Chapter 55 – Sigh of the Abyss

“I don’t care.” After a long while, Lin Wei suddenly turned his head away and uttered a seemingly random sentence, as if talking to himself.

“That will be a long time from now.” Duan Yu’s voice finally carried a trace of gentleness amidst its usual coolness, as if trying to soothe.

“I thought we would always be together, just like all the peers at the Magic Academy.” Lin Wei’s gaze toward the dome was empty. “But the story you told me suggests that one day in the future, you will return to that chaotic place full of elemental turbulence to fulfill a duty that concerns the entire Magic World and the continent, and never leave again—like the goddess imprisoned in the Death Swamp.”

“I might be able to stay with you all along,” Duan Yu’s voice echoed behind him. “My father is an Archmage, and he has at least a hundred years left to live.”

That’s right, a hundred years—the limit of a human’s lifespan on the continent.

The perception of eternal Magic Elements extends the lives of elemental Mages. Archmages can live up to two hundred years, while Alchemists and Summoners are not so fortunate; their lifespans remain unchanged regardless of their power level.

“Then, after a hundred years, I’ll already be dead, while you’ll still be young and powerful, with time to travel the continent, find a girl you like, who will be lured by your handsome appearance and willingly bear your child. After all that, you’ll return to your family, complete the eternal Magic Array for your father, and take his place…”

As he spoke, a hint of cold bitterness crept into Lin Wei’s tone. “I promise you, every night after that, you won’t be able to sleep peacefully. You’ll think of the lovely wife you betrayed, of everything outside, and perhaps even me—just like the goddess in the Death Swamp. I’ve experienced almost all of her memories. She was also a person of a cold temperament, seemingly emotionless—but the dome of her temple was painted with an ever-open eye, just like her sleepless gaze in the depths of every night.”

After a moment of silence, Duan Yu said, “If I must endure those sleepless nights, then at least you will have lived a life without regrets. When I think of that, I will be glad.”

Lin Wei felt a lump in his throat, his voice trembling slightly. “Let’s not talk about this anymore.”

He paused, took a few deep breaths to calm his emotions, and returned to his usual tone, as if discussing something interesting, even with a hint of a smile, though both knew it was forced. “We’ve only known each other for a year, yet we’re talking about a lifetime.”

“That’s not strange,” Duan Yu replied. “Even if I meet many other people in this lifetime… there won’t be a second friend like you.”

Lin Wei slowly turned his head to meet Duan Yu’s gaze, which could almost be described as affectionate, had he not said the word “friend” earlier.

“I’m sorry for saying such harsh things earlier,” Lin Wei muttered, his voice slightly nasal. “I couldn’t control my emotions at the time. I was upset… not for myself.”

They looked at each other, the heavy atmosphere showing slight signs of easing.

“I’m sorry too,” the Mage said softly. “I don’t know what to say to make you feel better.”

“You don’t need to say anything,” Lin Wei said. “I’m not cold anymore—in fact, I’m a bit warm. I need to get out of these layers of fur.”

“And,” he added, somewhat awkwardly shifting his gaze away from Duan Yu’s face, his voice low and drifting, “I want you to hold me.”

He had just admitted his greed in the dream and now felt it firsthand. He wanted more and would try to get it, like a small insect tasting honey for the first time—even though he clearly saw the corpses lying at the bottom of the jar.

“I hate fate… and duty too.” He rested his head on the Mage’s shoulder and whispered.

For some reason, Schneider’s rhythmically sung phrase slowly surfaced in his mind.

“East and south, the stories have already been written and sung countless times.”

He felt as if he were in a strange space where countless past stories overlapped and intertwined: the woman who died on her way to the Valley of Metal, the silent goddess in the temple and the vastly different lifespans of human Dark Mages, the ring hanging around Viscount Philin’s neck, and the tragic plays performed daily at the Imperial Opera House.

He knew what Schneider’s line meant—there were never many different stories in the world, only different people repeating the same things over and over at different times.

But he hated this. He didn’t want to repeat the stories that had already happened, only to be casually remarked upon by later generations that “the trajectory of fate is unchanging.” Every time he thought of this, he felt weary. He even wanted to stay in the Death Swamp now, with neither of them leaving—even if the Elemental Storm swept across the entire continent, it would have nothing to do with this place.

But they still had to leave. Many things were happening outside… the suddenly empty Astrology Tower, the whereabouts of the Mages from the Academy who had never appeared on the battlefield in his past life, the unrestrained Valley of Ice—all of these were faintly hinting at a massive upheaval that would occur only within the Magic World.

Whether the trajectory of fate was unchanging remained unknown. Perhaps it was about to take a drastic turn—Lin Wei thought to himself.

“Let’s talk about the second thing. We’re not far from leaving the swamp.”

“How do we get out?”

“This is also something I learned from the goddess’s memory fragments… Although she couldn’t step out of the swamp, she could communicate with the rules through contracts. During the Dark Age, the goddess’s followers were hunted by almost all factions, but they endured for many years with her help.”

Lin Wei took out the black plectrum. “This plectrum is a relic of the goddess. It was used to play a seven-stringed harp called ‘Sigh of the Abyss.'”

“We just need to defeat the magical beasts along the way and reach the goddess’s temple to see this harp. Its seven strings lead to seven places, with the contracts inscribed on them. A gentle pluck will trigger the spatial rules. The first string leads to Siren Island, the location of the Magic Academy; the second to the Central Forest, the former dwelling place of the elves; the third to Dragon Island; the fourth to the Imperial Capital; the fifth to the Astrology Tower; the sixth is also in the west, the dwelling place of the dwarves; and the seventh,” Lin Wei paused, “the seventh leads to the Knight’s Holy Mountain… Magic, knights, elves, dragons, humans, dwarves—to reach the core of these factions, one only needs to come to the goddess’s temple. Only the Floating Sky Capital is excluded, probably because it was the domain of the Goddess of Light at the time.”

Spatial rules danced on the goddess’s harp strings, and as these names buried deep in time were spoken, the oppressive atmosphere of the Dark Age seemed to return, enveloping this sunless swamp.

“When Daniel first obtained the plectrum, it was unremarkable, but it happened to take effect on the Floating Sky Capital, frightening our poor Alchemist. Perhaps it was awakened by the lingering aura of the Goddess of Light on the Floating Sky Capital—these two goddesses were sworn enemies. I can use it to traverse space because, like the goddess, I am a Spirit Channeler with the ability to communicate with the rules. So, if I lightly pluck the first string, we’ll be back at the Academy in an instant. Another pluck, and we’ll return to the Death Swamp.”

“So, you also know the way out of the Death Swamp.”

“That’s right, all thanks to the goddess,” Lin Wei replied. “It will take at most two days, and I can also tame a top-tier magical beast as a summon along the way.”

“Shall we set off now?” Duan Yu asked.

“No,” Lin Wei tightened his embrace around Duan Yu’s arm. “I want to stay a little longer.”