Bologue’s mind flipped back to the mories of King Solomon within the Ethereal Realm.
King Solomon was the previous Chosen One of the Astronaut, his predecessor. He made a deal with the Astronaut: a part of his soul belonged to the Astronaut, while the other returned to the Secret Source.
Bologue was able to glimpse King Solomon’s mories within the Secret Source, thanks to the Mind Projection carried by that part of the soul.
"You... why did you close that door?"
Bologue posed a new question, "You say your interests align with humanity, contrary to your kin."
His voice rose, "Don’t joke with , Astronaut, you are a Devil, what on earth are you talking about!"
"That depends on you."
The Astronaut said indifferently, "I’ve said what I wanted to say. It’s up to you to believe it or not. You don’t need to promise anything; the power of choice is in your hands."
Like a strategic retreat, the Astronaut’s words made Bologue increasingly uneasy. He clenched his fists, feeling a naless rage rising.
At this mont, the Astronaut seed to deliberately tug at Bologue’s heartstrings, continuing, "I never lie. At most, I just don’t tell the whole truth."
"The real and the fake, the illusion and the reality, always difficult to distinguish."
The Astronaut rembered sothing and spoke words that felt extrely familiar to Bologue.
"Sotis our wishes backfire, don’t they?"
The Astronaut raised his hand and made a gentle pushing motion.
This gesture ignited Bologue’s fury. He knew what the Astronaut was referring to—the tragic experience of Hill in his mories, sothing the Astronaut had once done.
Bologue raised his fist, wanting to smash the Astronaut’s head, dragging him out of that bloated spacesuit, but as soon as his hand was lifted, it froze, unable to move.
"Bastard!"
Bologue cursed, a sense of helplessness completely ensnaring him. He rarely felt this way anymore, feeling at a loss.
"The execution of this plan requires absolute secrecy. I mustn’t let my kin discover it. To earn their trust, I’ve even risked bringing them in... This will be a completely different plan in my words to them."
The true face of the Astronaut was hidden beneath the spacesuit, along with all his emotions and secrets condensed within. Bologue felt like he was speaking to a statue, a cold machine.
"It’s all up to you, Bologue.
I never force anyone to do anything; I only apply a little guidance. You can fully inform my kin of our conversation to verify my words, but what I hope you understand is..."
The Astronaut’s voice sank, like the groan of a beast.
No matter what you do, you have to be responsible for your choices."
The Astronaut opened his hand and spoke loudly.
"How to judge a man’s worth?
By placing the weight of the world on his shoulders and watching his choices."
Bologue’s eyes were bloodshot, his gaze lowered. He felt a colossal force, akin to billions of tons, pressing down on him, close to crushing his spine.
With great effort, he lifted his head, the clear blue world hovering high above him. From the Astronaut’s perspective, Bologue overlapped with the planet’s edge, resembling a giant bearing the sky in a myth.
"Why... why ?"
Bologue murmured, "Why am I the one to suffer this fate?"
"Is there sothing special about ?" Bologue questioned the Astronaut, "On that scorched earth where I lost my mory, did I exhibit so value?"
The Astronaut shook his head rcilessly, denying him.
"No, you’re not special, Bologue."
He continued, "You’re just an incredibly ordinary one, like any of the thousands of soldiers on that battlefield. The reason you bear such a fate is simply that I happened to see you at that mont, happened to choose you. What’s special is my choice, not you."
"You were never so destined Savior."
The Astronaut’s words shattered Bologue’s pathological psyche. Bologue felt his body was as heavy as a thousand pounds, barely able to stand, but his will demanded he persist.
"Ha... ha..."
Bologue panted painfully. He liked the fight because it required no thought, no pressure, just plunging the knife into the enemy’s body.
But now Bologue had to bear the fate of the world, had to take responsibility for his choices, and each of his decisions would concern countless lives.
Bologue didn’t consider himself a good person; for those he had never seen, it was difficult for him to feel empathy. He’d had such conversations countless tis with his psychologist, who suggested many tis that Bologue should be sent to psychiatry, believing he had so antisocial traits.
Bologue wasn’t antisocial; he knew it. He’d just been through too many bad things and didn’t have much compassion left for those he didn’t know. The world he loved was narrow, only those familiar friends he knew well, but no matter how narrow the world, it still fell within this enormous world.
"I... I will not agree to any of your terms, Astronaut."
Bologue stubbornly raised his head, "I will see with my own eyes, be in such an environnt myself, until I make a true decision."
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