Chapter 98

“Horne? Horne?” Hels’s call rang in his ears, laced with anxiety.

Horne snapped back to his senses, breathing heavily.

He was still on this golden cloud layer, half-kneeling.

“You’re shaking,” Hels said. “What did you see?”

Horne slowly stood up and spread his five fingers. The “freedom” pendant lay quietly in his palm.

“I’m fine.” Horne exhaled and clenched his fist again. As he turned around, he felt something unusual from underfoot.

The cloud didn’t feel as soft anymore; it was a bit like walking on solid ground now, with less sinking than before, even if the improvement was slight.

He frowned and glanced once more at the pendant in his palm.

This abnormal illusion—the Obelisk had not only pulled them into the illusory realm but also read their inner hearts. But what were these pendants for?

Horne looked around, his gaze quickly locking onto another glowing point. “Follow me.”

At the next glowing pendant, Horne crouched down and clearly saw the words written on it: kindness.

“Watch the position of my hand and take your own pendant.” Horne gestured to Hels.

Since they were in the same space, they could easily grab the pendants without guidance—Hels just needed to walk over to where Horne was.

The scene shattered and reassembled.

Flames blazed everywhere, and Hels emotionlessly pulled someone out from amid the fire. As those people trembled and said “thank you,” Hels didn’t look back, leaving only a cold remark: “The Military District’s been gone for decades, and you’ve turned into such pathetic wastes? If you don’t want to die, head to the Red Light District.”

Hels took his own pendant and watched the same scene, saying nothing and offering no explanation.

Those who could see the pendants could glimpse the owner’s inner heart. These weren’t entirely existing memories but more like yearnings, deep desires.

Horne just didn’t understand why Hels’s yearning for “freedom” involved his mother killing him before he was born—or was it that, for him, never being born at all was freedom?

Horne received his second pendant from Wen Yu.

The moment his fingertips touched it, his heart trembled again, and he was swiftly dragged into another vast world.

It was him again. He stood at the gates of Frost Plains City, dressed in the uniform of a twenty-year-old major, standing straight and tall. Outside the city stretched a long line of refugees who had migrated from Langdao City.

His gaze swept over each person in turn. The silence didn’t last long before a dying old man grabbed his hand, tears streaming down his face. “Major, I won’t last much longer, but… but my son is still young. Could you… could you take care of him? I’ll repay your kindness in my next life.”

Pleas and sobs filled his ears. Horne bent down and said softly, “No need to repay. I’ll look after him.”

His voice was gentle and pure—the him from back then, the one who threw himself into danger for the convictions in his heart.

The cloud felt even more solid now.

Horne looked at the “freedom” and “kindness” pendants resting quietly in his palm. He took two steps, lowered his hand, and gazed at the massive wind pillar in the distance, his expression turning serious.

“I think I get it.”

You Wenjie’s voice came from not far away. “We have to keep grabbing the pendants.”

This seemed similar to the Holographic Game. No matter what kind of illusion it was, it remained a game, and games had rules. The rule here was to head to the landmark in the distance. Simply walking there would see them swallowed by the environment soon enough. They needed these pendants to steady their path.

But their pendants were in each other’s view, in their own blind spots, so they had to cooperate all the way.

Hels never questioned Horne. You Wenjie and Wen Yu were doers too. The moment Horne voiced his guess, the three of them sprang into action—even faster than Horne. Only Ains stood stunned in place, staring fixedly at the dandelion floating before her.

She grabbed the dandelion, and it instantly enlarged into a towering tree—a flying tree. She clutched the trunk as the roots twisted into a swing. She sat on it, looking around, letting it carry her forward.

The lily pads underfoot kept getting nibbled away, but she landed at the first guided pendant.

Light points still dotted the path ahead, though it was hard to tell exactly how many. Each one they took made the path underfoot more solid.

“Ains? Did you find it?” You Wenjie asked. He needed her guidance, but Ains’s attention wandered; she kept veering off to look at other things.

The more they took, the less resistance they faced.

Horne glanced at Hels. His face was pale, his ears flushed red behind—he was still running a fever.

When Hels reached to take another pendant from Horne, Horne grabbed his arm. He said nothing, just gave him a questioning look.

Hels smiled. “I can hold on a bit longer.”

The journey went very smoothly. Every few dozen meters, they cooperated to pick up a pendant, tucking it into their clothes or hanging it from their waist. Horne had started holding them in his hand, but later realized he couldn’t with one hand.

His other hand… his other hand had been held by Hels the whole time, leaving no room.

Roughly calculating, there was almost one pendant every fifty meters. To reach the destination, there should be ten in total. With each additional pendant in hand, the path underfoot solidified further until it felt like walking on unbreakable concrete, with no hindrance at all.

“Forward—follow my position.” Hels stood in one spot, giving vague directions without precise guidance—Ains always took detours.

After she fumbled the spot countless times, she could only grumble irritably, “Sir, you’re too impatient.”

“I’ve got plenty of patience.” Hels crossed his arms, his gaze falling on Horne, who was coordinating with Wen Yu nearby. Only after Ains drew closer did he shift his attention back. “Right here. Got it?”

“No! Where?”

“Right here.”

“I can’t see it.”

“Hels.” Horne walked off in another direction. “Be serious.”

“Fine.”

Horne sorted the pendants, but as he held these varied ones and examined the words on them closely once more, he fell silent.

The ninth: “parents.”

The instant he took it from Wen Yu, time and space reversed, and all the scenes before him swapped out.

Loch City, nighttime, starry skies.

The crackle crackle of the fireplace burning wood sounded faintly in his ears. Horne’s eyes snapped open, and he rose from his custom black sofa.

A familiar place, familiar decor—the spot where he had spent his entire life.

The lamp glowed with warm light mixed with the fireplace flames; his shadow swayed. The phonograph played a piano melody full of static, rising steadily into the thin high air. That air drifted along, slipping through the kitchen door crack and carrying out the sounds of cooking inside.

Cheesecake and roast chicken.

Cheesecake was his favorite food; roast chicken was the grandest treat.

Hels wasn’t there—of course Hels wasn’t there.

This scene felt like one from a dream. Even knowing it was an illusion, Horne still felt his steps weigh a thousand pounds. He held his breath and slowly approached the kitchen doorway. The aroma grew richer; the door wasn’t fully closed. Through that gap, it was as if he could glimpse paradise.

Horne pushed the door open. In that instant, his heartbeat accelerated.

The cook noticed the door opening and paused her movements for a moment. She turned her head and smiled at Horne. “It’ll be ready in a bit—don’t rush. Go play with Mao Mao for a while. Your father isn’t back yet either. If you’re hungry, grab a slice of cake from the fridge, but no more than one, got it?”

General Yaro, his mother.

Horne froze in place, nearly forgetting to breathe as emotions surged up his throat.

By his timeline, it had been ten years. General Yaro surely hadn’t seen what he looked like after a decade—so was this how he appeared now?

He wanted to check a mirror, but his body wouldn’t move.

The woman inside saw no reaction and gave him a puzzled look. “What’s wrong? Got the major rank, and now you’ve gone dumb?”

It was the day he’d officially become a major.

His fingertips trembled faintly. To avoid seeming unnatural, Horne gripped the hem of his clothes until the veins bulged along his entire arm.

General Yaro still sensed something off. She turned off the fire and walked over to Horne, waving a hand in front of his face. “What’s up? Not feeling well?”

“No…” As soon as Horne spoke, his eyes reddened.

He missed her so much, so much, so much. Ten years… no, over a century. Their existence had long become a thing of the last century, scattered like sand in time’s whirlpool. And now it appeared so vividly before him, like an unfaded photo, an indelible memory.

General Yaro startled too. She leaned in close to Horne, touched the corner of his eye, and pulled back her hand to see a single tear.

Horne took a deep breath, trying to swallow his emotions, but he couldn’t.

General Yaro’s expression grew more puzzled until, finally, she let out a “pfft” of laughter. Fine lines crinkled at the corners of her eyes; she was in high spirits. “Crying already? Just a major, and there’s lieutenant colonel, colonel, and general ahead for you. What’s this? Bawling at major—hahaha, when your father gets back, I’ve got to tease you with him.”

General Yaro was utterly delighted, turning all of Horne’s longing into floating laughter.

In the end, Horne managed a smile too. He hugged her, and the embrace silenced her laughter.

“What’s gotten into you today?”

His mother’s hand patted his back lightly. Horne held her tightly and whispered, “I’ll do my best.”

Sentimental cheesiness from her son had General Yaro going “oh dear, oh dear” nonstop.

The outer door opened, and General Yaro pushed him away, hurrying out.

“Al! Come laugh at your son crying!”

This time, Horne truly laughed.

In the deep sea of memories, they were always like this.

Later, the ocean turned to ice, the ice crashing into icebergs.

Bang—

A massive sound jolted Horne’s eyes open.

White clouds, golden sunlight, and Hels’s worried expression.

“What was that noise?” Horne asked. As he spoke, he realized his throat was hoarse.

Hels tilted his head and glanced behind them. “No noise.”

He hesitated to say more.

Horne stood and saw Hels wanting to speak but holding back. With no expression on his face, he asked, “What’s wrong?”

Hels gave a smile and said softly, “Nothing. Just… if you want to, you can let it show.”

“Show what?” Horne asked, puzzled.

Hels pointed at Horne’s face. “You’re crying.”

Horne paused, then quickly wiped the corner of his eye with the back of his hand. A few damp traces lingered; he hadn’t noticed at all.

“It’s nothing.” He turned his head away.

After tidying up casually, Horne stowed all the pendants and turned directly around.

“Wen Yu, where’s the last one?”

“Wait, I’m with You Wenjie right now. You grab Hels’s first.”

They couldn’t waste too much time. They still didn’t know if there was a limit, though no reminders had appeared yet. Hurrying was always wise.

Neither spoke. Hels followed silently behind, gazing at that increasingly swift back, always keeping a few steps’ distance. When Horne sped up, he matched pace; when Horne slowed, he fell back.

After some distance, Horne stopped. He stood dazed for two seconds, then backtracked to Hels’s side.

“Sorry.”

“Hm?” Hels looked puzzled. “What for?”

“Got a bit emotional, forgot you’re still sick.” Horne said. He’d calmed down now and reached again for Hels’s hand.

The hand felt scorching hot—clearly higher than back in the cell. They had to find a way out fast.

Side by side, they advanced as wind whipped at them. The massive whirlwind loomed close now; the nearer they got, the fiercer its spin.

Horne’s hair blew to one side.

He looked up. The wind pillar stretched from the ground to unseen heights, but up close, they saw it had footholds. The thin clouds wrapping the outside formed step-like stairs, one after another.

They’d guessed right—they had to reach this place. If stairs existed, it meant climbing up. What lay above could only be seen once they ascended.

Horne quickened his steps. After two more, Hels’s voice came from beside him. “Horne.”

He called Horne’s name, rarely using such a faint tone—faint to the point of sorrow.

“What?”

“If you don’t want to, it’s fine.” Hels said, his voice softening again toward the end.

Horne halted. “What?”

Waves of warmth transmitted from their palms—intertwined, his and his own.

Hels offered no explanation, but Horne quickly understood what he meant and gripped his hand even tighter.

Time was short; they couldn’t stop. After a few more steps, he said in a deep voice, “I don’t mean I don’t want to.”

“Hmm?”

“I just miss them so much. Even though I know they’re gone…” He paused there, then declared with unwavering resolve, “But you’re still here.”

An uncontrollable tightness gripped their intertwined palms.

Hels lowered his eyes. Before him were their clasped hands, and farther out, drifting clouds that lent an ethereal quality to his voice as well.

“Then you know I’m not that kid anymore, right?”

The words, once spoken, were swept away by the wind toward the high sky.