Chapter 35 Becoming the One Who Holds the Torch High You put this bright...
You hand this distinctly different jar to Sitaros.
"Where did you get this from?" you asked. "I don't think the pottery firing style of Onphalus is like this."
The Talos was still painting on the pottery, and it was already taking shape. You vaguely recognized several Titan totems: [Conflict], [Romance]... However, when you saw [Time], your gaze suddenly stopped.
Besides the words praising Euronis, you also see a familiar touch of pink.
Completely oblivious to your sudden blank expression, Sitaros took the trash can and examined it closely in the sunlight for a while.
"Hey, this is strange. This is such a peculiar thing, but I don't remember it at all." He scratched his head. "This batch of goods came in together, so maybe it was hidden in there and I didn't see it? But judging from its condition, it's quite new, so it shouldn't be anything with a long history."
The light blue ceramic trash can is only the size of a palm. Under the light, you can clearly see the uneven small particles on it, which, together with the recessed lines, create a three-dimensional sense of shadow.
"Click".
The earthenware pot in the trash can was put down and slammed onto the table with a crisp sound.
It's like an echo that has spanned a thousand years, or like ripples that have stirred up the past.
You hear your own voice, seemingly drifting from afar, "...Who is that pink-haired girl?"
Sitaros didn't understand why you suddenly became so strange. Your eyes were filled with obvious anxiety, and your tone became hesitant and stuttering, as if you were learning to speak for the first time.
"Who is that girl with pink hair next to that [time] totem!?"
"Ah, ah?" Sitaros was taken aback. "...Oh! This, this is..."
Hearing the commotion, Bai E frowned, walked over with concern, and asked softly, "What's wrong?"
Sitaros glanced at the pottery jar again.
"It is [Pink Mist Goddess]. Although people rarely mention her nowadays, her legends were once widely discussed. It is said that she was a good friend of the Titans and often accompanied [Time]. Even the selection of [Time] priestesses in later generations was based on her image, with a preference for pink-haired girls."
"...However, we don't know for sure whether the [Pink Cloud Celestial Maiden] actually existed." He emphasized, "Aside from cave paintings and surviving folk songs, no one can find any evidence that she truly existed... It's said that she came from outer space, haha, how could that be? I mean, outer space doesn't even exist, right?"
Bai E was startled and subconsciously turned his gaze to you, only to find that you were also stiff, staring blankly at the trash can-shaped ceramic pot with your head down, without saying a word.
"...That's all for today."
You picked up the earthenware pot from the trash can and carefully put it in your pocket.
"Excuse me, boss, something urgent has come up and I have to go back."
You said, turning around and exchanging a glance with Bai E, who seemed hesitant to speak.
He mouthed again, "I need to go back and find Danheng."
*
The celestial maiden of pink clouds walked beside Meneta, her right hand reaching towards her waist several times as if touching something, but then seeming to realize she hadn't found it. Her fingers twitched slightly before relaxing and falling to her sides.
"What are you touching?" Meneta looked down and glanced at her. "A weapon?"
The celestial maiden of pink clouds shook her head. "It's a vessel for [memory], something called a 'camera'... It contains many things that are very important to me. I only recently discovered that I can draw power from it. Perhaps my background is also related to [memory]?"
Meneta asked, "If we had this vessel, would it be of any benefit to us? ... Speaking of which, your ability is ice. Ice gives people a feeling of 'freezing' and 'preservation'—freezing memories, preserving memories—no wonder you and [memory] are so compatible."
The Fairy of Pink Clouds smiled and said, "What you said makes sense. However, the vessel is not with me now, but in the hands of another person who is very important to me."
Meneta blinked, a hint of curiosity creeping into the gentle smile in her eyes as her friend spoke of this "important person."
How important is it?
Her face flushed slightly, as if she were a little embarrassed.
"Cough, is he as important to me as Cecilia?"
The Fairy of Pink Clouds paused for a moment, then said helplessly, "Our bond is also very complicated, but compared to 'romantic love,' perhaps 'familial love' is more important? How do we measure the degree of 'importance'..."
She was silent for a moment, then said, "...All my efforts now, apart from practicing [pioneering] in Onphalus and not being able to bear seeing people suffer... are all for them. If my silent efforts can bring them some help... then I will be content. Our little March is also very hardworking!"
Meneta didn't quite understand. But the idea of sacrificing oneself for this kind of "love"—she thought about it and felt she could do it too.
So for a moment I felt a sense of empathy.
"You're amazing!" she laughed. "Maybe you also have some connection with [romance]."
The Fairy of Pink Clouds simply smiled.
...
Time marches on.
The oddly shaped, light blue ceramic trash can stood quietly on the table, its surface dappled with alternating moonlight and sunlight, yet always shielded by a thin layer of the power of time.
Thousands of days and nights have passed.
It stood there silently until mortals became Titans, the laughter and joy of the past were gone, rivers changed course, land split, mountains became barren and then green again. It fell to the ground and rolled into a dark cave, without being stained by a speck of dust.
Until a guard squad arrived at the cave in order to resist the Black Tide.
One of the guards, who was an avid appraiser, stumbled because the sky was too gloomy and he wasn't looking down to see where he was going.
"Oh my! Where did this pottery come from?" he said through gritted teeth, shoveling aside the clods of earth in his way, picking it up and taking a look. "...The color is so bright, and the shape is so strange...it doesn't look like an antique."
"Never mind, I'll take it back," he muttered. "I'll show it to my friend in Sitaros; maybe it'll have some value."
—At this point, it had finally completed its mission and was transported back to the holy city of Ohm. There, it was picked up by a gray-haired girl. Its pinkish-blue surface resembled the eye color of its creator, and it met the girl's bright golden eyes. In a daze, they finally locked eyes.
The light of day has returned.
The power of time has weakened considerably, yet it still retains the vibrant colors it had for thousands of years.
...It seemed this wasn't a transmission across time, but merely an ordinary, mundane day. On the interstellar train, accompanied by the conductor pushing the dining cart and calling everyone to wake up, and the enticing aroma of toast, the pink-haired girl opened the carriage door and exclaimed excitedly:
Hey! Stop sleeping in!
She said:
"I made another little gadget, your favorite trash can! Here, take it—uh, it's not that ugly, is it? Be understanding, it's my first time making one—"
*
So what is the fate of mortals?
Are we swept along by fate and forced to run away in a panic?
"What strange and unusual book have you been reading this time?"
Dr. Truth sighed. He really didn't want to admit that this night owl, who was full of energy at night but fell asleep as soon as class started, was actually his favorite student.
"I've told you so many times, stop reading those mindless self-help and marketing books and read more of the books I've copied down for you."
Despite his apparent disdain, he patiently asked, "...Why did you suddenly bring up 'mortals' and 'fate'?"
Just as you were about to speak, he rolled up the textbook in his hand, formed it into a cylinder, and tapped you on the forehead.
"Forget it, I don't expect you to say anything. Besides, those books published purely for personal reputation and money are a waste of my time, even just hearing their names is a waste of time."
“I’ve said it many times, I’m just an ordinary person. There is no such thing as ‘fate’ in this world. As ordinary people, all we can do is respect other people’s choices. A doctor’s responsibility is to guide, not to make decisions for patients. But there will always be people who stand up and resist.”
"So, Professor, you mean that, aside from those who give up on themselves, some ordinary people still have the courage to declare war on so-called fate when danger comes?"
you say:
"Okay...actually, I just saw the fable of the cave in a book and it inspired me to write this."
Doctor Truth chuckled. "Not too stupid. Speaking of the cave allegory, besides the shock you saw when they emerged from the cave, didn't you see the choice presented to them afterward?... To return or to leave? What do you think was the reason for the return?"
"Feeling out of place? Wanting to return to a safe environment? Feeling shaken by the very nature of the world because you've touched upon incomprehensible boundaries of knowledge?"
"In fact, there are many different opinions and interpretations, and there is no clear answer," he said. "However, based on the topic of mortals and destiny that you raised, and in order to give you a clear encouragement—I can say that it is the choice of mortals to go back and spread the truth and enlightenment to the public."
You blinked. "Then who will play the role of the person who returns? If they are just mortals, how can they judge what is false and what is real, what is inside the cave and what is outside the cave?"
The doctor's lips curled up slightly. "Anyone can do it, but remember, in the end, we are all just ordinary people. What we should do is guide, not overstep our bounds. If someone who goes beyond the cave does so in a radical way, then he will eventually become a philosophical tyrant. After all, the purpose of returning is to help, not to destroy."
"Your eyes are telling me—you're right. There are many possibilities for [exploration], and perhaps one day you really can do it."
“I never consider myself a hero,” you said. “But if circumstances force me to, I will turn back, just as you are doing, and pass the torch that my companions have given me to the people in the cave—I will be the one who rushes to the front and holds the torch high. Thank you for your answer, Professor.”
Dr. Truth showed no sign of being moved at all; he's a terrible man with a heart of stone.
"Your timely completion of your assignment is a huge thank you to me. The train is about to depart again, right? When are you planning to hand in your assignment?"
"...Ah, well...speaking of which, Professor, you were really inspiring just now, just like a motivational speaker!"
"...Where did you even read the book? Zero points!"
-----------------------
Author's Note: The allegory of the cave, the rhetoric used by the ancients to persuade us in the new storyline, is based on Plato's *Republic*. Socrates, Plato, and Aristotle, these three teachers and students, particularly valued virtue, believing that true knowledge often accompanies virtue; if a person possesses the truth, he will inevitably become just, temperate, and wise.
Lycus mentions the allegory of the Cave, claiming himself to be a sage who left the Cave and then returned, yet he never considered the Golden Clan as equals. While others helped others escape, he directly destroyed the entire Cave. Therefore, despite his many efforts, he didn't gain true knowledge because he wasn't a virtuous person. One could even say his methods were essentially anti-cave practices, using the methods of the Cave itself to treat prisoners—through violence, destruction, and oppression. This means he remained essentially a prisoner, only his object of worship shifted from the "truth within the Cave"—the shadow—to the "truth outside the Cave"—the sun.
In conclusion, the value of a professorship is still increasing.
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