-45- The Journey, The Beginning, and The End

Following that delightful spring exploration, Rosaline embarked on a solo island-circumnavigating journey in the autumn of the same year, around September and October.

Whether it was precisely September or October remained unclear. After all, in a doomsday world inhabited by only two people, time could only be measured by the changing seasons of spring, summer, autumn, and winter.

She figured her teacher had the capability to observe time much more accurately, down to the exact date, but simply couldn't be bothered to do so.

Naturally, the swordsmanship lessons should have been an obstacle to this trip, but her teacher had recently demanded she practice the basics independently, forbidding her from watching on the sidelines. It was sugarcoated as "freeing up her time," but Rosaline suspected that the painfully slow learning progress had bruised her teacher's pride, prompting such a decision.

As expected, even a teacher making up excuses remained utterly adorable.

Yet, with her away on a trip, what would her teacher eat and drink?

Rosaline still harbored some doubts regarding this, but her teacher had responded with utter confidence, telling her not to worry about it, which finally set her mind at ease.

Right, her teacher had lived alone for hundreds of years; there was hardly any reason for her to fret. Besides, many culinary recipes had been conceptualized first by her teacher, with Rosaline merely executing them. The reason they rarely cooked in everyday life was merely to grant her student an opportunity to actively serve and repay the debt of tutelage.

Before setting off, Rosaline packed her bags, watered the small vegetable patch in the manor, and greeted the rabbits and fawns raised in the animal pens. Once on her way, she did not forget to check the wheat growth in other farming sectors, nor did she neglect to collect the remains of animals or aberrants entangled in the electric fences.

Next, traversing the arched arcade street covered in wisteria vines—imbued with a distinctly classical aesthetic of ruin—she stopped by to check on the shadows of the viaduct ruins where the Chicken Lady resided.

However, the whereabouts of the first-generation Chicken Lady had become a mystery, and this location had since turned into a stronghold for her descendants.

When she arrived, the second-generation chickens were clumsily playing with an ugly, meter-long giant centipede adorned with numerous humanoid eyes. This centipede had likely consumed the flesh and blood of certain aberrants recently and had only just undergone mutation; its combat movements were terribly awkward, leaving it entirely at the mercy of a flock of wild chickens. Rosaline was transfixed for over half an hour, only stepping in to rescue one of the second-generation chickens when it was on the verge of meeting its demise.

Before leaving, she bowed solemnly to the second generation with her right hand pressed against her chest, expressing her respect for their heroic deeds in defending their homeland to the death.

Back when her father went to the front lines to fight the demon race, her eldest brother and the others had made this exact gesture before departing. She hadn't understood its meaning back then, only watching in silence. Now that she understood, it was perhaps a little too late.

Yet, after spending so many years in the Land of the End, the prospect of ever returning home felt desperately slim. The book documenting the legends of the Fiends stated that the aurora belt was a rare celestial phenomenon appearing once every century. Perhaps the notion of returning home had been nothing more than a beautiful delusion from the very beginning.

...

Rosaline's island tour lasted half a year. Her primary route circled the island, excluding the Ish Mountains.

There were two main purposes to this journey: first, to relieve the monotony of the repetitive doomsday life; second, to continuously train her independent survival skills; and third, to inspect various regions along the way for any breeding nests or third-stage aberrants, nipping any potential crises in the bud.

She passed through the center of Ash Harbor City, gazing at the massive crater once occupied by a breeding nest, beneath which lay the city's sewage system—though describing it as an underground dark river felt far more appropriate nowadays.

It was carpeted with lush moss, and occasionally, where sunlight filtered down, maidenhair ferns could be seen sprouting from unknown origins. Perhaps due to the narrowness of the channel, there were virtually no aberrants in the dark river, but lively swimming fish abounded. Many small animals rarely seen on the surface gathered here in droves, playing joyfully, resembling an otherworldly paradise detached from the world.

Later, she passed through the abandoned town and journeyed to the ruins of Luya City.

Luya City's former breeding nest had been located in the shallows, spawning numerous aberrant jellyfish and fish-monsters that were exceptionally wicked and eerie. Yet returning now, the white sandy beaches were gently caressed by waves, washing ashore stranded starfish and sea anemones. Unnamed crabs crawled leisurely in swarms beneath the coconut trees. If one ignored the weed-choked, dilapidated streets nearby, it truly felt like a leisurely and comfortable seaside vacation.

Afterward, she departed Luya City, journeyed through the deep frost and snow of late winter along the long eastern ring road, stopping and going, and finally returned to Ish City.

In the suburban industrial zone outside the city limits, she laid eyes upon the semi-mechanical aberrant that had once ambushed the master and apprentice—the mechanical giant turtle.

After acquiring the pale tentacles last year, her teacher had carried out a massive purge of all high-tier aberrants across the island, and the mechanical giant turtle had not escaped that fate. The aberrant flesh on its body was now gone, but its physical frame remained relatively intact because, during the purge, her teacher had felt this contraption might be repairable later and deliberately showed mercy.

Passing beneath the sealed, dusty head of the mechanical giant turtle, she looked up for a moment, feeling that the turtle's eyes—which should have been lifeless—possessed an unexpectedly nimble quality. In particular, the angle of the camera lens beneath the glass layer seemed to have been adjusted, pointing directly at her current position as if quietly gazing at something.

Recalling the theory of "the animism of all things" her teacher had once explained to her, Rosaline surmised that although this mechanical giant turtle was dead, many soul runes remained within its body, which explained why it gave her such a bizarrely lifelike sensation.

Consequently, as someone who wasn't afraid of aberrants but harbored a deep fear of ghosts, she hurriedly departed from the spot and resolved never to come near it again.

...

Having set out the previous autumn, it was the vernal equinox by the time she returned to the central district of Ish City.

A fine, lingering spring drizzle fell on this day, causing the distant ruins of the Black Pagoda building to resemble a lighthouse standing firm amidst the hazy mist and rain; though incapable of casting light, it served as a guide for direction.

Before returning to the manor, mindful of the second-generation chickens and the condition of the central district's farms, she did not head straight home. Instead, holding an umbrella, she first went to the shadows beneath the viaduct ruins to check on the chicks.

Clearly, during her absence, the chicken nest had suffered a fierce assault, resulting in the population of the second generation dropping by roughly half compared to the previous autumn. This filled her with sorrow, prompting her to silently mourn the fallen warriors. However, she quickly discovered a substantial clutch of eggs numbering around a dozen within the nest, instantly brightening her mood. She snatched three right away and rapidly fled amidst furious, indignant clucks.

Next, she went to inspect the farm's wheat fields.

How should she put it? While the seeds had indeed been sown, the surrounding environment was an absolute mess. Weeds ran rampant, competing with the wheat for nutrients, and the damaged electric fences had not been repaired or replaced in a timely manner. Piles of residual wheat stalks lay neglected to the side, seemingly indifferent to the breeding of pests like aphids and borers.

This caused her cheeks to puff out slightly in annoyance. She thought her teacher was far too relaxed; this could hardly be considered maintenance at all!

Yet, anxiety quickly took hold as she suspected her teacher might be living a hand-to-mouth existence of famine, starving to the point of a hollow chest. Hastily summoning the wind, she discarded her umbrella and flew all the way back to the manor in a single breath.

The manor beneath the spring rain remained as tranquil and peaceful as ever, and the lamps hanging from the trees emitted a warm glow, dyeing the surrounding rain into a hazy, orange-yellow mist.

Seeing the familiar scenery, Rosaline relaxed, preparing to give her teacher a surprise—only to notice several pieces of laundry hanging on the second-floor drying rack, completely forgotten and futilely dripping water in the rain.

She could not help but take a deep breath, push open the front door, and discover her teacher clutching a book while fast asleep on the sofa by the floor-to-ceiling window.

Setting aside the unmanaged wheat fields, the forgotten laundry in the rain, and the clutter piling up on the table, the scene was undeniably picturesque. Accompanied by the rhythm of the spring rain, her teacher looked like a sleeping beauty isolated from the rest of the world.

Exhaling a breath of frustration, she lightened her footsteps and headed to the second floor to take in the laundry.

At last, she was certain: her teacher truly could not survive without her.

...

Following the conclusion of Rosaline's half-year island tour, life in the manor returned to its normal track. The weeds vanished, the dust was cleared away, the clutter was organized and stored, and there was no longer any need to fret over cooking and laundry.

Yet Yvette felt she was quite innocent. She wasn't actually that lazy; she hadn't brought in the laundry during the rain simply because she had fallen asleep and didn't notice. As for the poorly managed wheat fields, she could easily go without eating due to lacking rigid nutritional needs, and she had no way of knowing when her disciple would return. The clutter on the table was just a result of her habit of waiting until it reached a threshold before cleaning it all at once...

Much like how some single older men would stuff a laundry basket full of dirty clothes before finally dumping them all into the washing machine at once, what was the point of maintaining such exquisite precision when living alone?

Besides, she had genuinely been practicing close-combat techniques diligently. She no longer suffered from path dependency on large-scale spell bombardments as she used to—this was the undeniable proof of her hard work.

However, she decided against explaining any of this to Rosaline.

Because it didn't fit her persona.

Well, she really wasn't just being stubborn.

...

Time flew, and another year passed.

In this year, Rosaline turned nineteen, becoming a full-fledged older sister figure. Utilizing her craftsmanship, Yvette fashioned a pair of gold-rimmed glasses for her, imbuing her with a scholarly, intellectual aura.

Rosaline couldn't quite fathom why she needed to wear glasses since her eyesight was perfectly fine, but since her teacher liked it, she complied. Furthermore, catching her reflection in the mirror increasingly made her feel that, rather than being the student, she resembled the teacher far more.

Of course, considering she genuinely served as her teacher's martial arts instructor, perhaps that feeling wasn't entirely wrong.

Compared to previous years, this year was exceptionally peaceful. Through the underground seed bank of an abandoned agricultural college, the two of them began planting rice, and the day they could eat freshly cooked white rice was just around the corner.

The following year, having upgraded their diet, the pair traveled north to Luya City and jointly constructed a compact, wooden-structured seaside villa. This way, when summer grew too hot, the two could head north to escape the heat, strolling and sightseeing along the white sandy beaches.

In the third year, Rosaline proposed the Oceanic Upgrading Method—transforming the ocean into a super training ground for her teacher to absorb aberration factors. However, due to Yvette's lack of adaptability to underwater activities, the two mostly operated in shallow waters, not daring to stray too far.

Even so, the efficiency was indeed much higher, and both confirmed that through continuous consumption and digestion, those white tentacles would inevitably evolve. The only unknown was precisely how long that process would take.

...

A summer night, with the Milky Way cascading downward.

Countless stars intertwined across the deep blue firmament like a handful of crushed mirror shards, reflecting tiny points of silver light upon the distant lake surface. Insect chirps drifted softly through the grass, and occasionally, fireflies swept past, trailing fleeting, luminous arcs.

Gliding over the lake surface on a magitech skateboard, Rosaline, clad in a blue mage robe, stepped gracefully onto the metal platform of the Abyss Base.

This was her 12th year since crossing over. Now twenty-two years old, she had completely shed the girlish air under her teacher's protection, acquiring an intellectual, mature, and full-figured charm instead. In her teacher's words, "You are already a qualified *Yuki-neesan*."

She found this description baffling, but since her teacher offered no explanation, she didn't press the matter.

Pushing up the gold-rimmed glasses resting on the bridge of her nose, she opened the door and descended the stairs. The crisp sound of her high heels striking the metal steps echoed all the way down into the pitch-black depths below.

Yet she was not here on an expedition; rather, her teacher had requested some soft interior decoration materials for the newly built seaside villa in Luya City, and she had come to harvest some magic-light vines.

Tucking a stray lock of golden hair behind her ear, she set to work, cutting the magic-light vines one by one, binding them neatly, and carrying them out to the metal platform outside.

Undoubtedly a tedious and monotonous process, she undertook it with great enthusiasm. Who wouldn't enjoy the gradual process of making a small home cozy and beautiful?

As for the matter of returning home, she had completely abandoned the thought two or three years ago. Crossing the aurora and managing to meet her teacher was already an unbelievable stroke of fortune. For a century-spanning phenomenon to occur once more and send her back, fully accomplished, to reunite with her family—where could such a wonderful thing happen? Even daydreams didn't stretch that far.

Thus, spending over half an hour bundling up several bunches of magic-light vines, a triumphant Rosaline was finally ready to leave. She stepped onto the metal platform, lazily stretched her waist, and looked up at the starry sky.

She beheld a brilliant aurora stretching horizontally across the night sky, resembling a melted river of stars pouring down into her eyes.