novelraw Chapter 218 : We Shall Meet in Canaan~
Chapter 218 : We Shall Meet in Canaan~
Chapter 218: We Shall Meet in Canaan~
Emis's voice flowed like a gentle stream, melodious and winding.
Yet within her voice carried a warmth enough to melt glaciers, flowing unceasingly from a distant past until this very moment.
It was only now that Rast finally understood Emis’s current situation.
Time and years resembled a great river that had flowed eternally, surging forward without end.
However, within this river of time, there existed a concept known as the “present node.”
Beyond the “present node,” the River of Time branched endlessly like a colossal tree named Time, spawning infinite tributaries... every subtle divergence in detail, every shift in possibility, would give rise to a brand-new future path.
Yet before the “present node,” the River of Time possessed only a single main current—what was referred to as predetermined history, history that had already occurred, had been recorded, and had been fixed.
To the vast majority of living beings, dwelling within the River of Time was akin to being a pebble or grain of sand carried within its flow—drifting ever downward with the current—
And in that process of drifting, the pebbles and sand would be continually eroded by the river's current, their once pristine flesh and soul slowly etched with the marks of time, gradually becoming weary, aged, and weathered... until they grew old and stepped into death.
Yet among the countless living beings like grains of sand, endlessly struggling and drifting within the River of Time, there existed a rare few exceptions.
After enduring long struggles, relentless efforts, and an unending pursuit, they finally broke free from the shackles of time—like a stubborn stone that stood unyielding within the river’s course. No matter how the river’s current surged or lashed against it, the stone remained unchanged, neither drifting with the flow like the sand nor worn down by the river’s relentless current.
They had earned the qualification to transcend the River of Time and reign above the flow of time itself... as once described by the legendary Gravekeeper Noah—beings unbound by the Turning of the Eras, capable of true Eternal Immortality.
In other words, the so-called “Angels.”
Only beings of Legendary Tier possessed the ability to vaguely and narrowly perceive the passage of the River of Time.
Only true Angels could escape the torrent of years, exist independently outside the bounds of time, no longer stained by its passage. No matter how many years went by, their soul and body would always remain whole, just as in the beginning.
Thus, although they retained the traits of their original race, in reality... every Angel had undergone a fundamental transformation in the essence of life, and stood apart from the races still bound by time.
What Dean Silver and Emis referred to as “Temporal Uniqueness” was the very manifestation of that difference.
The instant they ascended as Angels, they existed simultaneously at every moment in time—whether young or old, whether in the past, present, or future...
To a mythic being who had truly ascended to Angelhood, there was never a moment of weakness throughout the entire River of Time they had experienced.
Even if someone used all manner of methods to travel across time and arrive in the past, when the Angel had not yet ascended and was merely a powerless infant, they would still be facing a true Angel.
For this reason, to a true Angel, traveling through time and rewriting past history... was as simple as eating or drinking.
However, due to the existence of the “Corrective Force of History,” few Angels would ever actively alter the past—though Angels could rewind time and exist outside of it, that did not mean they could disregard the inertia of that immense river.
It was a force that had flowed from time immemorial, bearing countless eras, billions of lives, and millions of years—a grand power whose momentum no individual could resist.
It was akin to a drowning man, who might, through personal strength, manage to climb to the shore... but attempting to redirect an entire mighty river and erect a dam that halted its course would be an endeavor millions of times more monumental.
If one merely used time travel to tweak some insignificant detail of the past, to change the life of one or two inconsequential individuals, it might be possible... but the massive tidal wave of historical destiny could never be altered. Should anyone try to rewrite the course of civilization’s historical trajectory, the flood called the “Corrective Force of History” would mercilessly crush them into dust—Angels included.
Moreover, the vast majority of Angels were beings that had survived since the Age of Gods, having already lived through countless long years... their perspectives had long surpassed those of worldly beings, standing higher and seeing further than most, akin to deities gazing down from the clouds upon the mortal realm.
After countless eras, these Angels had become more divine than human. The joys and sorrows of ordinary life—they had likely witnessed them ten thousand times over—only events involving other mythic beings or epochal Turning of the Eras could stir any emotion within them.
Therefore, the majority of mythic beings atop the Threshold of Seraphim... not only would not take the initiative to traverse time and change the past, but they would even actively preserve the inertia and trajectory of history to avoid inciting turbulence in the River of Time and suffering the backlash of the Corrective Force of History.
However—
As the saying goes, “There are exceptions to everything.”
Among those Angels who dwelled eternally above the clouds, there existed exceptions like Emis.
According to the original history—the predetermined path of the River of Time—Emis at this moment should have fallen into a state of rampage, unleashing the catastrophe known as the “Disaster of the Mechanists” in the Sixth Era.
She should have become the Judgment Angel who wielded the rules of “Destruction” and “Judgment,” slaughtering all living beings within her sight. Among them, naturally, should have been Rast and Dean Silver, who had intruded upon this place.
And yet, in this moment, Emis had refused to carry out any of it.
Even if this was predetermined history, defying the original trajectory of events would inevitably invoke correction from the River of Time...
Even though Emis knew well that Rast and Dean Silver had already prepared for an emergency disengagement, and that even the assault of the rampaging Judgment Angel would not truly harm Rast in the slightest, and that they would ultimately be able to retreat safely—
Still, Emis could never bring herself to strike Rast.
He was the boy who had once shared life and death with her. Moreover, during the long slumber within the Watchtower for the sake of the Artificial Angel Project, he was the only thought and hope that had ever dwelled in her heart.
Even if it was just a staged performance, one where no one would be hurt, simply to fool the River of History and to satisfy the so-called “Historical Momentum”...
She could not bring herself to act in it.
...
“Xiao Ai, is this... really necessary?”
Rast gazed at Emis’s right hand—pale and slender, though faint hints of pale silver steel could be seen beneath the surface.
Between the golden-haired girl’s fingers, there was clearly a slight haze.
The pure moonlight illuminated her pale face, but the light bent subtly, carrying an unnatural blur.
As if time and space themselves were distorted around her.
This abnormal distortion in time and space... might be strange to others, but to Rast, it was a feeling all too familiar.
Each time he entered or exited a Nightworld Remnant through the entrance of the Nightworld, he would undergo the exact same phenomenon—his body shrouded in night, and space-time rippling in tandem.
However, this was the first time Rast had seen, within the Nightworld, someone other than himself or the Black Night Travelers—an Instance Native—suffering the same space-time disorder.
He understood that this must be the backlash of the so-called “Corrective Force of History” that Emis had mentioned.
In the original history, the Judgment Angel Emis—source of the Disaster of the Mechanists—should have lost control and rampaged, indiscriminately massacring all living beings...
Yet at this moment, she had chosen to reunite with Rast, rewriting the course of historical momentum.
In that case, the inertia of history was triggered, and the Corrective Force responded... unleashing its backlash upon Emis, attempting to force all events back onto their original, correct trajectory.
However, though her entire form was now enveloped in warped time, rendered illusory and blurred, taking on a surreal unreality—
Emis was still smiling.
It was the same gentle smile from Rast’s memories.
“Of course it’s necessary.”
“Even if you’re unwilling to admit it, I know clearly myself...”
“Although on the outside, you always like to put on an air of premature depth, acting mysterious and mature... deep down, you're really just a fragile, lonely little boy afraid of being alone.”
She smiled faintly, gently caressing the contour of Rast’s cheek with her pale, slender fingers—imbued with the cold touch unique to steel.
Deep within those sky-blue eyes, there was an undisguised longing and affection.
“After going through so much, enduring a journey of endless hardship and searching through a long, meandering passage of time... tossed about and beaten down again and again, you finally made it here.”
“Crossing the expanse of time, you finally discovered the truth of Canaan. You finally got to meet me once again.”
“And if this reunion, after so many years apart, ends only in seeing a Judgment Angel controlled by the ‘Holy Grail’, a being driven solely by the will to destroy and obliterate...”
“If what you see is a cold-blooded killing machine bearing the face of your dearest person, launching an attack against you...”
“Then even if you say nothing, Rast, your heart would surely be weighed down with sadness... wouldn't it?”
Emis cupped Rast’s cheeks, gently pressing her forehead to his.
Though what passed between their skin was only the cold, metallic sensation of Emis’s steel body...
From the moment he had been trapped in Deep Blue Port, never had Rast felt his heart so closely nestled against Emis’s.
Flesh and steel, human and machine—but the warmth transmitted through their souls was blazing, vivid.
“I don’t want our first reunion in the real world after so many years apart... to end in such a ridiculous, tragic clash.”
“Even more so, I don’t want you, Rast, to fall into sorrow because you didn’t see the person you had hoped for.”
“So, even if it brings about backlash from the Corrective Force of History, I don’t care. This is a choice I made of my own will.”
Emis leaned close and whispered into Rast’s ear.
This time, her voice bore none of the earlier gentleness—only resolute finality.
“I can’t bear to see you sad, especially if it’s because of me—”
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"Therefore, there's no room for negotiation on this matter."
Such slightly domineering words caused Rast’s thoughts to pause momentarily.
Only after a while did he regain his composure and gently nod.
Since being trapped in Deep Blue Port, Rast had grown used to being alone, living only for himself, trusting only himself... for such a long time, he had already forgotten the feeling of having someone to rely on, someone standing behind him—
This clearly was not a burden or a weight, but something so joyful.
However, if it was Xiao Ai...
Then, to show a moment of weakness, to choose to depend on her—perhaps that wasn’t a wrong choice after all.
Desolate winds swept across steel wreckage. On the silent ruins, only two closely nestled hearts remained, burning ever more fervently, scorching hot.
...
"Ahem, ahem. Although this might kill the mood a bit, there’s still something I want to ask—since with your current condition, if I don’t ask quickly, there might not be another chance."
Dean Silver let out a soft cough. "Xiao Ai, you said earlier that even Angels, if they were to travel through time, would suffer backlash from the Corrective Force of History..."
"Even beings as strong as Angels might be able to rewrite certain details of history, yet they still cannot alter the grand trajectory of predetermined history..."
"Then what about him?"
Dean Silver used her fluffy, large tail to point at Rast. "The things he personally traveled back in time and participated in... surely they can’t be called trivial ‘branches and details’—for instance, the Battle of the Fractured Coastline, or disrupting the Death God’s Divine Ascension Ceremony—these are earth-shaking events that directly influence the trajectory of an entire epoch’s civilization."
"Why then has he never once suffered the effects of the Corrective Force of History?"
Upon hearing this, Rast’s eyes could not help but narrow.
This indeed had always been his doubt—what he experienced was not a mere echo or instance of history, but the actual past... a fact already confirmed by Grey.
If not for Rast’s existence, then the current Angel of Fate, the leader who guided humanity out of the Dark Age in the Sixth Era and established the prosperous Federal civilization, Grey, might never have existed.
"To be honest, I’m not too sure either."
Emis gently shook her head. "Though I’ve ascended as an Angel, ever since I joined the Artificial Angel Project, I’ve been asleep at the bottom of the Watchtower... even though I briefly awakened due to a rampage, once I suppressed the will of the Judgment Holy Grail again, I voluntarily sealed myself and entered a prolonged slumber."
"This state lasted until today... to avoid deterioration over time, I severed all perception of the outside world and placed myself in deep sleep, just to reunite with Rast in the future."
"Therefore, I don’t clearly know what happened afterward, during that transitional period between the Sixth and Seventh Eras, when the old history merged with present-day civilization."
"However—"
Her fingertips once again brushed across Rast’s cheek, with lingering reluctance. "I suppose the anomalies on Rast’s body—"
"Must all relate to the Shoreguards... and to Sister Grey."
In Emis’s sky-blue eyes, a trace of recollection flickered. "Any Angel of the Higher Sequence Tiers can rewind time, allowing their imprint to exist in every moment of time."
"Yet among all the Higher Sequence Tiers, only the ‘Fate’ Sequence has truly touched upon the laws of time and space."
"And Sister Grey, as the Angel of Fate, her control over the River of Time, over light and shadow and destiny, far surpasses what we Angels of other sequences can imagine—"
"Although I don’t know what happened between Sister Grey and the outside world during the time I was asleep..."
"I can still let you, Rast, and you too, Dean Silver, witness that scene with your own eyes... everything Sister Grey once faced at the end of the Sixth Era."
She gently lowered her gaze, looking at the increasingly distorted time around her body, and her own increasingly illusory, nearly transparent form, and softly whispered:
"Because I altered the original history, this lucid state of mine won’t last much longer... the Corrective Force of History is gradually descending, attempting to rewrite this erroneous segment of history, to return me to the previous state of a rampaging Judgment Angel."
"However, before the backlash of the Corrective Force of History fully arrives, I can still use the last of my power... to send you both further down the River of Time."
"To witness the end of the Sixth Era, the twilight of civilization—and the final trace Sister Grey left in this world."
"All the secrets I do not know should be hidden within that final moment of the epoch."
Upon hearing these farewell-like words, Dean Silver showed no reaction.
But Rast was momentarily stunned.
"Wait..."
This was a reunion after many years. He still had so many things he wanted to say to the girl before him.
Especially—that most crucial, most important matter.
Now that Xiao Ai had successfully ascended to the Judgment Sequence as an Angel and slumbered until the current node in the Seventh Era...
Then where exactly had she sealed herself? Where was that place of slumber?
What must they do to truly meet again?
Not in this ephemeral old history, not within the illusory Nightworld’s Historical Echo—
But in the tangible, reachable real world.
However, the next moment, he saw the golden-haired girl before him silently raise her finger and gently touch his lips.
Emis lightly tapped Rast’s lips, glanced at Dean Silver who had her back turned to them, then at Rast again. In those sky-blue beautiful eyes, a playful glimmer of mischief suddenly danced.
"To be frank, I’m not really fond of situations where there’s a third wheel present..."
"All this time, we’ve always shared our hearts in a world of just the two of us, and you’re someone who belongs only to me..."
Her voice suddenly echoed ethereally within Rast’s heart—a voice that only the two of them could hear, excluding a certain snow ferret from the outside world.
"So, let’s talk more in a different place."
"Once you, Rast, have personally witnessed the end of the Sixth Era, the final imprint Sister Grey left in this world, and uncovered all truths and secrets..."
"We shall meet again—in Canaan~"