Chapter 107 – Long Time No See

At night, the servants in the Tidis residence tidied up the Young Duke’s room and prepared his bed, laid out his clothes for the next day, and returned the wine glass from the windowsill to the gilded tray on the bedside table.

As they left the room, they couldn’t help but glance at the crystal coffin by the bed.

There, a person lay in peaceful slumber.

But they dared not look too long, nor did they dare touch it, fearing that even a single glance might ensnare their spirits, or that a mere touch might violate an unspoken taboo.

They still vividly remembered the night this summer when the room’s master returned. The lights burned through the night, solely so that when he opened his eyes in the dark, he could see the face of the person in the coffin.

But tonight, the master of the room did not return.

The Lord Duke sighed and said to the butler, “He has his own matters to attend to.”

In the northern snowfields and icy mountains, the Astrology Tower stood silently.

The bard had not ventured out for a long time. Sometimes he watched the stars from the tower’s peak, and other times he listened to the sound of time in the Hourglass Room, lost in thought.

The glass of the window was tapped. He looked up and saw the summoner on the dragon’s back, gazing at him.

Adrishig opened the window and patted Sandra’s head.

Sandra turned her head away, her nostrils emitting a disdainful snort.

The bard looked at Lin Wei: “Still angry?”

Lin Wei entered the room through the window without a word. He plucked the strings of his plectrum, and a soul passageway appeared. Without looking back, he stepped into it. Adrishig rubbed his nose and followed.

The Goddess’s hall was empty, the harp standing tall, with a small black spider crawling on it.

As Lin Wei stepped inside, he recalled the last time he was here, when he had obtained the final fragment of the Goddess’s dream and seen what lay within.

“Are you here to mock me too?” the black-haired elf asked the figure outside the window.

“Of course not,” the person replied, stepping closer. Lin Wei finally got a clear view of his appearance.

He was tall and slender, holding a long white bone staff with a faint green flame flickering at its tip. His silver-gray hair reached his shoulders, and his eyes were a deep green.

He seemed human, like a noble who had stepped out of a painting.

“In fact, we are of the same kind.”

The elf girl looked at him in confusion.

With a slight wave of his staff, a skeletal hand emerged from the ground beneath his feet, followed by a snow-white skeleton.

The hostility in Katanaphia’s eyes gradually faded. She looked at the skeleton, then at Elvis: “You too…”

Before she could finish, the skeleton obediently lowered its head, and Elvis kissed its forehead, his gesture intimate.

She seemed incredulous, staring blankly: “What are you doing?”

“They are my best companions,” Elvis said, patting the skeleton’s head. A beautiful female lich appeared beside him, passing directly through the wall of Katanaphia’s room and performing a complex bow.

“She tells me that a rift has appeared in the realm of the dead, and that rift lies within you.”

“Beautiful elf maiden, you were born to be their ruler.”

Katanaphia turned to look around the room and noticed that the undead creatures had reappeared, peeking at her.

“No…” She shook her head and took a few steps back. “They cling to me, dirty and terrifying, bringing only disaster.”

The necromancer outside the window smiled gently: “Perhaps they simply like you.”

“They linger between life and death, unwilling to let their souls dissipate, yet unable to return to the world they once knew—only by the summoning of a Spirit Channeler can they return to the living world.”

“A Spirit Channeler?” The elf girl shook her head. “But Spirit Channelers are welcomed by all, able to summon pure unicorns and mighty dragons.”

“They simply prefer to communicate with the living,” the necromancer’s tone was like that of a kind and dutiful teacher. “In truth, the undead are the same.”

“Am I a Spirit Channeler for the undead?”

“No,” the necromancer shook his head. “You are the one who bridges life and death. You have opened a path directly to the world where souls reside after leaving their bodies. They come from that world, arriving endlessly by your side.”

“Why me?”

“There is no why—you were born this way. I heard from passing elves that you have a powerful Light Mage as your twin sister. I suspect that the extreme opposition in your mother’s womb caused this. After all, light and darkness cannot coexist. Perhaps you were killed by her while still in the queen’s womb.”

The young elf was deeply puzzled by this statement.

The necromancer smiled politely: “The undead simply wish to follow you, with no ill intent—why not learn to coexist with them?”

“How do I do that?”

“Command them,” the necromancer’s tone was firm.

His voice then softened: “Once you can control them, would you consider traveling the continent with me?”

The elf’s eyes seemed to ignite with a dazzling, hopeful light: “Can I go outside?”

“You are free,” Elvis’s hand reached through the narrow window, gently ruffling the girl’s soft black hair.

Lin Wei approached the harp, “Sigh of the Abyss.”

He no longer plucked it casually but assumed a formal playing posture.

His fingers danced on the black strings, his hands slightly pale, creating a strange beauty in contrast.

The first note was on the upper part of the fourth string, and a soul passageway appeared.

But he did not move. Instead, he plucked the middle of the adjacent string next.

The long period of isolation had not damaged the harp’s tone. Fluent notes flowed from the intersection of his fingertips and the strings.

The soul passageway flashed before them and then vanished.

A strange sensation spread through the hall, as if everything was being moved by the seven strings.

His movements did not stop.

The black-haired summoner rested his forehead against the harp’s pillar, closing his eyes.

The music was initially clear and bright, like the babbling water in a valley, the fireflies flying through the forest on a summer night, the gentle smile of the person outside the window.

It gradually became broader and more mellow, like the high sky seen from a dragon’s back, occasionally accompanied by a lingering note, reminiscent of the starlight falling from the heavens.

The plectrum slid down a string, bringing forth a rapid series of notes, the sound suddenly intense.

The rhythm of the music was extremely complex, unlike any melody that existed in this world.

Adrishig listened quietly, seemingly recognizing some familiar tunes. He lowered his eyes, lost in reminiscence or nostalgia.

After a brief moment of distraction, he continued to focus on Lin Wei’s every move. As the music grew more intense, fine beads of sweat appeared on Lin Wei’s forehead, and the sensation of the hall’s rules being manipulated grew stronger.

The bard knew that the player was not merely plucking the strings—he was confronting the rules, harmonizing with them—using his soul’s power, the Book of Contracts, and even the Great Prophecy.

Half of Lin Wei’s mind was fully absorbed in playing the harp, while the other half floated in a daze. Fragments of the Goddess’s dreams flashed through his mind, piecing together the first half of his life.

The elf girl sitting in the dark corner, hugging her knees, encountered the passing necromancer.

For the first time in her life, she dared to face her innate abilities and gained the power to control the undead.

She eventually left the forest where she was born, a place filled with torment, guilt, fear, and ill omen for her.

The necromancer was always gentle and elegant. He led the slender, beautiful elf through many places on the continent.

He was like an artist who loved both life and death, kissing skeletons, embracing long-haired liches, decorating the room with clusters of green fireflies, and always carrying a bright crimson rose on his chest.

They drank with down-and-out bards in wasteland taverns, played hide-and-seek with sunlight behind the tall walls of bustling cities, were chased by goblin armies, and then scared away the dwarves in the valley, taking over their caves.

The music held immense power, and Lin Wei’s emotions were inevitably drawn by it, just as they had been during his first visit to the Goddess’s hall.

Memories intertwined. Human cities always bore the shadow of the Imperial Capital, the Dragon Clan’s islands occasionally transformed into the tranquil Siren Island during the seasonal tides, and every bard they met on their journey had Adrishig’s face.

When the memories of the Goddess ended, the necromancer leaned by the window at night, and the moonlight cast his silhouette into the shape of another person. Memories and emotions spiraled out of control, the music softened, and a perfect transition occurred.

The melodious and gentle notes gathered, like a moonlit stream flowing into the deepest fog of the forest, gradually cooling and sinking.

A cold aura enveloped the entire hall, slowly gripping the heart. The music echoed in the soul, finding a winding path through the mists of time and space.

This path bridged life and death.

His trembling fingertips bled, leaving traces on the strings.

And then—there were the eyes that stayed open all night in the hall, the menacing shadows in the Death Swamp, the skeleton held in the arms of the elf with her long hair up.

She walked out of the hall, her figure fading into the distance until she disappeared.

“I will walk with you, in the land where the moon never sets.”

“I will be free.”

The last note fell, and the player opened his eyes, his face pale, his fingers drenched in blood.

The person beside him supported his body, preventing him from collapsing.

He coughed lightly, seemingly regaining some strength, and walked to the hall’s door, pushing it open.

The long-neglected door creaked against its hinges, a sound that echoed through time.

Outside was no longer the familiar Death Swamp, but another land shrouded in darkness and silence.

Ahead, his gaze met a black sky, half of it occupied by a massive crescent moon.

A black raven, startled by the sudden appearance of the two, flapped its wings and took flight, the moonlight glinting off its feathers.

Their bodies suddenly felt light, all pain vanished, as if they had shed all earthly shackles and entered a realm of absolute freedom.

“This is…”

The black-haired summoner looked up at the sky: “The land where the moon never sets.”

The bard looked at him: “Why don’t you tell me the story of this world?”

“Even when the Goddess of Light died, Katanaphia did not appear. There are no legends or statues of her on the continent, nor is there any trace of another powerful soul in the Sea of Stars.”

“So you deduced that she was no longer in that world?”

“I’m not that clever,” Lin Wei’s eyes held a trace of confusion. “You know, even if the Holy Spear is revived, it’s only for a brief moment. After that, Duan Yu will die completely.”

“I entered the Sea of Stars, trying my best to fulfill the contract and protect his soul. The process of the contract went unusually smoothly, and I thought I would succeed, but I didn’t have time to complete it—his soul ultimately vanished.”

“I reached the top of the Sea of Stars and saw its entirety, which was not much different from what I had imagined, except for a massive vortex at the very top. I saw countless souls dissipate into fragments, some entering it, and his soul, protected by me, entered the vortex intact.”

“For many days after, my consciousness remained in the Sea of Stars, witnessing countless births and deaths. The dissipation and condensation of souls could all take place within the Sea of Stars, yet some entered the vortex, some scattered, some whole, but none ever returned, as if it was competing with the entire Sea of Stars for souls.”

“I remembered what I had seen before—the stronger the soul, the more dim areas there were in the soul’s light. But your soul had no dimness, nor did the gods, nor the old man—and after the clan leader died, passing all his soul to Duan Yu, his soul was also completely bright. Then I realized that the dim areas were missing soul fragments, and some soul fragments had disappeared into the vortex. The disappearance of these fragments occurred after the Dark Age.”

“The number of people with magical talent has been decreasing, and the number of top-tier magical beasts has also been dwindling. All of this can be attributed to the lack of enough soul fragments to form more high-intensity souls.”

“So I thought of the Goddess. I believed this had something to do with her. Then I thought of the harp. If she had only created it to open a soul passageway, why choose it as the vessel—the strings manipulate the rules, and its power would not be limited to just that.”

“You know, I obtained many fragments of the Goddess’s dreams, which were her memories,” Lin Wei walked with him across this strange land. “No matter what was happening, a melody always echoed in the dreams. The harp, besides producing notes, could also play music.”

Adrishig said, “So you played the entire melody on the harp, using the fixed playing method in the song to manipulate the rules, and ultimately opened a passage between two spaces?”

“Exactly,” Lin Wei nodded. “This was the path she once walked. The Goddess of Light found the source of the rules and transcended them through faith. She detached herself from all the rules and created another world. She no longer belonged to the continent but was the Creator God of this world. A single Dark Element could not stir any storm. The souls obtained from the Sea of Stars were used by her to become her people.”

As if to confirm Lin Wei’s words, a wandering lich appeared in the endless wilderness, sitting on a tree branch, observing the two who did not belong to this world.

“I began to doubt the truth of the Dark Age again. After the continent lost the Dark Element, the suffering brought by the Elemental Storm could help the Goddess of Light gain the power of faith, but it could also provide many fresh souls to populate the world ruled by the Goddess of Darkness.”

Adrishig shook his head: “She would not be such a person.”

Lin Wei scoffed: “I hope so.”

Adrishig: “Shall we go to pay our respects to the Goddess?”

Lin Wei shook his head, his expression one of cold indifference: “I have no interest in anything that happened a thousand years ago, nor in what’s happening now. Bringing you here was just to fulfill a promise—you always lie, but I don’t.”

A bone dragon flew by overhead, and the summoner climbed onto the back of the giant skeletal dragon, casting one last glance at the bard: “I came here only to find him… Goodbye.”

The bone dragon’s eyes glowed with two clusters of green soul fire as it flapped its wings, rising higher and higher, disappearing into the crescent moon.

The bard watched his retreating figure, as if suddenly remembering something, and called out, “Wait, there’s one more thing—”

But Lin Wei was already far away.

He steered the bone dragon high above, seeing many well-established undead towns, and as he rose higher, he saw the shape of this land, feeling a sense of familiarity.

This continent was like a mirror image of the original one, except that the living were replaced by the undead.

After confirming this, the bone dragon flew east, toward the docks of Siren Bay on the eastern coast.

—We agreed on a place. If one day we were separated, we would wait there.

—Just like in bedtime stories, mages who got separated during adventures always found each other again.

Where the docks should have been stood a tall tower. He released the power of his soul and sensed the familiar aura of a soul.

His stagnant heart began to pound, and he bit his lower lip, trembling with excitement.

You remember this place. You’re waiting for me—I’ve come to find you.

All the emotions that had been imprisoned for the past six months came alive at the realization of this fact.

They sprouted, branched out, unfolded, and bloomed.

He even felt a playful mood: When we were on the Siren Sea, we talked about fairy tales from the continent, where a knight would agree on a place with his beloved princess before setting out on a journey. The princess would build a tower there, waiting for the knight to return victorious and propose to her—how similar it was to what was happening now.

The tower’s door was ajar. He walked in, the hall empty, the dome above circular.

He climbed the spiral staircase, searching for traces of the soul’s aura, and reached the room at the top, pushing open the final door.

The person by the window turned at the sound.

It was the face deeply etched into his memory, but like the liches of this world, he had dark silver hair, and his black robes were exquisitely crafted in the elven style.

This added a sense of aloofness to his handsomeness, making his coldness even colder.

There was so much he wanted to say, but the words stuck in his throat, and he could only manage: “You…”

Are you well?

The person opened his lips, his voice cold, his tone the same.

“Lin Wei Tidis?”

Lin Wei stood frozen.

Only one person would call him by his full name in such a voice, with such a tone.

He slowly closed his eyes, then opened them again, reining in his emotions, and let out a short laugh, meeting the other’s gaze.

“Long time no see… my Leader.”

On the wasteland, the bard, who had lost the summoner’s help and could only walk on foot, finished the sentence he hadn’t had time to say: “—Although this place is connected to the continent, it is a completely independent space. I altered time there, but it had no effect here.”

“That is to say, everything that happened after the time reversal does not exist here. He probably…” The bard shook his head in frustration, then patted his cheeks, sighed, and consoled himself: “Forget it, they probably won’t start fighting when they meet. Even if they do, it’s unlikely to be fatal—after all, they’ve fought for so many years without any deaths.”