[Turn-Based Game] Description: You know this world is just a game to you, but you still want to seek even a moment of reality in this virtual world.
Use this skill to deploy a “Turn-Based Domain,” breaking the fourth wall and forcing both allies and enemies into a compulsory turn-based combat mode.
Remark: Even an Aeon would have to slap you once before they can leave.
Belongs to Character: Ye Cang (High-Dimensional Overseer).
“…” Ye Cang fell silent for a moment.
Staring at his Trace skill tree, he ultimately couldn’t suppress a long sigh.
Not a single actual combat skill.
They were all bizarre, nonsensical abilities.
Looking at it this way, if not for the “Phantasm: Hand of Remembrance” gifted to him by that Aeon of Phantasm, he probably wouldn’t have had any proper combat capability for a long time.
Forget exploring the source of the Eerie Cataclysm; just surviving in this chaotic, lawless universe would have been a struggle.
The existence of the *Death Diary* indeed allowed him to ignore death and backtrack infinitely, but what if he ended up in a closed death loop like the body’s previous owner?
He didn’t dare to imagine it and could only do his best to prevent that scenario.
Thus, just as “Cang” had repeatedly urged in the diary—he had to write in it diligently.
Ye Cang glanced at the conductor, Pom-Pom, who was currently disconnecting the interstellar network.
He silently retrieved the *Death Diary* and wrote down a sentence in the final paragraph: “I will proactively reply to Herta Space Station to investigate the nature of that unknown meme.” “If I die, the nature of that meme is definitely beyond my expectations.” Once he finished writing those two sentences, Pom-Pom completed its work.
The entire Astral Express was disconnected from the interstellar network.
Only the public communication terminal in front of Ye Cang remained connected, isolated from the Express’s local area network.
Even if it truly suffered some electronic memetic contamination, the rest of the train would remain safe and sound.
Seeing little Pom-Pom running toward him on its short legs, Ye Cang hesitated no longer.
He turned abruptly, the hem of his suit coat fluttering slightly as his straight sleeves tightened.
Before the conductor could even react, the youth’s finger had already pressed down on the communication terminal’s control panel.
“Hi!
Asta!
Are you still alive?” That was his first sentence.
“Passenger, don’t do anything rash-pom!” Pom-Pom cried out in shock, but it was already too late to stop him given its speed.
Then came the immediate second sentence— “I don’t want to work hard anymore.
If I save your life, can you support me?” “…” There was no response.
The communication channel fell silent, emitting only a continuous, crackling static.
A moment later, a low, hollow female voice echoed from the communication channel: [O all-knowing existence, I ask of you—] [What is divinity?] Ye Cang froze.
His pupils contracted, and cold sweat began to pour from his tense body.
His heart began to race, his muscles spasming wildly.
Tears, saliva, and snot flowed uncontrollably.
Within his trembling pupils, the rationality belonging to a sapient being was being violently stripped away.
The very instant he subconsciously began to ponder that question, countless queries instantly flooded his brain.
[What is divinity?] [What is the ultimate answer to the universe?] [Why do birds fly?] [Why does life slumber?] [What is the nature of space and time?] [Who am I?] [Where am I?] [What am I doing?] [Where am I going?] …
Unlike the step-by-step thinking of normal human cognition, these questions “decoded” in his brain almost simultaneously, relentlessly squeezing every bit of processing power from his mind like a CPU pushed past its overclock limit.
His body convulsed violently, his temperature spiking.
His skin flushed burning hot as steam hissed from every pore.
“Do not answer!” His soul screamed, but his physical form was already failing.
Ye Cang had completely lost control of his body.
“…” Finally, he grew quiet.
His body, withered from dehydration, slowly collapsed onto the floor.
His breathing stopped.
The last image remaining on his retina was March 7th’s tear-stained, pitifully endearing expression.
*Whew—* The world fell silent.
His mind finally found a brief moment of respite.
Ye Cang stared blankly at the surrounding darkness.
He had never felt the wait for a death backtrack to be so agonizingly long—implausibly so.
Then, a sudden realization struck him like a flash of lightning.
Could this state be…
“Dimensional Ascent”?
Did that mean his Trace, [High-Dimensional Overseer], could be activated?
The moment this thought surfaced— The darkness receded.
Within the grey, frozen passenger cabin of the Astral Express, “Ye Cang’s” lifeless body lay quietly on the floor in front of March 7th.
Himeko was leaning down, hands pressed against “Ye Cang’s” chest, performing standard CPR.
Meanwhile, Mr.
Yang was manually assembling a defibrillator, trying to perform one last, inevitably futile attempt at resuscitation.
Dan Heng lowered his head in silence, while Pom-Pom was as anxious as an ant on a hot pan, constantly cheering them on from the side.
Ye Cang looked at the crew of the Express, then looked down at his own translucent body— He didn’t know if this was a soul form or something else, but moving around felt exactly like his original body—even smoother, more fluid, and completely free of resistance.
In this grey world, time seemed to have stopped.
Everything was frozen, save for his “spirit.” It was because of this that he could observe everything happening inside the carriage from an unprecedented perspective—a so-called “God’s eye view.” No, perhaps “ghost’s eye view” was more accurate.
Ye Cang calmed down and began to ponder.
“I was just…
attacked by that meme?” He murmured softly, walking silently behind March 7th and looking down at his shriveled corpse.
“Who was that woman speaking?
Why did a single question literally make my head smoke?
It even fried my brain.” “And what exactly is the nature of that meme?” “Is it really transmitted through the interstellar network?” The accumulated questions were simply too numerous.
Even after filtering out most of the useless ones, the remaining few still gave Ye Cang a severe headache.
It was easy to imagine: when countless doubts were ignited by that unknown memetic contamination, what kind of pressure would a person’s brain have to bear?
Even if they didn’t drop dead on the spot, their neural pathways would likely be completely fried, turning them into a drooling simpleton.
Since he had such a reaction just from light contact, Asta and the other staff members on Herta Space Station were probably in grave danger.