Chapter 969: Into the Abyss

The phone connected before he had fully gathered himself.

“Hello? Calling again?” Garcia’s voice came with an edge of impatience. “If you have something to say, say it quickly. I’m heading out soon.”

Roland shook his head and forced his thoughts into order. “I just finished the book. The content is quite…”

“Frightening, right?” She seemed to have expected exactly this. “That’s the usual reaction, first time through. But it’s fictional. Sleep on it and you’ll feel better.”

“Fictional?” He frowned. “What do you mean?”

“Literally.” Laughter crackled over the earpiece. “The Association investigated the volcanic ruins the author mentions in the book and found that the site was swallowed by magma two hundred years ago—an active volcano. It’s never had a major eruption, but it hasn’t been dormant for thousands of years either. So unless the author could replay the past, live for two centuries, and also endure extreme heat and thick volcanic smoke, he made it up.”

The answer surprised him. He let a moment pass before he said, “So… all of it was invented?”

“Could be true, could be false. I’ve never had much interest in archaeology. Master once said that if the author hadn’t been wearing martialist robes and hadn’t died in the Association’s own library, the book wouldn’t even have been catalogued.” A pause. “Anyway, there are all sorts of rumors around it. Are you finished? I’m hanging up.”

“Wait—” He caught himself. “After you brought the book back this time—did you read it again?”

He had wanted to ask about the note. He stopped himself.

“I flipped through a few pages on the journey back. Why?”

“No reason. Just wondering.”

Click. Garcia hung up.

A second later, he heard her apartment door close through the wall.

Roland exhaled. Going at it sideways like that—asking vague questions, hoping she’d fill the gap—only produced irritation.

He thought it through. The book, Raison d’être, was only half-written; the red note would most likely have been tucked between the final blank pages. Even a thorough reading might miss it. Garcia had been on a shuttle back from the Association; she’d said herself she only flipped through a few pages. There was no way to determine from her answer alone whether she had seen the note.

No—it was a definite no.

If she had seen it, Garcia would not have been indifferent. That wasn’t her character.

Which meant the note was either a prank or a message. He strongly preferred the former.

The alternative was simply too strange.

Who was the note for? Anyone who found it, or a specific person? Rationally, he leaned toward the latter. Raison d’être was not an obscure text—most martialists in the Association had read it. The note had almost certainly been there for years. For it to remain hidden through that many readings was nearly impossible. So it had probably been inserted recently. Deliberately. With a particular reader in mind.

That logic made the cold feeling worse.

It meant the Dream World—this fabricated space that existed inside Zero’s mind—had been noticed by someone. It was like being in a dream when a figure in the dream turns around and gives you a knowing smile.

Roland pressed both palms to his cheeks and held the thought at arm’s length. There was nothing to be afraid of. Even if someone inside this world had realized what it was, the moment he left, time here stopped. Who could threaten him from within?

Besides, the note only promised to wait—it did not move first. That was telling.

The location of Rose Café and the meaning of “divine meaning” were questions for the Taquila witches.

He still had other work today.

He checked the wall clock, took the prepared key from his bedroom, locked up the apartment, and went downstairs.

He had been laying groundwork for months—duplicates of every key in the building, plus an unlocking tool ordered online, all of it accumulated since the Taquila witches first arrived. Since he was the only person who could perceive the Gate of Memory, if a door was locked, he had no choice but to handle it himself. The unification of Graycastle had delayed this investigation far longer than he’d wanted.

The fifth floor. Room No. 0510.

The corridor was quiet in the late-autumn afternoon. Sunlight lay warm and heavy through the windows, the kind of light that made the whole building feel suspended in amber. Most people would be napping.

He slid the key into the lock and turned it gently.

The door swung open.

The smell hit him first—a dense, layered odor that the Dream World had not bothered to soften. The demon’s particular scent, half-masked by an excessive application of perfume, filled the entryway like a closed drawer full of old cloth. Roland held his breath for a moment, then breathed through it.

He moved quickly through the apartment, checking each room. Empty. He locked the door behind him, shouldered his backpack, and walked to the storage room at the end of the corridor.

One of the few iron doors still locked.

Experience had already shown him that the locks of this world could not withstand simple physics. He took out the hydraulic bolt-cutter and applied it. The lock broke in silence, two clean pieces.

He swallowed once and pushed the heavy door open.

The scene beyond it stopped him completely.

He seemed to be standing at the lip of a circular cliff—more than ten kilometers across, so wide he couldn’t see the opposite edge. The abyss below was not darkness but light: a lake of Red Mist, dazzling and deep, churning slowly like molten crystal. Hundreds of meters below the cliff edge, the mist glowed with its own intensity. When the winds shifted, columns of haze rose from the depths and climbed straight up past him like pillars of red smoke, dissolving only far above into the thin atmospheric layer.

Roland felt like he was standing on the surface of the sun.

And around the circular cliff—towering on every side—stood black stone buildings. Tower after tower, most of them slender and tapering, leaning slightly outward from the cliff walls like structures designed to defy their own weight. The Red Mist swallowed the sunlight entirely; the world here was lit only by the glow from below. When the mist surged, the towers’ reflections appeared briefly in the liquid red surface of the lake, then vanished again.

A dense stone forest above a burning sea.

Chapter 969: Into the Abyss

Translator: TransN Editor: TransN

“Ring… ring.”

The phone got connected while he was still in a daze.

“Hello? Why are you calling again?” The voice on the other line seemed impatient. “If you have something to say, do it quickly. I’m going out soon.”

Roland shook his head and forced himself to concentrate. “Ah, so… I’ve just read the book and its content is quite…”

“It’s quite horrifying, right?” Garcia seemed to have guessed his reaction. “This is usually how most people behave when they see it for the first time. But since it’s fictional, you will forget all about it after you’ve slept.”

“Fictional?” Roland frowned. “What do you mean?”

“Literally.” Laughter could be heard on the other end of the earpiece. “The Martialist Association investigated the volcanic ruins mentioned by the author, and discovered that it was engulfed by magma 200 years ago—that’s an active volcano. Although it has never had a big eruption, it hasn’t been completely dormant for thousands of years either. So unless he can replay the past or live for two centuries, while also being able to tolerate the high temperature and thick smoke, that author has been making stuff up.”

Her reply really surprised him, and so he hesitated for a long time before saying, “In that case… he made up all the content in the book?”

“It could be true or false. Anyway, I’ve never had much interest in archeology. Master once said that if wasn’t for the fact that the author was

wearing the martialist robes and died in the Association’s library, the book wouldn’t even have been kept and recorded.”

“But the association didn’t know his identity…”

“So the author himself became more famous than the book for that reason. This could be considered an unsolved mystery of the Association. But I doubt you’ll be able to solve it. According to my master, the management went through every nook and cranny of the records department, and still weren’t able to discover anything.” Garcia said, “Anyway, there’re so many rumors about the book. Have you finished? I’m going to hang up now.”

“Hang on, wait—” Roland said hurriedly, “After you brought the book this time… did you read it again?”

He actually wanted to ask about the note, but eventually changed his mind.

“I flipped through a few pages on the way back. What happened?”

“No, nothing… I just wanted to ask.”

“Click.” The line got cut off on the other end—apparently, this teasing question made Garcia lose her patience.

He could even hear the door closing over at apartment No. 0827, even though they were separated by two walls.

Roland could not help but sigh. If he was not direct, then this sort of question that he asked would only cause annoyance and nothing else.

Firstly, only half of the book “Raison d’être” was written, and the red note was most likely caught in the last few blank pages. There would be no guarantee that it would be noticed even if you were to read the entire book.

She had also taken the shuttle when she came back from the Association. He could easily imagine that she would not have had much time to go through the book seriously during her journey back.

Regardless of how Garcia answered, he would still not have been able to judge whether she had seen this note.

No—it was a definite no.

According to Garcia’s character, if she had seen it, she would certainly not be indifferent to it.

So it would seem that these two sentences were either a prank of some sort or a hidden message.

Roland could not help but wish that it was just a prank.

The other alternative was just… too absurd.

Who was the note for? Was it meant for anyone who discovered it, or did it have a specific target?

Rationally speaking, he was more inclined toward the latter—the book was not top-secret, and most of the martialists had already read it due to its fame. It would not be surprising if there was a reader who did not discover it, but it was very unlikely that it remained undiscovered even after so many people had read the book. So it was probable that the note was not placed in the book from the beginning, but rather it was put in there fairly recently.

But it was this logic that made him feel creeped out about the whole thing.

What did that imply?

It meant the Dream World, this fantasy world that was envisioned by him, had been discovered by someone. This was similar to being in a dream when a person in the dream suddenly turned around and smiled slyly at you.

Roland patted his cheek and tried to suppress the chill in his heart. He tried to repeatedly convince himself that there was nothing to be scared of. Although this was just speculation at the moment, even if it was true, as long as he left, this world’s time would stop. Who could be in a position to threaten him?

Moreover, the message on the note only implied that they would wait to be contacted instead of taking the initiative. This could help to explain some of the problems.

As for the location of the Rose Café and what the “divine meaning” meant, that would be best left to the Taquila witches to investigate.

He did not forget that he still had other things to do next.

He looked up at the wall clock and confirmed the time before taking the key that he had already prepared from his bedroom. He then locked up and went downstairs.

In order to explore the memory fragments of the tube-shaped apartment, Roland had already completed a lot of preparations ever since the arrival of the Taquila witches. For example, he made duplicates of the keys to every apartment and even bought an unlocking tool online—since he was the only person who could see this “non-existent’” Gate of Memory, if he did encounter one that was locked, he would have no choice but to roll up his sleeves and do the work himself.

If it hadn’t been for the expedition for the unification of Graycastle, this part of the investigation would have been completed a long time ago.

Roland went down to the fifth floor and found room No. 0510 quite quickly.

Most people would be taking a nap at this time. The late autumn sunshine made everyone feel lazy. The whole corridor looked quiet and serene, which was a stark contrast to the rush of traffic outside in the streets.

He inserted the key into the lock and turned it gently.

The door opened.

A weird aroma suddenly poured into his nose and made him involuntarily hold his breath.

Although the Dream World changed itself to accommodate the demon, it did not amend some of the details, such as body odor. In order to cover up their

smell, the extensive use of perfume had become the last resort.

Roland spent two minutes thoroughly searching the room again. Once he confirmed that there was no one, he locked the door, remove the hydraulic bolt-cutter from his backpack, and walked straight to the storage room at the end of the walkway.

This iron door was one of the few that were locked.

Evidence had already proven that although the world connected behind the door was mysterious, the lock of the door still couldn’t withstand the forces from a tool that utilized the laws of physics. A few seconds later, the lock was silently broken into two pieces.

He swallowed hard and pushed open the heavy door—

Roland was immediately attracted to the marvelous sight in front of his eyes.

He seemed to be standing on top of a bottomless cliff. The top of the cliff was circular. It was more than 10 km in length and he almost could not see the opposite side. This peculiar terrain was encircled by an extremely magnificent lake. However, the lake was not formed of water, but dazzling Red Mist!

The mist and the peak were hundreds of meters apart. If he looked down, it would look like a shining red crystal, like a thick and rich substance. If it was not for the occasional mist that rose from the bottom and ran straight up the gust of wind to form a “mist pillar” that stood over the horizon, it would be very hard to relate that to the dirty and dark “bloody fog”.

Roland felt like he was standing on the surface of the sun and admiring the torrential solar flares, while he watched the haze that was thicker than the castle, appearing continuously and shining more brilliantly than molten steel. However, it did not radiate a hot, unforgiving heat. As the height increased, the color of the fog quickly faded, and it finally diffused into the air to form a Red Mist layer.

And this was not all that he saw.

Towering black stone buildings surrounded the circular cliff—most of them were tower-shaped and differed only in some minor details. As the sun was shrouded in red mist, the whole world seemed particularly dim. Only when there were gushes of red mist at the bottom of the Red Mist Lake could these black towers be faintly seen reflected in the lake.

Like a dense stone forest.