Cultivating in Honkai!

Chapter 405: At The World’s End

With Theresa fast asleep, only I and Himeko remained. Thanks to Theresa’s outburst, the atmosphere between us turned quite awkward. I could see she is quite hesitant to ask some things… as well as the vague changes on her eyes.I am more than familiar with it. That is how others looked at me whenever they withheld something to me.

“How did you see it? The Principal’s … if it counts as one.”

Himeko broke the silence after another gulp at her shot glass. The bright red wine splashed against the clear shot glass before stabilizing.

“I cannot blame her. She is … just like me. I admit that I also felt things like this prior to the times I had no one else.”

“...You want someone to rely on?”

“Yes. But it’s not as simple as that. I do not want to impose myself on others. Still, knowing they for me feels warm. Perhaps the Principal shares the same sentiment as I. It’s just that she also shares the same tendencies as mine… keeping things bottled up inside of her.”

Theresa is someone who grew up under Otto’s teachings. She his granddaughter, one of the few who he truly treated as ‘family’. Her being a ‘failed experiment’ does excuse that fact. She grew up shouldering the same beliefs as Kallen—embodying the Kaslana Oath. To act as humanity’s bravest shields, yet at the same time, retain the very held by the ones they protected.

Had Theresa known everything Otto ever did, the day she ‘rebelled’ would have been pushed sooner. Unfortunately for her, Fenghuang Down was there to shatter that flimsy possibility from ever happening. That was how she kept the illusion of Otto being a grandfather for decades. Still, it is undeniable that Otto Apocalypse still possessed a sliver of humanity amidst everything he had done for his selfish wish. That small part was what pushed Theresa into becoming the person she is today.

“The Overseer… she still blames herself for the things he did.”

Himeko’s words made me pause.

“That girl, Bianka… the two of them usually keep it to themselves, but there are times it shows.”

Otto…

I never saw this side of Theresa… or even Bianka. There are a of things I missed out on. Things I should have known but did not.

“Can you tell me more about it?”

Tonight, I resolved to make up for a part of it.

*****

The universe is held up by the , and then supplemented by the . The two live in a symbiotic relationship, preserving the overall energy of the cosmos and extending the days it could live. Its destruction is a matter of the distant future. A natural occurrence brought by the Finality ordained by this very universe. Its presence is what gave birth to the universe’s wish—

It was a good canvas. It wasn’t perfect, but it was good enough to stand on its own. It was a problem left for the universe to solve by itself. A problem awaiting the appointed Deliverer to achieve the final station of the cosmos.

And then a drop of paint scattered across the canvas. Logic states that a single drop of paint could cause huge changes across the canvas, yet it did. The single, golden drop turned the otherwise acceptable canvas into a huge golden mess. Something a three-year-old kid would come up with after messing around. A picasso artwork of sorts. Or an abstract nobody could truly understand.

Everything held by the universe changed with the sudden intrusion of the golden drop… and the person it carried within. It was a force far beyond its comprehension, though it was not to be blamed. No matter which world it was, so long as they never truly reached the , they would be left bewildered and speechless.

Amongst the flawed creations of the universe was the temporal dimension—the river of time. The repeated back and forths with each unsuccessful attempt placed a great strain. To avoid this strain from outright piercing through the canvas, subjects were entrusted with safekeeping them:

The Aeon Nous of Erudition. The keeper of the future. The one responsible for interpolating countless possibilities of the future, whether they be accidents or destined from the start.

The Aeon Fuli of Remembrance. With every beginning of an iteration, THEIR true body shatters into countless pieces, scattering all sorts of memories across the cosmos. THEY make up of the ‘Past’ of this world, real or forgotten, as they were stored into ‘memories’. Just like what a camera would do while capturing a moment.

It was through THEIR help did the universe’s temporal dimension come to life. It is unconventional compared to most temporal dimensions in other universes. Incomplete, even. The most important thing is that they accomplish their role.

Then came the single drop of golden paint. It carried forth not just power, but also a complete system. The origin of all Daos. The weight of every single world that overlapped from it. The memories of agony, suffering, joy and the accomplishments done by every single cultivator it has recorded from. It is a treasure that has long reached , something this flawed canvas could accommodate fully.

Everything holding up together was a miracle by that point. The machinations and stories hidden beneath this world was rather trivial when compared to its sheer presence. It is a collection of canvases merged together into one existence. It is exactly the reason why the person it brought along with could influence the fate of this world.

The backdrop consisting of countless stars and endless dark void was torn apart. The torn section revealed another canvas—a brand new world. The torn edges let out specks of white light, illuminating the dim surroundings. The glow briefly shone on two figures… or rather, a living person and a masked person. 

The latter looked like someone who had just done a crime with THEIR pitch-black fit. It was as if a game had bugged, leaving a character with nothing but pure darkness. Strangely enough, the mask etched on its face conveyed vibrant emotions that otherwise should have been here.

“To have the guts to come here…” The living man turned over to THEIR direction. “...is something worthy of your title. Someone who laughs with Finality at bay is a fanatic… someone who courts death.”

The long, purple hair swayed as he turned around back to the torn backdrop. The golden brilliance in his eyes never lost their luster. He placed both his hands underneath his daoist robe’s sleeves. His faint figure merged along with this similarly faint scenario.

The closer one looked, the more THEY would notice one thing: Everything that has happened up until now, save for the masked man, were faint. The man was faint, and so was the torn-up space. These were things that haven't happened now, but rather, a of what would happen in the future. A future projection, per se.

Although the masked man did not speak, the emotions THEY conveyed was the most direct response. THEY are curious, intrigued, and expectant. Ironically, the man expected these reactions from the moment they met.

After all…

“”