This rumored map, obtained from a powerful explorer, was made of a very old, dark yellow parchment. When he ran his fingertip over it, he could feel a subtle leathery texture.
Simple charcoal marks were used to sketch out routes and landmarks on it, giving the whole thing a rough, rustic appearance, far less exquisite and detailed than the Barnett version.
Siles noticed that Hails was marked in the upper-left corner of the map. Therefore, the area depicted by this map was probably somewhere in the Withered Wasteland southwest of the Duchy of Konst.
He saw a large waystation marked on the map, called Hales House. Around it were gathering points for various adventure groups. The surrounding paths and terrain had already been explored.
Below and slightly to the right of Hales House, Siles saw a canyon named Corena Canyon. The route there curved into a heart shape, which was rather distinctive and left a deep impression on him.
Comparing it with the Barnett version of the map, he found that Corena Canyon appeared on both maps, looking like a landmark.
Indeed, he thought. A heart-shaped canyon really was rare.
Siles also noticed a tiny, diamond-like mark slightly to the west of Hales House, roughly at the end of the railway running south from Hails.
His heart stirred. Could this be a mine shaft marker?
He recalled a more distant memory.
When he had discussed publishing the travelogue with Emmanuel, Lanmire, and Benton, Lanmire had once said that he had met the travelogue’s author, the explorer Freedman, near the railway line where stardust was mined.
In other words, if the final destination Freedman went to was the “Non-existent city,” then that city had to be near the mine.
Could this be that mine shaft? Siles thought carefully about the possibility.
Of course, he didn’t think a map he had bought casually could really guide him to the correct route. Still, he needed a target.
Thinking of this, Siles couldn’t help sighing.
A semester had ended. His work at the Historical Society had also temporarily concluded. As for next semester’s courses, Siles had already been informed of his assignment in advance, and had mostly finished preparing the lesson plans.
This Friday morning, the College of Humanities would hold a professors’ meeting to summarize the semester and look ahead to the next two semesters. Athena, the administrative teacher of the College of Humanities, had already informed Siles about it.
During the more than two weeks of winter break ahead, he would have ample free time.
The shop on Dawson Street in West City could be prepared. He thought. As for the Ashless Land…
He hesitated, uncertain whether he should go to the Ashless Land himself. Of course, Alfonso and Emmanuel were both there, which made Siles worried.
But he had never been to the Ashless Land, and although he had some self-protective ability, he was not a powerful Enlightener. The reason he was tempted at this moment, and why he unconsciously kept gathering information about the Ashless Land, was because…
Because he felt that the Ashless Land held secrets. Because of his instinct as a keeper of secrets. Because…
He needed to find the way home.
Siles stared blankly. Outside the window, night deepened and the rain came down heavily.
It was Wednesday night, October 13.
In his dream, he opened his eyes and saw the sea, the fog, the island, and the doll. Above the night sky, the rotten eyes of the stars gazed silently at him. He stepped alone onto the soft red mud and walked to the very center of the island.
He looked at the only seedling on the lonely island. On the seedling, within the droplets of water, strange reflections flickered. Nona was dreaming.
So he gently stretched out his hand and touched the girl’s dream.
It was still that dark room.
“…Ah! Mr. Ghost,” Nona said softly. “I was just wondering when you’d show up.”
Mr. Ghost smiled and said, “Good evening, Miss Nona. Long time no see. How are you now?”
“I’m still there. In a dark room. It’s just like this dream,” Nona said. “They make me drink something very bitter, but I think I’m gradually getting better. I can hear those voices more clearly.”
“What are they saying, Miss Nona?”
“They seem to be trapped here too, so they’re discussing how to escape. I tried talking to them, but none of them would answer me. They seemed to think I was too young to join their conversation.”
Mr. Ghost nodded thoughtfully.
Then he asked, “Miss Nona, do you know who is feeding you those very bitter things?”
“I don’t know,” Nona said gloomily. “The room is too dark. I can’t see anything.”
Mr. Ghost’s heart sank.
The room is too dark, and she can’t see anything… Could it be that Nona’s eyes…
Last time they met, Nona had said that once she had fainted from pain, she woke up in a dark room. But what if the room wasn’t dark at all, and Nona simply couldn’t see?
Mr. Ghost thought for a moment and then said, “You said before that you tried to escape?”
“Yes!” Nona’s voice brightened. “I already got out of that dark room, but then someone grabbed me back the next second.”
“Do you know anything else about that dark room?”
“…I don’t really know,” Nona’s voice became softer. “Mr. Ghost, sometimes I wonder whether I really am in a dark room. Or whether…”
“Miss Nona, you really are in a dark room. Look, isn’t the scene in your dream this place?”
“Ah! Mr. Ghost… are you in a dark room right now?” Nona asked.
Mr. Ghost said, “I am right here.”
“Then I’ll come find you!” Nona said.
Suddenly, Mr. Ghost heard light, lively footsteps from not far away. He heard the sound of a lock turning. In that instant, he felt a subtle unease. This was Nona’s dream, and he didn’t know what would happen next.
In reality, Nona was trapped in a dark room; in the dream, however, she was the one coming to rescue Mr. Ghost from the dark room.
Mr. Ghost tried to change the surroundings, just as he had wanted to do before. But perhaps because his power was not strong enough, he simply could not modify Nona’s dream in any way.
So he had no choice but to wait for Nona to open the door.
The door opened. Mr. Ghost saw a stretch of light. Outside was a green field. He heard children laughing.
…This seemed to be the scene from when Nona had first fallen asleep. She had been playing with her friends outside the city. After that, the scene had transformed into a nightmare. Mr. Ghost had entered her dream precisely when she was dreaming of a nightmare.
A young girl stood at the doorway. She said, “Mr. Ghost, I’ve come to find you!”
Mr. Ghost looked at her and noticed that her eyes were closed, and he frowned slightly.
Nona said, “Mr. Ghost, you told me before that if I had a nightmare, I should think about something else. I really did that! Now, this dark room is trapping all my nightmares, and outside are the happy things.”
“You’re very clever, Miss Nona,” Mr. Ghost said, trying to walk outside.
Nona stepped aside and let him out.
Mr. Ghost stepped across the threshold, then turned back to look at the dark room, only to find that there was nothing behind him. Nona’s nightmare had vanished without a trace.
“I’m sorry, Mr. Ghost. I forgot you’d appear there,” Nona said. “Now you’re out! That dark room is gone!”
Mr. Ghost nodded, then looked into the distance and asked, “Are those your companions?”
He saw several children around Nona’s age, playing on the green grass and laughing from time to time. Nona still had her eyes closed, but as if she could see them, she turned her head toward that direction.
Suddenly, Nona said, “Before I got sick, Grandpa would take me outside the city to play. That was when I met some good friends.”
Her tone carried a trace of envy.
She went on, “But later I got sick, and Grandpa didn’t let me go out anymore. Then Grandpa brought something home and told me to give it to someone. Those people took that thing away and locked me up. I never saw Grandpa again.”
“What was it? Do you remember, Miss Nona?”
“A flower,” Nona said.
Mr. Ghost thought: so Nona really did directly come into contact with that bronze crocus.
Mr. Ghost’s silence made Nona uneasy. She raised her head and gently grasped the corner of his clothes. “Mr. Ghost, can I still get better? Can I see Grandpa again? I don’t want to be cured. I just want to see him again and let him stop worrying about me.”
Mr. Ghost said, “You will, Miss Nona.”
Nona smiled brightly. “I believe you, Mr. Ghost.”
“Do you have anything else you can tell me?”
Nona thought for a moment and said, “Those voices… the voices I hear. I heard them say that those people, the ones feeding me medicine, want to do some kind of experiment on us.”
“What experiment?” Mr. Ghost asked calmly.
“…I don’t know,” Nona said dejectedly. “Mr. Ghost, am I very useless?”
“No, you’re not,” Mr. Ghost said. “Nona is a very smart child.”
“I want to leave that dark room,” Nona said to herself. “They lock me up, make me drink bitter medicine, and won’t let me see Grandpa…”
Mr. Ghost asked, “In that dark room, do you only do those things?”
Nona froze. “What?”
“Eating, sleeping, bathing, washing… Nona, do you do those things in the dark room?”
Nona gradually became confused. “What… what?”
Mr. Ghost paused, then said, “Miss Nona, do you remember the days you lived with your grandpa?”
Nona murmured, “Of course I do. Grandpa would make sweet syrup, buy me candy and new clothes. We’d go play outside the city, and Grandpa would remind me to brush my teeth every morning and evening…”
Mr. Ghost listened quietly.
Suddenly, Nona said, “Mr. Ghost, I don’t think I’ve ever done those things in this dark room. They only gave me medicine. I don’t know… I don’t understand… I seem to have forgotten a lot of things…”
She lowered her head and thought blankly.
“Don’t think about those things for now, Miss Nona,” Mr. Ghost said decisively, changing the subject. “Do you want to leave that dark room?”
“Of course I do,” Nona said. “The voices I hear. They want to leave too. They’re discussing it, and sometimes they argue… oh, right, they’re planning to do something tomorrow.”
“What is it?”
“I didn’t hear clearly, Mr. Ghost,” Nona said. “I just heard them talking about… tomorrow. Is tomorrow special or something?”
Tomorrow. Mr. Ghost thought that he didn’t know what was special about tomorrow.
“Do you plan to act together with them?” Mr. Ghost asked.
He now believed that Nona’s illness might have caused some problem in her body. She might have lost motor ability, or perhaps her brain had suffered some kind of lesion… in any case, Nona was now in an extremely weak and dazed state.
But he couldn’t find the answer in the dream version of Nona. Aside from having her eyes closed, she looked like a normal little girl.
Nona said, “I will. I’ll secretly follow them.”
Mr. Ghost still couldn’t understand Nona’s current condition, and asked, “How do you plan to leave that dark room?”
Nona said, “Just like that. Mr. Ghost, I can leave. It’s just that someone is watching me outside. They want to keep me there. Other people will draw their attention, and then I can slip out secretly.”
Mr. Ghost praised Nona’s cleverness.
Nona giggled softly and said, “Just wait and see, Mr. Ghost. I’ll definitely escape.”
Mr. Ghost nodded, blessed her plan, and said, “Miss Nona, about that thing your grandpa asked you to deliver… do you remember anything else?”
“That thing… I don’t know. I can’t remember clearly. I just went to a place, gave it to someone, and then those people wouldn’t let me leave. At that time, I felt so much pain… really, really painful, and then I passed out.”
Mr. Ghost thought: so Nona’s coma happened on that very day?
Nona continued, “You know everything else after that, Mr. Ghost. Was I talking a little messily?”
Mr. Ghost said, “You’re in a dream right now, Miss Nona. It’s normal for your thoughts to jump around.”
Even though Mr. Ghost could stay lucid and rational within dreams, he thought other people couldn’t do the same. Besides, this was Nona’s dream. People in dreams were always a little different from how they were in reality.
Nona nodded as if she half-understood.
After a while, Nona suddenly said, “Ah, right! Mr. Ghost, the person who took the flower was a doctor!”
A doctor?
Mr. Ghost couldn’t help freezing, then asked, “Miss Nona, after you got sick, were you treated by that doctor?”
Nona nodded vigorously. “Yes! Grandpa took me to that doctor. Later, I gave the flower to that doctor. That flower was so beautiful. If Grandpa hadn’t told me to give it to the doctor, I wouldn’t have wanted to give it away.”
Mr. Ghost nodded thoughtfully.
A doctor. That was already one possibility they had considered when investigating the theft at the museum gatekeeper’s place.
The gatekeeper, Anselm Norrison, couldn’t have stolen that bronze flower for no reason. In other words, he must have heard some related information from somewhere, which made him decide to steal it — whether for money or for medical treatment.
Therefore, there had to be someone in contact with him.
At first, they thought that person would be a doctor. After all, after Nona fell ill, the most likely person Ansem would seek out was a doctor.
But later, when underground gang members appeared in that old apartment building, they shifted their attention to the gangs. Ansem was a man from West City, and he might indeed have chosen to turn to the underground gangs when he was desperate.
So they ruled out the doctor possibility.
Now it seemed that perhaps… it was a doctor from the underground gangs? A doctor in West City…
Mr. Ghost once again thought of Chester Fitzroy. That doctor with secrets.
The Church of the Past’s investigation into Chester was still ongoing, so Siles still didn’t know what Chester’s secret actually was. But he lived in West City, and doctors might very well have some sort of connection with one another.
What if Chester knew that suspicious doctor?
At that moment, the surrounding scenery suddenly began to sway. Nona cried out, “Mr. Ghost, I’m waking up!”
That made Mr. Ghost smile slightly. Nona’s words seemed to imply that this dream was the real thing to her, while reality itself felt more like a dream.
He said, “See you tomorrow, Miss Nona. I’m looking forward to your results.”
“I’ll definitely escape!” Nona declared.
Then the entire dream scene solidified and shattered. He returned once more to the silent lonely island. He looked at the seedling before him and sharply realized that it had grown a little.
Was it growing? But what was its nourishment?
He felt slightly puzzled.
There was nothing in the silent deep-sea dream. He stood alone there, and his thoughts gradually turned to another question: what should he do now? If he needed to “discover” something in order to leave the dream, then what else could he discover in this deep-sea dream?
He considered whether he should enter someone else’s dream again, but in the end he temporarily abandoned the idea. It would not be too late to do that tomorrow, he thought.
Right now, he was more concerned about Nona’s progress.
The ghost in the dream. He thought about the persona he had given himself — a “Mr. Ghost” who roamed through dreams and helped children.
Then he thought again about the experiment he had wanted to conduct in the deep-sea dream: searching dreams.
So once more he approached the edge of the island and looked toward the water. He casually thought of someone, such as Anthony, the young boy, and tried to find his dream.
…But there was nothing. It wasn’t that Anthony wasn’t dreaming; rather, he couldn’t locate a single droplet in such a vast ocean of dreams.
He couldn’t help wondering whether it was because his power was still insufficient. He believed that with Akamara’s former power, this would surely have been possible. But he couldn’t do it now.
Even in Nona’s dream earlier, he had been unable to modify or influence it. He realized that these dreams were, to him, effectively “read-only”; he still needed to unlock more permissions.
The power of the gods, he thought. That meant he needed to master more divine power. Was that a good thing? He couldn’t persuade himself either way.
The experiment had failed. So what next…
He raised his head and looked toward the night sky.
The deep-sea dream — perhaps that was the “paradise” of Akamara, the god of dreams and illusion.
The sea was humanity’s dreams, and the island was Akamara’s dwelling place. That doll might be Akamara’s avatar, though he did not know why Akamara had become like that.
The seabed was the ruins of cities and civilization. He guessed that might symbolize Akamara’s death, or perhaps a catastrophe this world had once suffered. The gods had fallen long ago; this world’s very foundation was disaster.
Then what did the night sky, and those stars Leon had called “rotten eyeballs,” symbolize?
So he raised his head and looked at those stars.
He had never really looked at them closely before.
He saw dim yellow light, the uneven surfaces of stars, and dense threads like spiderwebs. Those threads were wrapped around the giant doll, and at that moment, as he looked at the stars… they stretched toward him.
He was dazed for an instant, feeling as though he himself were a tiny ant trapped in the web of fate. He felt buried, and a kind of indescribable dread and unease rose within him.
He felt the stars suddenly come alive. He felt that they were the rotten eyes of immense, savage, monstrous beings dwelling in the cosmos. He felt spiders crawl out from those eyes.
In an instant, the web of spiders covered his face.
At that moment, he woke up.
Siles suddenly sat up in bed, panic-stricken, staring into the dark at his hand. When the webs surged toward him, he had instinctively raised his hand to shield himself.
That was his dream, of course. And in that instant, he felt as though his hand had been wrapped by something wet, cold, and slimy. He jolted awake.
At four in the morning, he stared in disbelief at his hand.
The next second, without hesitation, he said, “Check Siles Noel’s will attribute.”
His brain rang with the sound of dice rolling. For the first time, he felt that the sound in his mind was extraordinarily pleasant.
[Keeper, Siles Noel (university professor) is making a will check.]
[Will: 92/…]
Siles was shocked to find that there was only one option before him: 95.
In other words, even with his will attribute at 92, he still could not resist the mental pollution brought by the spiderweb-like threads in the dream.
His expression darkened completely. He felt a surge of impatience, an almost destructive emotion, raging wildly through his mind.
The night seemed to nourish that emotion.
He took a deep breath and made no choice.
Then he got up, fumbled in the dark to turn on the light, hesitated for a moment, and then took a potion of 20% purity and put on the brooch.
The ritual “The Silent Heart” strengthened his mind at that moment.
[Will +2 (temporary).]
Siles paused slightly.
In his field of vision, blue light flickered quietly, but he still had only the 95-point dice option available.
With a 5% purity potion, the wearing bonus of “The Silent Heart” granted a temporary increase of 1 point of will; Grenfield had previously told him that higher-purity potions would provide better bonuses.
From this, Siles guessed that a 10% purity potion might grant 2 temporary points of will; 20% purity might grant 3 points (it probably wouldn’t increase exponentially).
So he had specifically taken a 20% potion.
However, the result was that even the 20% potion only granted 2 points. In other words, the ritual “The Silent Heart” could only ever provide at most 2 temporary points of will.
That meant his situation was still far from reassuring. He still needed 1 more point of will.
It was too late to regret not having experimented earlier. He never would have expected that merely looking directly at the stars in the deep-sea dream would produce such terrifying consequences…
No, stop regretting. Siles told himself calmly.
At such a moment, blaming himself was not like his usual style. He had never been that kind of person. He knew exactly what he should do at every moment.
…He needed to remain rational, right now. But he couldn’t.
He felt as though his mind were boiling with noise. The world was clearly silent, still holding the dead hush of pre-dawn, yet he seemed to hear countless whispers at his ears. It was as if he could hear the voices of innumerable people.
This was not his own problem, but rather his brain, his soul, being affected by some unbelievable force. He knew that, yet he could not shake it off.
At least 95 will was required to resist this old-god pollution, he thought. No wonder the painter Leon could only walk toward the end of his life through endless madness and despair.
It was a pollution like a dead end.
He drew a deep breath, then went to the door and locked it. This was to prevent anyone from barging in, or to prevent himself from running out in a crazed state.
A moment later, Siles walked to the window.
He still needed 1 point of will, maybe 2, he thought.
The only option was to pray silently to Brankani at dawn, when the sun rose. Reenacting the prayer could give him another temporary 2-point boost to will.
And now it was four in the morning. It was November. The sun would rise in nearly three hours.
Siles opened his pocket watch and said softly, “Three more hours.”
Three long hours.
He became more and more restless, more and more impatient. Before he fully realized it, he found himself unconsciously scratching his arm, as if something were wrapped around his body.
…A spiderweb, he thought.
He couldn’t think calmly or rationally. He should have been able to think of more information, to understand more things. But he couldn’t. It was a kind of helplessness, an irritability toward himself and toward the world itself.
He coldly mocked himself. At five o’clock, he began pacing around the room nonstop. Then, with some determined will, he forced himself to stand by the window, silently staring into the dark night outside.
It was raining, he thought. This was Lamifa’s rainy season. In a few days it would be the Godbirth Festival. There would be a grand celebration then. The Duke of Const would announce the Withered Wasteland development plan at that time…
He stuffed his mind with all kinds of known, certain, useless information, doing his best to ignore the restlessness and near-collapse in his heart. He felt fear.
It was like the insect you fear most suddenly appearing beside your hand when you let your guard down, silently, tenderly staring at you…
Tenderly. He really was mad. To actually use such a word to describe an insect… He had once been a novelist, in another world… but that was another world.
Even if it was very similar to this one, it really was another world. And did he still have any hope of returning there in this life? This damn world… this damn, crazy, hopeless… world.
He pressed his body tightly against the wall until the flesh of his arm felt as though it had been flattened thin. He felt the wall’s cold temperature seep into his bones. That chill was like spider silk.
He seemed to have become that giant doll too, bound by threads, unable to move.
…Then he suddenly lowered his eyes and looked at the six dolls. Their eyes, through the glass cabinet, stared quietly at Siles — Siles Noel. His name in this world.
He Jiaoyin. His name in that world.
He slowly fell into a daze. It was as if, at that moment, he remembered nothing at all. He only knew that those round, bead-like eyes of the dolls were silently watching him. They were covered by the shadow cast by his own body.
They looked at each other.
Time passed little by little.
Six o’clock. He seemed to hear time ticking. The first ray of light on the horizon shone upon the world.
But at that moment, he felt an even more intense and manic emotion rise within him — stars! That was the light of the stars!
He involuntarily let out a suppressed groan and tightly shut his eyes, anxiously feeling his lips and tongue dry out, as though he had already been dehydrated. Under that faint light, he nevertheless felt as though he were being scorched by blazing sunlight.
…That must be some kind of torture Dominic had once mentioned, he thought in confusion.
He took two steps back and collapsed onto the floor. He simply didn’t get up again, sitting there quietly and breathing slowly. After the initial surge of emotion, he gradually made himself calm down and recovered his composure — at least his state of mind became steady.
He suddenly understood why the painter Leon had gone into seclusion. He also suddenly understood why the deep-sea dream’s time was always midnight. The stars were like rotten eyeballs, quietly staring at the island covered in soft red mud.
A cold, withered, dry, yet somehow soft feeling suddenly filled his heart. He couldn’t tell why. He felt utterly exhausted, as if the restless, violent emotion from before had been fake.
Or perhaps it really had consumed so much of him that he now felt tired. Unknowingly, he nearly fell asleep like that.
It was the sound of his pocket watch slipping from his hand and hitting the floor that woke him.
At that moment he felt the sweat on his back had already soaked through. He didn’t know what would happen if he simply fell asleep like that. Would he return to the deep-sea dream? But instinct told him no, that wouldn’t be it.
He was still under some unknown god’s pollution. If he entered the deep-sea dream in that polluted state…
He blanked out and could not continue thinking. That deep fatigue still kept attacking his mind. He was drowsy, and had to pinch his arm, using pain to keep himself awake.
He nervously observed the surroundings, as though some strange creature would leap out of the void and swallow him whole. Some anxious, urgent emotion clung to his heart.
He did his utmost to remain calm. For a moment, he even wanted to get up, open the door, and seek help from the Historical Society or the Church of the Past. Anyone, anyone would do…
But he suppressed that thought and longing.
He Jiaoyin. He silently repeated his name — you clearly can solve this problem. You clearly know how to solve it. Why are you leaving this room? This would not be the decision you make.
He tried his best to cast out the thoughts and decisions that should not belong to him. He was almost using his hands to push himself up from the floor when the next second, as his hand touched the cold ground, he slowly curled his fingers into a fist.
…No, he thought. He would not let other people — gods — interfere with his will.
Human will can resist divine will. He had always believed that, and he still did.
Did the web of fate entangle humanity? Did the web of fate also entangle the gods? In this world, humans die, and gods too can fall.
Human and god were so alike.
A dice-rolling sound rang in his mind.
[Will +1.]
[You need to make a will check.]
[Will: 93 (+2)/95, success.]
[Human will can resist divine will. That is the creed you uphold. Before fate, human and god stand equal. Will you be the darling of the river of time? At least for now, it seems you are.]
He faintly heard the voice in his mind and suddenly let out a long breath, feeling his clothes already soaked through with sweat. He used his hand to support himself on the floor and stayed seated.
A moment later, he finally calmed down completely.
That frenzied state from before had already left him. Now he could think properly again.
Clearly, the starry sky in the dream was a dangerous forbidden zone. Looking directly at those stars was equivalent to actively allowing old-god pollution into his mind, and Siles had been caught off guard and infected.
If not for his dice-based judgment ability and his 92-point will beforehand, he might have gone mad right then and there.
Come to think of it, since arriving in this world, he had encountered old-god pollution twice. Both times were because of the deep-sea dream.
The invisible influence of Akamara’s power, and those rotten stars.
He thought: were these all powers from Akamara?
Siles carefully recalled the deep-sea dream’s scenery, then shook his head. No, he didn’t think the latter was Akamara’s power.
The most obvious evidence was that the giant doll in the dream was also wrapped in invisible threads — spider threads, rather. Now he knew what those threads were.
Siles believed that the giant doll was, in some sense, a symbol of Akamara, or at least an avatar of the god.
The stars and the doll were opposed to each other. Akamara’s “paradise” had been “polluted.”
…Then what exactly were the stars?
If they were merely stars, Siles would undoubtedly suspect the god of stars and light, Lusmi. But rotten stars?
Lusmi’s image didn’t seem like that. What had happened to that deity? Why had the stars rotted? And what did it mean that spiders crawled out of those rotten eyes?
Siles couldn’t make sense of it no matter how hard he thought.
At the same time, he also thought that his knowledge attribute hadn’t increased.
That meant he hadn’t gained any new information. Which was true, really, because he had long suspected Lusmi. Now his suspicion had only deepened further.
Siles couldn’t help sighing. So after so much struggle, self-contradiction, and conflict, he had only gained 1 point of will.
…No, 1 point of will was still very precious. He thought that.
Other Revelators didn’t even know how to raise will. Although Siles himself still didn’t know very clearly either, mental pollution seemed like a double-edged sword?
So far, he had increased his will by three points in total, two of them while under old-god pollution, using his own will to confront divine will.
In other words… Siles thought thoughtfully, this kind of old-god will pollution was almost like a kind of tempering? Refinement?
If one could escape such pollution with one’s own will intact, then it was very likely to raise one’s will attribute.
But then he thought again: aside from himself, an outsider from another world, and the fact that he was constantly paying attention and could make checks at any time, who could guarantee that they would successfully resist old-god pollution?
Unless Miss Aston could quickly perfect that ritual and make it effective.
Siles couldn’t help sighing.
On the bright side, his will attribute, even without the boost from “The Silent Heart,” had already reached 93.
…If will reached 99 or 100, what would happen? Siles couldn’t help wondering.
No, rather than that, who could possibly have a will of 99 or 100?
A god?
Speaking of which, why was his ritual compatibility always maxed out? Because of the dice’s existence?
Siles thought about this for a while.
A moment later, he got up, changed out of the sweat-soaked clothes, and took a hot shower in the cool morning air. The hot water completely drove away the coldness in his body and mind.
While he was calmly thinking, he also felt a little fear because of those rotten stars.
What exactly had happened in this world’s past history? Why had the stars in the deep-sea dream become like that? The chaotic lines in the sky, the things hidden behind the clouds…
Siles closed his eyes in the steam and felt as though he was facing a huge fog.
He may already have stepped into it, at least he was involved in it. But he had no idea what the answer was, and couldn’t guess what the answer would be.
After showering, he no longer wanted to torture himself with these mysteries. He changed his clothes — winter had arrived, and he could no longer just wear a suit. He always put on a turtleneck sweater, then a suit jacket over it, and finally a coat.
When the rainy season passed, he would probably have to switch to even heavier clothing.
At that moment, Siles couldn’t help thinking jokingly that perhaps he could use this as an excuse to make up his mind to go to the Ashless Land. For the winter, wasn’t it?
This was Thursday morning. When Siles left the house, it was already nearly eight o’clock. It took him a long time to fully shake off that lingering fear.
He met Lorenzo on the first floor.
Lorenzo was sleepy-eyed, yawning, and about to go out.
Siles greeted him and said, “Going to the cafeteria together?”
“No, I have to go to the office first,” Lorenzo said. “Professor Dunlop is waiting for me. He wants to talk to me about next semester.”
Thinking of the newly discovered underground tomb in the Ashless Land, Siles couldn’t help asking, “Are they planning to set out already?”
“Of course, this Sunday, right?” Lorenzo said. “So from now on, I’ll have to be busy for a while. No one expected that a new ruin would suddenly be discovered.”
“Whose tomb is it?”
“It seems to be that of a noble, from the Shadow Era. You know, the history of the Shadow Era is a blank for us, so this archaeological discovery will be very important. That’s also why Professor Dunlop is rushing to leave.”
Siles nodded thoughtfully.
Lorenzo said goodbye to him, then hurried off.
Siles went to the cafeteria and ate a little breakfast. The steaming milk completely dispelled the gloom and unease in his heart. He thought that, no matter what, life still had to go on.
In the morning he met with his two apprentices. Their papers were already finished, and Siles had given them pretty good evaluations. Of course, publication was another matter entirely.
Siles recommended a few journal channels to them and told them to try submitting.
However, Siles himself had only just become a professor at Lamifa University, so even if his name appeared after the advisor line on the two papers, it might not necessarily make the journal editors look at them differently.
The apprentices understood this too, so they didn’t discuss it in depth.
They would continue to follow Siles next semester and carry out research related to the subject. Literary history was a complex and vast thread. Here, literature and history were not separate disciplines, but intertwined with one another.
Besides, because this world really did have gods, the relationship between sacred texts and secular texts was always impossible to sort cleanly. Scholars like Dorothea, who still deeply studied sacred texts in this era, were not uncommon.
They discussed the new semester’s topics a bit. Siles gave them a reading list as a winter-break assignment, though he didn’t give them an especially heavy burden.
By a little after eleven, their discussion ended.
Before leaving, Dorothea Grant said to Siles, “Professor, if you have time, my elders would like to invite you to visit our home.”
Siles was somewhat surprised to hear this.
This semester, Dorothea had brought along many of her elders’ views. Clearly, her family was also made up of conservative noble hardliners, highly disdainful of some of the ideas Siles advocated.
And yet her elders were actually willing to invite Siles for a visit?
Siles didn’t think much of it and nodded. “If I have time, I will.”
Jules Hans, standing nearby, said a little nervously, “Professor, I’d also be very happy to invite you to my home, but my home is simply too far away…”
“That’s nothing, Jules,” Siles said. “I remember your family is in Maltz?”
That was a city on the western side of the Duchy of Konst, close to the Ashless Land. It would take about a full day by train from Lamifa City.
“Yes,” Jules nodded. Seeing that Siles didn’t mind, he secretly relaxed and said, “During winter break, I’m planning to go home.”
Siles thought for a moment and asked, “Maltz is close to the Ashless Land… what do you know about it?”
Dorothea had already been planning to leave, but when she heard them talking about the Ashless Land, she became a little interested and walked back over, quietly listening in.
