54
“…”
"Do you really have to call me that?"
Gojo Satoru retracted his outstretched legs, lifting his knees and crossing his ankles in front of him, tightening his body into a slightly compact position. Then he bent his left arm, resting his elbow heavily on his raised knee, palm facing upward, perfectly supporting his slightly lowered chin. A few fingers even unconsciously dug into the soft flesh of his cheek.
"Gojo, Satoru, um... forget it, let's just call him Gojo."
Resurrection Awakening is too directional and distinctive, but there is no need to distinguish it so clearly.
His gaze drifted toward the water, his right arm drooping, his fingertips casually dipping into the rising tide. The sea of data instantly enveloped his fingertips, and he subconsciously curled them, then uncurled them again. He used his fingertips to slowly draw meaningless circles on the water, feeling the gentle resistance of the current and the subtle numbness in his fingertips—a rejection of him by the ocean.
Because he is a stowaway, an unwelcome visitor, a thief who has stolen the sovereign's authority.
"You are not the special Gojo Satoru. Who can you rob?"
It does not hesitate to use harsh words to mock those who steal its power - it also knows how to hit their sore spots directly.
The Primordial Celestial Body glanced at the other person, the corner of his mouth raised, and he clapped his hands in amazement, his tone drawn out, "Want to go find her? How romantic—"
He couldn't even figure out the most basic data operations. If it weren't for Hipper's life sharing, how could he have the honor of seeing the true world?
It was such a good deal for him. Just because he was Gojo Satoru, he could get her favor? Then what did it matter to these people if he became Gojo Satoru?
"Do you have the youthfulness of your 15-year-old self to accompany her? Do you have the qualifications of your 28-year-old self to teach her? What do you have?"
Your lost youth has been replaced.
Your place in her teaching is already taken.
She doesn't lack love from Gojo Satoru, it's you who is asking for it from her, it's you who needs her.
"You have nothing, resurrect Wu."
Keep that little bit of emotion you have, Hipper doesn't need it, it's just some data, it can afford it.
"And you can't go back."
Once he leaves a world that has been declared dead, he can never return, and the simulated universe does not welcome him either.
Well, the primordial celestial body does not welcome him.
"That's so hurtful~" Gojo Satoru glanced at him with a smile, not caring at all.
"You also have to learn to retreat when you know it's difficult."
The primordial celestial body sent a message lightly.
The venomous sarcasm and sarcastic comments, laced with prejudice, pelted him. Yet, this man seemed to be in an invisible soundproof enclosure. His head tilted slightly, and his ears? They seemed to be decorative.
His eyes were fixed on the rippling water at his feet, his fingers moving excitedly beneath the surface. It wasn't a simple fiddle, it was exploration—his fingertips deftly chasing the fleeting data, sometimes gently prodding it to float, sometimes letting it sink, only to stir up another cluster of data swaying with the current.
He was so engrossed in the sight, his lips curled up in pure curiosity at the intriguing information he'd discovered. The sharp tone of the sarcastic voice was probably less clear to him than the gurgling sound of water flowing through his fingers. Without even raising his head, he poked at the surging foam with his fingers, excited.
After it finished saying those words, it responded slowly, like hitting cotton without any pain.
Is he naturally open-minded or just a bit insensitive?
Neither. He just decided what he was going to do, believed in it firmly, and was determined to see it through to the end.
He has nothing? Yes, but not entirely.
Is his value calculated based on external factors? No, it shouldn't be. It should be the other way around. All value should be based on the absolute principle that he is Gojo Satoru.
The value of existence is deeply rooted in the soil of the soul, not on the quicksand of status and wealth.
He is Gojo Satoru, he is a special-grade sorcerer, he is a high school teacher, he is the strongest.
None of this is lost, everything will come back as long as he wants it.
In adversity, when no one was around, as time passed, and at the moment of death, he always held on to his will, never retreated, and never regretted.
Having lost everything at this moment, what is revealed most is his attitude of choosing to stand and move forward after having nothing left. This is the glimmer of light that still remains inextinguishable in this dust.
The value of Gojo Satoru lies in the brilliance of these subtle details, his unique insight and understanding, and the traces and spiritual echoes he has left in the long river of time that cannot be measured by material things.
The life of Gojo Satoru.
"You seem to know me very well."
It was like he was always watching.
"She cares about me?"
Could it be that this inhuman monster was curious about him?
"Are you saying bad things about me? I heard you."
If you miscalculate, it can also read minds.
"Hmm...you said so much, but you missed a key point."
He listened to the other person's sarcasm casually and was silent for a moment. He raised his hand and pointed his index finger at his eyes almost lazily and suggestively.
"Six Eyes, you guys care about this, right?"
Then, the finger didn't sway dramatically, but simply tapped back and forth twice, ever so slightly, with a certain alluring rhythm. A very secret smile spread across his face—the corners of his mouth only subtly raised, but his eyes were startlingly bright, and deep within his pupils seemed to hide a vortex, a mixture of insight and amusement.
"She doesn't look innocent when she looks at me." The low, breathy voice almost blended into the smile.
"You and it looked at me very seriously when you stared into my eyes, huh?"
“…”
The primordial body did not refute it.
She would not remain indifferent no matter which Gojo Satoru died in front of Hipper.
That's definitely not innocent.
"Because I'm the only one she saved? She might not even know I've been resurrected?"
“…”
Tsk, that's difficult. He got the point.
Gojo Satoru's lips curled in a determined arc, his eyes curved into crescents, yet they gleamed with a glint of insight. He stared intently, not saying a word, as if time had frozen in his leisurely smile.
The air was as thick as glue, and one could even feel his silent urging - noisy words: "Say something quickly," "Let me see how you can quibble"... These silent lines almost overflowed from his smile.
Damn it, this look of being confident of victory and waiting to see a joke is really... disgusting.
It suddenly understood why Hipper was sometimes irritated by Gojo Satoru - he was really good at jumping into other people's minefields.
"There's nothing you can do if you're angry. She just cares about me that much. You don't get treated this way, do you? She's risking her life for you—" He even moved closer and leaned his head over, describing some details, his eyes full of provocation.
The method of provoking someone is old-fashioned, but it works.
The Primordial Body didn't want to look at him again, and now it didn't have the heart to lock him away in the simulated universe. It wasn't good at dealing with Gojo Satoru, so it was better to leave it to Hipper.
Gotta get rid of this trouble quickly.
In that instant, the world seemed to pause, then suddenly accelerate to its limit. The solid feel beneath my feet vanished without warning. The gravel that had supported my body a moment before was instantly wiped away by an invisible giant hand, leaving only a devouring void.
Gojo Satoru fell, following the pull of gravity. Rough sand mixed with data landed on his face and arms. There was not even a breeze as he fell. In this silent world, only his own rapidly accelerating heartbeat filled the air.
"Can you please say something useful? You have a terrible personality."
The light before my eyes rapidly narrowed and distorted, leaving only a small, rapidly receding, blurring and darkening patch of sky overhead. My entire being was swallowed by this sudden void, dragged into the depths of unknown darkness.
"You don't need to know me, Resurrection Satoru."
The hole was quickly repaired under the Lord's command. It seemed that those few words had angered it so much that it wanted to throw itself out immediately.
"Hipper, say hello to her properly."
Without warning, the voice pierced his skull like an invisible, cold awl. He was focused on finding someone, his thoughts clear and flowing. The next moment, a "voice" that definitely didn't belong to him—or rather, a stream of information that exploded directly at the core of his consciousness—brutally intruded, crowding out all his mental space.
The voice didn't travel through his eardrums, but rather vibrated and hummed inside his skull, with an eerie clarity, as if the speaker were whispering right next to his cerebral cortex. A subtle yet sharp sting spread across his temples and the back of his head, accompanied by a slight dizziness. This invasion was so swift and complete, it instantly cut off his original train of thought.
It wasn't any creature he was familiar with, more like a simulated sound synthesized by some sophisticated instrument, devoid of any trace of human presence. It "rang" directly at the very foundation of his mind, with terrifying clarity, and he couldn't locate any source.
A strong feeling of nausea, of being watched and manipulated, surged from the depths of my soul.
To be honest, he felt a little uncomfortable.
However, her name turned out to be Hipper. I finally knew her name. This can be considered a lot of hard work, right?
When you open your eyes after death, you find that you are neither in heaven nor in hell, but floating in the sea... If Glass and the others knew about this, their worldview would probably be reorganized. Who would have thought that the places where people go after death in all the well-known myths and legends do not exist?
A person wakes up in an endless, lightless and silent ocean, lifted up by memories and floating on the water, swept by whirlpools and dragged into deeper places, not knowing where to go. You are the only living person here - looking around, you are not the only one floating in this sea, but you are the only one who wakes up.
“If only it were a horror story.”
Everyone was asleep, wrapped in memories, their faces showing both joy and sorrow. Some smiled with happiness, while others wept with sorrow. There was no anger here, as all hatred would be offset by life at the moment of death.
"If only it were a dream."
As he fell, his body passed through some invisible "bottom," like sinking into a sticky gel or warm mud. The heaviness of his fall was instantly absorbed. An irresistible, gentle yet powerful force lifted him gently from below. A feeling of near-weightlessness filled his body—but this time, upward.
A creepy feeling of being teased by fate or manipulated by some higher power, perhaps mixed with a strange sense of familiarity and tranquility like "going home".
“…”
“Back here again.”
No matter how many times I come back here, seeing all this will make my soul feel heavy.
"This is not a place for humans to get involved."
This sea is devoid of natural light. It's as if these "bodies of water" devour all light, shrouding it in a velvety mist. Any attempt to peer is absorbed. Perhaps there are extremely faint, unnatural sources of light—the faint glow from the surface of the human body—but these are insufficient to illuminate this "sea."
There was no sky above, and no depth below. He felt like he was suspended in the center of the vacuum of the universe, having lost all reference points, save for the land beneath his feet that held countless "sleepers"—
"Sea of Death."
And on this piece of water, there is a crowd that stretches to the limit of human imagination.
An endless crowd of people.
They were densely packed, like dust abandoned by a deathly mass, filling every corner as far as the eye could see and the imagination could reach. Men, women, old people, children... in all different postures. Some floated on their backs, faces calm, eyes closed, the sound of eternal sleep; some curled up, like fetuses returning to their mother's womb; some stretched their arms towards the empty darkness. They drifted slowly in the almost still water.
Time has lost its meaning here. They are like specimens sealed in the amber of death and will exist here forever.
Surrounded by billions of silent bodies, one feels as small as dust, or even more insignificant than dust. The sense of existence is diluted to near-nothingness by this grand spectacle of death.
"Phew, luckily it's me. Anyone else would have gone crazy."
The human brain has its limits, and limited knowledge is sometimes a form of protection - preventing them from encountering forbidden dangers.
"But...why does it feel so much like a star?"
"Is it an illusion?"
Each floating body was enveloped in a thin, cold halo of light. The light was so faint, as if it could be snuffed out at any moment by the surrounding darkness. It was not evenly distributed, but rather like dying embers.
As the gaze zooms out, turning from the individual to this boundless crowd, a spectacle enough to freeze the soul unfolds before one's eyes: countless points of such cold, flickering light, densely packed, filling the entire field of vision and extending beyond the dark horizon.
They were not chaotic, but rather, beneath the slow flow of the viscous seawater, a solidified, suffocating order. Billions of tiny points of light, like shattered, cooled fragments of the Milky Way dumped onto the Dead Sea, formed a cold, dead star map covering the entire world.
It is not to illuminate each other, but a silent mark carved by death in the darkness.
They truly were like stars, billions of them, drained of warmth, frozen in place, forever fixed on the canopy of death. They lacked the brilliance and reverie of real starlight, possessing only a frozen, tranquil beauty. Their light "flickered" at minute angles, a rhythm not of life but the cold, measured after-tremors of death itself.
This "starry sky" lit by the dead gazes at Gojo Satoru, the only one who has awakened, in eternal silence.
This is the splendor of death, the grand art condensed at the end of life.
“It’s a little bit heartwarming looking this way.”
"As expected, people have eyes and need to see more."
How could such a romantic girl like Hipper, who would adorn the sky of the dead, be a villain? She must be a truly wonderful woman!
"Okay, now let's figure out how to get out. I remember... if you keep focusing on a strong desire, a data vortex will appear... so fast!"
A huge whirlpool attracted by the wish swept over, and all the people were unaffected, only Gojo Satoru was dragged into the water.
His only thought before he fell into coma was: Fortunately I won’t drown here, otherwise I would die again.
Also, why does no limit not work here!
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