Secret World: I Became a God Through Lies

Chapter 492 The Void Boy's Request

No one answered the calls from inside the tower.

Time does not stop because of tears.

If you want redemption

The future can only be woven with new lies.

—The End Fragments

The Hall of the End.

This is the most magnificent and bustling area in the tower, resembling a combination of a mega-airport and a shopping mall.

Si Ming walked alone in the crowd.

A massive dome hangs high, projecting real-time images of the tower's dungeons: colossal beasts lying in the icy plains, a crumbling forging platform in a fiery furnace, and players swallowed up in a void rift.

Each scene is like a movie screening, yet it serves as a reminder that someone could fall inside the tower at any moment.

The hall floor was pieced together from countless shattered mystery cards, their surfaces whispering indistinct whispers. Stepping on it felt like stepping on the failed records of those who had come before.

The crowds were bustling and lively.

Someone raised a flag and shouted at the top of their lungs, "We need a front-line soldier! We need a front-line soldier! Let's send out some Flame Furnace soldiers, someone who can tank!"

Someone summoned their summoned beast in an open space—a rock wolf engulfed in flames—and stood there swaggering, attracting the attention of passersby.

There were also vendors ringing bells in front of their stalls, hawking potions, treasure maps, strange stone slabs, and talismans.

"The potion to restore sanity, sell it cheap!"

"Treasure map, 300 points per attempt, may lead to a hidden dungeon!"

"Exclusive scoop! The next level might feature a Chaos Tomb instance. Should we buy it?!"

Noisy and bustling, yet orderly.

Here, no one cares about right or wrong, only about points.

Recruiting, showing off, hawking, trading—the driving force behind everything is cold, hard points.

The atmosphere seemed lively and harmonious, but it was extremely cold.

Si Ming, wearing a white clown mask, walked slowly with his hands in his pockets.

He looked at the crowds and listened to the noise, but sighed softly in his heart.

"If it weren't for the original..."

"This place should have been a paradise for countless dreamers."

"Instead of a prison."

The smile on the mask remained bizarre.

But beneath that smile, his eyes were deep, carrying a hint of mockery and an unseen sorrow.

Amidst the bustling crowd, a piercing noise suddenly erupted.

Si Ming's thoughts were interrupted. She looked up and saw a small circle of people surrounding her.

In the center of the crowd, a seventeen or eighteen-year-old boy from the East, carrying a long sword on his back, looked anxious and pulled at every passerby with all his might.

"Are you the witnesses of eternity?"

"Please... help me!"

His voice was hoarse, but his eyes were stubborn and intense.

He repeated this over and over, grabbing other people's sleeves, and even when he was shaken off time and time again, he still refused to stop.

The onlookers whispered among themselves.

"That kid's here again."

"The guy surnamed Xiao, the Voidwalker. He's been shouting all day."

"I heard it was some kind of dungeon; he and his sister went in together and got trapped."

"He used up most of his points and forced the escape door open, managing to get out on his own."

"But his sister... is still trapped inside."

"I heard it's sealed by some kind of time-related mystery, and there's no way for it to escape."

A snicker erupted from the crowd.

"Heh, even the Time Walkers wouldn't dare to try to trap the mysteries beyond the Star Calamity."

Another person coldly chimed in:

"Not to mention, this kid has almost used up all his points."

"Even if someone is willing to risk their life to save someone, they can't offer anything in return."

“The gain is not worth the loss.”

People around shook their heads and sighed. Some showed sympathy, but most remained indifferent, as if watching a tragedy that had been predetermined.

Si Ming stood at the edge of the crowd, watching quietly.

He wore a white clown mask, and no one noticed the fleeting look in his eyes.

Beneath the mask, a meaningful smile curved at the corner of his lips.

"The Voidwalker... Xiao?"

He murmured a sentence to himself, and his heart stirred slightly.

The boy's voice was already hoarse from shouting, and his eyes scanned the vast sea of ​​people again and again.

But everyone who passed by either shook their head and sneered, or coldly avoided them.

His voice was trembling, and his hands were almost shaking from pulling people, but he still wouldn't stop.

"Please... help my sister..."

At that very moment, he suddenly turned around.

His gaze met that of a young man at the edge of the crowd.

—A white clown mask, a languid figure, as if standing there casually.

The boy's pupils contracted, instinctively feeling that the person was completely different from all the indifference around him.

Si Ming felt a slight tremor in his heart.

"It's him?" The lines from the depths of memory suddenly converged, overlapping with the figure of the boy before him.

He stepped forward without making a sound.

Amidst the whispers of the crowd, he suddenly reached out and grabbed the boy who was still grabbing people randomly.

"Hey!"

The boy turned around in astonishment and immediately began to struggle desperately.

"let me go!"

"I need to save my sister!"

His voice was hoarse, yet it carried an almost stubborn despair.

Si Ming lowered his head slightly, his eyes behind the mask calm.

His tone was flat, yet it pierced the boy's ears like a nail.

"Aren't you looking for an eternal witness, or a time traveler?"

The boy was suddenly stunned.

His eyes suddenly lit up, like flames suddenly igniting in the darkness.

That light contained the ecstatic joy of surviving a catastrophe, and also the desperate hope of a last-ditch effort.

"You are?!"

His voice trembled, yet it was full of passion.

It was as if if someone nodded at this moment, he would immediately risk everything and step back into the desperate situation.

Sima Ming did not answer immediately.

He simply looked quietly into the boy's eyes, a slow smile playing on his lips.

It's like waiting for the perfect moment.

Si Ming quietly looked at the hope that had been ignited in the boy's eyes, and after a few seconds, gently shook his head.

"I am not a time traveler."

"nor is it an eternal witness."

The light in those eyes suddenly went out.

The boy froze on the spot, his body swaying slightly as if he had been doused with cold water.

He lowered his head, his knuckles gripping the hilt of the longsword so tightly that his voice was almost shattered.

"……I see."

These few words, though brief, carry the overwhelming weight of despair.

Just then, a soft laugh came from behind the white clown mask.

"but."

Si Ming reached out his hand and opened a pitch-black book in the void.

The pages turned on their own, and countless afterimages of lies appeared on the paper, as if the world itself was whispering.

"I am—a liar."

The boy suddenly looked up, his eyes meeting his again.

Si Ming's tone was light, yet carried an undeniable firmness.

"My Cataclysm can mimic the abilities of a Timewalker or an Eternal Witness..."

"As long as I have enough Star Calamity power to spare."

The pages slammed shut, turning into specks of light that vanished into the air.

The boy's breathing quickened, and his eyes gradually brightened, as if he had finally seen a glimmer of light in the darkness.

"so you……"

"Do you want to?"

Her voice trembled, and there was even a hint of fear of hearing a rejection.

Si Ming laughed heartily and patted the boy on the shoulder.

"I'm a newcomer."

"I don't care what kind of dungeon I play."

He stretched out his hand, palm open.

"Captain, wanna team up?"

"I can do any kind of work."

The young man was stunned.

The disappointment, pain, and helplessness in his eyes were all broken through at this moment.

He bit his lip hard, tears welling up in his eyes.

"……it is good."

He reached out, his hand trembling, and grasped that hand tightly.

The mission lobby remained bustling with people.

The sounds of hawking, shouting, and the announcements of the points leaderboard blended together like waves.

But in that noisiest corner, a young man wearing a white clown mask shook hands with a boy carrying a sword.

—The gears of fate have quietly begun to turn.

The cold tower tells no tales of warmth.

But lies can be written.

When the newlyweds extend their hands

Then fate began to turn.

—From "The Chronicles of a Void Boy"

(End of this chapter)