Chapter 80
The lights were dimmed to their lowest setting, leaving only the heartbeat of the monitoring equipment in the surroundings.
Sprout 12 sat on the edge of the bed, leaning against the cold metal wall, holding the still-burning talisman blade in her hand.
237 leaned against the repair pod, the light spot on its forehead flickering faintly in the dim light, like the remaining embers.
There was an oppressive silence in the air.
“So,” Sprout12 began, his voice low and hoarse, “what if it comes again?”
That existence... you said it's not something we can rely on.
But if it forcibly intervenes in the battle, we have no choice but to accept it.
237 closed his eyes and remained silent for a short while.
What still lingered in his mind was that enormous, unseen shadow—the true consciousness of the Mother Tree, or some higher order.
That call that touched his soul made him realize one thing:
They are merely pieces on a chessboard.
“If it is order,” 237 whispered, “we can only survive in the cracks.”
If it is a predator… then we must find a way to cut it off before it fully arrives.”
Sprout12 sneered: "Sever it? You really think we can do that?"
237 turned to look at her, his eyes resolute, yet tinged with weariness:
"No one believed we could damage a Rift Avatar. But we did it."
If this third force truly intends to crush us into dust... then at the very least, we must know its weaknesses.
Sprout 12 paused for a moment, then inserted the talisman blade beside the bed and whispered:
"Then let's assume two possible scenarios."
First, submission: We accept its protection and let it become the new master.
Second, resistance: We try to find its shackles so that we don't succumb before it strikes.
"You're thinking of the second one, aren't you?" She stared at 237.
237 nodded slowly, a dark light flickering in his eyes:
"Yes. Even if I'm seen as crazy, I don't intend to let anything else decide our fate."
Sprout 12's lips curled up almost imperceptibly, as if she had let go of her feelings, or perhaps it was a silent vow.
She reached out and placed her hand on the back of 237's hand.
"Then let's start now—the two of us, let's get ready."
Whatever it is, we must find out its true nature before anyone else.
The monitor's heartbeat remained steady, yet it seemed to be striking a rhythm for this secret vow.
Sprout 12 whispered, "Since we need to prepare in advance, we should first figure out what it might be."
237 paused for a moment, the light on its forehead flickering, as if responding to some unspeakable call.
He spoke, his voice low and slow:
"The first possibility—order."
The beam of light, too bright to look directly at, appeared in his eyes.
"It may be a guardian of a higher dimension, a true extension of the Mother Tree's consciousness."
It does not belong to the spacetime we are familiar with, but is the **'chains' that keep the world running**.
If it truly is order, then its arrival means that everything must return to its predetermined course.
There is no freedom, no choice.
We will become part of its system, like... the branches and leaves of a bare tree, forever rooted downwards, yet unable to defy the will of the trunk.
Sprout12 scoffed: "In other words, it's about turning us into more obedient servants."
237 did not refute, and continued to speak in a low voice:
"The second possibility—plunder."
His voice suddenly became heavy.
"If it is not a guardian, but a parasite of the old gods..."
The remaining image of the mother tree that we see is merely bait it has dropped.
It will arrive when both light and darkness are severely wounded and the world is at its most vulnerable, plundering all fundamental energy.
Once it truly establishes itself, even the incarnations of those on the other side of the rift will become mere food for it.
Sprout 12 squinted, tapping her fingertips on the edge of the bed, and replied in a cold voice:
"Order or plunder... it all comes down to the same thing for us—"
We are not the main characters, but merely pawns being manipulated.
237 looked at her with a resolute expression:
"Therefore, we must see its true nature before others choose to submit or blindly resist."
If it is order, we must find its 'chains'—the rules that force everything to conform.
If it's plunder, we need to find its 'fangs'—the source of power it truly relies on.
Sprout 12 was silent for a moment, then suddenly chuckled softly: "This sounds like something only a madman would do."
237 laughed, but his laughter was icy: "Only a madman would have the chance to flip the chessboard."
The atmosphere between them was frozen, yet this suppressed vow seemed all the more vivid.
The lights in the medical cabin were dim, but the roar of reconstruction machinery could still be heard from outside the cabin walls in the distance.
Sprout 12 re-fastened her arm guards and looked up at 237: "Since we're going to investigate, we need a starting point. We know nothing right now."
237 paused for a moment, then took out a small piece of crystal from his chest.
Those were fragments he picked up from the "collapsed pillar of light" before withdrawing from the battlefield.
A faint shimmer of light still flickered inside the crystal, like the beating of a dormant heart.
"This thing... doesn't belong to the rift, and we didn't create it."
He spoke softly, placing the fragments on the control panel.
The motion-sensor lights inside the cabin suddenly flickered, as if they had been interfered with.
Sprout 12's pupils constricted: "Why do you still keep this? The energy of that beam of light almost destroyed the entire area."
“That’s exactly why.” 237 looked up, his expression calm. “It might be an anchor point left by a third force.”
Whether it's order or plunder, both need to leave stable 'coordinates' in reality; otherwise, they cannot interfere with our world.
Sprout 12 was silent for a moment, then reached out and touched the fragment.
The moment her fingertips touched her, her senses were immediately drawn into an invisible vortex.
She saw—dense veins intertwined in the void, light and darkness interwoven, with a pair of enormous eyes floating in the center.
Those eyes had no emotion; they were merely observing.
She abruptly pulled her hand back, cold sweat trickling down her neck.
"It's watching us."
237 slowly retrieved the fragment, his voice low and somber: "So we can't let anyone know that this thing still exists."
Especially at the top—they're already debating whether to 'ask for help from the pillar of light.' Once we're used by them, we won't even have a choice."
"What do you plan to do?" Sprout 12 asked.
237 looked into the distance, a light spot flickering slightly on his forehead: "Let's get to the root of the problem first."
The energy waves from the afterimage of the mother tree are still flowing underground, and I can sense frequencies within them that do not belong to us.
That might be the true 'circuit' of the third force.
Ya Dou nodded, her eyes sharpening again: "Let's start there."
Whatever it is, let's dig it out from the root first.
The two looked at each other, the air filled with the smell of metal and resin.
The lights outside the medical ward flickered, as if the world was briefly holding its breath.
There were no stars in the night.
The entire crash site was still shrouded in a thin fog and the gray light of residual radiation. Scorched dust floated in the air, and occasionally the faint groans of broken metal supports could be heard in the wind.
Sprout 12's footsteps were almost silent; she used a folding shield to isolate her own energy fluctuations.
The person in front, number 237, was kneeling in front of a scorched patch of ground, his palms pressed against the ground, and a point of light slowly lit up on his forehead.
—The traces of the mother tree's fallen remains.
The huge streak of light on the ground had long since cooled, yet it still emitted a strange pulsation.
It wasn't heat, nor spiritual pressure, but a kind of **"structural vibration"**—like some massive system still operating underground.
Sprout 12 asked in a low voice, "Are you sure it's still alive?"
237 did not answer immediately.
He sensed a faint breath responding to him from deep underground.
That wasn't the breath of life, but rather a frequency of thought.
Like countless consciousnesses whispering at the same moment.
“It’s repairing itself,” 237 finally spoke. “The afterimage of the Mother Tree… may not have completely disappeared, but has been ‘taken over’ by a third force.”
As soon as he finished speaking, a very slight tremor suddenly came from the ground beneath his feet.
The mist was swirled up, as if gently parted by an invisible hand.
Then a dark red root-like crack appeared, extending from the center of the ruins into the depths of the earth, with a liquid of light and darkness faintly flowing in the vein.
Sprout 12 crouched down, took out the scanner, but only received an interference signal.
"It's shielding us from all external detection... like a conscious defense."
“This means we’ve found the right place.” 237 reached out and pried open the edge of the crack, and fine dust of light flowed backward along his arm.
He could sense that a familiar yet unfamiliar will was observing him along this vein.
"Welcome back..."
The voice rang in his mind; it did not belong to any known language, yet it was crystal clear.
Sprout 12 immediately became alert: "What's wrong?"
237 looked up, his expression slightly changing, but he only shook his head faintly: "...It's nothing, just an echo."
Then continue forward.
They slowly descended along the crack.
The surrounding air grew increasingly thick, as if enveloped in liquid consciousness.
Deep within those endless root channels, a figure of light is slowly awakening—
Its shape resembles an upside-down tree crown, with branches extending downwards and roots pulsating like a heartbeat.
That was the core of the mother tree's afterimage.
But behind the light, there is another blurry silhouette.
It was as if some much larger being was gazing at them through it.
Sprout 12 whispered, "...This doesn't seem like the will of the Mother Tree."
A light flashed on 237's forehead, and his gaze became deep: "No."
This is its true form.
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