Chapter 127

“Compared to a world that has perished, how does this one stack up?” Hels quickly countered, but his voice soon warmed a bit. “Humans still need a spark, need awakeners, so the underground base should exist.”

Otherwise, when he awoke, he would not find his companions.

“Once these things are done, humans will naturally rebuild everything to survive. We don’t need to get involved.”

Bai Yin could not quite understand Hels. When he looked toward Hels, sunlight pierced through the thick clouds, dripping down one drop that splashed right onto Hels.

“You…” Bai Yin had just uttered one word when he shut his mouth. He realized he had unconsciously used a term of respect. “Since you’re so strong, why not just wipe out the aliens directly?”

Hels did not answer.

Bai Yin gazed at Hels’s silent figure and sighed. “Once everything returns to normal, I’ll head to the hibernation pod.”

“Hibernation pod?”

“Yeah, the one my father left behind.” As Bai Yin thought of this, he paused his actions and looked toward the north beyond the city gates. “I couldn’t find Han Ya and Wen Yu, so I left the hibernation pod and the information at the new base. If they’re still alive, they’ll see it.”

They could only wait for that faint “possibility.”

Hels’s Resident Chip was successfully repaired and reimplanted behind his ear. Fragments of memories flowed into Hels’s mind through the chip, one after another, and with time, they sank into the abyss he could no longer see.

That journey had been very long, and those years very long as well. Building materials piled up block by block, gradually forming a base buried deep underground. The base gradually ran independently, while Loch City truly became ruins.

Time carved dense scratches on Bai Yin’s face. After it stripped the color from his hair, he entered the hibernation pod. But Hels never did. He wanted to spend decades, even centuries, turning himself into a human with absolute power, not a worthless wreck who could only collapse behind glass.

The ruins of Loch City were cleared away. A small portion of people stayed in the underground base, while most went to the alien nests because the alien leader demanded humans rebuild a new Loch City. Since the old one could not be restored, they built a larger version with a new site.

It was during those years that the aliens achieved a breakthrough adaptation on Earth: they began acquiring human forms and gradually adapted.

With the masks on, friend and foe became indistinguishable. No one pursued the reasons.

At the same time, Xienobo dissociated in the Tower. After a brief silence in the Tower, when sound returned, the leader was already Ais.

Xienobo told it that the mask makers were on Central Avenue, and they would carry on the tradition forever.

It was impossible to tell whether it was a human city surrounding alien nests or alien nests ruling humans.

The mask makers kept changing, once every three or four decades. Hels changed his name and appearance every three or four decades.

He had no interest in the power structures of this world. He simply moved everything from his old home to the house on the square in the corresponding Military District of the new Loch City. He lived there, rereading the books Horne had once seen, as if that could forge a connection with Horne.

Everything stabilized until much later, when Ais issued an order to slaughter military descendants.

That was not long after Hels had started using his real name again.

Fire and corpses appeared in Loch City, papers with anonymous registration info fluttering at street corners. All confirmed and suspected were swept into the slaughter.

Hels did not know how the Tower regime the aliens later established operated, but he knew Ais greatly feared humans mounting a comeback. The mask policy was not enough; slaughter was needed too.

The military folk deserved to die, but that was where Horne came from.

The Red Light District hung off Central Avenue. Hels forcibly gathered many people and took them into his territory.

“You’re meddling too much,” Ais expressed its dissatisfaction with Hels countless times. “Those are people I want to kill.”

Hels paid it no mind. “I’m just grabbing people I think are suitable to work in my territory. Who knew they were the ones you were after?” He acted nonchalant, ignoring the alien threats.

“If not for the fact that you’re a descendant of the family Xienobo named, you’d be dead long ago.” Ais seethed with hatred toward this man, but first, it needed Hels’s mask technology, and second, it dreaded Xienobo’s lingering prestige. But Xienobo had been dead for years now, so it probably no longer feared him.

“Oh, then feel free to try sending assassins after me again.”

Hels laughed as he left the Tower.

He did not want the military descendants slaughtered, yet he also did not want them living well. With so few left, relegating them to the bottom rung of the Red Light District was their best fate.

A century. If his longing for Horne was armor, then forgetting was a ferocious beast. He had to wrestle that beast in an unending fight to the death.

Until that day in 2210.

Thunder Pavilion, Hertz Resonance Room. The console linked to the frequency capture net emitted a short beep.

Jia Lan stood by very properly. You Wenjie checked the info panel. “Still nothing. The Hermit isn’t responding at all.”

Hels leaned against the doorframe, offhand. “That just means it doesn’t want to respond.” With that, he straightened and turned to leave.

You Wenjie sighed and followed.

Thunder Pavilion ran in good order, serving as the core base for humans to confront the aliens in the future.

The two walked along the curved hallway. People they passed showed them particular respect.

“The Tower must suspect you went to the Snowfield, right?” You Wenjie asked.

Hels gave a low “Mm” and continued, “Suspicion is useless. They need to reach the point where they’re desperate for evidence.”

Only then would their joy in annihilating the underground base peak.

Footsteps echoed as the two walked some distance and stopped on the descending platform. With no one else there, You Wenjie’s voice loosened a bit. “You often make me feel that although you don’t side with the aliens, you’ve never truly sided with humans either. You only place the meaning of your life on him, not on yourself.”

Hels laughed upon hearing this, utterly unconcerned. “So what? I dare to. Even if all my meaning is on him, I still know who I am.”

The two rounded the platform.

You Wenjie thought for a moment and voiced his conclusion. “But when he wakes up, you still won’t actively destroy the Fate Community, right? Just like even if you know the Hermit, you won’t help humans speed up any progress at all.”

Hels’s voice carried a casual disdain. “Who said I know it?”

“Beep—”

Hels suddenly halted. A popup appeared in his ear Resident Chip comms, showing a title he had not seen in ages:

Uncle.

What did he want? The moment he connected, a raspy, aged voice came through directly. “The Fate Community has shattered.”

Hels did not react.

He did not understand, even felt like he had misheard. His posture remained frozen as he stared blankly at the people passing on the opposite curved hallway.

“What did you say?” His voice trembled slightly, his face instantly paling. The Fate Community dissociated? Core frequency collapsed? Tower self-destructed? No…

He almost subconsciously asked, “Dissipated?”

Hels rarely showed this state, and You Wenjie looked at him curiously.

The terminal went silent for a few seconds before speaking again. “He woke up.”

He… woke up?

He? Who?

Hels could not believe this “he” was the one in his heart. He needed full confirmation. “Horne?”

“Yes.”

A firm affirmation. In that instant, all of Hels’s sluggishness collapsed. He opened his mouth but said nothing, only letting out an almost imperceptible sigh, followed by a thunderous boom.

Not dissociation. No. Horne had awakened?

The voice on the other end was unhurried. “But he ran out, and recon drones are chasing him.”

The terminal positioning activated instantly. With muscle memory, Hels pulled up his private comms interface with Horne and stared as the red dot, dormant for a century, reappeared.

It was moving! Along the streets of memory, racing swiftly!

Horne had awakened! Hels completely forgot anyone was beside him. He strode forward quickly, suppressing his voice as much as possible. “Mm, I’ll go pick him up.”

Hels did not know what he felt right then. His breathing quickened, his entire body no longer his own. He followed that red dot onward, walking faster and faster until it became a run.

From Thunder Pavilion upward, to the arcade, to the Red Light District, the exit, the main gate, the gray streets.

—Today’s news report: Tower recon drones pursued a resident without a mask. Due to the resident’s refusal to cooperate, the recon drones activated elimination mode. One corpse recovered on number one Central Avenue.

Was this announcement about Horne? Horne did not know Loch City’s current rules. He would surely be chased by recon drones. He needed a mask now.

Mask, mask… Oh right, the warehouse had them.

The red dot’s flashing direction was close to the warehouse. He could pick him up there, then take him somewhere safe, put on a mask, and slowly explain everything.

But none of that mattered.

Horne, Horne…

He weaved through the crowd, ignoring traffic and the startled gazes around him, fixated on that red dot, pursuing it.

The recon drone’s howl echoed from the opposite block through the buildings, its piercing screech not death, but hope.

Closer, closer, very close. Was it the next corner?

Red light flared. Buildings toppled in his vision, all scenes trembling in the run. The recon drone’s attack death countdown rang out.

“Three.”

“Two.”

“One.”

Horne!

Air tore. Hels rounded the corner. Red light from above streaked down with a high-pitched whine that pierced his eardrums. Scorching heat and explosion blasted right at his face.

A panicked figure burst out. To dodge the attack, that person lunged forward.

It was him.

He grabbed it! He seized his hand—warm and cool, sweaty.

In that instant, Hels heard a “thump,” heavy and deafening.

He thought something had fallen. Listening closely, it was his heartbeat, pounding again.

They rolled. He shielded the person in his arms without a single gap, rolling several meters before being shoved away.

It was Horne. Horne bent over coughing, his dry reddish-brown hair hanging by his face.

Hels’s throat bobbed. He recalled that year’s events, the heartbroken cries, the unfulfilled wishes, the sharp pains that had pierced this man’s heart time and again.

Amid heavy panting, Hels’s gaze fell on his once-pierced chest, and he reached out a hand.

Horne, back then, you…

“Does it hurt?”

“Let me take you to get that wound treated, okay?”