Chapter 1568: Arrival at the Border

Amidst the boundless gray-white desert, beneath a vast and chaotic sky stretching in all directions, the Lady of Night’s towering throne stood like a mountain at the very heart of the divine realm. This ancient deity remained silent for a long, unknowable time before suddenly addressing a distant voice: “Even you find it surprising?”

“Not all beings, upon confirming the existence of gods, choose to walk a harsh, solitary path,” the distant voice replied calmly, as it had for countless years past. The Lady of Night could hear it clearly, yet could never discern its origin. It was a great consciousness, leaving an indelible mark upon her awareness. “Mortals who refuse to bow before the divine throne… are exceedingly rare. After all, if one could easily obtain all they desire without hardship, why would they pay a greater price chasing an uncertain future?”

“…Are you not angry?” The Lady of Night hesitated, then asked. “You are willing to intervene and help, yet mortals refuse to bow to you… As a true deity, do you—”

“A true deity is merely a more advanced civilization, a more powerful individual,” the voice interrupted with a hint of amusement. “I warned you of this from the start. As for ‘anger’… why should I be angry? Because they refuse to prostrate themselves? Because ‘mortals reject the grace of the gods’?”

The Lady of Night said nothing, seemingly lost in thought. After a pause, the voice spoke again, softly: “I said mortals who refuse to bow before the throne are few—yet ‘few’ means they do exist. They know of the gods, yet choose to walk alone. They reach the gods’ fortress at the edge of the voyage and pass through with heads held high. Meanwhile, many civilizations choose our protection, joining the ranks of our wards. But to us… it makes no difference.

“Those who accept our shelter, we care for diligently. Those who refuse to bow, we treat politely. We welcome subjects and accept friends alike, for ultimately, we all sail through the same vast void. And such an immense void… can contain all things.

“We call this principle ‘preserving the diversity of civilizations.’”

The Lady of Night finally lifted her gaze from contemplation, asking thoughtfully, “You once said the ‘void’ is an endless expanse, and that universes like mine are countless as grains of sand. Among so many universes, countless civilizations rise and fall every moment. I have always wondered… is survival truly so difficult in every world?”

This time, the voice was silent for a long while, as if even a god beyond time and space needed to carefully choose words. After an immeasurable pause, it finally answered from the distant reaches of spacetime: “What is difficulty? Is there a universal standard for hardship across civilizations at different stages?

“For a primitive tribe in a cave, a winter blizzard can mean extinction. For an ancient kingdom just entering the agricultural age, a delayed rainy season can topple the entire realm. A flourishing industrial civilization may withstand earthly disasters, but a meteor strike remains catastrophic. Magical tides can destroy a fledgling planetary civilization, but as you said, for voyagers, household-grade cognitive calibration patches are even disposable—every vending machine stocks them.

“On a mortal planet I once inhabited, there was a cyclical disaster: every so often, the planet would enter an ‘Ice Age’—a prolonged deep freeze that wiped out over ninety percent of life. Between these ice ages were brief ‘warm summers,’ fleeting as a single breath in the planet’s climate cycle. During these short summers, civilizations would rise, fall, and rise again, never once accepting aid from the gods.

“Today, the civilizations born on that planet thrive. Driven by a culture they call ‘unbreakable ties to the homeland,’ they even transformed their homeworld into a starship named ‘Steel Terra.’ As the first civilization in the galaxy to break the light-speed barrier, they continue to voyage through the endless stars aboard their ‘Steel Terra.’

“Yet even so, they remain vulnerable—uncontrolled neutron star fragments and turbulent gravitational discontinuities along their path could be the next ‘blizzard’ to strike. They may fall, like their ancient cave-dwelling ancestors, or return stronger and more magnificent, ready to face the next trial of life and death.

“Child, if this is what you ask, then I tell you: yes, survival is always this difficult. Childhood, adulthood—life is fragile and fraught with peril. Any natural phenomenon, at a certain time and for a certain people, can become an extinction-level disaster. Even those under our protection face moments of collapse—only then, the calamities are greater, terrifying enough to bring down even the gods.”

The voice fell silent. The Lady of Night remained motionless on her throne for several minutes before finally breaking the silence: “So, all paths are strewn with thorns.”

“Yes. And therein lies the key question: knowing that every world, every path ahead is fraught with thorns, does a civilization still have the courage to take the next step? Compared to the howling blizzard outside the cave, the ‘next step’ taken in the face of the storm is the greatest courage a civilization can muster—and the greatest challenge they must overcome.

“Compared to that step, all other choices are secondary.”

The Lady of Night’s curiosity was piqued. “Then… are there civilizations that choose not to take that step? I mean, after reaching a certain level of development, suddenly realizing that beyond their planet lies danger at every turn, that no matter how powerful they become, survival is never guaranteed, and that progress only brings more obstacles—do such civilizations ever retreat, pulling back that step?”

The distant god was silent for two seconds before answering softly: “Yes, many. At every stage, some shrink back—dying curled up in primitive city-states, some drown in decadence during their empires, others fall into oblivion under the haze of neuropharmaceuticals. Most vanish quietly before truly seeing the world they inhabit, leaving barely a trace.”

The Lady of Night’s eyes widened slightly. “And what do you think of such peoples…?”

“They have the right to choose their own path. Every civilization has that right. But when the end comes and they repent, praying to the gods… we do not respond. After all, we are busy.”

“…I understand,” the Lady of Night finally exhaled softly, seeming much more relaxed, her gaze clearer than before. After a moment’s thought, she asked another question: “You said the voyagers might truly reach the edge of the known universe. But can they?”

“I’m not sure,” the voice answered frankly. “Since the Spiral Rift War dragged hundreds of worlds into the Zero Quadrant, the gods’ observation of these universes has been severely disrupted. The Zero Quadrant has become a stable region, yet we have not found a way to rebuild the pathways within it.

“Perhaps, as the prophets and the gods of omens say, the only way to rebuild the routes in the Zero Quadrant is from within—a civilization that survives the ruins, willing to forgo escape and become pioneers. This group would naturally possess the talent to navigate the Zero Quadrant. They might be the ‘voyagers’ you speak of, or their successors—perhaps Loren, perhaps Noi, or maybe a pioneering civilization from a neighboring universe. Who can say?”

The Lady of Night pondered, uncertain. “If one day, the Loren civilization becomes that successful ‘pioneer’ reaching the edge of the known universe, but chooses not to go further, instead stopping and turning back to pray to the gods—what would you… or your friends do?”

“We would accept it—having reached their promised land, they deserve their reward,” the voice said calmly. “All beings have the right to choose. After exhausting all efforts, seeking divine aid is not shameful; refusing to pray is also normal. Ultimately, not every world needs saving by gods, nor does every civilization have only one choice: to bow before the divine. But…”

The voice paused, then added with a hint of a smile, “If they truly can walk alone to the end… perhaps they could become friends.”

…

On the long bridge formed by the twilight’s faint glow, Gawain suddenly stopped, turning back with a thoughtful expression to glance at the path he had come from.

The towering throne had vanished into the endless desert backdrop, and all he could see looking back was a monotonous, pale mist of chaos. A faint light formed barriers along both sides of the bridge, blocking even the ceaseless winds of the shadow desert. From this vantage, he felt as if he were walking on a road without beginning or end, endlessly repeating, with no way to tell how far he had traveled.

He turned again, looking toward the other end of the path—the City of Nightfall. That silhouetted city truly stood at the edge of the dust border, yet since earlier, the silhouette seemed to have not moved an inch closer.

“What are you looking at?” Amber’s voice suddenly interrupted his gaze. “Did you forget to ask the Lady of Night something?”

“…Not really,” Gawain frowned. “It just feels like we’ve been walking this road forever, but there’s no sign of ‘arriving’ anywhere.”

“Who knows? Things in the Shadow Divine Realm are always so elusive. What you see with your eyes can’t be trusted,” Amber said, relaxed. “Anyway, the Lady of Night said just keep going down this path. She wouldn’t joke with us about something like this.”

Gawain glanced at the shadowy assault goose beside him. “…You really trust her, huh?”

“Well, what choice do I have? She’s my ‘source,’ after all. And she helped me solve my ‘stability’ problem. From the moment we met, I felt she was trustworthy,” Amber said, waving her hand. “By the way, you didn’t finish your story earlier. You said the Lady of Night created a trial illusion for you, and you stayed inside for fifty years. She even disguised herself as me to trick you, but you never fell for it? Really? Not even once? You’re not just bragging, are you?”

“Do I really need to brag in front of you?” Gawain casually ruffled Amber’s hair. “Amber, who’s never missed a single day of overtime in fifty years, never late or early leaving a single meeting—you don’t think that kind of story would fool anyone, do you? Even Hetty and Rebecca would catch on within twenty-four hours if something was off.”

Amber thought for a moment, baring her teeth in a half-smile. “You’re right, but why do I feel like you’re just mocking me?”

Gawain chuckled, making no effort to deny it. His steps didn’t falter in the slightest as he kept walking toward the city looming at the edge of the night.

Then, in the very next moment, the scene before his eyes suddenly blurred. That towering metropolis, once distant, abruptly “blinked” right in front of him!

It was astonishing and eerie, as if he had stepped across some discontinuity in time and space. The city, once so far away it seemed unreachable, was now just a stone’s throw from him. In that dizzying instant, he even thought he heard a deep, resonant “boom”!

Amber, standing beside him, was startled by the sudden shift. She literally jumped up, hanging onto his arm from half a meter above the ground, clutching him tightly while pointing at the black city ahead. “M-m-mom! How did this thing just jump here like that?!”

Gawain quickly regained his composure, gently setting Amber down as he recalled some prior intelligence. “…Do you remember? They say the path from the Lady of Night’s throne to the border of the Shadow Divine Realm is a route you can’t traverse by normal means. It’s like a shadowy illusion fixed at a certain distance—always visible, but forever out of reach. This must be what that phenomenon looks like.”

He paused briefly, then added, “We came along the road built by the Lady of Night, which is why we suddenly arrived at Nightfall City. But if we’d tried to cross the desert going outward… no matter how far we walked, the city would still appear fixed in its original place to us.”

“…Even traveling feels so mysterious,” Amber finally caught on, her frazzled hair settling back into place. She muttered with no small amount of irritation, “This is obviously just some bored deity’s pastime. If only She would—”

Before Amber could finish, a young woman’s voice suddenly interrupted from nearby: “Apologies, it seems the border wall has caused you some trouble?”

Amber froze instantly, looking up in surprise. Gawain turned his gaze toward the source of the voice.

A woman in a black cloak stood at the city’s entrance.

She wore no hood; her long white hair fell loosely down her back. Her skin was pale as parchment, and her eyes were the same eerie shade of white.

At that moment, those pale eyes fixed on Amber and Gawain.

“Greetings to you both,” the pale young woman smiled softly. She took a breath, as if steadying a flutter of emotion, then bowed deeply. “To the great His Majesty Gawain Cecil, and Director Amber—the mistress of Nightfall City.”

(End of chapter)