From that day on, she floated in the gradually forming galaxy every night in her dreams. She watched the star stabilize bit by bit, planets being born from the erupting dust, one of which was covered in water, with land surrounded by oceans. This galaxy was born under her influence, and the planet capable of supporting life naturally bore the shadow of Verdya. Night after night, life evolved step by step, and finally, humans appeared.
But this galaxy was ultimately different from the solar system. The power of magic took root in the land, and not long after, Verdya entered the legendary era of old, with prophets and warriors coexisting, staffs and swords wielded together. Naily did not intend to deliberately change things, but she would not allow the previous tragedies to happen again. The past Verdya was completely destroyed in her moment of thought, and a new Verdya would be reborn under her protection. If what she did was enough to be called a god, then was the god who watched Verdya’s destruction the same as her?
Perhaps that person also casually created a blazing star and then watched an entire galaxy’s birth, perhaps also calmly and lovingly watched planets rotating counterclockwise around the star. But in the end, that person chose to give up. That “god’s” anger was named fate. Naily quietly swore she would not do the same. Simply destroying what she had created by hand due to disappointment and trouble was ultimately just an escape called punishment. She had escaped once and could not repeat the same mistake. She would accompany this world until her given time ran out.
She began to look forward to the moment of falling asleep each night. She was obsessed with that galaxy, perhaps because in a corner of her heart a wish was quietly growing. But she also knew that even if the wish came true, she could only watch from a height imperceptible to the world’s people. She seemed to understand the coldness of heights for the first time, a cold that penetrated her bones. But what did any of this matter? Once she closed her eyes, another world known only to her was quietly waiting. And perhaps one day, she could find someone again on the surface of that planet.
Even if she could only see him from afar, even if she could only watch his joys and sorrows, she would be satisfied.
“Goodbye,” Naily said softly. Ifa’s expression changed, Lukes reached out to grab Naily, and Clove drew his sword without hesitation. But Naily had already twisted the key back according to Piping’s instructions. She clearly heard the light sound from the lock core. The device, fine lines, and gears all suddenly disappeared. She found herself in an incredible landscape, where there was no up, down, left, or right, only endless vastness.
She looked toward what she believed was the direction ahead, where countless fine lines representing the world spiraled and intertwined, gradually dispersing yet constrained by the traces of light’s passage, forming an inverted cone—the countless possible worlds beyond this moment. She stood at the very end of the axis, treading upon time that was unrelated to the world itself, constant and unchanging. Looking back, the mirror-like scenery reflected the world lines that had already occurred, her destination.
Naily finally understood the meaning in Piping’s words. Between these innumerable worlds, though they never intersect or meet, they are indeed close enough to influence each other—drop by drop wearing through stone, grain by grain building a tower, magnifying the smallest destruction into an irreversible destiny.
She began to sprint in the direction of the past, and a path formed where her feet landed.
Naily gradually saw clearly the light constraining all world lines, able to discern how the tiny particles composing the light flew chaotically yet orderly, leaving everything behind.
Just a bit faster—in an instant, she broke free from the universe’s constant rules, piercing through the light’s conical cover, ascending to a higher, more distant dimension.
Naily plunged again into the ocean of world lines, charging toward her target without hesitation: she would return to the moment of Monster No. 2’s birth and correct this error.
She leaped precisely into that world, gripping the black dagger tightly. Even returning to the past, she remained restricted by her contract with the system—any slip would mean death, rendering all planning futile.
Mez, Red Fortress Dome Hall.
The hall outside was empty, with only five people standing inside, their expressions slightly tense.
The skylight from the dome shone brilliantly, illuminating the carved grooves in the hall’s center. Lux smiled, watching the device gradually taking shape, and exchanged a glance with Piping, who then turned to Lishite, saying, “Bring the container.”
The Grand Sage nodded silently. Two veiled women escorted a black-haired youth forward. His eyes were tightly closed, his pale cheeks like porcelain. At first glance, he resembled a life-sized human puppet.
Clovi raised an eyebrow: “So the Grand Sage has such interests…”
Ifa glared at him, then smiled and pulled out a rectangular box from her sleeve, casually easing the tension: “Now, we just need to turn the switch…”
Her words caught in her throat.
In the blink of an eye, the box that was just in her palm had vanished.
Lux’s expression changed dramatically, Piping frowned, and their gazes immediately locked onto the newcomer.
The petite assassin crouched on the pillar supporting the dome, smiling slightly at Piping and waving the item. A flash of metallic light passed, and Ifa angrily whispered, “Kill her!”
Lux shrieked at Lishite, “Activate the container immediately!”
“Stop! The switch will be affected!
” Piping’s rebuke was drowned out by Lux, and Lishite had already followed the priest’s instructions.
The Grand Sage remained emotionless, raising her hand, and the puppet-like black-haired youth opened his eyes, deep red irises gleaming with an inhuman, cold radiance.
“Kill her quickly!” Clovi ordered the awakened black-haired youth, who looked over expressionlessly and elegantly flipped his fingers.
Boom!
Stones shattered, debris flying.
Where the leader of the eleven nations had just stood was now a deep pit, without even a trace of blood. Ifa, affected by the explosion, struggled to sit up, only coughing blood.
“Are you mad! A container without a switch is a true demon king!” Standing slightly farther away, Piping grabbed Lux’s sleeve, who angrily shook it off, coldly saying, “If the switch is destroyed, then we’re truly finished. Lishite!”
The Grand Sage’s lifeless eyes remained still, but the newly awakened demon king painfully hunched, turning toward the assassin’s direction, raising his hand with difficulty.
His fingertips trembled, as if fighting against the Grand Sage’s command.
“The container hasn’t completely escaped the Grand Sage’s control; it’s not over yet,” Lux lifted his chin, smugly watching the power bursting from the demon king’s fingertips, thunderously blasting toward the stone pillar, while the transparent light sphere from the Grand Priest flew toward the switch, intent on protecting it absolutely.
Yet the demon king’s attack paused mid-air, and in this moment, the female assassin moved incredibly quickly, flipping and disappearing, leaving only the silver-white box suspended in mid-air, deviating from the protection sphere’s trajectory, becoming the target of the demon king’s power.
Amidst Piping’s cry of alarm, the unused world switch was reduced to ashes along with the massive stone pillar.
Lux’s expression darkened; he immediately spread a barrier to protect the device’s main body.
“It’s useless. With the switch destroyed, the device will collapse,” Ifa concluded, trembling.
