People in Terra, governing a bizarre little country

Ernst knew this too, which is why he stared at the guards at the scene of the assassination, asking them if they wanted to take action.

It was clearly impossible to convict the Marquis of Boris based on the testimony of one infected person, but he believed that the Inspector General must have other evidence.

But the internal defense did not take any action.

Ernst knew what they were waiting for—Grand Prince Baikal had not yet made a direct appearance.

Marquis Boris alone is not enough; he might alert the enemy.

"But judging from the current situation, Baikal is much smarter than Boris."

Ernst Road,

“He left no evidence, and the infected person only knew that he was framed by a high-ranking officer, but did not know whether Baikal had instructed him to do so.”

“You have already shown up today. Although you can claim that this was arranged by His Majesty Fyodor to protect me, it will certainly arouse their vigilance.”

The guard nodded, tacitly agreeing with Ernst's statement.

Ernst continued:

"Therefore, we need to use a heavy bait."

"It's not easy to directly bring down the army group leader, but I happen to know something that's possible. Not only is it possible, but it might also be possible to sow discord between Boris and Baikal, causing their anti-emperor united front to turn into infighting."

The guard tilted his head in confusion.

Ernst took a deep breath and said slowly:

"The secret to Chernobog's rapid rise—the existence of the [Stone Coffin], which serves as the city's power source and can replace Originium."

"The Fourth Army has clashed directly with Boris over this before. Using this as bait to escalate the conflict might be feasible."

Ernst paused, then stared intently at the inner guard.

"Besides, His Majesty the Emperor chose to attack Grand Prince Baikal and Chernobog first, wasn't that also his aim?"

"Two dogs fight, play off."

Chernobog's core city, underground.

Kal'tsit and Amiya stepped into this place once again.

The surrounding scenery has changed dramatically compared to two years ago, but the Marquis Boris has no power to alter the building in front of him.

The gate here is locked, and inside lies the true pillar of Chernobog, the home rehabilitation and therapeutic device—also known as the "Stone Coffin."

The ancient civilizations left countless legacies on this land. These legacies shaped Agor's glory, supported Sargon's imperial power, and gave Victoria invincible storms. But if anyone were to ask which legacies were the most important, surely no one would disagree—

No amount of inheritance can compare to a living person.

Kal'tsit pursed her lips.

The greatest legacy of prehistoric civilization, the chief architect of the former survival plan, the evil spirit of the Tower of Babel, the doctor trusted by Amiya and Theresa, and also Ernst's old friend.

She, along with her weakness, abandoned it here!

Chapter 925 The Prophet, the Evil Spirit, the Doctor

"Treasure, what do you think the future will be like?"

"As for me, I hope for a more peaceful future. We've talked a lot, and I'm particularly curious about the era you lived in."

A silver-haired man in a hooded long robe stood beneath the dome of a lunar observatory, gazing at the dark universe through reinforced glass. His fingers unconsciously caressed a small pocket watch on his chest, a replica he had made from the memories of his closest friend, a trinket from the "Pastoral Era."

According to him, pocket watches held certain special meanings in his time. For example, as long as a photograph was embedded in the pocket watch cover and the pocket watch was held to one's chest, one's family would always be with you, no matter when or where.

He initially just smiled faintly at this claim; after all, the body was no longer a necessity for humans like them. Let alone something as fragile as a pocket watch. But Precys was particularly superstitious about the "treasure" theory and insisted that he carry one with him.

Over time, he has gotten used to it. Occasionally, he would rub the photos and occasionally glance at them. The smiles of Priscilla and "Treasure," as well as himself, Friston, Ed, and Law, would actually make him feel a little at ease.

But the hands on the clock face have long since stopped, just like this universe that is about to reach its end.

The observatory's gravity system emitted a faint hum, and the hooded man could feel the lunar surface beneath his feet trembling slightly. This wasn't a moonquake; the entire galaxy was shaking. He activated a holographic projection, and a three-dimensional image of the entire galaxy floated in the air. The once brilliant star clusters now looked as if ink had been splashed on them, with large areas disappearing.

The distant starry sky is undergoing a strange change. The once still starlight begins to distort, as if being kneaded by an invisible hand, and stretched into thin threads.

He wasn't shocked; he had seen the same scene countless times.

However, he still vividly remembers the scene when the specific intelligence, known as the "Observer" reaction, was first shared on the intelligence network.

At that time, the intelligence network was bustling with activity. Human civilization, which believed it had exhausted all possibilities in the universe, was excitedly discussing this new discovery. Several scientists even started a debate on the forum, arguing over which star sector was the first to notice this phenomenon and was qualified to name it.

At that time, people thought it was just an ordinary scientific discovery, just like countless times before, as they explored the frontiers of the universe, broke through the subspace, built order from disorder, and continued to advance one after another.

Until the first disaster broke out.

Even now, he still cannot understand what happened back then.

The distant star clusters vanished rapidly before the naked eye, like pencil drawings erased by an eraser; even +8 ore was nowhere to be found. Darkness surged in like a tide, swallowing everything in its path in the blink of an eye. Their prized weapons, their supposedly foolproof defenses, the colossi capable of shattering stars, the sentinels able to observe and integrate all information across an entire star sector—all vanished without a trace in the blink of an eye.

That sector of stars has since become a "hollow".

That's the only way he could describe it.

In the heart of human civilization, where "light makes the Milky Way boil," a terrifying void appears out of nowhere, as if it were an eye.

No one argued anymore.

People tacitly named it "The Eye of the Observer," and then one project after another was launched, one exploration team after another set off, and one disaster after another struck.

【Ding ding! 】

The door opening notification sound interrupted his unconscious reverie.

"Recorded time: April 15, 3157 New Era. A large-scale dark matter collapse occurred at the edge of the galaxy, which was determined to be an [Observer Response]."

His voice echoed through the observatory, responding to the footsteps behind him.

"This [Observer Response] ended quickly, and we evaded His gaze once again."

His gaze fell on a flashing red dot in the projection.

That's Terra.

For these survivors, their last refuge was truly their last hope.

Led by him, the last remaining spark of human civilization is working intensively on its final four projects to ensure the survival of humanity. This is their last chance.

He slowly turned his head and looked at the black-haired youth who had stopped beside him.

"Treasure, what do you think the future will be like?"

"As for me, I hope for a more peaceful future. We've talked a lot, and I'm particularly curious about the era you lived in."

If we have a future.

A profile view of the "treasure." A smile appeared on the young man's face:

"Is this what I mean by being nostalgic?"

“Every few years, things that were popular in the past will be dug up and become popular again.”

"If you want to hear more, I wouldn't mind discussing it with you in another debate."

"Treasure" spread his hands, his face seemingly showing some helplessness.

Within the system, he was considered young, and he paid considerable attention to his appearance, appearing quite respectable. When dealing with younger people, superiors and senior colleagues were often happy to entrust him with tasks.

For this reason, he has complained more than once: It's only been a few tens of millions of years, yet he still has a generation gap with others and has to rely on "debate," a technology that allows people to speak their minds and is easy to understand, to achieve barrier-free communication. This is unbelievable!

But the hooded man shook his head.

"We don't have much time."

“The current plans are not perfect. I tried to persuade Ed, but the design of Heaven’s Pivot is already complete. He wants to try to make a glimmer of hope in things that were considered ‘impossible’ from the beginning.”

“Friston always puts others first and gives up his own resources to the greatest extent possible. I appreciate his efforts, but to be honest, what I need is not to increase the success rate of the other three plans by one percent, but to have four plans that all have a chance of success. Moreover, his plans set too high a bar for himself. He wants to be a fool and passively wait for hope to arrive.”

“Lo’s idea is correct. If we had adopted this method earlier, we might have been able to create such an ‘Ark’ before civilization was completely destroyed. But now, we only have the resources of a single star system, and we can’t support those animal friends.”

Project Originium

His gaze swept over the tired face and thin figure of the black-haired youth beside him, but he didn't continue speaking again.

But the other person took the initiative to continue the conversation.

"Project Originium lacks the most crucial sample."

“I don’t understand your science, but I do understand Precy. She’s been looking unusually anxious lately. She doesn’t comb her hair, doesn’t wash her face, and doesn’t sleep. She just stays in the lab every day, and her hair is practically a bird’s nest.”

There's a saying in my hometown: "Even a clever housewife can't cook without rice."

"Without ingredients, you can't cook rice by just adding a pot of water. No matter how advanced your technology is, you don't understand the properties of amber, so you can't create real artificial amber."

The black-haired youth took a deep breath, as if he had made up his mind, turned around, and solemnly said:

"Let me do it."

The hooded man trembled slightly, then turned around, his face filled with shock.

Until the youth repeated it again:

"Let me do it."

"You and I both know that this is the best way."

"[Observer Reaction] has already appeared around Terra. We can't hide for much longer. Prophet, you're too indecisive!"

The hooded man, known as the prophet, paused, then waved his hand absentmindedly:

"No, there are other opportunities."

"Precys and I have already placed the first batch of semi-finished Originium Project materials into the skies above Terra."

"That will create an isolation layer over Terra, which should be able to block the [Observer's] line of sight!"

“Treasure, the situation hasn’t reached its worst point yet. We must continue, but we are still human. If we kill each other to survive, then what are we, the survivors?”

"I'm not forcing you to kill me."

"Treasure" shook his head.

“I’ve told you many stories like this, from ancient times to modern times. In our area, this is called sacrifice! It’s a very honorable thing. Don’t talk as if I’m some pitiful wretch forced to die by you!”

"In my hometown, the families of those who sacrificed their lives in the war to defend our country deserve their own separate pages in the family genealogy!"

He seemed somewhat anxious, and his tone became increasingly rude.

"To put it bluntly, Prophet, I inexplicably woke up in this doomsday-like place, inexplicably was picked up by you and Precys, and have lived in such a strange environment for so long. I don't know how to do scientific research, and the knowledge and experience I have acquired are of no help to the current situation. You can accept that I'm just loafing around and waiting to die, and you can drag me to listen to my old stories, but I can't just sit here and wait for everything to end!"

"I don't have the guts to experience the so-called 'end of the world'!"

He took several weak breaths, his spirits quickly waning, but he didn't stop talking:

"So, how about I listen to your ancestors and become a hero who saves the world?"

"I asked Prismus before I came here. I might not actually die. If you succeed, you can just find me. Aren't you guys able to accurately retrieve even dust from space?"

Looking at the still hesitant prophet, he cursed one last time:

"Stop being so indecisive! Your moral standards seem a bit too high!"

"Be ruthless. Sometimes, some things are much easier to handle than you think! Understand?"

"I understand."

The prophet finally nodded.

"Treasure," what do you think the future holds for it?

I hope for a more peaceful future. We've talked a lot, and I'm particularly curious about the era you lived in.

Standing atop the boundless wheat field, the prophet gazed at Si, a single creature floating in the sky above, and felt a pang of emotion for him, for those precious memories.

The pink-haired Sarkaz slowly walked over. He had many ways to counter his opponent. The survival of civilization was their creation, so how could he not control a small, foolproof terminal?

But he did nothing.

A Sarkaz woman named Theresa asked him about his identity, and he recounted his past.

He listened to what "treasure" said.

This time, he really made up his mind.

Faced with Theresa, who could potentially cause problems for Project Originium, he plotted a scheme, met with Theresa, attracted assassins, shut down the defense system, and used the Sarkaz to kill her!

There was no indecisiveness.