Chapter 134 Fantasy Life

Sirian leaned against the wall, his gaze blankly fixed on the narrow alley.

The golden sunset fell at the end of the alley, framing passersby like a viewfinder, shaping them into warm vignettes.

He remained in a daze for quite a while until someone pushed open the door.

“Why are you out here? I’ve been looking for you for ages.”

Dailin stepped out, still holding a wine glass, carrying the lingering joy of the party.

Ignoring the wet steps, he plopped down next to Sirian’s feet and lit a cigarette.

“You don’t look too well. What’s wrong?”

“I’m fine, just a bit… melancholic?”

Sirian wasn’t quite sure how he felt; if he could figure it out, he wouldn’t have been standing there, staring blankly for so long.

Dailin spoke with the tone of someone who had been there before, “Oh, is it that feeling… that the world has become somewhat unfamiliar, and you know nothing about it?”

Sirian considered this seriously and replied.

“Maybe. A little bit.”

“Well, that’s just terrible.”

Dailin drank, smoked, and exhaled clouds of smoke, mimicking Sirian’s wording in jest.

“The state you’re in now is like an ascetic who just finished whipping himself with a thorny branch, only to suddenly realize he has to do it every day for the rest of his life.”

A corner of Sirian’s mouth twitched, then smoothed out again.

Dailin’s tone suddenly became serious, and he spoke earnestly.

“Are you lost, Sirian?”

“Perhaps.”

“Then the answer is definitely yes.”

Sirian didn’t understand why Dailin was so certain.

“Why?”

“A clear-headed person gives a definite answer. Only those who are lost speak vaguely.”

Sirian looked at Dailin with slight surprise; at this moment, he was as rational as a sage.

He continued.

“From my personal perspective, when a person feels lost, the problem lies in him not knowing who he is, unable to find his place in this world.”

Dailin glanced back at the door of the Ink House. “So he gets ostracized by the world, like a poor sod ignored at a party.”

“My place? I know exactly what my place is in this world.”

Sirian emphasized, “A killer with a few screws loose. Don’t you think that’s cool?”

“A killer?”

Dailin sneered.

Sirian suspected he had misheard. Since leaving White Cliff Town and committing his first bloody crime, everyone had trembled at his brutality, yet Dailin looked utterly dismissive.

Dailin asked without lifting his head.

“Sirian, would you kill an ordinary person for no reason?”

“No.”

“Then would you kill a good person?”

“Even less likely.”

“Then what kind of people become your targets?”

“The most heinous criminals.”

Dailin slapped his thigh emphatically and exclaimed loudly, “See? You still dare call yourself a killer?”

Sirian didn’t understand his reaction.

“Come on, Sirian, true killers don’t care if you’re an ordinary person or a Transcendent, good or bad. They just follow their bloodthirsty nature and commit indiscriminate slaughter.”

Dailin paused the topic and introduced a new question. “Let’s put the killer thing aside for a moment. Here’s a new question.”

Sirian gradually became interested and sat down with Dailin on the damp steps.

“Ask away.”

“So…”

Dailin pretended to ponder. “What will you do after you’ve killed all your enemies in Heer City?”

Sirian’s answer was crisp and direct.

“Leave here and go kill the enemies who aren’t in Heer City and are still running free.”

“And after your rage has completely drained away and you’ve killed all your enemies?”

Sirian hesitated for a moment. He had considered this question at some point in the past.

There was no answer.

“I haven’t really thought about what happens after the revenge.”

“Why haven’t you thought about it?”

“Perhaps…”

Sirian looked up. The golden sky was slowly turning dusky yellow; night was approaching.

“Perhaps, subconsciously, I believe I’ll probably die on the path of revenge.”

He said lightly, “Among my enemies, there is an Abomination. No matter how confident or angry I am, facing an existence like that, anyone would feel uneasy.”

“But what if you win?”

Dailin imagined that future. “You charge forward triumphantly, reaching the end of the Destiny in just a few years, succeeding the Expeditionary Pioneer, becoming the new Master of Torch-Leading Destiny, and then slicing that Abomination into pieces.”

“That sounds a bit too crazy, doesn’t it?”

What Sirian couldn’t even dream of, Dailin casually mentioned. Though it was a hypothetical, his tone was so certain it was as if he had seen such a future.

“What if, though?”

Dailin placed his wine glass on the steps. “Everything has a chance, and holding onto a little hope is better than having none.”

He asked again.

“So, after you’ve killed that Abomination, what do you plan to do?”

“I don’t know.”

Sirian shook his head helplessly, feeling a slight sense of shame when he said, “I don’t know.”

“I understand you, Sirian, I really do.”

Dailin reached out and placed his hand on Sirian’s shoulder, like a close brother.

“After witnessing my mother’s death, I was confused for a long time. It was during that period that I gradually realized my life had been supported by past resentment.”

“Now, all that resentment vanished with my mother’s passing. My heart was empty, and the solid fortress instantly collapsed into ruins.”

Dailin started talking to himself.

“How exactly should a person live, and how should he die?”

No one answered.

A subtle silence settled between the two, with only the faint sound of laughter drifting from the Ink House.

“Yes, I spent a long time in that quiet silence, until one day, I started thinking about something.”

Dailin turned to Sirian beside him, looking into his gray-blue eyes.

“Sirian, what caused all these tragedies?”

He accused.

“Was it my mother’s tragic fate, or my father whose identity I still don’t know, or perhaps that doomed City-state, or even this terrible era of isolated City-states?”

Dailin exhaled a puff of thick smoke, his voice becoming distant and ethereal.

“I thought for a long, long time. Tracing it back constantly, I realized that the cause of all these tragedies was the rampant chaos, the Dayless Cataclysm that erupted several epochs ago.”

His emotions gradually intensified, and he clenched his fists as if preparing to fight some invisible enemy.

“Think about it, Sirian. If the Dayless Cataclysm hadn’t erupted, perhaps we would have lived completely different lives.”

“I would have a happy family, growing up cherished by my parents. Anya would be the descendant of some noble, practicing dance in a magnificent palace. And you… wouldn’t have had to leave your home.”

His words were like a swinging pickaxe, chipping away a corner of Sirian’s stony heart.

“That possibility is truly too beautiful; just thinking about it makes one feel happy.”

“So, every night before falling asleep, I would indulge in that fantasy, replacing every shadow of my childhood with light, substituting all those tragedies with happiness, making up for all the regrets, and granting everyone perfect fulfillment.”

“Like a creator, night after night, my imagined world gradually became more complete, more real, and more tangible…”

Dailin slowly unclenched his fists, wearily drained the wine at the bottom of his glass, and lay flat on the steps, gazing at the sky, as if he had been knocked down.

“I can’t quite remember the exact day, but I woke up as if from a dream, realizing that no matter how perfectly I built that fantasy world, it was ultimately just a fantasy, not reality.”

He mocked himself, “Sometimes being too sober is a drawback; you don’t even have the right to drown in fantasy.”

Sirian parted his dry lips and asked.

“What happened after that?”

“I stopped fantasizing and accepted reality as if resigned to fate. My life was gray until I gradually fell in love with Anya.”

Whenever Anya was mentioned, Dailin couldn’t help but smile.

“Love is truly wonderful. I started fantasizing again, adding Anya to my dream world. She would become the child, the princess, the queen of this world.”

“But when I re-entered the dream world, I discovered that I had been away for too long. It had already withered and decayed, turning into a pile of ruins.”

Dailin’s breathing grew heavy, like an enraged bull.

“First I felt sadness and disorientation, and then came an uncontrollable rage. It was at that moment that I suddenly understood the Expeditionary Pioneer.”

He began to curse, grinding his teeth.

“You must have heard what those bastards say, right? They criticize the Expeditionary Pioneer, claiming that the existing land is enough for humanity, and that he should have guarded the current civilized world instead of launching The Twelfth Crusade.”

“Others even spread conspiracy theories that the Expeditionary Pioneer was completely saturated with a ridiculous savior complex, driven mad by the so-called glory and honor of humanity, turning him into a warmongering lunatic…”

Suddenly, Dailin calmed down.

“But I think the Expeditionary Pioneer’s original intention might not have been that complicated. Maybe he was motivated by reasons similar to mine?”

“Yes, that’s it. Expeditionary Pioneer, you must have gone through something like this.”

“You suffered hardship and setbacks, fantasizing about the possibility of a different, beautiful life amidst despair and confusion, until cold reality woke you from the dream. Tracing it back relentlessly, you discovered the true enemy…”

Dailin did not utter the name of the true culprit, but Sirian understood implicitly.

It was the Dayless Cataclysm, it was the chaos evils.

“The difference between us is that I clenched my fists and could only fight the air, while the Expeditionary Pioneer gathered armies and launched one crusade after another.”

Dailin mused.

“Perhaps, for the Expeditionary Pioneer, saving the civilized world was just a side effect. What he truly wanted to do was simply avenge that fantasy life of his.”