Chapter 1198 - 126: The Nameless One (Part 3)

"I don’t have the strength to give you victory over such a powerful enemy, but there is still a weapon left here. As for how to make use of it, that depends on you."

"What?"

"A mechanism designed to achieve complete self-sealing. When the last Secret Keeper dies, the last spark of humanity goes out, and then everything should become history. It’s a ’mechanism’ for preserving history. We call it ’Amber.’

At that time the entire shelter will be completely cut off by Anti-Memes, kept in absolute closure, absolutely forgotten, completing its own Exile."

"And then?"

"There is no ’then.’ We’ll be like a tomb buried deep underground. This mechanism only makes sure the tomb won’t be disturbed by strange things, turning it into a delicate specimen."

The old man raised his head again and looked at this shelter that had been completely engraved into his soul.

"This beautiful ruin will be forgotten for all eternity, yet it will also endure for all eternity."

"And now I am going to make a decision. I will shut down this mechanism. The price is that this place will become even more dilapidated, and one day may be completely obliterated by time—but in exchange, we gain one chance, a single chance at victory."

"What is that thing?"

"An Anti-Meme weapon, a weapon called Echo of the End."

Lorenzo’s heartbeat suddenly quickened. He had heard of this weapon from both the old man and Roger; they had repeatedly mentioned it. An Anti-Meme weapon—it was this that had gravely wounded The Inexpressible and sent it into a long slumber.

"Judging from how the battle unfolded back then, this weapon should also have been deployed into No. 13 Fortress. At the time we always thought, if we’d had a few more shots of Echo of the End, maybe we could have completely Exiled The Inexpressible at the level of cognitive concepts, instead of merely putting it to sleep.

But unfortunately, this weapon had some defects. I’m not clear on the specifics—I’m not an expert in that field—but from what those other old fellows said, it seems to lack a delivery method. In other words, this weapon lacks a launcher."

The old man knocked his head hard, making the brain tissue inside the glass container wobble.

"Sorry, I can’t remember why this thing needs a launcher. In any case, it has a defect, so it was left here and turned into the Amber mechanism."

"Where is it?"

Lorenzo asked urgently. He had to grab onto even the slightest shred of hope.

"Just down below, stored together with some other things."

The old man pointed downward, to the bottom of this enormous columnar space.

Lorenzo looked into the darkness below—unfathomably deep, hard to reach.

"Relax, there’s an elevator. No idea if it’s broken, but I get the feeling it should still work." The old man patted Lorenzo on the shoulder to reassure him.

"And those ’other things’—what are they?" Lorenzo asked. If something was stored together with Echo of the End, he didn’t think it could be anything simple.

"A mistake."

The old man suddenly became serious.

"I don’t know what it is. All I know is that it was placed in the same room as Echo of the End—or rather... Echo of the End was placed together with it," the old man continued. "My memory is blank when it comes to that thing. The only remaining memory tells me that it’s a ’mistake,’ something that should never have existed."

He shuddered, unable to keep himself from thinking.

"Maybe the Amber mechanism wasn’t meant to preserve this place, but to destroy ’it’?"

The old man’s gaze swept between Lorenzo and Watson. Then he asked:

"You probably still have some questions, don’t you?"

"Mm..." Lorenzo thought for a moment and nodded. He asked without any reservation.

"Everything should have an origin, but the story you told doesn’t mention one. Why... why did humanity pursue Ascension?

No... with such overwhelming power, for what reason did humanity ascend?"

Lorenzo couldn’t figure it out. For what "cause" had humanity pursued Ascension? The old man had given no such answer, and it seemed he no longer had the chance to know it. After all, everything had passed too long ago—so long that the world of cognition had become unrecognizable.

The old man shook his head and said,

"I don’t know."

It was the truth; the old man wasn’t lying.

"I’ve lived too long, and the human body has its limits. Even if I optimized myself until only my brain tissue was left, brain tissue still ages."

Listening to him, Lorenzo felt a certain bleakness.

"In order to remember this history, I not only optimized my body, I optimized my memory. I can’t remember what my wife looked like, or my parents... my friends are the same. I can’t even remember my own name.

You could even say I no longer count as a person. I’m just a tool—a ’tool’ for recording."

The old man waved his hand and said,

"It’s a pity, but your questions fall outside the scope of my records... Still, don’t be too disappointed. I’m guessing ’it’ will give you the answer. I don’t know what ’it’ is, but my instincts tell me that when it comes to this question, it will give you an answer."

"Right, there are also some interesting mechanisms regarding ’it’ and Echo of the End that you need to know—after all, this involves Anti-Memes..."

The old man started rambling again. Aside from his not-very-funny sense of humor, his mechanically cold electronic voice really did sound a bit like a machine. As Lorenzo listened, he even began to suspect that the old man might actually already be dead, and that he was only talking to a still-running machine.

Had the machine produced a Gap? Or was a soul imprisoned in steel? That sounded far too bizarre.

A rift opened inside the shelter; Watson had opened the way out. They had already obtained enough information here.

"So then... your names? I want to record all of this. Who knows, maybe some other unfortunate soul will knock on my door someday?"

The old man asked Lorenzo and Watson, his gaze first landing on Watson.

Watson hesitated, then finally forced a smile and shook her head at the old man. Seeing that, he didn’t press her. Then he turned to Lorenzo.

"Lorenzo Holmes... Actually, you can add a prefix, something like ’the great Lorenzo Holmes.’"

Lorenzo spouted nonsense. In Watson’s eyes, he and the old man were quite a pair; both of their personalities had that little twist to them.

"Oh, oh, how narcissistic. That’s shameless."

The old man slung an arm around his shoulders, and Lorenzo grinned along.

"Yeah, yeah."

"To deal with a youngster like you, I usually bring out my Supercritical Fluid Cold Cutting Blade!"

"What’s that?"

"Hang on, let me adjust it. I remember at this point in time I hadn’t dismantled the thing yet."

Standing by the rift, Watson waited for Lorenzo to finish the conversation, only to find him actually playing around with the old man. The two of them bent over, fiddling with something, and then a sharp whine suddenly rang out.

A twisted stream of light flashed by, and in an instant gouged a shallow furrow in the ground. The machine fluid was probably too low; after a few centimeters it stopped.

After a brief silence, Lorenzo and the old man started yelling in unison.

"Whoa, whoa, whoa, whoa! That’s so cool!"

Watson felt a headache coming on. Watching those two dancing around like monkeys, she began to wonder why anyone would entrust such important responsibilities to lunatics like these.

At long last, the brief moment of joy came to an end.

Lorenzo and Watson stood by the rift and bowed, bidding farewell to this final nameless Secret Keeper.

The Secret Keeper said nothing, but Lorenzo could feel his deep reluctance and fear. These short ten-odd minutes were probably the only light in his centuries-long life, and after Lorenzo left, he would continue this centuries of solitude—until the next visitor, or the end of his life.

"It’s alright. Over my long life, I’ve already said goodbye to too many people. I’m used to it."

The Secret Keeper, as before, seemed able to guess what Lorenzo was thinking.

Lorenzo said no more. He turned his head, about to step with Watson into the rift and leave the Secret Keeper’s Gap, when he heard a shout from behind.

"Lorenzo!"

"Lorenzo Holmes!"

The Secret Keeper looked at Lorenzo and called out loudly,

"I told you, I’m not a brave man. Rather than say I’m fulfilling my duty, it’s more accurate to say I’ve been hiding in this shelter, running away from all of this.

But I’m very glad that my avoidance waited long enough for your arrival."

He seemed to be smiling.

"This time, I’m betting on you to win."