we wrap our planet carefully, isolating it permanently from the outside universe and only accepting the sun’s limited energy, we can build a permanent paradise. At least… it will last until the sun above us dies out, which will take many, many years.”

Bertilla didn’t know how to judge this mad plan. Instead, another crucial question came to her mind. “Wait. You said you want to trigger the Deep Blue Network’s ‘Great Explosion.’ How many people will die in that process?”

“Like the Gondor Empire seven hundred years ago,” Bertram said grimly. “This process is essentially a reenactment of the birth of the Gondor Wasteland. Therefore, all mortal civilizations will be destroyed. Over ninety percent of all living beings will perish. But some will survive, like us wandering the Gondor Wasteland. They will slowly evolve in the mana-infused environment to become like us… eventually adapting to this new world.”

Bertram paused, then said in a low voice, “Our form is the future of all things.”

“You really are mad…” Bertilla’s eyes widened as she stared at the middle-aged man before her. “Turning the entire planet into a wasteland like Gondor, destroying all civilized nations, leaving only scattered mutated freaks like you wandering the ruins… What meaning does this ‘paradise’ have? What meaning does this long-lasting ‘protection’ have?”

“But at least, the creatures on this planet will no longer face the mana tide or divine disasters,” Bertram shook his head. “And after a long time, perhaps further ‘evolution’ will come. The wandering mutants might build new civilizations. The wasteland environment might give rise to new life forms. What you see as harsh and hopeless might be fertile ground for another kind of life… Bertilla, do you know? After wandering the Gondor Wasteland for seven hundred years, I actually think that dark, corrupted land still teems with life… Time can change everything.”

“But that should not be the fate of civilized nations. You have no right to cut off their future,” Bertilla stared into Bertram’s eyes. “If we are to face an apocalypse, we will fight to the last breath, willing to die on the battlefield, willing to face the end in resistance—not have you create a disaster, claiming it’s to fend off enemies, only to snuff out everyone’s future and then tell us it’s for the sake of protecting the world’s future.”

“You’re right. But sadly, after years lost in the wasteland, we no longer think like you,” Bertram twisted his mouth into a grotesque smile. “Including me—when my last shred of reason and conscience fades, I will only see your words as naive and hypocritical.”

“Perhaps. That is the tragedy of us all,” Bertilla sighed softly. “Let’s continue, Bertram… I now know your true purpose. Now I want to know about those rune stones. What are your next deployment plans? How many more rune stones will you place? And once you finish, how will you activate them?”

“Our deployment progress… has already passed the halfway mark. I’m not fully aware of the entire plan’s details, but I believe we still need at least… another third of the rune stones to complete the ‘taming’ of this planet,” Bertram’s tone wavered slightly, as if struggling to maintain control over his own words. Yet gradually, his speech smoothed out. “The Deep Blue Nexus is incredibly complex. You can’t just dump a large number of rune stones into the network all at once to meet the required ‘quota.’ Suitable nodes are limited…

“Originally, we had found nearly enough nodes scattered across the wasteland. Without disturbing the central node—the Deep Blue Well—we could have funneled over ninety percent of the rune stones into the designated currents. But then the plan went awry. Some of the rune stones we placed at certain nodes were intercepted by the sea serpents… In the end, we had no choice but to look beyond the barrier…

“The most critical node lies deep within the Ancestor’s Peak. Hidden inside that mountain is a natural source of magical energy rivaling the Deep Blue Well itself. The locals are completely unaware of this, simply believing the abundant magic around Ancestor’s Peak to be a blessing from their ancestors…

“Other planned nodes are scattered throughout the northern mountain ranges of the continent, two deployment points in the swamps along the border of the Holy Dragon Principality, three in the eastern stretches of the Dark Mountains, one in the Shadow Marshes near the Typhon border, two in the Blue Rock Hills of the southern continent, and three in the northwest of the Highland Kingdom…

“The number of rune stones required at each point varies—some need only one, others four or five. These rune stones can navigate and position themselves autonomously within the Deep Blue currents. Once they enter the network, they begin moving on their own…”

Bertram’s voice gradually grew heavier, yet he continued to recount everything he knew. Throughout the long explanation, Beltira listened intently, not missing a single word.

After a while, Bertram’s voice finally fell completely silent.

He slumped forward like a man asleep, head bowed, sitting motionless before Beltira. The conscious memory that once inhabited this body seemed to have fully departed, leaving behind only an empty shell.

But soon, a new consciousness began to stir within the corners of that shell. The body trembled, ragged, hoarse breaths escaping. After remaining still for so long, it suddenly lifted its head. His eyes burned with fury and hatred, muscles twitching uncontrollably across his face. A hoarse, twisted voice rasped from his throat: “Bel—ti—ra…”

The roar barely escaped his lips before it was abruptly cut off. The field of pure white flowers surrounding them suddenly writhed. What had seemed like innocent, delicate blossoms twisted together into a massive, gaping maw lined with razor-sharp teeth, swallowing Bertram’s rapidly contorting form whole.

The next moment, the flower field returned to calm, leaving no trace behind—only Beltira, clad in a pale green dress, standing quietly in place, her gaze fixed on the sea of flowers gently swaying in the breeze.

“Farewell, Bertram.”

(End of chapter)