Port Yarple is a sprawling city occupying an entire asteroid. Despite this, its scale has only rapidly expanded in recent decades. Due to its remote location in a war zone, Port Yarple's population is far smaller than that of second- and third-tier cities in the Federation's central starfield. Conversely, the booming peacetime tourism industry has led to a flourishing business, fostering the development of many renowned natural and cultural attractions.
Furthermore, due to the planet's limited land area, human settlements are confined to an isolated continent in the northern hemisphere. Satellite images of Port Alplai circulating on the Star Network reveal that the advancement of human technology has gradually transformed this ordinary planet into a strange, deformed form, like a top-heavy child—countless towering, upright concrete buildings rise from the northern hemisphere's continents like sharp swords piercing the sky, and suspended in the atmosphere are skytrain transfer stations, making human settlements increasingly complex and dense.
Half of the planet is covered by the vast blue ocean. Even the isolated islands on the ocean appear small and cute. They float on the ocean like grains of rice, and even the highest point seems too small.
If Azathoth so desired, he could, with Hugo's help, evade the satellites, reach the other side of the planet, and rise from the depths of the ocean. No complicated movements would be necessary—his body would unleash massive waves and torrents. A fierce wind would sweep away the seawater from his body, condensing into gray-black clouds high in the sky, transforming into a violent storm that would engulf human cities. Perhaps even the planet's crust would tremble as he shifted his body in his slumber.
But he won't do that.
Azathoth can appreciate beauty, whether it is naturally formed or created by humans. He himself is aware that he lacks the empathy of humans. He has never felt sadness and rarely has true happiness, but this does not prevent him from standing on a high vantage point to appreciate any miracle born in the universe.
It is a miracle that Hugo's body has not forgotten his creator even after being buried in ice and snow for hundreds of years.
It was a miracle that Igor traveled across countless light years to land in front of him and then accepted the faith with exhaustion.
After enduring the ravages of war, Port Alpre remained vibrant and prosperous. Its summer sun was warm and unrestrained, and the azure ocean lapped against the emerald green cliffs, stirring up snow-white foam. Azathoth disliked it, but he knew how to appreciate and praise it, and he didn't want these diverse charms to be destroyed by his overly casual actions.
So when the sudden change happened, everything seemed so ordinary and low-key, as simple as a sparrow singing and landing on a treetop decorated with green leaves.
Erica skipped across the street and came to the square in the city center.
This square, located in front of the City Hall, consists of a massive statue several dozen meters tall and a fountain surrounding it. Given current technology, constructing a stone statue of this scale is not difficult. Therefore, the statue in the center of Port Alplai depicts the inauguration of each consul in the federal capital.
The statue of the current Archon, Ocasio-Griffin, appears solemn and respectful. He is dressed in formal attire, holding a cane and bowing slightly to the front.
Erica was standing directly below the statue, beside the fountain, looking up at the building. A few tourists were nearby, snapping photos of the statue and the city hall, including Erica in the frame.
“I’m sorry—but taking photos here is prohibited!” she shouted at the tourists from where she stood.
"Really?" The tourists looked at her in surprise. "Sorry, we didn't see the sign prohibiting photography. Let's delete the photos now."
"Thank you," Erica said. "If possible, could you please move aside? There's going to be a performance here soon."
The tourists dispersed as instructed. Then, the little girl with brown hair and green eyes smiled brightly, two sweet dimples appearing on her cheeks. She returned her gaze to the statue of Ocasio-Griffin and silently recited the true name of God.
“Crack—”
The sound of water, the chirping of cicadas, the singing of birds, the roar of car engines, the trembling of helicopter rotors, the faint sound of singing in the distance: even in the quiet moments, the human city is so noisy. This slight sound is like the lightning that foreshadows the storm, and before it breaks the sky, no one has noticed the spark.
Neither did Benson Peters and Noyce.
In front of the City Hall, there was a straight highway that crossed the city, often blocked for various reasons. It was no different now. The two of them stood in the middle of the asphalt road, about two kilometers from the City Hall and the central square, facing the deserted street, flashing flawless smiles to the cameras before them.
"Long time no see, everyone." Noyce's tone was cheerful and light, a stark contrast to his usual tone of sarcasm. His smile was warm and enthusiastic, without any gloom. "It's been a while since we've been live. Did you miss us?"
He dragged out the last syllable to create a slightly coquettish feeling, and caught a glimpse of the live broadcast room's comments displayed on the screen in front of him, as well as the script in the hands of the staff - the federal central government issued a live broadcast task, and they found their studio for cooperation, and there was absolutely no room for deviation or perfunctory treatment.
Benson also moved closer to the camera, seemingly casually transitioning the conversation to an introduction to the city of Port Alplait. He and Noyce had spent a long time together, constantly arguing, yet working together seamlessly, without a trace of affectation. As they moved, the camera slowly followed, facing the steady glow of the star rising due east, capturing the city's unique desolation and grandeur amidst the hazy morning mist.
Until this moment, everything has been running smoothly.
To ensure safety, the entire street was cleared of pedestrians. The only people walking freely on the sidewalk were hired workers, and even the vehicles parked on the roadside had been carefully selected. Some important side roads were closed to traffic with guardrails and warning signs. The road in front of City Hall was straight, wide, and peaceful.
Suddenly, a man in a cheap black cloak and a tattered hood climbed over the railing and slowly walked towards the city center along the shadows cast by the tall buildings.
His pace was so leisurely that the staff standing by took a long time to react. They stretched out their arms and gruffly stopped him, saying, "Hey! Don't go any further! Didn't you see the road is closed this morning?"
The man seemed not to hear and continued walking forward with a pious attitude that seemed a little strange at the moment.
"Hey! I told you to stop!" The staff member didn't dare shout too loudly, so he reached out to grab the man. However, the force was so strong that he stumbled. The man in the black cloak was forced to stop, finally reacting to the staff member's call. He turned around blankly, his dark brown, unfocused eyes fixed on the staff member's face.
"What did you say?" The strange man with the typical appearance of a native of Port Alpre spoke with difficulty, as if he had not spoken for a long time, and his throat was hoarse and harsh like frosted sand.
The staff member's lips trembled, his expression fierce, and he grabbed his arm and dragged him back: "I said you are not allowed to go any further! Are you deaf?"
"I don't..." The man's tone was still strange, sounding like a foreigner whose native language was a different one. "No. Don't hold me back. I want to see God."
No one knew what was going on, but the staff member's hand holding his wrist suddenly loosened, and he watched helplessly as the man lowered his head, rubbed his bruised flesh, and continued walking towards his destination unconsciously.
He turned around somewhat bewilderedly, wanting to seek help from his colleagues, but was shocked to see that since he had no idea when, a dark stream of people had gathered like streams into rivers, walking along the only way leading to the square in front of the City Hall, against the light in the white fog that was about to dissipate.
His colleagues also maintained the same bewildered and panicked expressions as him, but they could only helplessly be dispersed by the crowd and drift with the flow, watching the countless locals of Port Alplai wearing black cloaks and unclear faces, bowing their heads respectfully like pilgrims, muttering to themselves.
The noisy voices gradually merged into one, like a grand, orchestrated choral performance, absurd to the point of being almost orderly, while the well-trained actors stuck to their work and would never give up until they achieved their goal.
But what exactly do they want to see and obey?
No one can give an answer.
The moment the first person arrived at the central square, a deafening sound woke the entire planet.
The trembling photographer, clutching the camera, suddenly turned back, his hands unable to bear the weight of the expensive equipment. The camera rolled twice on the ground, the lens black, and automatically shut down. But by then, no one had the energy to pay attention to the live broadcast that had suddenly and unexpectedly been cut off mid-stream. Their attention was drawn to the smoke and dust rising into the sky and the huge statue tumbling to the ground.
O'Casey Griffin's stone head is placed upright on the ground, with perfect light and shadow angles, like Michelangelo's David statue, with a dynamic beauty like a living being.
Erica sat on top of the statue of the Archon.
Her movements were effortless, her figure petite and delicate, and she faintly exuded the pheromones of a gentle breeze that signaled her Omega identity. She seemed barely larger than a statue's eyes, yet no one dared question her strength at that moment. The stark contrast between immense size and insignificance assaulted everyone's retinas, like traversing the universe for the first time and witnessing the boundless darkness and the overwhelming shadows cast by the planets—we all know how weak and powerless we are, but only in this contrast does the feeling of frailty within us reach its peak.
Inside the city hall, Governor O'Casey Griffin, who had been silently witnessing all this unfolding, felt his left hand, which should have been holding the teacup steadily, tremble. In that instant, his heart began to beat wildly, defying reason. Blood surged through his veins, and an uncontrollable urge brewed within him. He called over his temporary secretary, his words incoherent, barely conscious of what he was saying:
"Open the door—open it for me quickly! We can't wait any longer, this is the only chance! I saw it! There's no mistake! Go get me a cloak... I want to go downstairs!"
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