Chapter 1350: A Newcomer
Roland didn’t speak for a while.
“Maybe you’re right,” he said at last. “But the Dream World is already directly shaping Neverwinter’s growth. I can’t close off that channel. And I shouldn’t.”
Especially now. Scroll had evolved into a Transcendent — each trip she made to the Dream World brought back knowledge that could not be measured or replaced. And there was Zero, and Garcia, and Defender Rock. He couldn’t treat them as fabrications of his own sleeping mind. They were too consistent, too complete, too themselves. Even without Lan, he would not have been willing to give the Dream World up.
Nightingale’s fists had closed.
“What about me?”
He turned to look at her.
“What about me.” Her voice had gone up a fraction, and something was shaking underneath the words. “If your time keeps dropping, you’ll only have a few years before you—” She stopped. Her jaw tightened. “Anna and I — we agreed on it, and I’ll honor what we agreed, but if that day ever actually comes, I —” She couldn’t complete the sentence. “What am I supposed to do?”
Roland raised his hand and touched her lip very gently with his thumb, the skin pale and cool. “That is exactly why I have to keep going. Not to run from the cost — to end it.” He kept his voice even, not to reassure her, but because he believed it. “The number isn’t only a countdown. It shows a trend, a direction. If we can understand what the Origin of Magic actually is — its essence, not just its surface — we can most probably eliminate the negative pressure from the Realm of Mind entirely. But if we avoid it, pull back, let it continue to develop unseen… we don’t know how much worse it gets. By the time the consequences become obvious, options will be gone.”
Lan’s warning had not been idle caution. The Fallen Evils. The Oracle’s appearances, growing more frequent. The world pressing against its own edges. These were not separate problems converging by coincidence.
He had to take the risk. Not because the risk was small — because the alternative was to wait for a crisis that would offer no choices.
“But—”
“I promise not to let that happen.” He said it plainly, not performing certainty, simply stating what he intended.
Nightingale looked at him for a long time. “No matter what?”
“No matter what.”
She said nothing else. Her shape softened and then faded — gradually, the Mist taking her piece by piece until she was fully gone.
Roland returned the magic stone to the drawer and let the darkness come back in. The line of city light at the curtain gap reappeared, faint and steady, the same as before.
He turned onto his side.
On his left hand, the warmth of where she had held it lingered. He fell asleep before it faded.
“Didi. You have an unopened text message.”
“Didi. You have an unopened text message.”
“Who keeps sending you those?” Fei Yuhan tucked the last of her luggage closed. “The Association?”
“You could say that.” Valkries opened the message, held the screen for one second, and snapped it shut. She had tight control over her strength; otherwise the plastic casing would have cracked.
“Not bad.”
“What is not bad?”
“That person has foresight.” Fei Yuhan smiled and pulled on a pair of down gloves. “In the entire Martial Artist Duel, the number of times he looked at you was second only to how often he looked at me. Most people in that room only stared. It takes real nerve to go further, to actually send a message. That deserves at least a little credit. If you have time, introduce us.”
“It isn’t what you’re imagining,” Valkries said, with an edge.
Their arrangement had been simple enough — shared lodgings after Valkries was discharged from hospital, connected bedrooms opening onto a common living room. Nothing was said in one room that could not be heard in the other. Valkries didn’t object to it. She was in an unfamiliar world and the fewer people she interacted with, the lower the chance of revealing what she was. Fei Yuhan had been a reliable presence since the hospital visit, and the irritation she was feeling now was not directed at her.
It was directed at whoever had sent the message.
The cellphone was, objectively, a marvel. She had said so to herself more than once during the weeks since Fei Yuhan taught her to use it. It contained everything — an encyclopedia that a shelf of printed volumes couldn’t match, access to information she hadn’t known she was missing. She could not put it down.
But there was no merit to being accessible. The device became a liability the moment the wrong person obtained the number, and the situation grew considerably worse when that person could not simply be blocked.
“In any case, never mind it.” Valkries pressed a hand to her forehead. The absence of her third eye magic stone left a sensation like a missing tooth — something her fingers kept searching for. “Are you going out now?”
“Yes. The Association has a new recruit. Mr. Defender wants me to meet her.”
“A newcomer?” Valkries frowned.
She knew Fei Yuhan’s standing in the Martialist Association. Receiving new members was not something a person at her level did.
“That’s right. But I’ll be her master from now on.” Fei Yuhan laughed — light, not explaining herself — and walked out the main door.
Master.
Valkries turned the word over in the quiet that followed. The Transformer came to mind: the shape of a relationship built entirely around the transfer of what one person carried and another person needed. The feeling lasted a moment before it was interrupted.
“Didi. You have an unopened text message.”
“Didi. You have an unopened text message.”
She clenched her fists. She counted to ten. She opened the screen.
Sender: Roland. Your infiltration squad suffered attacks from my army in the Kingdom of Wolfheart and its frontline was utterly defeated. Your casualty numbers are approaching a hundred thousand. You’ve lost a few giant skeletons capable of manufacturing the Red Mist, and there has been no sign of the Sky Lord. Could it be that he was frightened away by my cannons? Also, where is the Senior Lord? If they continue to hide away, your vanguard unit will have to be buried in Wolfheart.
Sender: Roland. We discovered the obelisk at the ridge of the continent in Blackstone and attacking it is something that will happen sooner or later. What do you think will happen if we were to drop a bomb into that large pit? It is a little far off, but we have developed flying machines capable of navigating long distances. If we can’t end the Battle of Divine Will early, the same outcome will repeat, until the Blackstone Region becomes a volcano that cannot be extinguished. I hope you can understand this point.
Sender: Roland. On a side note — after being in the Dream World for as long as you have, you should understand how advanced human weapons can become. And there is still the peak of the mountain — the Glory of the Sun. We have recently carried out a theoretical experiment and it is one step from completion. How much longer do you intend to consider?
Valkries received messages like these every day. War updates. Research announcements. Dispatches from a front she had once commanded and could now only read about on a small glowing screen, one notification at a time.
Her previous response had been silence. No reply, no acknowledgment. Wait long enough and silence became its own answer.
She looked at the screen.
Then she typed.
Where are you? Let’s meet.
The same message appeared on Fei Yuhan’s phone at the same moment.
New information from the other world. She smiled privately, tucked the screen away, and knocked at the door of Mr. Defender’s office.
“Come in.” Rock’s voice, steady as always.
The moment she stepped inside she saw the newcomer: a young woman seated at the small side table, white hair against a plain collar, average height, Force of Nature signature barely registering at the edge of Fei Yuhan’s awareness. By any foundation metric for an Awakened, she was unremarkable.
But that wasn’t the point.
Fei Yuhan met her eyes once — a fraction of a second — and returned to herself. She turned to Rock and greeted him. “Your Excellency.”
“Good, you know why you’re here.” Rock set his teacup down with unhurried ease. “Now that she’s with us, I want to ask: what’s your reason for taking a disciple? You’ve never requested anything from the Association before.”
“Most probably…” Fei Yuhan considered the question with genuine lightness. “Because I want something to do.”
Rock stared at her for a beat. Then he laughed, full and unguarded, both hands clasped. “Hahaha — that is completely your style. But whatever the reason, it’s a good thing, especially with Prism City’s urgent need to rebuild its strength.” He turned to the young woman. “Let me introduce you. This is Fei Yuhan — recognized by the Association as a talented martial artist. She can appear unapproachable, but she is an extremely responsible person. She will be your master, and she will help you greatly.”
He looked at Fei Yuhan. “And this young lady is the new Awakened currently residing at Roland’s home—”
Fei Yuhan stepped forward and extended her hand. She smiled.
“Zero.” A simple word, and everything it carried. “Welcome to the Martialist Association.”