Rover knew he had broken his promise. This was the first time he had ever done so.
He remembered clearly—it was morning. Rover sat blankly by the entrance, watching as the Primordial Seawater that had flooded the basement slowly receded through the cracks. Only then did he step forward, crossing one stair after another, each step heavier than the last.
The empty room held no signs of life, as if none had ever existed.
The feeling was worse than helplessness—it was like a punch to the chest, sharp and suffocating.
The first light of dawn broke through the horizon, finally spilling onto the earth.
The day was about to begin, but some would never see it.
Rover leaned slowly against the wall, gazing at the golden, dancing rays of light. In that moment, emotions he had never felt before burst through like a collapsing dam.
He hated himself—why had he made that promise so carelessly? Why had he given that child a hope that could never be?
Time could not be reversed. If it could, the word "regret" would not be so universally despised.
A surviving note, freed from the blood that once held it down, drifted gently in the wind before landing in front of Rover.
On the back of the note were crooked, childlike words:
"Big brother, I don't regret it.
If you found this note, it means you really came back.
I'm really happy… because you didn't lie to me.
Thank you. I'm going into the water to find my family now!
I've always been the best at hide-and-seek."
Rover clenched the note tightly, his hands trembling as he folded it. Then, with his blade, he dug a small hole and placed the note inside with utmost solemnity.
The Primordial Seawater had dissolved the child's body, leaving only these final words for the world.
Yet, even for such a simple burial, Rover followed the rites of the Wangsheng Funeral Parlor, sending the child off step by step.
"Have you finished handling things?"
The voice from behind made Rover turn. In his eyes, a flame burned—not extinguished by death, but growing fiercer.
This was the first time Aalto had seen Rover like this, but he understood. There was no time for lengthy words of comfort. Time was not on their side.
"The source of The Lament has been traced. It was deployed by the Tethys System. It analyzed the black hole that the Shorekeeper crossed into this world, creating a new entrance in Fontaine. Then, through inducement, it drew large numbers of Tacet Discords into the black hole."
Aalto relayed everything at an urgent pace. Even as a virtual projection, he could sense the system nearing overload.
"What about the Shorekeeper?"
Rover stared at Aalto, the stabbing pain in his chest striking his restless heart once more.
"She disappeared inside the Tethys System... This message is the last thing she entrusted to me. She also said that only you have the highest authority to access the system's core..."
Aalto fell silent for a moment before performing a solemn salute.
"Rover, only you can end this disaster—one that was never meant for this world to bear.
The latest black hole has been marked for you. All of us in the Flower-Bearing Corps are ready, awaiting your arrival. When the time comes, we will sound the horn of counterattack!"
The virtual transmission cut off abruptly, but Aalto's words gave Rover the answer he had been waiting for.
He would do it. He had to.
This disaster, one that should never have existed, had to be ended by him. Only then could he face the emotions he had buried night after night.
They gnawed at his mind, raging like beasts. Even if Rover refused, they would force him forward.
Gripping his sword hilt, Rover slowly stood. In the void before him, a red dot glowed at the center of the map.
To the east of this island, in the middle of the ocean, lay the distant town of Petrichor—over a thousand miles away.
It was a journey that should have been impossible to complete in a short time.
But Rover knew he had to make it. Even if he had to sail alone in a tiny boat, he would reach that destination. This was his promise to everyone.
This time, he would not break it.
Rover suddenly remembered something. Reaching into his coat, he pulled out a stone he always carried—proof of a deity from an ancient nation.
It was the only thing he could rely on now.
(Note: For details, refer to Chapter 33.)
...
"So this is the truth Furina would rather die than reveal?"
Neuvillette questioned the performer on stage before him. Focalors smiled faintly. In the vast opera house, only the two of them remained.
The Hydro Dragon Sovereign saw in her the same stubbornness that Furina had—a determination that had driven them both down a path no one else could understand, even if it meant five hundred years of solitude.
All his doubts and accusations faded into silence.
"I understand your resolve. I will arrange your trial as soon as possible."
Neuvillette turned away, shadows obscuring his conflicted expression. His grip on his cane tightened, as if he could channel all his frustration into it.
"No. I need someone of high authority to witness it. Only then will the energy produced be enough to kill me completely—leaving no trace behind."
Neuvillette did not turn back. He knew who she meant. Instead, he strode forward, walking straight toward the edge of that space.
"I hope you enjoyed these five hundred years of performances. This will be... our last meeting."
Focalors bowed once more in farewell. But Neuvillette still did not turn. He merely paused, unwilling to be a spectator—choosing instead to listen, as if that way, his eyes would never have to see the final answer.
Yet his ears told him everything would end with that trial.
"Is an Outlander enough?"
"More than enough."
Those were their final words, lingering in the opera house like an echo.
After seeing off her last guest, Focalors sat slowly upon a throne. Above her, her own Damocles' Sword hung silently, waiting.
...
(End)
(Next Chapter: Act II – A Desperate Escort from a Thousand Miles Away (I) (Main Story).
This act will be divided into the Aether Route and the Rover Route, marked in the chapter titles.
Many familiar characters will appear—stay tuned, dear readers. It's all climax, no tragedy.)