[Turn-Based Game]
Description: You know this world is nothing more than a game to you, but you still want to seek even a moment of truth within this virtual world.
Using this skill deploys a “turn-based domain,” breaking the fourth wall and forcing both enemies and allies into a turn-based combat mode.
Note: Even an Aeon has to slap you once before they can leave.
Owner: Ye Cang (Higher-Dimensional Observer).
–+–
“…”
Ye Cang was silent for a moment, staring at his Trace skill panel.
In the end, he couldn’t hold back a long sigh.
Not a single combat skill.
Just a bunch of bizarre abilities.
From this angle, if not for the “Imagination: Hand of Memory” given by the Aeon of Imagination, he probably wouldn’t have a single decent combat ability for a long time.
Forget exploring the source of the eldritch calamity, he’d struggle just to survive in this chaotic, disordered world…
The Death Diary’s existence did let him face death without fear, allowing infinite reversal.
But what if he ended up in a death loop like the previous owner of this body?
He didn’t dare think about it.
He could only avoid that situation as much as possible.
So, just as Cang had repeatedly warned in the diary: write in the diary diligently.
Ye Cang glanced at Conductor Pom-Pom, who was cutting off the interstellar network, and silently took out the Death Diary.
He wrote a line at the very end:
–+–
I will voluntarily reply to the Herta Space Station to investigate the nature of this unknown meme.
If I die, then the nature of this meme is definitely beyond my expectations.
–+–
After he finished writing these two lines, Pom-Pom’s work was also complete.
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 entire train’s local network.
Even if it really suffered some kind of electronic meme contamination, the entire Astral Express aside from Ye Cang would remain safe.
Watching little Pom-Pom trot toward him on its short legs, Ye Cang hesitated no longer.
He suddenly turned, the hem of his suit jacket lifting slightly, his straight sleeve suddenly taut.
Before the Conductor could react, the youth’s finger was already pressing on the communication terminal’s control panel.
“Hi!
Asta!
Are you still alive?”
That was his first sentence.
“This passenger, you, don’t do anything rash, pom!” Pom-Pom was horrified, but by the time it tried to stop him, it was already too late.
Then came the second sentence, right on its heels:
“I don’t want to work hard anymore.
If I save your life, can you keep me?”
“…”
No response.
The communication channel was silent, only emitting a constant shhh of static.
A moment later, a low, hollow female voice appeared on the communication channel.
[Omniscient existence, I ask you—]
[What is divinity?]
Ye Cang was slightly stunned, his pupils contracting.
His originally tense body began to seep cold sweat.
His heartbeat accelerated.
His muscles spasmed wildly.
Tears, saliva, and snot streamed out freely.
Within his trembling pupils, the rationality belonging to an intelligent being was frantically draining away.
From the moment he subconsciously began to think about this question, countless doubts instantly filled his brain.
[What is divinity?]
[What is the ultimate answer of the universe?]
[Why do birds fly?]
[Why do living beings sleep?]
[What is the nature of time and space?]
[Who am I?]
[Where am I?]
[What am I supposed to do?]
[Where will I go?]
…
Unlike the step-by-step thinking of a normal person, these questions began “decoding” in his brain almost simultaneously, mercilessly extracting every ounce of his brain’s “processing power,” like a CPU running at continuous overclock.
His body convulsed violently.
His temperature spiked.
His skin grew burning hot and flushed.
Every pore was desperately venting steam!
Do not answer!
His soul roared, but this body had already failed, and Ye Cang had completely lost control of it.
“…”
In the end, he went quiet.
His body, emaciated from dehydration, slowly collapsed to the floor.
His breathing stopped.
The last image remaining on his retinas was March’s tear-streaked, heartbreakingly lovely expression.
Hah…
The world went quiet.
His thoughts finally had a moment to breathe.
Ye Cang blankly looked around at the darkness.
He had never felt that waiting for death’s reversal was so long, so incredibly long.
Then, he suddenly remembered something, a flash of insight.
This state…
could this be the “dimensional ascension” state?
Then doesn’t that mean my Trace, [Higher-Dimensional Observer], can activate?
The instant this thought was born—
The darkness receded.
In the gray, motionless interior of the Astral Express car, “Ye Cang’s” corpse lay quietly on the floor before March.
Himeko was bent over, both hands pressed on “Ye Cang’s” chest, performing standard CPR.
Mr.
Yang was assembling a “defibrillator” by hand, attempting a final, doomed resuscitation.
Dan Heng silently lowered his head.
Pom-Pom was anxious as an ant on a hot pan, cheering him on from the side.
Ye Cang looked at the train crew, then down at his own semi-transparent body.
He didn’t know if it was a soul form or something else, but it moved exactly like his original body, even smoother and more fluid, without any obstruction.
In this gray world, time seemed to stand still.
Everything was frozen, except his “spirit.”
It was precisely because of this that he could observe everything happening in this car, from an unprecedented angle.
The so-called “omniscient perspective.”
No, perhaps “ghost perspective” was more fitting.
Ye Cang calmed down and began to think.
I just…
suffered an attack from that meme?
He murmured softly, silently walking behind March, looking down at his own shriveled corpse.
Who was that woman speaking?
Why could a single question directly blow my head apart?
Even my brain burned to a crisp?
And what exactly is the nature of that meme?
Is it really spreading through the interstellar network?
There were far too many accumulated questions.
Even after filtering out the vast majority of useless ones, the remaining few still gave Ye Cang a headache.
One could imagine, when countless doubts were ignited by that unknown meme contamination, what kind of pressure a person’s brain would bear.
Even if they didn’t die on the spot, their brain circuitry would probably burn out completely, turning them into an idiot who could only babble.
Since he had such a reaction just from contact, then Asta and the other staff on the Herta Space Station were probably in dire straits.