"Just as my consciousness was beginning to blur, and I thought I was about to die—I heard a voice."
"That voice told me that the essence of the world is suffering, a cage, and we are all sheep being pastured. To be liberated, the only way is to welcome the descent of the True Creator, for Him to shatter all these falsehoods."
On Hainas's face, that morbid fanaticism surfaced once again.
"'The Lord' saved me! The Aurora Order gave me a new life! They gave me food, clean clothes, and cured my illness. More importantly, they gave me a 'meaning to live'!"
Nairn listened quietly.
However, in Hainas's story, one detail caught his attention.
"Who—conveyed 'the Lord's' gospel to you?" Nairn asked seemingly casually, his tone as flat as if he were asking about today's weather.
"It was—it was an Oracle codenamed 'Mr. Z'." Hainas answered without hesitation, his tone filled with reverence. "It was he who personally pulled me back from the brink of death."
Mr. Z?
Nairn's eyes narrowed slightly, and his tapping fingertip paused for a moment.
He was all too familiar with this codename.
Wasn't this the Aurora Order Oracle who had instructed Hainas and Siris to steal the Antigonus Family notebook in Enmat Port?
So there was such a history.
Nairn listened quietly as Hainas continued his narration, hearing how he went from a dying vagrant to a fanatical believer.
This was his past, his "Rebirth."
Undoubtedly, the Aurora Order was a thoroughbred terrorist organization, using false hope and twisted doctrines to bind desperate people to its chariot, ultimately leading to destruction.
But—
In Nairn's eyes, it was like a blade made of excellent material, but used in the wrong place by a quack.
Under the leadership of a Lunatic and twisted doctrines, the Aurora Order had no future.
But, from Nairn's perspective, using it as a scalpel to remove a cyst was still possible.
Only...
Nairn wanted to take over and transform it into a useful tool.
This was very difficult.
But it was also very challenging, wasn't it?
Thinking of this, he naturally associated it with the pending "Descent of the Godchild" ritual in Tingen City.
The key to the problem lay in the fact that Lanulius had already been caught; as the core pawn of the ritual, he had been personally sent by Nairn into the interrogation room of the Church of the Goddess of Night.
The ritual for the descent of the evil god, on a physical level, could no longer proceed.
Nairn felt the plot had collapsed to the point of being speechless.
After all, Lanulius was the main perpetrator.
But he never regretted doing so.
When he saw that woman named Megose—that love-struck fool who had been swindled out of everything by a pig-butchering scam and almost lost her life, now rejuvenated—he felt it was all worth it.
A scene flashed through Nairn's mind.
One afternoon in Tingen City, the sunlight was just right.
A lady wore a distinctive lotus-leaf hat and a loose, elegant dress, her long blonde hair swaying gently in the breeze.
She wasn't old, twenty at most, and was quite a beauty.
Beneath her smooth forehead, those emerald eyes were no longer melancholy and quiet, but sparkled with a radiance called "New Life."
She was chatting and laughing with friends in the square, the smile on her face as bright as this afternoon's sun, capable of melting winter snow.
She had come back to life.
Like a plant that had been ravaged by a rainstorm, unfolding its leaves again in the sunlight.
That was enough.
In Nairn's aesthetics, such a scene was far more moving than a meticulously planned disaster.
He disliked, and even utterly despised, the practice of "sacrificing pawns for the sake of the big picture."
People say it's for the big picture.
Because they themselves are in the big picture, the players, the beneficiaries.
People say you must do it for the big picture.
That's because you are not in the big picture; you are the price that can be erased at any time.
In the view of great figures, whether it was the Nighthawks of Tingen City or the civilians who died in the future Great Backlund Smog, their lives were simplified into a variable, a pawn to achieve a goal.
Who is qualified to define the "big picture"? Is it Adam? The Evernight Goddess? Or those Outer Deities, the Pillars?
The sacrificed "pawns" don't even have the right to participate in the conversation.
The benefits brought by the "big picture" are ultimately enjoyed by the players and survivors, while the cost is borne by those chosen, defenseless individuals.
This is the most arrogant form of exploitation.
If "the winner takes all" is the law of the jungle in this world—
Then let him be the final winner.
Nairn's gaze pierced through the walls, as if seeing that "Spectator"—Adam—who was hidden behind the scenes, using the entire world as a canvas and all living beings as paint.
"Since he believes sacrifice is the inevitable path to victory—"
"Then I will use a victory he cannot imagine to end the reality he can understand."
1
He wanted to show that "Spectator" that there isn't only one way to write a script!
This majestic will even caused a faint ripple in the surrounding air.
However, wild thoughts aside, a realistic problem lay before him.
The Lanulius line was broken, the "Descent of the Godchild" ritual had its foundation pulled out, so Megose, the "Mother," was also safe.
Next, how would that "Author" Adam, and his loyal "minor Author" Ince Zangwill, adjust the script?
Would they choose a new "Mother"?
Or would they conceive an even more—insane Plan B?
Nairn's mind raced, countless possibilities colliding and annihilating in his head.
He was even starting to look forward to it.
Come on.
Let me see your imagination.
Let me see how you screenwriters are going to fix this story after one of the most important characters in the script was forcibly deleted by the director.
Show your great pen as Authors!
Nairn's fingertips began to tap again.
He could almost imagine how that "Visionary" would react upon discovering that the Tingen script had gone off the rails.
Shock? Anger?
No, perhaps neither.
A third-rate Author like Ince might be like that.
But for an existence like Adam, an off-track variable would only stir a desire to correct the script and bring it back under control.
He would "envision" a new, more reasonable script.
A Plan B.
And "reasonably guide" Ince, letting him eventually complete the Tingen City script.
Then, Ince's plan would need a new "Mother," a Vessel desperate and special enough to carry the descent of the True Creator's offspring.
Who would it be?
In Nairn's mind, names flashed by.
He even began to proactively conceive alternative options for Adam.
This was a form of dark humor, and also a deduction.
Only by putting oneself in the opponent's perspective can one predict their every move.
Suddenly, a thought flashed through his mind like lightning.
Wait—
Is there a possibility—
That Lanulius himself was never irreplaceable from the start?
Even his failure was part of Adam's backup plan?
Nairn's gaze slowly fell back onto Hainas in front of him.
This man was still immersed in his own world, murmuring the prayer: "The Lord shall descend and cleanse everything,"
as a prayer.