Chapter 192: You’ve Come This Far, Haven’t You?
The thunder roaring across the sky never ceased. The once-dim world was illuminated by flashes of silver lightning, revealing shattered earth and surging seas. The black sun that loomed over the heavens was slowly descending toward the ground—an eerie stillness amidst the chaos of this disaster-stricken world.
The Overseer had already noticed Its presence. Dark clouds gathered, condensing into a bolt of lightning ready to strike. When it fell, the sound was deafening, as though it sought to shatter not only It but the entire world alongside.
The thunderclap echoed like the Overseer’s roar—a divine warning, demanding Its surrender.
As silver light cascaded downward, the world that had lost its light from the “Fallen Sun” once again blazed with brilliance. When the thunder subsided, Its massive form trembled slightly—half of Its flesh and blood had evaporated in an instant.
“…Hiss.”
That must have hurt, huh? Xu Zhi winced at the thought that, if things went according to plan, she might have to endure a few of those herself.
From her distant vantage point, she saw It sway and falter. Curiosity pricked her, and she activated her Eye of Secrets again—only to find, to her surprise, that the Overseer’s lightning had suppressed Its regeneration. To recover, It would have to draw energy from the “Sun.”
That put It in a dilemma. To withstand the Overseer’s attacks, It had to keep healing—and healing required immense energy. But drawing too much from the Sun risked draining it, leaving not enough energy to break open the rift.
Yet without healing, It might not even survive the Overseer’s next strike.
No matter which choice It made, neither looked good.
So—It chose neither.
Lifting its head, It stared directly at the storm clouds gathering above. For a heartbeat, the vast red sigil beneath Its body flickered and stalled. Then a violent surge of wind burst outward, and Its colossal form launched skyward—straight toward the cloud mass brimming with lightning. The speed of Its ascent ripped the air apart with sonic booms, the shockwaves scattering sand and debris across the ground.
Just the act of moving caused destruction.
If no path existed, then strike the enemy head-on before exhaustion set in—before weakness took hold—and try to erase the Overseer itself.
“What nerve,” Xu Zhi murmured in awe.
Far below, her small figure was but a speck against the horizon. From her vantage point, the clash above looked like a battle of gods—terrifying and sublime.
Up until now, she’d merely been a bystander to this apocalyptic struggle. It and the Overseer were the true protagonists—one seeking to suppress the “prisoner” of this world, the other desperate to escape its endless confinement.
And she? She was just watching from the sidelines. Or so it seemed—until a familiar voice echoed in her mind.
[The moment has come.]
That calm, almost indifferent tone—she was more used to it than her own heartbeat by now.
[It cannot die—but It will be gravely wounded.]
[The Sun will not stop. When It crashes into the Federation’s lands, the world will shatter—and that moment will be your chance to deliver the fatal blow.]
“I know.”
Xu Zhi nodded seriously.
Of course It had anticipated the Overseer’s existence. It wouldn’t have set everything in motion without a contingency plan. It wouldn’t die— …but It would bleed for it.
Her gaze drifted to a faint yellow array on the ruined ground—a small, refined magic circle.
Less than twenty people remained alive within it; everyone else had been abandoned outside.
Even though the apocalyptic formation had stopped draining life, the thin air, the harsh environment, and the thunder still falling from the heavens were more than enough to claim them.
And above them…
Xu Zhi looked up. The black Sun filled the sky—so close, so immense, so oppressive that just looking at it made her want to flinch away. A monstrosity blotting out all light, all color, all hope.
She didn’t know if anyone else could possibly survive under that crushing weight. Probably not.
She’d always told herself she didn’t care about anyone in this world—no one but herself. But when the moment truly came—when it looked like the world would end and she’d be the only one left—something stirred in her heart.
A feeling even she couldn’t name. Something between loneliness and regret.
But she wasn’t a savior. She didn’t have the power to protect anyone else. She could barely see the road ahead herself.
“…Those saviors in the stories really are incredible, huh.”
Amid the chaos of doomsday, Xu Zhi said it like an idle sigh.
The Narrator answered immediately, its tone calm and gentle:
[Indeed. To become a true savior requires immense willpower and conviction. But to rise from being a mere pawn—one the board never noticed—to someone capable of overturning the entire game… that’s remarkable, too.]
Xu Zhi smiled faintly. “Are you praising me?”
“I didn’t get this far on my own. I haven’t even suffered that much. Does that really count?”
[Why wouldn’t it?]
The Narrator’s tone was steady, warm.
[No matter how you got here, or what you went through—you made it this far, didn’t you?]
[And who says you didn’t rely on yourself?]
“Because you’ve always been helping me,” Xu Zhi replied as if it were obvious.
“If it weren’t for you, I’d probably be dead already.”
She was self-aware enough to know that much.
[That’s not true.]
The Narrator sighed softly, its voice turning gentle—a light, feminine tone.
[You never needed me. In a way, it was you who helped me. Without you, I’d have vanished long ago.]
[Even if I didn’t exist, even if you had only yourself, you would’ve done just fine. I merely added a touch of color to what you’d already become.]
“How could that be?”
Xu Zhi frowned slightly, confused.
“If you hadn’t shown up back then, I wouldn’t have survived that week.”
If starvation or illness didn’t kill her, the frenzied cultists breaking in would have.
[You’re wrong.]
The Narrator’s answer came firm and quiet.
[It’s the other way around—if not for you, I never would have appeared.]
[By now, you should know: I, that fragment, and It—all came from outside.]
“Mhm.” Xu Zhi nodded, suppressing her growing unease.
Even though the Narrator could now speak to her directly, she still pulled the game console from her pocket, glancing at it to make sure no new cracks had formed as it spoke.
[But actually, it wasn’t just us.]
[Everything buried beneath Midnight came through at the same time.]
