Chapter 136
She blocked the wind mixed with Originium dust, and a curled-up figure resembling a young girl appeared on the wall beside her.
There was nothing there.
The sword is still in the city. But she has nothing.
No, to be precise, it wasn't nothing—she received an answer, a response. A disappointing...ending.
"Laevateinn," she whispered. The chaotic memories in her mind coalesced into a clear picture.
"I'm back."
Then the sword appeared beside her.
"Welcome back, Surtr." The sword rested beside her, its blade wreathed in the familiar flames.
The sword was always by her side; the sword was always waiting for her to remember her name.
"It seems like I've wasted my time." The girl hugged her sword and said softly, "Before I died, after I died, and during the time I came back to life, everything seems to be the same, not much different."
"Do you regret it?" Jian asked.
"Why would I regret it?" The girl shook her head. "I just had unrealistic expectations of unrealistic people, and beyond those expectations, all my goals were achieved."
She reached out, and a jasmine flower, buried under a rock, floated to her side through the storm of Originium. The flower was somewhat withered, yet it still released a delicate fragrance. It had thirteen white petals, and under her will, not a single one was torn from its calyx in the storm.
"I fight for myself, for my ideals, my morals, my thoughts. I live for them, and I will die for them. As for whether others can grow because of my actions, or whether civilization can be liberated because of my death, that is none of my concern."
"You don't need them," the sword said. "You're finally able to think from a god's perspective."
"Yes, I don't need them," the girl replied. "Their growth is their harvest. Their struggle is their choice. Their decline is their fate—their success or failure is none of my concern. I just need to do what I want to do."
"So, what are you planning to do?" Jian asked.
"Go and fulfill the request, go and offer help," the girl replied, rising and carrying her sword through the storm.
"Mortals are merely instruments for issuing commissions; their words and actions are meaningless to me. I should neither rejoice nor grieve because of them—in other words, a commission has only two elements: content and reward. Everything else is superfluous."
"It's superfluous, so there's no need to be presumptuous."
The jasmine flower fell in front of her, shattered by the Originium Wind, and fell to her feet, where she trampled it into dust.
She ultimately failed to grasp the little flower—because she had no reason to grasp it anymore.
"I will not regret it." She walked through the storm and left the city—for it held no value for her anymore.
"I shouldn't regret it." Surtr sat by the city wall, looking down at the wasteland to her left and the steel forest to her right. She saw the city slowly advancing through the wasteland, and the bustling streets forged of steel.
She wandered around the city for several hours.
They then wandered aimlessly for several hours along the city's crawling path through the desolate wilderness on the outskirts of the city.
She remembered that little flower, the jasmine that appeared in her hallucination.
She didn't know why she thought of it, but she felt she didn't need to limit her thoughts.
Many seemingly plausible but ultimately false scenarios kept popping into my mind, and a myriad of colorful thoughts were swirling in my mind.
There's no need to regret it.
There's no need to regret it.
Who you are is only a matter for yourself. Even if you are truly a psychopath, truly craving pain and blood, can't you still achieve your goals?
"So what if I have some unusual hobbies? Does that mean I can't protect them? Can't I take care of them? Can't I keep them from getting hurt?"
"Ridiculous," she murmured, addressing herself and her sword. "I can control myself. Since I can control myself, then everything is fine."
There's no need to change what's already been decided.
There's no need to back down now that a decision has been made.
She pressed her hand against her heart, feeling her restless heart gradually calm down.
She has made her decision and doesn't need anyone to comfort her.
Another day of recommendations being banned, so painful _(:з"∠)_
Memory Fragments: Dragon Clan (Copyright) Part Two
Japan.
Tokyo.
The headquarters building of a large multinational heavy industrial company.
Many important figures, whose stories could only be heard of in the streets and alleys, gathered together. Some were young, some were old. Some were angry, some were resentful. Some were dressed in suits, some followed Japanese tradition, the higher their status, the more retro their attire—they were summoned together, and their small actions were enough to shake this island nation.
They all knelt on the ground.
"Strictly speaking, I'm not really interested in your Japanese branch's little schemes. White Dragon, black dragons, all sorts of random dragons... it doesn't matter. Anyway, I've got to kill everything in the Norse Pantheon from top to bottom. No matter how interesting these weird things you come up with are, they're just ants to me."
The red-haired woman stood in the center of the meeting room, taking in all the fearful, resentful, and angry gazes—she stood, and everyone else had to kneel. Being able to kneel was, in fact, a sign of ability; apart from a few exceptionally poised young or middle-aged people, the vast majority could only prostrate themselves on the ground.
Of course, lying face down is better than lying down.
Because outside the meeting room, those half-human, half-dragon, neither-human-nor-dragon creatures were all lying intact on the ground or scattered in a pool.
At her feet, an elderly man wearing a classic trench coat and bearing the 'Ju' family crest on his back was still struggling.
So she put a little force on her toes.
"But I absolutely cannot tolerate betrayal, especially betrayal by outsiders. Don't you agree, Doctor. Herzog?"
The old man beneath her feet vomited a large pool of blood, because her step had broken his spine.
However, what surprised the old man even more than the pain was what she said.
"How... how did you know!"
"I want to know, and I'll find out." The red-haired woman bent down slightly, reached out, and plunged her hand into the old man's chest.
When she pulled her hand away, a wooden clapper, still attached to her flesh and blood, was already in her grasp.