The Truth of the Afterseer

Lin Ye's multicolored pupils settled on deep blue—the color of "resolve."

"That was my sin. You shouldn't have to bear it."

The Afterseer's body stopped trembling. It looked into Lin Ye's eyes for a long time, then nodded.

The Afterseer began returning the memories. Not all at once, but piece by piece, like carefully dismantling an old house that had stood for countless eras, taking down each brick and handing it to Lin Ye.

The first memory was the final moment of a tiny civilization. No one remembered the name of that civilization anymore; even it had forgotten it. Within the Definition Sea, its Definition System had completely withered away after creating no new definitions for too long. Before the civilization's last individual died, they used their final strength of definition to write one sentence: "We existed."

There was no anger, no grief—only a simple statement.

Lin Ye accepted that memory. A star appeared on his cloak, faint but steady.

The second memory was the self-destruction of a medium-sized civilization. Not because its definitions had run dry, but because of civil war. The civilization split into two factions, using definitions to attack one another. In the end, both sides activated the "Self-Destruct Definition" at the same time—not to deny their own existence, but to erase every record of their civilization's definitions. They would rather not exist than be defined by the other side.

Lin Ye accepted that memory. Another star appeared on his cloak, of medium brightness, pulsing quickly but without disorder.

The third, the fourth, the fifth.

Harmonic Leaptone counted from the side. A thousand. Ten thousand. A hundred thousand. A million.

Changes began appearing in Lin Ye's body. Not cracks, but "transparency." As his definition core received these memories, it needed to temporarily expand its storage capacity. The