#A remnant within a mysterious Historical Void
I walked on, planning to cover another stellar distance before hibernating.
The last Rock Worm that lived alongside me froze to death. Its entire kind had accompanied me for one hundred and twenty cycles, two springs, and two bitter winters. I carved a hole in the ice and buried it there, so it would remain eternally preserved, just like the ancient creatures within the glaciers. The star's light grew ever dimmer. Spring was about to end, and the long winter was approaching. The snow gradually thickened, and dark clouds gathered overhead, blocking the last light of clear skies. The snowy world darkened once again. The blizzard obscured the distant peaks, but the cold wind would not stop howling.-On this wasteland, frozen for untold millennia, even time seemed to have frozen. The God of Order scarcely deigned to look upon this barren land. It was the perfect refuge for fugitives fleeing for their lives.
The goddess said that the land under her protection was the last place of peace. She was right, because the remaining eighty percent of the land and oceans had all become a world of ice and snow. She said that civilization and life could continue only within her embrace, but I did not believe there was any point in perpetuating a world that repeated the same meaningless slaughter and plunder. Under her rules, I should have been disposed of when the previous winter arrived, turned into nutrients and a seedbed for the birth of new life. It was the same for every species. Every living being had to obey her arrangements.
Life born in spring had to be disposed of the following spring, and the same held true for life born in winter. Death allowed new life to be born, and gave the living enough resources. If there were still too many, then the goddess would decide. Life had no meaning, and neither did being alive.
Although I had fled in defiance of her rules, all that seemed to have been added to the meaning of my existence was a precarious life on the run.
Heavy snow covered the distant peaks. Only by digging through several meters of snow could I see the frozen soil in which roots could not take hold, and the bare fruit trees. My trunk could not withstand the wind and snow, and the wilderness lacked the resources to keep all my body parts functioning properly. So I snapped off my arms, reduced my root system, and discarded my eyes, leaving only the parts essential to sustaining life. Beneath me lay an entire frozen ocean, preserving aquatic plants and animals so lifelike they could have served as food. But I would have had to dig down at least ten meters. By the time I reached them, I would probably have withered and died right where I stood. I needed to find the enormous remains of ancient creatures within the glaciers before the bitter winter arrived, and use them to help me survive the cold nights and long slumber, just as I had last time.
The word "ocean" had not originally existed in my knowledge base, but when I arrived here, it appeared in my mind automatically.
I had read it somehow. It must have had something to do with my ability. After "ocean," more words gradually appeared as I traveled, such as "ocean current," "monsoon," "grazing," and "symbiosis"... They were not my conjectures, but language that had once existed in reality. And so I grew increasingly curious about this snowfield. Perhaps it held an extraordinary history buried beneath it.
I originally planned to insert this into the main text in sections, but for the sake of continuity and ease of reading, I decided to present it separately as a serialized side story instead.
*Additional background on the Monarch of Decay as an individual deity.