Chapter 1562: The End of a Journey

In the midst of utter darkness, Lady Night stood silently for a long time. Her gaze seemed to transcend the vast stretches of time and space, fixed unwaveringly on the direction where the once brilliant light and shadow had gradually faded away. Though the illusion of the “God Who Walks Toward the Stars” had vanished into the deep sea, she dared not relax for a moment. She knew that until the Anchor Point Generator completed its injection process, until every “anchor” had reached its predetermined position and taken root, nothing was truly settled.

If even the slightest trace of longing or attachment to eternal authority and divine power remained in the heart of those “extraterrestrial wanderers,” the process would be interrupted. Even at the final step, failure was still possible.

Yet, from beginning to end, the deep sea remained undisturbed, without a ripple. Lady Night stood alone, quietly, until a sudden voice broke the silence beside her: “Injection process complete. Data migration finished.”

…

Clank.

The shovel bit into the hard earth. Dry, cracked soil and scattered stones were turned over and tossed aside. A small figure cloaked in a hooded cape worked tirelessly, swinging the iron shovel again and again. Beside her, another figure, also cloaked but bent with age, leaned heavily on his own shovel, lifting his head to gaze out over the misty wasteland.

A hazy, chaotic fog blanketed the entire land and sky. Through the mist, only an endless expanse of barren wilderness stretched into the distance. No houses, no walls, no carts or travelers—only grave after grave, scattered haphazardly across the desolation. None bore tombstones or any markers to identify their occupants. Instead, each grave had a black longsword thrust into the soil at its head. Many of these graves had already been dug open.

But all the opened graves were empty.

“We’ve been digging for quite a while now,” the stooped old traveler suddenly said, his voice sounding even older than before. “Look around—everywhere we’ve dug up is just empty graves. Which direction was that first one again?”

“After all these years, who can remember?” The small figure paused, straightening up to wipe sweat from her brow. “I remember when we started, it was near the city. Back then, the fog wasn’t this thick… Now, I can’t even tell which way the city lies.”

“Sometimes I wonder if I’ve been wandering this endless graveyard since birth,” the old traveler chuckled. “We’ve been digging here for at least half a century. And you still don’t know exactly where your friend is buried?”

“I don’t know,” the small figure said calmly. “I’m just digging by instinct. I’m sure I’ll find him—when the time is right.”

The old traveler frowned. “When the time is right? What does that mean?”

“Chance… ah, I can’t quite remember what it means either. It’s a word my friend taught me,” she said thoughtfully, uncertain. “He knew all sorts of strange things and invented many strange words. Some were brilliant, perfect for describing things, but others were just… confusing. No matter how many times he explained, they still didn’t make sense. Like ‘capacitor’ or ‘elevator.’”

“Sounds like words from another world,” the old traveler shook his head. “Your friend must have come from very far away, huh?”

“Maybe,” she shrugged. “But I don’t really care where he came from.” Then she raised her well-worn but still sharp iron shovel again. “Enough rest. Let’s get back to work. Today, I’m going to—”

Before she could finish, the shovel struck something with a clear ding and a sharp vibration ran up her arm. She stopped mid-sentence, staring in surprise at the half-excavated grave before her. After a moment of confusion, a spark of excitement lit her eyes. She looked eagerly at her companion and raised the shovel again. “This one—this one’s got something! Old man, hurry up and dig! We can’t miss the opening ceremony!”

The two shovels flew up and down in unison. The once stubborn earth had somehow loosened, the stones crumbled into sand, and the soil gradually lost its color. The sand dunes replaced the graves, and the dark fog and shadows receded rapidly. Yet the two travelers seemed oblivious to these changes, focused solely on digging until a black coffin came into view.

Without hesitation, the small figure probed the coffin with her shovel, as if she had rehearsed this moment countless times. Her face shone with joy as she exclaimed, “I’ve dug you out again!”

…

Gawain felt himself drifting in darkness, a strange sensation of being disconnected from the outside world and unable to control his body. It was as if he had returned to those days when he was forced to hang in space like a satellite. But this void was different—amid the darkness and emptiness, an inexplicable calm filled his mind, washing away all his restlessness and unease. In this unusual peace, he could think clearly.

He reflected on his time in space, his days walking the earth, his life, the people around him, his conversation with Lady Night, and everything he had experienced in the “dreamlike fifty years” illusion. Recalling the almost lifelike vision, he noticed some details that made him smile.

At that very moment, he realized his body had returned—along with all his senses. He felt himself lying in a cold, pitch-black place, wrapped in something heavy. Above him, a rhythmic thump thump thump echoed. The strange yet vaguely familiar environment made him instinctively reach up to push away the weight pressing on his head. At the same time, a familiar voice suddenly rang in his ears: “I’ve dug you out again!”

The next second, as he pushed the heavy object away, a sharp pain shot through his fingertips, causing him to shout reflexively, “Damn it! Who hit my hand?”

Daylight flooded in.

Gawain jolted upright. As he rose, the black coffin beneath him crumbled instantly, turning into ordinary dust that scattered in the wind.

He looked around and found himself in an endless gray-white desert. In the distance, the silhouette of a towering ancient city loomed faintly beneath a thick, gray-white sky. Amber and Modir stood nearby, their faces marked by confusion, as if they had just awakened from a deep dream. But in the blink of an eye, clarity returned, and all their doubts vanished.

For a fleeting moment, Gawain thought he saw them wearing strange black cloaks and holding shovels—but when he blinked, the vision vanished like a mirage.

“Old man,” Amber snapped back to reality and stepped forward, grabbing Gawain’s arm to help him up—a somewhat comical and awkward effort given her height. “I think I just had a dream… I was digging graves everywhere…”

“That was a dream? No, that was your dream come true!” Gawain, still adjusting to being back in his body, glared at her. “You’re the one who hit me just now, aren’t you?”

Amber shook her head repeatedly, then pointed at Modir. “It was him!”

“You expect me to believe that? I could feel your presence just now!” Gawain shot a look at the shadowy adventurer. His limbs still felt stiff and dizzy as he stood, but the discomfort was fading fast, giving him the energy to tease. “Don’t forget—I’ve tracked your presence since the day we came out of that coffin!”

Amber shrank back, silent. Gawain turned his gaze to the adventurer, who met his eyes.

“Looks like Lady Night played a little ‘joke’ on us,” Gawain laughed. “But judging by your expression, you really enjoyed this journey.”

Modir finally broke into a radiant smile, the kind that comes at the end of a thrilling adventure. “Of course! I’ve had all kinds of adventures in my life, but this one was truly unique! Wandering the border between reality and illusion, drifting between wakefulness and dreams, exploring a labyrinth of light and shadow—and in the end, bringing you back to this world in such a marvelous way. There’s no better way to conclude an adventure!”

Gawain smiled and nodded. Before he could say more, a sudden wind swept in from the edge of the desert, whipping up a cloud of sand that swirled behind them. Then, a lazy yet majestic voice descended from the sky:

“This is truly good news, Master Adventurer. I’m glad to see you are pleased with the ‘story’ I prepared for you.”

The three turned toward the voice. Where once there was only empty desert, now stood a grand, ancient throne. Leaning against its armrest was the ancient god, vast as a mountain and dark as a storm cloud. His gaze dropped from the swirling clouds above, first resting on Modir, then on Gawain.

“The anchoring process went smoothly. You are more resolute and clear-headed than I imagined.”

Before Gawain could respond, Lady Night’s eyes shifted to Amber.

“I’m pleased to see you, my… ‘Shadow.’”

Amber craned her neck, trying to make out Lady Night’s face, and gasped, “Wow! You’re so tall!”

She seemed about to say more, but Gawain gently tapped her shoulder.

Amber immediately fell silent—and only then did she notice the change in Modir.

The great adventurer was… losing all color from his body.

First, it started with his hair, then his eyebrows, followed by his clothes, his skin, and even his walking cane… It was as if an invisible stream of water was washing over this old man who defied the flow of time. Wherever the water touched, all color faded away, leaving only the purest shades of gray and white.

The same gray-white as the shadowed desert beneath his feet.

Modir himself clearly noticed this. He raised his hand to look at it, and with that movement, countless grains of sand and dust fell from his body. At this moment, he seemed like a statue carved from sand and dust, each breath causing him to crumble further. Yet, despite this, a faint smile appeared on his face. “Well… this is quite incredible. It’s the first time I’ve ever seen anything like it.”

“Hey! Old man, you’re—” Amber was startled. Instinctively, she tried to hold the shadowy dust around Modir, but quickly realized it was futile. She immediately looked up toward Lady Night’s direction. “Do you have any way to stop this? He’s—”

“All journeys must come to an end,” Modir’s calm voice cut her off. The old mage shook his head peacefully. “Many, many years ago, my journey actually reached its end. But I lingered here, at the edge of that end, for centuries…”

As Modir’s words faded, another voice, equally aged, echoed from the black leather tome resting before Lady Night’s throne. “Now is the time to bring this long adventure to a close. A good story needs an ending.”

“Yes, it needs an ending,” Modir nodded gently and took a step toward the throne. “Some are crowned at their ending. Some retreat into quiet solitude. Some find peace and joy. And an old adventurer who’s wandered far and wide… at the end, he stands before the oldest god in this world…”

Modir slowly lifted his head. For a moment, he seemed to recall some faded, yellowed memories—six centuries ago, he had stood here too, gazing up at the ancient god just as he did now. But in the next instant, the memory fragments scattered like wind, leaving only the clear scene before him—

He saw the steps leading up to the divine throne stretch upward in his vision. A tall stone pillar stood before the steps, and atop it, the black leather book lay open. Though no breeze stirred the air, the pages turned on their own, flipping to the last page. On the blank sheet, lines of text began to appear, black letters writing out the life of Modir Wilde—

“At the journey’s end, the great adventurer Modir returned to Lady Night’s throne. Six hundred years ago, he accepted a mission here—to deliver a warning to the world. Six hundred years later, the world has emerged from that disaster…

“This world remains unsafe, but for the great adventurer, his task is complete.

“So he lifts his head, gazing at the ancient deity, and says—”

Modir raised his head, a faint smile on his lips. “My lady, the message has been delivered.”

Lady Night bowed her head. “Thank you for your efforts, great adventurer.”

A gust of wind swept across the throne. Modir’s gray-white form suddenly dissolved into a swirling cloud of sand and dust. The dust was carried toward the stone pillar before the throne. The black leather book’s pages fluttered rapidly as the sand slipped between them. With a final rustle, the book snapped shut. On its dark cover, ancient letters slowly appeared:

The Travels of Modir

(End of chapter)