He suddenly stopped speaking.
Then he shook his head.
“I don't know.”
“And I don't want to know.”
Ryan frowned.
“Aren't you close to the Second Stage?”
Simon immediately glared at him.
“Who told you that?”
“That crazy woman Winona was just talking nonsense.”
“My biggest dream right now is to scrape by until I'm forty and retire.”
“Then find a tavern to work at as a bookkeeper.”
“Don't go raising flags for me.”
He spoke very seriously.
He even seemed genuinely worried.
Ryan suddenly realized something.
Simon was actually resistant to the idea of delving deeper into the extraordinary.
Perhaps even a little afraid.
Simon suddenly spoke again.
“Also.”
“Don't think aspect decides everything.”
“Grail disciples aren't necessarily all madmen.”
“And Lantern disciples aren't necessarily all clever.”
“Many people just have certain parts of themselves amplified by their aspect.”
“What is truly dangerous...”
“...is always humanity itself.”
Ryan listened quietly.
The night wind blew, bringing a slight chill.
But his mind was becoming clearer and clearer.
Because only now...
...did he finally gain a true understanding of this world.
This wasn't a game.
Nor was it a progression novel.
There were no clear levels.
There was no system.
There was no such thing as 'reaching heaven in a single step.'
An aspect was more like a form of chronic pollution.
It would slowly change you, bit by bit.
And the deeper you went...
...the harder it was to turn back.
Simon suddenly stopped when they reached an intersection.
Then he looked at Ryan.
“One last piece of advice for you.”
“Work hard during the day.”
“Don't wander around at night.”
“And if you see something strange, don't stare at it.”
“Also.”
He pointed at Ryan's eyes.
“Don't use those all the time. With things like the Lantern, the first thing they burn is always your own brain.”
Having said that, Simon waved his hand.
“Alright.”
“Go back to sleep.”
Then he turned and walked down another street, quickly vanishing into the night mist.
Only Ryan was left standing alone under the gas lamp.
He remained silent for a long time.
The night grew colder.
The East End mist drifted slowly under the gas lamp.
Ryan stood in place for a long time. Only when Simon had completely disappeared around the corner did he slowly move his stiff fingers.
The wind blew across his face.
The alcohol had completely worn off, but his mind was in a deeper state of chaos than before.
He lowered his head and walked toward his lodgings.
His pace wasn't fast, and he was even a bit dazed along the way.
He had always felt that he had just happened to come into contact with a bit of the occult by chance. He had picked up a dangerous pamphlet, had a few strange dreams, and his eyes could occasionally see some abnormal things.
But after tonight, he finally realized completely—the extraordinary in this world was truly functioning.
And it had already formed its own ecosystem.
Someone was keeping 'drunkards' in a tavern. Someone was pretending to be an ordinary person in the archive. Someone could even transfer a mental blast to someone else.
This was no longer just a game setting. It was a living, breathing thing. A real thing.
Ryan slowly clenched his fists.
He knew some lore from Cultist Simulator. He knew about aspects like Lantern, Grail, and Winter. He knew about the Long, the Hours, and even some paths and rituals.
But the problem was—this wasn't a game. At least, not entirely. Many details didn't match up at all.
It was similar to the settings in his memory, but not exactly the same.
Moreover, the people here were alive. They would hide, test waters, and exploit rules. They weren't like game NPCs who just stood there waiting for you to click on them.
If Simon hadn't appeared tonight, what would have happened to him?
Would he have been taken away? Made into ritual ingredients? Or turned directly into a 'drunkard' like those few drunks?
Ryan didn't dare think further. The answer wouldn't be very pleasant.
But right then, another thought slowly floated up from the depths of his mind, becoming clearer and clearer.
Ascension.
He wanted to become stronger.
No, to be precise—he had to become stronger.
Otherwise, what happened today would happen again.
Today it was Winona. What about tomorrow? Would Simon happen to pass by next time?
A person without power couldn't survive long in this kind of world.
Ryan's footsteps gradually slowed.
The light from the gas lamps reflected in the puddles, casting a dim yellow glow.
He suddenly remembered his state when he had first transmigrated. Feverish, starving, living in a moldy attic, worrying every day about whether he would be fired, unable to even afford hot soup.
And now, he was actually starting to think about things like 'Ascension.'
Ryan couldn't help but chuckle softly, his laugh a bit hoarse.
People really do change. And they change very quickly.
In the beginning, he just wanted to survive.
Later, he wanted to eat his fill and have a stable job.
And after that, he began to want to know the truth and master power.
And now, an even more dangerous thought was slowly rising.
Apotheosis.
The moment the word appeared, even Ryan himself was stunned.
He stopped by the side of the road, looking at the gas lamps in the distant mist. Many things suddenly flashed through his mind.
The Hours. The Long. Those existences that transcended humanity.
If those things truly existed... did that mean—he also had a chance?
As long as he kept climbing, kept ascending... would there come a day when he could truly touch that level? Or even... find a way back?
Ryan's chest suddenly felt a little warm. Because this was the first time he was truly, seriously considering 'going home.'
Not as a dream, not as self-consolation, but as a real possibility.
He thought of those dreams, of his past life as Lin Yuan.
His parents. The light at home. The taste of the food. And that feeling of true peace of mind.
This world had none of that. Here, it was always damp, cold, and dangerous. Even the air seemed to carry coal dust.
Ryan suddenly realized that he had never actually given up on going back. It was just that before, he was too poor, too tired, and too close to death. He hadn't dared to think about it.
But now, for the first time, he felt—maybe there really was a chance.
If the Hours could exist. If aspects could alter reality. If The Glory could shine into dreams.
Then transmigration itself might very well be some kind of ritual. Some kind of power. Or even some kind of 'door.'
And to reopen it, he would at least have to stand at a high enough position first.
Thinking of this, Ryan's breathing gradually quickened.
Desire began to emerge. True desire.
Climb upward. Continue to ascend. See more secrets. Reach higher levels. And then—go home.
Or even go a step further. Become an existence that truly transcended mortals.
At this moment, Ryan suddenly understood those extraordinary beings a little. Why they kept moving forward even when they knew the danger.
Because once you truly saw another possibility, an ordinary person's life would begin to become unbearable.
Continue to be a low-level scribe? Earning a few dozen shillings a week? Coughing to death from lung disease at forty in the East End? Then being buried in a cemetery filled with mist and coal dust?
Just thinking about it made Ryan feel suffocated. He didn't want that. At least, not anymore.
The night wind blew.
“If I can really make it to the end...”
“...then will I...”
“...really be able to go back?”
Rate on N.U.
