Eighty-four-year-old Fuli lay quietly on the old wicker lounge chair on his balcony. The afternoon sun shone gently through the sparse clouds, its warmth seeping into his thin clothes, bringing a lazy comfort that was almost a luxury.
"Dad..."
"Hehe, go on." Waving away his worried daughters, the dying man closed his eyes, his consciousness uncontrollably drifting back through his life.
In his childhood, he had followed his unreliable parents all over the world, which was a headache to even think about. Later, they temporarily settled in Europe, but at the age of eight, he returned to Shenzhou alone. From then on, Fuli's life followed the most ordinary path: elementary school, middle school, high school, and then a good university.
After graduation, through the enthusiastic introduction of a neighborly aunt, he met his lovely wife, Qingque. Of course, she herself, when held in his arms, would often complain that she was the one who should be called "big sister." It was true, the age gap between them was almost ten years... But look at that stunning face! That graceful and delicate figure! That stable and respectable civil servant job! And those several properties, storefronts, and garages in the city!
When taking inventory of the dowry back then, Fuli had once suspected that his wife was involved in some kind of bribery or corruption, and was even mentally prepared to visit her in prison. But on their wedding night, looking at that nation-toppling face under the phoenix crown, he finally, with the tragic resolve of "If I don't go to hell, I can't let anyone else have her," engaged in a deep and thorough exchange of life's great harmony with her.
The days that followed were, like for most people, plain and uneventful, a long, quiet stream. Well, how many earth-shattering events can there be in the world? Stumbling into a major incident every time you go out doesn't make you a protagonist; it makes you a jinx.
The only unexpected episode was probably Fu Xuan's accidental intrusion. Hmm, afterwards, Qingque had brazenly admitted that she couldn't stand seeing the hardworking general always being alone, so she had set up a scheme and trapped them both. As expected, he and Fu Xuan had joined forces to "punish" this audacious little sparrow severely. With her direct superior right there in the same bed, she didn't even need to file a report to take a leave of absence.
One thing led to another, and a subtle but stable balance formed between the three of them, and they eventually tacitly accepted this complicated relationship. After all, having reached this point, could they really separate? Of course, on the surface, General Fu Xuan was still the decisive and ever-overworking general of the Luofu, who had only ever taken one long leave of absence, which lasted for half a year. The outside world had many theories about it, but in reality, she was pregnant and needed to rest.
Besides that, the world had also been quietly changing. Thanks to 99% of the world's Honkai energy being confined to the moon, without the obstruction and conversion of the Cocoon of Finality, a purer Imaginary energy once again descended upon the solar system. At first, many on the Honkai side were not used to it, but they quickly adapted. Fuli didn't need to adapt to anything; he was just a truly ordinary person back then, and even had to rely on a formation secretly set up by Qingque to synchronize their physical fitness when they were intimate, lest her husband be overwhelmed.
However, unlike Qingque, who just wanted to live a quiet life, Fu Xuan's attitude towards the supernatural was much more open. By a stroke of fate, the middle-aged Fuli came into contact with these mysterious things. Already used to a simple life with a wife on each arm, he had no intention of diving in to become some peerless master. He just practiced casually in his spare time, following some manuscripts from Fu Xuan's desk.
Eight years passed like this. On an ordinary weekend afternoon, Fuli naturally advanced to the Star-Creation level—what was called the Finality-level in the old era. He himself didn't think it was a big deal. Life went on as usual, with the mundane realities of daily life. Only occasionally, when he learned that his wives were having some minor troubles, would he secretly intervene and resolve them without a sound.
That being said, Fuli always felt that they had long since noticed his changes. The reason? After he reached the Critical-class, Qingque never set up that formation to synchronize their physical fitness again. And when he stepped into the S-rank threshold, Fu Xuan didn't even dare to easily activate the Matrix of Prescience. You have to understand, in the past, she loved to synchronize her senses with Qingque to experience double the pleasure.
---Don't ask how they found out, just know that they did!---
And so, time flowed like a gentle stream, quietly passing for several more decades. Qingque and Fu Xuan passed away one after another. Don't get the wrong idea, they could have lived much longer. Not to mention the increase in their essential life force through getting stronger, with the twenty-second century on the horizon, there were countless life-extending methods. They just didn't want to. Not everyone wants to live forever.
Fuli was the same. He always remembered a line he loved from Ultraman Tiga: "To live a short life, and leave their achievements to be inherited by future generations. That's what humans do, and it's truly amazing."
However, the Star-Creation level was a fundamental transformation of one's essential life force. Star-Creation was equivalent to the Herrscher of Finality, and the Herrscher of Finality had thirteen aspects of the Sequence Herrschers. This meant that for an individual to reach Star-Creation, the mass or scale of their existence needed to be at least fourteen times greater than that of a single Grand Sequend. This alone destined Fuli to be unable to grow old and die naturally like an ordinary person.
And so, on the lounge chair, he slowly lowered his head, his calm gaze falling on the silvery-white holy lance that had appeared at some point and had already pierced his heart. The shaft of the lance flowed with a cold and holy light. The all-encompassing power was perfectly fused at its tip, yet strangely, it brought no pain, only a sense of liberating tranquility.
"You're here," he said softly, as if waiting for a long-lost old friend.
A gorgeous dress woven from light patterns and deep purple, its hem like a nebula blooming in the night sky;
Long, silver-white hair like moonlight, reaching down to her waist, like ice frozen for ten thousand years;
Ribbons of pure Imaginary energy floated around her, each one a winding, miniature galaxy;
Like a prism reflecting the end of the multiverse, the personification of the moment of finality and extinction.
"..." The silver-haired girl was expressionless. A flicker of struggle passed through her pale golden eyes, but it was quickly gone. With her at the center, the entire world seemed to be accelerating its contraction and collapse. All color, sound, and existence ultimately converged on her, and on the holy lance of judgment in her hand.
"Is it time to restart again?" But Fuli seemed to have seen through everything. He struggled to raise his hand, and with the last of his strength, almost lovingly caressed the girl's cold, smooth cheek.
"Thank you for letting me live such a happy life this time..."
"I want to help you, but unfortunately, right now, I can't..." His voice grew weaker, and the color of his body faded like a receding tide, turning transparent.
"But, don't worry..." His final words escaped like a sigh. "Just as we promised at the very beginning..."
"No matter how many times we repeat this, I will definitely..."
The next moment, or rather, the previous moment—
Late March 2014, in an ordinary apartment in Nagazora City, Far East.
"Fuli, open up, open up, open the door! Don't hide in there! I know you're home!" The shrewish landlady's pounding and shouting were loud enough for the entire neighborhood to hear, and successfully woke the sleeping boy in the room.
He opened his eyes and scanned the familiar yet strange surroundings in a daze: The cheap wooden desk from the second-hand market gave off an unpleasant smell, and the old laptop on it was humming. On the seventeen-inch LCD screen was a half-edited, unsaved WPS file, a symbol of the failed author's sad reality of falling asleep mid-writing the previous night.
"I'm... reborn?" He sat up, holding his head, his eyes filled with vigilance and scrutiny. "Or is this just another new trick by those bastards from the Herrscher of Domination?"
Having just experienced the excruciating pain of being pierced by the Sword of Flamescion, Fuli, who believed he had just retired from the brutal Theater of Domination, was now full of mistrust for everything around him.