[You passed through the boundary between life and death amid the surges of wild magic. Clearly, in this wasteland where chaos and magic intertwine, you have gradually realized that this fucked-up world needs disorderly magic to create dazzling miracles. What does that tell us? Life needs a little uncertainty. The world is collapsing, civilization is being destroyed, yet people still survive in the cracks, forge paths through confusion, and cast their light upon this shattered land. As one of the lucky survivors standing on the shoulders of those who came before, you will need this.]
Tang Qi studied the words in the Journal and fell silent for a long time.
Honestly, it was rare to see the Journal being so serious.
He had always believed that this Journal possessed neither subjectivity nor consciousness.
It had never referred to itself as "I," either. It merely described the experiences recorded by its owner—himself—in a mocking tone, like a foul-mouthed poet.
But it never demanded that Tang Qi do anything or guided him toward a particular choice.
It simply used rewards to encourage him to participate in every event, objectively recording each story before him, as though having a historian preserve history that should otherwise have vanished.
Even if the person recording history inevitably had subjective leanings, history itself was objective.
Viewed that way, the Journal seemed more like the will of this world.
It wanted someone to record the world's history, and it feared being forgotten.
If he looked at the Journal from that perspective—"The world is collapsing, the land is falling apart. Ha, maybe this really is the end of the world?"
Tang Qi shrugged, but the speculation did not frighten him.
How did that saying go again?
``` [Yesterday is history, tomorrow is a mystery. Today alone is