We're Going Home

Chapter 42: We're Going Home

The so-called "bubble," represents a state of meaninglessness, a meaningless outcome.

The villagers in the village were like that.

They were experimental consumables being raised in captivity, their identities, backgrounds, behavioral patterns, and even the instincts that living beings should follow, maliciously tampered with and reshaped into rigid, meticulously designed programs. They were then used as a greenhouse to cultivate emotions.

Bella was also like that.

Except, compared to the villagers, she wasn't even human. She was merely a product fabricated from the emotions of hundreds, even thousands, of individuals.

The meaning of survival for ordinary people is simple: they live because they are alive. For more outstanding individuals, their meaning of survival is to contribute to societal development. As for their existence here, it was solely due to the experimental whim of some mage.

—And it was a failed experiment.

Iris was shocked by the cruelty of the experiment, her voice hoarse, "So all of this... is meaningless?"

"Am I... something like this?"

Bella seemed to have lost all color, almost physically.

Her eyes were unfocused, her form transparent. Anyone could tell her time was running out.

"So, I'm not even human."

"Who said that!"

After a moment of silence, Linton softly refuted the girl's words.

"Existence precedes essence. In the human world, everyone starts with nothing. Later, as their thoughts gradually enrich, they develop concepts and hope to become the beings they wish to be."

"A person's essence isn't something they are born with, but something they continuously upgrade and create through life."

"Bella, the only difference between you and others is your starting attributes, but you are still a living person, without a doubt."

"The notes say you can also resonate with the emotions of others. This shows that although you were born different from everyone else, you weren't confined by the single attribute you were given. Like all humans, you have infinite possibilities to discover as you grow."

He gently stroked the girl's hair and said, "This is the meaning of our existence!"

"Waaah—"

Intense emotional fluctuations rippled through Bella. Her knees bent slightly, almost touching the ground. But at this moment, as she was about to fall into a vortex of immense fear, the person beside her became her only lifeline.

A faint trace of color flickered in the girl's eyes, but it vanished in an instant.

She choked out, "But... I'm a bad kid."

"Are you?" Linton asked softly.

"Yes."

"Really?"

The repeated questioning made Bella unable to hold on any longer.

She threw herself into the man's arms, tears like liquid mercury streaming down her young face. The moment they left her skin, they dissipated.

"I'm not a bad kid! I'm not!!"

"Bella doesn't want to lie... Bella just wants to be with Mommy and Daddy... Bella doesn't want to hurt anyone..."

Her heartbroken cries carried far, far away.

"Daddy... Mommy... Big brother..."

"I'm here."

Linton's voice was as light as a feather that could melt at a touch, his gaze as gentle as a pond rippling warmly under the sun.

"Bella, I still remember the promise we made when we first met."

The girl opened her tear-blurred eyes and saw the man, his features indistinct in the dim light, speaking with infinite tenderness:

"Don't cry."

"—We're going home."

Iris bit her lower lip, watching the last strand of the girl's hair turn into specks of starlight. She watched the Necromancer, his weariness fading from his eyes, slowly stand up.

"Are we... going back now?"

"No."

Linton shook his head unexpectedly.

"Things aren't over yet."

He hadn't heard the notification for the second task completion.

"How could that be..." Iris stammered, "Didn't we already figure out the situation in this village? Could there be some hidden truth?"

"Not necessarily. Without any other specific clues, the situation in this village is essentially settled," Linton picked up the notebook and said calmly, "Iris, why would this notebook, which records all the experimental processes, be placed here instead of in the mage's study? Logically, even failed experiments would be preserved, right?"

Iris wanted to say that maybe the mage forgot to take it with him, but then she remembered the strange feeling she had when they first entered.

"It is indeed strange. It's as if... it was deliberately placed here, waiting for someone to find it."

"I have that feeling too."

Linton frowned deeply.

However, as he recalled everything up to this point, he couldn't find any other oversights.

"Where exactly did things go wrong?"

He opened the notebook again.

The notebook was as usual, densely filled with the process of the current experiment.

Linton read through each paragraph, line by line, still unable to find where any hidden information might be.

But as he turned to the last page, something unexpected happened.

The last page of the notebook was filled with a large amount of blank space, containing only two words.

"—Hello, sir."

"Hey! What's wrong with you!"

A girl's startled and anxious cry reached his ears. Linton wanted to say "I'm fine" as usual, but at this moment, his mind felt like it was being torn apart by a vortex, unable to think. His vision began to distort inexplicably, the sight in his eyes suddenly shattering. Large patches of black rapidly spread, until they drowned out all color from his vision.

The next second, dim light illuminated the world once more.

Linton squinted, observing the situation before him.

At this moment, he seemed to be in a strange study.

He didn't know how large the room was, because the walls on all four sides, from floor to ceiling, were filled with all sorts of books. The characters used for the titles of some of these books were ones Linton had never seen before.

A moment later, he directed his gaze towards the only source of light in the room.

There, like an eternal lamp, it flickered on a mahogany desk. The light was so dim that it couldn't even sketch a profile of the person behind the desk.

That person held a book in their hands, seemingly waiting for Linton to finish observing. Once their gaze locked onto him, the person slowly spoke.

"Hello, sir."

It was a voice with a strange and eerie tone, neither rough nor sharp, seemingly belonging to a man of average build.

"Who are you?"

Linton asked a very straightforward question, but his tone was clearly not friendly.

He believed that anyone dragged into such a strange place inexplicably wouldn't be in a good mood.

The man didn't get angry at his rudeness. He simply put down the book, clasped his hands, and rested his chin on them.

"If you're referring to a name... Volg. You probably haven't heard of me."

However, Linton's reply surprised Iris.

"Of course I've heard of you."

His eyes were sharp, his voice cold.

"Volg, one of the Twelve Stars of the Truth Society."

"Am I right?"