Night Journey

Chapter 128 The Assassin of Memory

Rolf's words left Cillian scratching his head, completely baffled as to what the Chief of Technology was up to.

Compared to when I first met him, Rolf was now much more humorous and relaxed.

Perhaps it's because I'm about to retire.

Previously, bearing the heavy responsibilities of the city-state, even the most cheerful person would inevitably have a serious demeanor. Now that it's time to say goodbye, the compressed spring instantly relaxes, and the person even looks much younger.

“Let me remind you, Cillian.”

Rolf slowly suggested, "The illusory ones are not so easy to deal with, even those at the first rank."

"Ah."

Cillian sat up straight and listened attentively.

"First of all, those who are delusional are very good at disguising themselves. Even if they do not actively release the power of returning to stillness, this power will still linger around them, reducing their presence. Some people with weak wills will not even remember anything related to them."

Rolf tried hard to recall, but in all his years, he had only fought against the illusory ones a handful of times.

"The power of returning to stillness that you actively release will cause you to forget some things for a short period of time. This can be extremely deadly in battle."

Cillian nodded solemnly in affirmation.

In a life-or-death struggle, even a moment's lapse in concentration can lead to death, let alone short-term amnesia.

One second ago, Cillian was planning to parry the enemy's moves and launch a feint counterattack, but the next second he was stunned and stood there, forgetting not only his previous plan, but also why he was there and who he was fighting against.

Then, to your astonishment, the blade of the illusory one will sever your head.

"Depending on the strength of the power of returning to stillness, the length of time your memories are forgotten will vary greatly, but as long as there is a certain period of time to recover, you will basically be able to recall the forgotten things."

Rolf went on to say, "And then there's cognitive disorder."

"You are holding a sword right now, but the next moment, you will no longer be able to understand what is in front of you."

He stared at the Boiling Sword that Cillian always carried, and described the twisted scene in a calm tone.

"It's a long, thin metal object with incomprehensible patterns engraved on its surface... Oh, I'm not sure if you'll have the understanding and aesthetic sense to appreciate those 'patterns'."

Cillian understood Rolf's words and said with lingering fear, "The important thing is not the inability to understand, but forgetting the essence of things."

As the Boiling Sword was drawn, its blade reflected Ciri's eyes like a mirror.

Rolf smiled and said, "That's right. By then, you will forget that the Boiling Sword is a 'weapon' and may even throw it away in panic because you can't understand it."

"That's all the information I have about the delusional ones. The sober-minded delusional ones are alright, but the extreme, decadent delusional ones... we may not be able to observe them at all."

Rolf scoffed, “It sounds terrible, doesn’t it? But in reality, he can’t get anywhere in any of the city-states.”

"Is there discrimination between different destinies?"

"How could that be? I already said that it's very difficult for us to observe the delusional ones of the Fallen Sect. Do you think those low-level superhumans and ordinary people can even glimpse their existence?"

Rolf laughed and said, “There’s a widely circulated joke about a vain man. A vain man wanted to order breakfast, but the waiters ignored him. In desperation, he had to go into the kitchen and make himself a meal.”

Cillian couldn't laugh. He muttered, "The illusory ones are practically born assassins."

"They're more like a group of desperados."

Rolf's smile vanished, replaced by a cold assessment.

"No matter how powerful they are, what achievements they have made, or what wonderful lives they have, in the end, they will only be forgotten."

"Forgotten...?"

Cillian shook his head, offering a rare rebuttal.

"I don't think this is a sad thing."

Rolf looked at Cillian suspiciously, listening to him continue.

"Rather than saying that the end of life is death, it is more accurate to say that it is being forgotten."

Ciri stared at the sword, at the triangular symbol formed by the overlapping and intersecting of countless figures.

"In just a few hundred years, the name of the Legion disappeared from the civilized world. Several eras have passed, and the world is completely unaware of what happened in the past..."

He raised his head and said in a hollow voice.

"The fate of the deluded is merely to hasten their own oblivion. In the end, whether it is you and me, the giants, or even the civilized world, we will probably not escape such an end."

"It sounds a bit too abstract."

“Ignorance?” Cillian denied. “I’m just stating reality.”

"But it sounds like you don't like this reality."

"I……"

Ciri paused for a moment, then continued, "I'm just so focused on the present that I hate the illusory future, and even fantasize about eternity like an innocent child."

Rolf astutely seized upon a flaw in Cillian's statement and pressed for an answer.

"Cillian, what do you yearn for eternally?"

In an instant, scenes from the past flashed before Ciri's eyes. Although it was only a few seconds, it felt like years.

Cillian's expression suddenly became exceptionally serene, like the orange-red surface of a river under the setting sun.

He smiled and shook his head, offering no further reply.

Seeing this, Rolf did not press the matter further.

Throughout, the two maintained a subtle understanding.

The two chatted for a while longer, and then moved to the cozy living room. Cillian nestled on the comfortable sofa, wondering when he could have such a piece of furniture for his home.

just forget it.

Otherwise, when I leave Hull City, I'll have to figure out how to take the sofa with me.

"We're fleeing, not moving. We need to streamline and streamline again!" Bruce repeatedly emphasized.

Cillian felt that the word "escape" sounded too much like a stray dog, while Bruce thought it was fine; he had no home, and he himself was a dog.

I've said almost everything I needed to say and asked all the questions I needed to ask.

Rolf glanced at the clock and said directly.

"It's almost time. You've already wasted my morning and noon. Don't waste my afternoon too."

"haha, okay."

Cillian had grown accustomed to Rolf's straightforwardness; he meant no harm, just like a stubborn old man.

In fact, there's nothing wrong with describing Rolf this way.

As soon as Cillian stood up, his gaze inexplicably fell on Rolf's bare arm.

Rolf's hand is a mechanical prosthetic, which he previously mentioned was a voluntary prosthetic modification.

Mechanized metal limbs allow him to more acutely transform matter, rapidly printing the armor and other equipment needed for combat.

Cillian couldn't quite understand the mindset of the Spirit Craftsmen regarding mechanical ascension, but he held sufficient respect for the fate of mechanical remains.

As for the other arm...

Even at his age, Rolf maintains a high level of training, with strong forearm muscles and no scars, but there are lines of text tattoos, which should be the prayer that Bruce once mentioned.

"I almost forgot, there's one more thing I need to ask you, sir."

Cillian sat back down on the sofa and raised the Boiling Sword.

"Do you have any extra fireproof cloth? The one they gave me before burned."

Rolf had discovered this a long time ago and was just waiting for Cillian to speak.

"This can even burn out? Looks like you've met a formidable enemy."

"There's nothing I can do," Sirian said helplessly. "As you know, Hull City may seem calm on the surface, but there are undercurrents. Perhaps a terrible disaster is brewing."

"Then it's up to you guys," Rolf said, shirking responsibility. "I'm retiring soon, so don't cause me any big trouble at the last minute."

Cillian praised him, "You must have a sense of responsibility, Chief of Staff!"

Rolf laughed heartily, and the conversation ended there.

He pressed the bell, and the wind-up servant slowly emerged, presenting Ciri with a brand-new fireproof cloth.

Ciri carefully wrapped the sword hilt, completely enveloping the Unifier triangle.

Just saying it offhand.

"Chief, you also experienced the era of Reverse Falcon, right? What kind of person do you think he was?"

Rolf frowned, puzzled. "Why are you suddenly bringing this up?"

In the city council, the Reverse Falcon was always a taboo subject; no one wanted to mention this nightmare unless absolutely necessary.

"Haven't people been talking about the return of the reverse falcon lately?"

Cillian continued, "I'm an employee of the City Guard Bureau, and I've been involved in several recent incidents. It seems... it seems he really has returned."

“Some people are overjoyed, while others have reservations. So I’m curious about how you, who lived through that era, view the Reverse Falcon.”

Cillian asked the final question.

"Will the existence of the Reverse Falcon truly make the city-state a better place?"

silence.

Rolf did not answer Cillian's question immediately. He narrowed his eyes and fell into deep thought and memories. His metallic fingertips tapped lightly on the armrest of the sofa, and the ticking of the clock filled the quiet room.

Cillian suddenly felt inexplicably nervous.

Until Rolf exhaled a breath of stale air and said emotionlessly.

"Not really."

Fearing that Ciri might not hear him clearly, he repeated himself.

"The existence of the Reverse Falcon will not make the city-state any better."

Cillian listened quietly without saying a word.

“I admit that Reverse Falcon’s past actions have, to some extent, led Hull City toward a better future, but this better future is contingent on one condition.”

Rolf cautioned, "Even giants perish, let alone the insignificant Reverse Falcon."

"While he is alive, he can use violence to maintain the stability of Hull, but what about when he grows old or dies? At that time, the stability maintained by violence will completely collapse with his departure."

"What Hull City needs is not a violent dictator, but an order that can function stably and sustainably in the long term."

Cillian raised his objections.

"By 'order,' do you mean the city-state council?"

He scoffed, "I don't see what makes the City Council any better than the Reverse Falcon."

Rolf sighed softly.

"Uniting everyone's will is always fraught with difficulties, not to mention, we have..."

He did not continue.

Cillian mentally added what he hadn't finished saying.

"We are united, we are divided."

(End of this chapter)