What rushed toward him was an endless radiance.

It was as if he had arrived at a broken bridge and now stood before an abyss. The past and the future split apart on either side of the present, only to plunge into the same darkness.

The moment dazzling spirit matter light surged from the scepter, Ji Jue’s consciousness was swallowed by a torrent of phenomena, as if it was falling toward the true essence of all things, or rising toward the very core of heaven and earth.

His soul and perception spread out from his body, enveloping everything until the entire rift realm became his own body.

When the Seer released the final seal, Deus Ex Machina, which had been active until now, finally reached completion, fully spreading across the workshop, allowing Ji Jue to truly become the master of it all, the true ruler of the rift realm.

Yet he felt no joy nor happiness. All he could hear were endless wails and cries from the past and the present.

From the mirrored ruins on both sides, beneath the shadow of the shattered Tower or Origin, he watched those blood-weeping figures walk toward the abyss again and again. When he turned back, he saw the countless creations upon the earth, struggling in vain through cycles of birth and destruction.

The same pain and despair lay on either side of him like the two sides of a scale, yet they tangled together in one place, revolving endlessly within an unceasing hell.

He had to make a choice. But why did he have to choose? Why did he have to weigh these sufferings and decide which side bore greater worth?

He wanted to question the Seer. What right did he have to show mercy? Was his own nature, with those hidden selfish desires, truly any more noble than Mercury’s? Why did she believe that he would not create hell?

And yet, hell was right before his eyes. The blood-red sea churned, and boundless anguish surged like tides, swallowing him whole. His soul fell from the void, or perhaps rose, plunging into the darkness. Within that darkness, he once again heard the non-stop, steady, rhythmic clatter of a train striking the rails. It sounded so familiar.

Ji Jue stood before a familiar carriage door, hearing the sounds of laughter and chatter from within. He froze where he stood.

It sounded like people talking and laughing.

A mother, leaving behind the past and her former self, was traveling once more with her child, heading toward their hometown, hoping to begin again by that stretch of sea and sunlight. Amid the dull journey, she told the child old fairy tales about princes and princesses, dragons and thieves, witches and fairies, kings and knights, and more.

That vivid, colorful world lit up the child’s once-dull eyes. Even the barren wilderness outside the window seemed to glow. The sunset also seemed more radiant and the world more gentle.

It was beautiful, like a dream, so beautiful that he couldn’t bear to shatter it.

Ji Jue listened to the ripples rising from that distant memory for a long, long time, until at last, no sound came from behind the door anymore.

Dust peeled away from the carriage door. It faded, cracked, and collapsed without a sound.

Behind it, in the shattered, twisted carriage, flames that had never gone out rose from the wreckage. The flames spread, leaving behind only billowing smoke. He could almost see that familiar figure, yet her singing was so distant, as though separated by an immeasurable abyss.

No matter how much Ji Jue ran, he could never reach her. Again and again he ran, and again and again he failed to get to her. No matter how foolish it was, he ran until he was utterly exhausted, lost within the ruins of fire and smoke, yet still stubbornly wandering, unwilling to leave.

He let the inextinguishable flames ignite his body and soul, as the ocean of pain and despair swallowed everything. Amid the overwhelming torrents of fire and raining embers, he fell into endless darkness, into an even deeper abyss.

Still, he kept staring toward where the song came from, refusing to give up until a small, tender hand grasped his wrist.

“Got you,” a soft voice said, bright and cheerful.

The darkness and the fall came to an abrupt halt. A gentle breeze drifted through the town square, and the distant tolling of a bell echoed without end.

Ji Jue looked around. He had awakened from his nightmare, yet he longed so desperately to return to that nightmare which contained nothing but torment. Even if it meant getting just a little closer, as long as he could see her eyes once more, as long as he could tell her “I miss you,” he would pay any price, even if it meant creating hell!

But hell was already right before him. It was born from endless regret, memories, and the impossibility of reaching his dead loved ones no matter what he did.

On the steps of the square, the solitary girl who had been waiting turned back to look at him. She extended a hand and generously offered the bouquet she held. “You look really sad, sir. Here, take this.”

Fresh white flowers, still carrying dewdrops, gently fell into Ji Jue’s hands. She stood amid everything on the brink of destruction, like a phantom forgotten by time, gazing at endless cycles of collapse and rebirth continuing across countless repetitions.

She looked at Ji Jue before her. Reaching out, she carefully and gently wiped the dust from his face earnestly and carefully.

“So you were still here,” Ji Jue murmured.

“Of course,” the girl replied matter-of-factly, nodding. “Otherwise, if this place were empty, how lonely would she be?”

Within those fragments of the past, old memories shimmered through time, gathering around her. They faded and reappeared, as if without end.

She lingered within those shattered moments, persistently wandering, yet unwilling to leave.

“Aren’t you lonely?” Ji Jue asked.

“Maybe.” The girl shook her head indifferently, gazing at everything before her, at those epochs like an unfathomable abyss. “At least I can still miss her. Just like she misses me.”

Day after day, night after night, without ever stopping.

Even if time and death have separated us...

As long as this longing still existed, separation no longer felt so frightening. Neither did death. Even if they fell into the abyss, even if they wandered to the ends of the world, they would not be alone or afraid.

What spanned four hundred years was not only regret and suffering. Even if that darkness was utterly void, it still left its imprint in the abyss, still shining brightly like stars.

She finally embraced the young man before her, so light and gentle. “So, make your decision, sir. This suffering has already gone on for far too long. There is no need for it to continue, nor should there be any more tragedies. It’s time to say goodbye.”

With that, she lifted the pendant in her hands and placed it around Ji Jue’s neck.

Inside the pendant was only a damaged photograph of a family leaning against one another in happiness and smiling with pure joy, even though it was worn and faded, even though it had been separated by a long span of time.

From the fading remnants of old time, the girl smiled as she said her final farewell. “The story of the past has already ended, so please let it remain in the past. There is no need for more tragedies, nor for any new hells. You don’t need to hesitate anymore over someone else’s story. Please keep moving forward toward your own future. No matter what that future or outcome may be, I believe that the person you miss will also continue to miss you just as deeply.”

Ji Jue stood frozen in place. From within the gradually blurring remnants of time, it felt as though a song rose once again, carried by the distant rhythm of a moving train. It was so gentle and so achingly familiar.

When Ji Jue turned back, everything before him dissolved like an illusion. The girl and the town vanished without a trace, and the flames and ruins also slowly receded. Only her song lingered within his soul very clearly, as if it had always been by his side, never once gone.

Ji Jue finally opened his eyes and returned to reality, gazing upon the rift realm before him, the collapsing earth, the surging sea of blood, pain, despair, and hell.

“What an unrealistic dream...”

Though it had only been a fleeting moment, it felt as if entire decades had passed.

When the distant dream finally came to an end, the resonance from the workshop and the tremors of the rift realm once again filled Ji Jue’s soul, reflecting everything that had happened into his vision, as if trying to carve every change directly into his very being.

This time, Ji Jue felt neither hesitation nor confusion. He raised his head, looking toward the firmament. Within layers upon layers of binding chains, the remnants of the sage still sang in despair, immersed in their lingering obsession.

When he turned back, he saw the collapse and overturning of the rift realm itself. From the sea below, the wails and cries of countless shattered souls in endless cycles surged like a torrent.

To persist, or to give up, both were tragedies. Both sides were hell, but at least he could choose whether that hell would continue.

Perhaps creating hell might allow him to see his dead loved ones once more, but they should never be forced to fall into such a place. So, a choice had to be made.