In the darkness of the mine, a ghostly blue light illuminated their field of vision. It was a scattered, shimmering glow, like a swarm of fireflies. Yet, it was undeniably more dreamlike and serene, resembling stars quietly twinkling in the night sky. In a sense, it truly lived up to the reputation of Stardust.
But Siles could not appreciate this beautiful scenery.
It was as if he were gazing at the stars—rotting stars. It was as if he could see spiders crawling out from the eyes of those rotting stars. The feeling he had now was identical to the one he had back then. It was the sensation of glimpsing the truth.
On the withered-white stone walls, which resembled bare bone, strange microscopic crystals would occasionally appear like specks of dust. Every time Siles looked at one of these crystals, he seemed to hear agonized screams, wails, bitter weeping, and curses echoing from within.
It was the deathbed malice of… some thing.
This rancor had persisted for countless years, hidden deep inside these beautiful blue crystals—only to be utilized, burned, and consumed by humans. A wave of intense discomfort welled up from Siles’s stomach. He felt utterly nauseated.
Was it the will of an Old God? Had it remained trapped within the Stardust all this time?
No… it wasn’t. He heard those voices, but it would be more accurate to say he perceived the scene through Akamara’s Eyeglass Frame. Yet, it wasn’t “seeing” in the literal sense; rather, it was a bizarre form of “perception.” It felt as though his ears had connected to certain concepts, which his brain then clearly manifested to his consciousness.
“Constitution,” Siles suddenly muttered under his breath, “…Divine Title.”
The three elements. The three basic attributes of a tabletop role-playing game, and similarly, the three elements of divinity.
Constitution, Spirituality, and Will attribute.
Divinity, Divine Title, and Divine Name.
Constitution corresponded to Divine Title, Spirituality to Divinity, and Will to Divine Name. This was Siles’s hypothesis.
The reason he had formed these hypotheses was fundamentally because every time he suffered from Old God contamination, he managed to break free from it by relying on his identity as “He Jiayin,” an Earth novelist. In other words, the “name” he held on Earth. A name was a person’s imprint upon a world, a tool for human self-awareness. While He Jiayin did not exist in this world, he certainly existed in another, and “He Jiayin” represented his own understanding of himself. Based on this, Siles believed that human will could contend with the will of a deity. Therefore, Will corresponded to cognition, which corresponded to Divine Name.
It was like a matching game; there were only so many options available. Once he concluded that Will corresponded to Divine Name, the remaining relationships between Constitution and Spirituality, and Divine Title and Divinity, were easily deduced.
Why did Spirituality correspond to Divinity?
In the settings of the tabletop game he used to play, a human’s Spirituality determined whether they could come into contact with, perceive, or become aware of extraordinary events. If one’s Spirituality wasn’t high enough, they wouldn’t even know what was happening—much like the aptitude of a Revelator. Without a high enough Spirituality, a human could not possess the aptitude of a Revelator, let alone master supernatural power or uncover the ultimate truth. However, by the same token, power was both a blessing and a curse. Excessively high Spirituality brought misfortune.
What was Divinity? Divinity was the power of a god. According to Grenfield, it was the beginning and end of a deity’s power. No god’s power could ever exceed the boundaries described by their Divinity. Therefore, Spirituality corresponded to power, which corresponded to Divinity.
That left the final relationship: Constitution corresponded to Divine Title.
The human body was the physical proof of their objective existence in this world. Grenfield had once told Siles that only a physical object could help them anchor themselves to a physical world. A human body was exactly that—an “objective existence.”
Deities were no different. A god’s power was so ethereal and intangible that it was hard to imagine its true nature, or why they could possess such vast, endless, and conceptually terrifying power.
…Divine Title. It was a deity’s positioning within this world. They existed in this world, and they existed through this specific manifestation.
Therefore, Constitution corresponded to existence, which corresponded to Divine Title.
Based on this reasoning, Siles arrived at three equivalence relationships:
Will = Cognition = Divine Name
Spirituality = Power = Divinity
Constitution = Existence = Divine Title
…And now, Siles felt as though he were looking at the ashes of a burned Divine Title.
In his capacity as the existence known as “Siles Noël,” he was gazing upon the ashes left behind by the fall of a certain deity in the past. It’s a perfect equivalence, he thought, almost abstractedly.
It suddenly occurred to him that among certain Old God followers, they viewed specific, out-of-control Time Traces as “Divine Exuviae.” What they seemingly didn’t realize was that Stardust was the true Divine Exuviae in the most literal sense. It was the physical residue left behind after a god’s “existence” dissolved into this world.
…So, the Divine Title was here. The Divine Title was the Stardust.
Siles thought with near-frigid detachment: What about the other components? Where is the Divinity? Where is the Divine Name?
“…What’s wrong?” Chendo asked hesitantly.
Siles snapped out of his thoughts and instinctively looked at him.
Chendo said, “You don’t look very well.”
Siles remained silent for a moment before suddenly saying, “Chendo, I need you to answer a question with absolute honesty and candor.”
Chendo looked somewhat bewildered, his emerald-green eyes gleaming beautifully in the dim light. Siles thought to himself that the reflection of the Stardust in Chendo’s eyes… sounded beautiful in theory, but the reality was far grim.
Chendo likely sensed Siles’s distress, so he replied, “I will. Please, ask.” He used the formal honorific almost without thinking.
Siles stared into his eyes and said, “You told me before that the reason those workers turned into statues might be due to the dual influence of Hoodoka and the Stardust Vein.”
Chendo seemed to grasp something instantly, his gaze gradually growing deep and heavy.
Siles continued, “So, you already know what Stardust really is.”
Chendo opened his mouth as if to speak, but instead, he took a step forward, staring closely at Siles. Finally, he offered a bitter smile. “You are simply too sharp, Professor. However, I am immensely curious—how did you find out?”
Siles lightly tapped the frame of his glasses and said, “This is a gift I obtained from the Church of the Past. It is called Akamara’s Eyeglass Frame.”
Realization dawned on Chendo.
Siles observed his expression, confirming that Chendo did not exhibit any emotional volatility regarding the Church of the Past. If anything, he actually looked relieved. Chendo muttered something under his breath, sounding like… “No wonder.”
Before Siles could press further, Chendo spoke up: “You asked for honesty and candor, so I will dutifully answer your question. Yes, I know what Stardust is. ‘Divine Exuviae’—perhaps that is a fitting description.”
Siles asked, “Do others know about this?”
“Ordinary people don’t. Revelators don’t. The Church of the Past… certain high-ranking officials might know,” Chendo said. “As for the Old God followers, they are a bunch of raving lunatics, so it’s possible they know too. But they would have to be sufficiently mad, fiercely devout, or have some deep connection to an Old God’s proxy to possess that knowledge.”
He added, “Of course, obtaining a Time Trace capable of seeing through to the truth, like yours, is another way.”
Siles continued his interrogation, “Is that where a Revelator’s power comes from?”
“Uh… I’m actually not very clear on that aspect,” Chendo said softly, hesitating slightly before adding, “To be honest, I don’t really use the power of a Revelator.”
Siles stared at him. With the aid of Akamara’s Eyeglass Frame, he could see a dense, rich blue glow radiating from Chendo—a glow so profound it didn’t look like the result of consuming a potion.
“…Bloodline power,” Siles stated.
This time, Chendo was genuinely startled. He gasped in admiration, “Is there anything you don’t know?!”
Such blatant praise left Siles feeling a bit awkwardly self-conscious.
After his moment of awe, Chendo fell into a brief silence. Eventually, he said, “Yes. It is a power inherent in my bloodline.” After a pause, he asked hesitantly, “Do you feel… repulsed by me because of my bloodline?”
Siles pondered the question. He had previously asked himself whether his distance from Chendo was due to the concept of an “Old God’s Scion.”
Ultimately, he replied, “No. But I am repulsed by the unknown.”
He wasn’t repelling Chendo for being an Old God’s Scion; he was merely repulsed by his own total ignorance regarding the concept. This aversion to the unknown had, to some extent, inadvertently affected his attitude toward Chendo.
Chendo looked visibly relieved.
Siles realized in hindsight that he ought to have used this opportunity to make Chendo give up on him entirely. But… at the end of the day, Siles disliked lying, and he disliked deceiving himself. His character was built on truth, and he preferred to live in a genuine world.
So he said, “Let’s keep moving deeper. Perhaps you’d be willing to tell me about your past while we walk?”
Chendo turned his head, and before Siles could react, he once again gently bumped his forehead against Siles’s shoulder. He said, “You are always entirely unaware of your own tenderness.”
Siles: “…”
When exactly had he been tender? He raised a hand to touch his shoulder, finding Chendo’s behavior somewhat baffling.
Chendo, however, gazed at Siles thoughtfully before suddenly letting out a laugh. “You truly have no sense of vigilance—though, for me, that isn’t bad news at all.”
Siles gave him a cold, piercing look.
Chendo didn’t push his luck any further. Their relationship was still in a very awkward, delicate phase; Siles had only just rejected him not too long ago. Chendo didn’t want to keep testing Siles’s boundaries, especially since the results of this current test were already quite acceptable.
Thus, he obediently followed in Siles’s footsteps. They walked through the pitch-black mining tunnel, seemingly drawing closer to the subterranean core step by step.
Chendo said, “I would be more than happy to share my past with you. You will keep my secrets, won’t you? I still remember your conversation with the doctor back then. You went out of your way to ask him first before letting him confide his past secrets… That is just who you are.”
Chendo’s words stirred a subtle wave of emotion in Siles. A large part of it was because Chendo had mentioned the act of “keeping secrets.”
Siles suddenly realized that he was about to become Chendo’s Keeper.
Before he could overthink it, Chendo continued, “I do indeed carry the bloodline of an Old God. To use a more professional term, I am an Old God’s Scion. Antinam said that I am the only Old God’s Scion left in the world.”
Chendo admitting he was an Old God’s Scion wasn’t entirely shocking. But… “Antinam said”? What was with that familiar, casual tone?
Siles couldn’t help but glance sideways at Chendo. Chendo’s features flickered indistinctly under the glow of the Stardust. He spoke of his past with a profound serenity—a demeanor Siles had never seen on him before. Siles chose not to interrupt his train of thought despite his own confusion, so Chendo kept talking.
“As you already know, when I was young, I lived in Kansas, in a highly secluded, ancient manor. From childhood to adulthood, I had virtually no contact with the outside world. An elderly man was responsible for teaching me how to read and write; he also imparted knowledge to me and taught me how to master the power of my bloodline. A few servants took care of my daily life.
“When I reached adulthood, that old man passed away. I am not certain of his true identity, but I suspect he might have been my father, even though he never claimed that title. I have never seen my mother.
“According to him, the Praia family carries the bloodline of Ligadia.
“Though I didn’t quite understand what this bloodline truly entailed, its power doesn’t awaken in every descendant. Once it does awaken, Antinam provides a ‘revelation,’ instructing them to use an alternative method to raise that particular descendant.
“But… that was the extent of it. Nurturing, but without guiding one’s future direction or destiny. After his death, I inherited the Praia family’s fortune and estate. Now, I am the only one left in the entire Praia family.
“…And since you have appeared, I doubt there will ever be a second Praia after this.
“In any case, after reaching adulthood, I left the family and came to the Ashless Lands. Despite having studied a vast amount of lore and history regarding deities, even my family’s education lacked detailed records concerning the fall of the gods. So, I began hunting for relevant clues, wanting to find the truth. Because of my unique identity, I never had any intention of viewing other humans as companions… but you are special.”
As he spoke, his tone grew low and tender. He murmured, “You are special. Perhaps you don’t realize it yourself, but… your power… and you, as a person, are unique.”
Siles didn’t pay much attention to Chendo’s final romanticized statement; his focus was pulled elsewhere.
Chendo was a descendant of Ligadia?
It had to be said that this revelation brought Siles a massive sigh of relief. After all, if Chendo had been a descendant of a malevolent deity like Hoodoka or Timiafa, Siles wouldn’t even know how to face him. While it was improper to judge a person harshly based solely on their bloodline, this wasn’t the technologically driven Earth; this was the Fisher World, where extraordinary forces genuinely existed. Therefore, the power of a bloodline could not be underestimated.
A descendant of Ligadia… this was a much more palatable truth. In fact, to some extent, it made Siles feel a closer sense of affinity toward Chendo. Ligadia—the God of Leaving Home and Journeys—was perhaps the deity Siles held the most favorable impression of among all the Old Gods.
He said, “So, that necklace of yours…”
“A piece from my family’s collection,” Chendo confessed earnestly. “Of course, I didn’t lie to you either. When my father handed it to me, he did say it was obtained from that group of wandering bards.”
Siles was left momentarily speechless.
When Chendo had originally mentioned that someone handed the necklace down to him, Siles had assumed it was a merchant, an explorer, or a collector. Who could have guessed it was a family heirloom?
Chendo pivoted the conversation: “So, I truly can be of help with your thesis, Professor Noël. You have to believe me.” He looked very much like a salesman eagerly pitching himself.
“…Thank you,” Siles said. “On that point, I have absolutely no doubt regarding your authority.” After all, this was the sole remaining Old God’s Scion in existence.
Chendo shot a suspicious glance at Siles before noting, “I get the feeling you aren’t surprised by this at all.”
That’s because I’ve already been terrified by the dice once, Siles thought to himself.
They came to a halt at a fork at the very end of the mining tunnel.
Because the vein had long been abandoned, aside from those tiny, scattered glimmers of light, the entire mine appeared dilapidated and worn. Rotted wooden mine carts, rusted metal shovels, and randomly discarded daily garbage littered the area, emphasizing the utter desolation of the cavern.
Siles tapped the pocket watch in his coat, realizing they had actually been walking inside the mine for twenty minutes. At a normal walking pace, they had covered roughly a kilometer. And one kilometer away from the vein lay the supernatural fog.
He spoke up, “Can you discern our direction? Are we heading toward the fog?”
Likely because he had opened up about his past, Chendo appeared much more candid now, completely devoid of the evasiveness and riddles that used to characterize his conversations with Siles. Furthermore, Siles’s calm reaction had clearly put him at ease.
Chendo replied, “I can. Don’t worry.” He narrowed his eyes, peering ahead. “We haven’t stepped into the fog’s perimeter just yet, but a few more steps forward, and that might change.”
Siles understood and said, “So it’s this fork in the path?”
They had encountered quite a few forks along the way, but they hadn’t turned, choosing instead to walk straight until they reached their current position. There were a few paths branching out ahead, but they weren’t deep—one could see the end at a single glance, probably spanning only a few dozen meters. Compared to the other tunnels, the path further ahead looked irregular and uneven, as though the excavation had been abandoned halfway through.
In other words, this was the absolute dead end of the entire mine.
Siles narrowed his eyes, murmuring, “So, some workers might have inadvertently stumbled into the sections of the mine covered by the fog without even realizing it. But why…”
Siles instinctively wanted to ask: since there was fog near the vein and its location was so clear, why hadn’t any safety measures been put in place? For instance, digging a trench or setting up a restricted zone near the fog’s boundary.
But in the next heartbeat, Siles sharply reminded himself that he was measuring a businessman of this era by the standards of modern conscience and morality. Was the merchant Jerome Lanmere truly a man of high moral standing?
No, he wasn’t. He was investigating the disappearance and deaths of the workers only because he himself was entangled in the mess. He was terrified that he, too, might turn into a cold, eerie stone statue. His fury toward the mastermind’s actions stemmed from the high probability that he would suffer financial losses over this—it was the “curse of the Stardust,” and if it wasn’t resolved or cleared up, who would be willing to work for him or engage in business partnerships with him in the future?
At his core, Lanmere remained a profit-driven merchant.
Thus, even if the fog blanketed parts of the mine… what did that have to do with Lanmere? He wasn’t the worker coming down here to dig manually. As long as he could turn a profit, he wouldn’t spend an extra cent to guarantee the safety of his workforce.
According to what Mary had said earlier, a cave-in had occurred in the mine last summer. Could that collapse have been related to the fog? Even if it was, and even if lives were lost, the mine wouldn’t cease operations, nor would development grind to a halt.
…This was the dark backdrop of this era. This was the cold, ruthless law hidden behind the economic engine of this world. Furthermore, Siles suddenly realized that this was a world possessed of genuine, reality-bending supernatural forces. Once an incident occurred… it could result in consequences far more terrifying than any industrial accident back on Earth.
Siles stared deeply at the short fork ahead. This was the end of the mine, and perhaps, it was also the fork at the end of those workers’ lives. They had chosen this path, and thus, everything reached its conclusion.
…Chendo suddenly took hold of Siles’s icy hand.
Siles snapped out of his reverie and turned to look. They locked eyes in a brief standoff until Chendo ultimately won out. Siles averted his gaze.
“You were thinking about something unpleasant,” Chendo noted. “Your hands are very cold.”
“They’ve always been this way,” Siles countered.
Chendo countered smoothly, “Which is why you need me to warm them for you.”
Siles let out a soft chuckle, though he wasn’t entirely sure why.
After a brief pause, Siles sighed, “This world… feels like a land entirely draped in shadow.”
“I share the sentiment,” Chendo said. “That’s exactly why I want to pursue the truths of the past, to understand the reality behind the fall of those Old Gods.”
Siles lapsed into silence. At this very moment, he felt a profound resonance with Chendo’s words—yes, he, too, wanted to chase the truths of the past, to uncover the secrets operating behind the veil of this world. The “truth” hidden beneath all the bloody, cruel, and sorrowful facades.
After a moment, Siles asked, “Even for Ligadia, your family has absolutely no records?”
“None,” Chendo confirmed. “We don’t even know the location or the time of Ligadia’s fall. We have minor records regarding a few other Old Gods, but they are strictly confined to brief notes like ‘Hoodoka fell in the 134th year of the Age of Silence, somewhere within the Ashless Lands.'”
Siles nodded. He recalled that Ligadia had already faded from existence during the Age of Shadows. In the records left by wandering bards, Siles had even read accounts stating that “these believers thought their god had abandoned them.” Perhaps Ligadia had perished in a completely unknown manner that no one ever witnessed.
Of course, there was also the possibility that parts of the Praia family archives had been lost or scattered. However, given the immense value placed on family heritage in this era, even if documents were lost, there should still be mentions of that loss.
Siles turned over countless possibilities in his mind, but ultimately only said, “It seems your family has preserved an immense collection of ancient books and archival materials.”
Chendo offered an understanding smile. “You are tempted by books. Rest assured, the Praia family archives will always be open to you.”
Siles looked at him, and finally, he spoke: “I’m sorry, Chendo.”
The statement caused Chendo’s expression to falter. Not long ago, Siles had used a similar tone to reject him. If it happened again so soon, Chendo wasn’t sure he could keep himself from completely breaking down.
Siles sighed. “I should apologize to you because right now, I still cannot formulate a definitive answer. Yet, it was precisely because of this that I rejected you earlier.”
Chendo froze.
“I haven’t really considered… the possibility of fitting a companion into my future life plans,” Siles admitted. “It stretches beyond my imagination. So… I instinctively resisted it. As you said, there are times when I treat you far too coldly. And your identity, your mysterious past… all of it leaves me feeling bewildered and unsettled.”
“…Do you feel unsettled as well?”
“Of course I do,” Siles said, staring at the fork ahead, wondering if he was currently stepping onto a dangerous side-path himself. Or was it a broad, open highway? He didn’t know. He had just firmly denied everything, wanting to stop maintaining this ambiguous dynamic with Chendo. And yet now… in this pitch-black mine, with their hands intertwined… He could feel his reason battling against something else. Or rather, judging by his wavering stance, he was already lacking in complete rationality, even if his outward appearance didn’t betray it.
Wavering back and forth is never a good choice, He Jiayin, he reminded himself.
“…Perhaps I just need more time,” Siles said. “So, I am truly sorry, and I must apologize to you. For my coldness and finality back in the circus tent, for my long-standing ambiguity, and for constantly dragging my feet…”
Chendo suddenly lunged forward and pulled Siles into an embrace. Siles opened his arms in astonishment, feeling the warmth of Chendo’s body with a touch of bewilderment. What’s happening? What did I say?
“…You really are…” Chendo murmured indistinctly, “…completely unaware of your own tenderness.”
Siles reminded him, “You just said not long ago that I am a cold person.”
Chendo let out a low laugh. “Coldness and tenderness can exist as a unity of opposites.”
A unity of opposites, fine, Siles thought. Following theoretical physics, it seemed he would have to re-evaluate the philosophical framework of this world as well.
Chendo reluctantly nuzzled against Siles’s shoulder, his warm breath softly brushing against Siles’s neck. The sheer intimacy made Siles slightly uncomfortable, yet the radiating heat felt comforting in the frigid air.
Chendo whispered, “I can give you time. It doesn’t matter how long it takes.”
“What if my answer isn’t the one you want?”
“Do you know which answer I want?” Chendo laughed. “Whatever you give me, I can accept it. If it’s a less-than-ideal answer, then I will simply work harder—to make myself find sweetness in the bitterness.” He whispered, “The choice remains entirely in your hands.”
Siles fell silent for a long moment, then let out a sigh. “How much time have we wasted discussing our personal matters?”
“You can’t blame me for that,” Chendo said slyly. “You’re the one hesitating between two answers.”
Siles shook his head, unable to stop a smile from breaking out. He murmured, “It is my first time dealing with this, after all. I need a bit of time to adjust.”
How peculiar, he thought. A short while ago, he had resolutely denied any future connected to Chendo, viewing it as an absolute nightmare of complications. An individual from Earth naturally had to rationally weigh the logistics of a future with Chendo. He carried a secret Chendo could never fathom, which carried inherent trials and perils. Yet, in just a brief span, he had been moved by Chendo once more. Perhaps it was Chendo’s constant presence, perhaps it was his sharp intuition… or perhaps it was simply because, while he stood bewildered by the dark realities of this world, someone was standing right beside him.
Usually, he had to pull himself out of those mental slumps alone.
Weakness, he chided himself. Look at you. Do you even look like your usual self?
Another part of his mind whispered back: You’ve never eaten pork, but you’ve seen a pig run. Come on, aren’t you an Earthling? Haven’t you witnessed the madness of Valentine’s Day and Singles’ Day? Falling in love is just this sort of business.
The reason he couldn’t give Chendo an answer right away was that he felt he still lacked a certain… subtle… definitive… “impetus” to make him certain. He allowed Chendo to hold him largely out of a sense of lingering shame and apology regarding his harsh words back in the circus tent. He had to admit that his unease did indeed stem from Chendo’s status as an Old God’s Scion.
But a “descendant of Ligadia” sounded far more acceptable.
I am rationally analyzing the mechanics of falling in love. How fascinating, Siles thought to himself.
After a short while, he said, “Alright.” He gently pushed Chendo away, his movements somewhat stiff. He stated, “It seems we’ve uncovered one of the reasons the workers turned into statues. But why did it happen a year later?”
These workers had likely stepped into the fog while working underground beneath layers of soil. That alone was highly perilous. Furthermore, the explorer Fredman, who was linked to Hoodoka, had appeared at the vein around the same time, meaning the workers might have interacted with him prior to his death.
Yet, no matter the circumstances, those events had occurred a full year ago. Why did the workers suddenly turn into stone statues a year later? Did the power of the Old Gods suffer from lag?
The mystery left Siles entirely perplexed. He felt as though he were overlooking a crucial piece of the puzzle. The dark, cramped space seemed to constrict his cognitive abilities, and the glittering Stardust only heightened his sense of unease.
Shifting his train of thought, he suggested, “Let’s leave this place first.”
“As you wish,” Chendo replied affectionately.
They turned back around and retraced their steps.
Siles reached into his pocket to check his watch again, discovering that another ten minutes had elapsed. By the time they exited the mine, Mary would have been waiting for nearly an hour. Putting everything else aside, Siles realized this pocket watch was incredibly useful; at the very least, it provided the precise temporal anchors he needed to maintain a clear mind.
On the way back, Siles asked, “So, the Stardust here is actually the… exuviae of Hoodoka?”
“It should be,” Chendo agreed. “I wasn’t entirely certain myself. When I answered your question back then, I didn’t actually know the specifics of this mine. It was just a guess.”
When he mentioned answering Siles’s question, he was referring to when Siles had asked if the workers’ disappearances were tied to Fredman and the Stardust. Chendo’s answer at the time had been that it involved both. It had merely been an intuition.
Siles nodded thoughtfully. “What I’m curious about is: since this is Hoodoka’s exuviae, does it mean this is the exact location where Hoodoka fell?”
“Highly likely,” Chendo said.
“The location of a god’s fall is highly likely to contain a Stardust Vein,” Siles mused aloud. “In other words, a Stardust Vein symbolizes the gravesite of a fallen deity.”
Chendo nodded in agreement.
Siles let out a soft sigh. “I’m beginning to understand why the phrase ‘the curse of the Stardust’ exists. You mentioned earlier that some Old God followers are aware of Stardust’s true nature. Even if Stardust doesn’t necessarily carry the active power or will of the Old Gods, those followers would undoubtedly harbor a frenzied hatred for anyone profiting off it. Furthermore… they would detest the Revelators who use Stardust as an ingredient for potions, along with the Church of the Past and Antinam supporting them from behind.”
“Indeed,” Chendo agreed. “Though the irony is that if they don’t use Stardust to become Revelators themselves, they stand no chance against the Church of the Past.”
It is indeed ironic and farcical, Siles thought. And… deeply tragic.
They both fell silent for the remainder of the walk.
Before long, the ambient light of the entrance appeared within their view. They quickened their pace and soon emerged from the mouth of the mine. They found Mary nearby, looking thoroughly bored.
Mary immediately pressed, “How did it go? Did you find any clues?”
Siles refrained from mentioning the true nature of Stardust—Chendo’s past was a secret that required strict safeguarding—and simply pointed toward the distant fog. “A portion of the underground mine has been overtaken by the fog. The workers likely had no idea.
Mary froze, her gaze instinctively drifting toward the heavy mists. After a moment, she let out a sigh, remarking with relative calm, “So that’s how it was. Just another tragedy.”
Her composure carried an air of “this isn’t entirely unexpected.” Siles wasn’t surprised by her reaction either, simply nodding in affirmation.
Mary thought it over, then asked highlighting the discrepancy, “But why would something happen a year later?”
Siles replied, “That will require further investigation… specifically, regarding their experiences during the past year after they left the mine.”
Mary nodded.
“The wind is picking up, and the sky is turning dark. It looks like it might rain soon,” Chendo noted. “We should head back quickly.”
Siles popped open his watch to check the time, noting it was already three o’clock. By the time they made it back to the House of Hales, it would likely be close to five in the evening—dusk.
Nevertheless, the harvest of information this afternoon had been quite substantial, Siles thought.
He removed his glasses, closing his eyes briefly to rest them before putting them back on. He cast one final glance toward the fog and noted that the black human silhouettes from earlier had vanished completely, causing his brows to knit together slightly.
Where did they go? Siles felt a sudden, ominous premonition.
Simultaneously, he froze completely in place, struck by an incredibly bizarre sensation. He couldn’t quite articulate what kind of feeling it was. If he were back on Earth, he might assume he was coming down with something or had eaten something bad. But this was the Fisher World; Siles didn’t dare underestimate any peculiar sensation.
It was an odd… omnipresent, yet utterly untraceable pressure.
The feeling felt deeply familiar. Yes, familiar. It felt as though he had experienced a similar sensation somewhere before…
It was like when he had suddenly realized something might be wrong with Lusmi, the God of Stars and Light, and he hadn’t dared to lift his head. Back then, he had felt as though a weight of thousands of pounds was pressing down on his neck, making it physically impossible to look up. It was like when he had recklessly stared at the starry sky within the Deep Sea Dream, getting ensnared in cobwebs, his life hanging by a thread. Even after resolving that instance of Old God contamination, when he returned to the Deep Sea Dream, he still hadn’t dared to look up.
Because he knew…
There is something wrong with the sky!
Siles’s sudden aberration was instantly noticed by the other two. He stood there rigid, completely silent, his gaze boring into them with a terrifyingly grim and freezing intensity.
Chendo instinctively narrowed his eyes, asking, “What’s wrong?”
Mary, completely oblivious, merely asked, “Did you think of a clue, Professor?”
No… no… the sky! Siles screamed internally. Don’t you see the shadow?!
At this moment, Siles finally realized that a massive shadow had already draped over their entire bodies, covering the very ground they stood upon. How had he “realized” it? He couldn’t explain it logically… Akamara’s Eyeglass Frame. It was because of this Time Trace, this ongoing ritual, that he was capable of “seeing” the grand, horrific shadow currently blanketing them.
…What was up there in the sky?
Up in the sky, there was…
“There are palaces floating in the sky.” The phrase flashed violently inside Siles’s brain.
It was the story he had constantly overlooked. Ten years ago, the apprentice Jules Hans had met an explorer from Kansas at the Marlz Railway Station. That explorer had remarked, “Who’s to say there aren’t beautiful palaces floating up in the sky?”
Ten years ago. Kansas. An explorer. Statues.
…Why couldn’t that explorer have been Isherwood’s surviving companion?
Under this unprecedented, suffocating pressure, Siles’s thoughts whirred like a rapid machine—Think, think fast, Siles! What else did Jules say back then?! What else did that explorer say?!
Jules’s voice suddenly echoed clearly in Siles’s mind. He had said, “He mentioned he had seen a cluster of statues in a certain place, all of them looking up at something in the exact same way.”
…Statues. Looking up at something.
No… looking up… statues… they turned into statues the moment they looked up!
Siles clamped his eyes shut violently, forcing out a deeply suppressed, gravelly warning: “Don’t look up.”
“What?” Mary asked, startled.
Chendo’s expression shifted drastically. He stared at Siles in utter disbelief, his eyes quickly darting toward the frame of the glasses.
“…Don’t look up,” Siles repeated with absolute finality.
“I understand,” Chendo barked instantly. “Don’t say another word, the strain on you is too great.”
Siles let out a ragged breath, pulling off the glasses and keeping his eyes firmly shut as he stood frozen in place. He lowered his head unnaturally.
Mary glanced left and right in sheer bewilderment, but ultimately chose to trust Siles’s gravity.
Chendo stepped softly to Siles’s side, supporting his frame. It was only then that he realized Siles’s palm was completely slick with cold sweat. He squeezed Siles’s hand firmly.
Amidst the darkness of his closed eyes, Siles listened to the heavy, labored sound of his own breathing.
…Palaces… Hoodoka’s Temple of Belan… Hoodoka’s paradise… floating in the sky… the black silhouettes… they saw the three of them, so…
…But… the extraction of Stardust had already… ended… why now?… Why were they choosing to act now? Why did they wait until Siles and Chendo left the mine to decide to kill them? Did they possess some twisted generosity that made them want Siles to uncover the truth first?
Why was it in this specific order? What had the workers said after they left the mine? The workers who turned into statues…
…Wait, the order?
Siles snapped his eyes open. The crushing, sky-shattering weight of the pressure had vanished without a trace. He had no idea how much time had passed, but a massive realization had just struck his mind.
A question of chronological order.
If the workers had already gone missing inside the mine, would Lila have gone to them to consult about work opportunities?
Was it the workers who caused Lila’s death, or… did Lila cause the deaths of the workers?
