Welcome to Rewind World Game-Chapter 1648 - 4: OE·Lighthouse in the Universe (3)

Chapter 1648: Chapter 4: OE·Lighthouse in the Universe (3)

Lunxue perished in the World Game, May 2026, time unknown.

Boris perished in the World Game, May 2026, time unknown.

Lu perished in the White Tower Incident, September 28, 2028.

Luna perished of natural causes, December 27, 2028.

Eni perished during the aftermath of the White Tower Incident, January 8, 2029.

Zhao Yuan perished in an invasion...

...

Su Ming’an perished on The Day of God’s Fall, December 31, 2118.

...

In 2120, Gesang Jiacuo passed away at the age of 102.

In 2121, Xiao Xiao passed away at the age of 118.

In 2122, Yang Changxu passed away at the age of 127.

In 2126, Mo Yan passed away at the age of 121.

In 2127, Yu Ruohuo passed away at the age of 126.

In 2128, Su Shi passed away...

In 2129, Violet passed away...

In 2133, Rimu Sheng passed away...

In 2134, Alauddin passed away...

In 2135, Laine passed away...

On March 8, 2150, with the death of Yamada Machiichi, whose soul had withered, the last batch of renowned players from the World Game period all departed.

It is said that when Yamada Machiichi was alive, he would sit on the church bench for a long time.

He was waiting for two people. One was said to always speak gently, with blue hair, blue eyes, and an unthreatening smile. The other would casually say, "I’m just chatting," and suddenly appear in front of him, startling him and causing his emotions to become disjointed.

Therefore, he would sit on the church bench, waiting for them to come home.

But in the end, no one came.

The old man with the sketchbook in his hand always faced an empty space.

Until one morning, when the lilies were in full bloom, the nun cleaning the church found him sleeping peacefully, making no further sound. His head drooped, and a smile on his face suggested he was biting into a steaming octopus ball on a street where cherry blossoms were dancing.

...

Su Ming’an, Lu, Yamada Machiichi, Bei Wang, Luna, Isabella, Lin Yin, Eni, Boris, Alger, Zhao Yuan, Yi Song, Lunxue, Shabella, Qin Si.

The last team of fifteen was finally reduced to Bei Wang and Yi Song.

The final Peak Alliance also had only Bei Wang left.

"The Day of God’s Fall" was like a storm that swept across the soul, erasing all the previous era’s understandings, resentments, and confusion.

On Taihua Mountain, no grand monument was erected. Instead, there was a crater that resembled a giant scar. The crystalline remnants from the collapse of the World Tree were preserved in their original form, and at the center of the crater stood a silent piano.

No lavish decorations, no inscribed praises, only the echoes produced as the wind blew through the crystals. People came here voluntarily to stand silently in mourning.

At the highest point of the World Hub, people built a pure white bell tower. The bell sounded once at each dawn and dusk, resonating throughout the entire newborn city. Every time the bell rang, people involuntarily paused in silence.

Dawn is not easily attained.

Mei Yani invested all her energy into the construction of the New World and children’s protection work. She often recounted stories to the children, beginning with "Long ago, there was a hero," but she never mentioned Su Ming’an’s name, only describing the spring he brought.

In 2135, Mei Yani retired into seclusion.

Yi Song burned Su Ming’an’s medical records, becoming elusive. No one knew what he did all day, and soon, no one saw him again.

In 2139, Yi Song completely vanished.

After a prolonged struggle, Mizushima Kawa Sora chose a path of asceticism. She left the center of power, becoming a "Cleaner" roaming the borders. She stopped seeking answers, dedicating herself to continual meditation in an attempt to numb her struggles over long periods of time.

In 2142, Mizushima Kawa Sora departed through Dimensional Ascension.

Lü Shu hardly ever set foot in the crater of the World Tree. He took Kelsa’s place, silently guarding the world. When alone, Lü Shu would gaze long at old photographs or touch his completed notes.

He frequently became lost in phantasms, and at those moments, life seemed to stop flowing.

Everywhere he went, praises resounded. People praised him for fulfilling God’s last instructions, regarding him with admiration. But only he constantly remembered the sensation of the blade he had thrust into flesh, as if it pierced both his skin and heart.

—— Don’t, don’t look at me with such admiration.

Don’t glorify my actions in textbooks as "sending off the deities," I merely killed him, purely killed him.

I am not one of the saviors you speak of; I am an executioner.

The cruel person made him end it all with his own hands, and he lived the rest of his life on that day. Perhaps that person’s initial intention was for him to bid farewell to three good people and thrive independently. He achieved that, becoming a complete Lü Shu, but he could never move past that day.

He frequently couldn’t distinguish morning from night; time flew by, and he couldn’t remember what had happened yesterday or today.

He often sat in the lamplight watching past images, sometimes all night.

He frequently indulged in sleep, for only in sleep could he see old friends. If he were to never wake, he’d never have to face the empty room afterward.

Occasionally, he would "unexpectedly encounter" his companions. In some city corner, as Yamada Machiichi once experienced, a "phantom scene" from a worldline would suddenly unfold. It might be a street where cherry blossoms flutter, a sunny beach, or a quiet library... frequently featuring that young man with black hair, blurred but tranquil, sometimes smiling, sometimes contemplative, sometimes just quietly walking.

These phantoms weren’t real; they merely reminded people that in countless possibilities, in the expectations of ten thousand Creators, in a certain perfectly written world, he deserved such peaceful and happy times.

Whenever such a phantom scene appeared, the surrounding people would spontaneously fall silent, pausing to gaze as if afraid of disturbing a fragile dream.

Some would record the young man’s silhouette, pretending he was still alive, living in some imaginary parallel world.

He, they, the companions, the bygone days.

—— The sand slips through the fingers, unable to hold on, unable to let go.

On a certain day in 2144, Lü Shu once again fell into hallucinations. Like a dying old man, he struggled to lift his hand, trying to grasp something.

Then he saw the small figure.

It was Xiao Lü.

Perhaps because the memory of Luowasha was too profound, he saw Xiao Lü, the surreal Xiao Lü, sitting beside him, as the leaves on the hill slope fell one by one.

"Why are you here alone?" Xiao Lü looked up, showing a pure smile.

"They all left..." Lü Shu murmured, slowly burying his head into his knees.

"There’s not a single one left."

"None remained."

Leaving him alone on this planet, as an empty, revered "hero" by the masses.

As a revered sculpture representing the glorious and struggling history of humanity.

The saviors of the past had turned into statues and monuments, leaving only him, seen as "lively" in people’s eyes, like a living divine idol.

"Are you waiting for someone?" Xiao Lü asked.

Lü Shu remained silent, shaking his head.

He knows he won’t make it, he has been waiting all his life and he won’t make it.

"Do you think he was right?" Xiao Lü said.

Although Xiao Lü didn’t say who "he" was, both of them knew full well.

Lü Shu opened his mouth, wanting to say something, but gently closed it again.

Half asleep and half awake, he would remember the look of those people standing under the tree smiling at him. Pure white, holy, luminous. Like feathers, like white camellias, like butterflies brushing past the heart.

So this is how the end of the story is.

A countless number of flowers, a countless amount of happiness and fulfillment, yet the heart is so barren.

...The dead are satisfied while the living are hollow and embarrassed.

"Then do you think he was wrong?" Xiao Lü tilted his head. The two sat quietly on the hillside, the distant fireworks city thriving, with cooking smoke swirling.

"...Right."

"Was he right?" Xiao Lü tilted his head.

"...Wrong."

Like a mischievous child, Lü Shu repeatedly corrected Xiao Lü’s words, murmuring and bewildered, not even knowing what he was denying.

"I know." Xiao Lü’s eyes sparkled, as if finally arriving at a correct answer. He suddenly grabbed Lü Shu’s collar and shouted: "You just think he’s foolish!"

You just think he’s foolish—you just think he’s foolish—you just think he’s foolish!!!

This sentence seems to echo in the ear, everything else drowned out.

Foolish...? Lü Shu was bewildered, tilting his head like an innocent child.

Maybe it’s true, that person was too right, too perfect, and also very smart. But why does he seem foolish?

He’s so smart, he fooled the whole world. But he’s also so foolish; didn’t he think about how painful it would be for those left behind? He thought about it, but he still did it.

He was too foolish, and in such trust Lü Shu was also too foolish. But if you say it wasn’t worth it, Lü Shu would be the first to stand up and say it’s wrong.

"...He’s just a big fool."

Moments later, the white-haired youth slowly shed tears.

"We are just a bunch of big fools."

"...This world is just one big fool."

Lü Shu murmured, his voice dry like grinding gravel. He repeated his contradictory words as if confirming some absurd truth.

The wind on the hillside gently blew by, bringing air mixed with floral fragrance and the scent of grass.

Xiao Lü still tilted his head, eyes too pure as if they could see through all falsehoods, gently asking: "So... are you happy now?"

Happy?

Lü Shu opened his mouth, wanting to say "happy," because this world indeed became beautiful as the person wished; wanting to say "fulfilled," because everyone found redemption. But his throat seemed blocked, unable to make any sound. An unexpected warm liquid welled up from his eyes, slid down his cheeks, and dripped on the newly sprouted grass beneath, leaving dark stains.

He was stunned, somewhat bewildered, raising his hand to touch the cold dampness.

...They were tears.

Only then did he realize he was crying.

It turns out he could still cry. In a time seemingly frozen, he thought he had long become like those cherished items, dried into moistureless specimens. Acting as the perfect successor, walking in the sunlit New World, receiving general admiration, yet like amber long hollowed out inside, devoid of life.

But tears were real, carrying a burning warmth, showing that his heart was still beating, still aching.

He thought of it, a few days ago, he passed by the bridge he hid under in his youth.

That bridge, tucked away many homeless children in the old days, he was once starved and frozen, and powerlessly watched life disappear there.

And now, the bridge remains, but inside, no shivering figures, replaced by children’s crayon graffiti. Warm sunlight spills over the entrance, what’s piled inside isn’t broken bedding, but brightly colored toys. In the distance, the flag of the relief station fluttering in the wind.

Resources abundant, basic needs satisfied, although classes still exist, yet under the bridge no longer exists a "Lü Shu."

This right outcome achieved through immense sacrifice acts as a spotless mirror, clearly reflecting what he perceives as his "base" selfishness—Su Ming’an was right.

He had no reason to prevent Su Ming’an’s actions back then.

"Haha..."

Beside him, Xiao Lü suddenly burst into laughter.

Laughing while crying, hands hitting the grass hard, pounding the splattering dirt.

"Admit it! Brother Tree!"

"We are all fools, all big fools!!!"

His innocent face momentarily aged, a hundred years passed, and the former Young Master turned into an old man.

"Su Ming’an is a fool! Lu is a fool! Eni is a fool! Noel is a fool! You are a fool!—A bunch of smart guys turned into fools for their ideals! This, is the funniest thing in the world!!!"

As if triggering a switch, looking at that bridge bathed in warm sunlight, Lü Shu’s throat emitted a sound neither laugh nor cry.

Initially suppressed and intermittent, the sound grew louder, shoulders shaking violently, tears flowing more fiercely. He laughed while crying, like a night watchman who finally went mad, collapsing as dawn arrived.

He tilted his head back and laughed hysterically, voice hoarse and unpleasant, like being cut by a knife.

...Fools, fools, all fools!

For this ray of dawn... For today’s dawn... For those children graffitiing the bridge... For the innocent smiles of countless future generations... We’ve made ourselves into fools!!!

Xiao Lü mimicked him, chuckling, messily wiping tears from his eyes with his clothing.

The two of them on the deserted hillside, towards the distant thriving city, like the most naive children, crying and laughing wildly.

"Thud."

Suddenly, Lü Shu bent down, picked up a smooth stone from the ground, and threw it with all his might toward the distant, empty hillside.

The stone drew a futile arc in the air, landing far in the grass, eliciting no echo.

Xiao Lü also picked up a stone, mimicking him, throwing it with force, as if into a wishing well.

"Thud, thud, thud."

The two fools stood on the hillside, under the gradually setting evening glow, tirelessly throwing stone after stone, like puppets repeatedly operating, laughing all the while as they threw.

As if by simply throwing endlessly, what was selflessly given by love could be returned to its owner.

As if by simply laughing endlessly, they could stop being fools.

They tossed stone after stone, venting pain without a place to settle, casting longing that elicits no response, as if calling for the shadows of yesteryear—like long ago tales of monkeys futilely grasping at the moon reflected on water.

"Bang, bang, bang."

The white-haired night watchman dredged, but there was nothing in the water.

Stubborn fools, laughing non-stop, crying non-stop, but there was nothing in the water.

...

But there was nothing in the water.

...