The car plunged into the dark tunnel, leaving one dim streetlamp after another behind. Also left behind was the tireless ebb and flow of the ocean tide.
The world of sound seemed to become a vast emptiness, filled only by the splash of wheels hitting puddles, scattering water like pearls, and nothing else.
The driver was focused, eyes fixed forward, hands gripping the steering wheel tightly, every muscle in his body taut. He didn't even dare look up—afraid that a slight upward glance into the rearview mirror would reveal the three people crammed into the back seat.
Especially the silver-haired man squeezed in the middle, looking rather constrained—the First Herrscher. Despite his current harmless appearance, he was still a Herrscher. Besides, just a short while ago, in front of everyone, with just a snap of his fingers, he had...
The black-clothed man in the front passenger seat clutched a phone that refused to send any messages, his tongue, coated with a thick, greyish-blue film, lolled out between his teeth.
There was no visible rise and fall of his chest. His body was growing cold, cold to the point of stiffness yet utterly pliable. In three to six hours, the putrefactive bacteria in his intestines would begin rapid multiplication, producing copious amounts of gas that would bloat his abdomen. Then, those gases would escape through his mouth, nose, and anus, creating the so-called odor of decomposition.
But Michael had thoughtfully fastened his seatbelt for him. After all, traffic rules must be obeyed, even as a corpse.
Although... this created a certain tragically comic... no, terrifying... sense of dread.
The auditory void didn't last long. Soon, new cacophony filled the space.
It wasn't the fluctuating yet monotonous sound of waves rising and falling. It was a symphony composed of iron and fire intertwined. Though Michael's hearing was extraordinary, his limited industrial knowledge allowed him to identify only a few sounds—
A loud clang, like a massive iron meteorite striking the Earth, making the ground tremble—the sound of a heavy press.
Another sound was distinctly different, not as loud, nor did it shake the entire earth, but rather a series of intermittent, grating noises. It wasn't alone; accompanying it were strange "k-chak," "k-chak" sounds, and an inexplicable whistling drifting through the night sky.
These corresponded to three conditions of a lathe: debris inside the spindle, unevenness in the bearing race raceway, and insufficient lubricating oil.
There were countless other sounds Michael couldn't recognize, all converging, completely drowning out human voices, as if they were about to enter a world solely of iron and fire.
It seemed they were no longer far from the so-called industrial zone, or rather, the lower district.
Michael huddled in the middle of the back seat. The view through the front windshield was unobstructed from here. The tunnel was longer than expected, but looking ahead, the clear light from the tunnel exit was already visible.
The car chased that light, exited the tunnel, and began descending a slope, taking only about ten seconds.
It was during this descent—not too long, not too short—that the scenery of more than half the city came into view.
Unlike the dim, dirty industrial district Michael had imagined. The latter point remained debatable; even from this distance, various pungent odors drifted on the wind, seeping in through the gaps around the windows and doors. Whether it was dirty or not was plain to see.
But the light and shadow were the complete opposite of what Michael had imagined. It certainly wasn't dim; on the contrary, it was brightly lit. But not the kind of colorful neon lights he remembered from cities, the kind that could dye the black-gray night sky crimson.
Every factory building had a few insignificant small windows. Clear white light spilled out from those small windows, door cracks, and the joints of container-like factory structures, eventually flowing together, reflecting off the night sky as if it were a calm, undisturbed lake.
Like on a clear summer day, a lake surface silently mirroring the blue sky, devoid of surrounding flowers, trees, weathered stone bridges pitted by wind and rain, or noisy human figures.
Thinking this way, if the sky were the "lake surface," did the world beneath count as the reflected "sky"? Or...
Contemplating this, the world filled with clear white light seemed immersed in lake water. If only the towering buildings, standing neatly at regular intervals, could sway like waterweeds.
Hm?
"Those buildings are..."
"Ah. We divided the entire city into square blocks. The main structure of each unit block is a [Tower] like that. Exactly one hundred floors high, one hundred rooms per floor, divided into four faces: North, East, South, West. The North face has one hundred four-person dormitories. East and West each have twenty two-bedroom apartments. The South face has ten single rooms. Theoretically, one floor can accommodate about five hundred people, and one building can house fifty thousand."
The name "Tower"... strongly reminded Michael of some early memories.
"Theoretically, huh..." Michael instantly grasped the key point.
"One two-bedroom apartment equals five four-person dorms, and one single room equals ten four-person dorms?"
"Yes, theoretically, that's correct. Although most people lost family in the Honkai, or at best were separated from them, there are always some who still have family around. Making them live in dorms would be too inhumane—that was the consideration during the design phase."
"What about the single rooms?"
"Uh... well... don't personnel with 'outstanding performance,' as well as 'management personnel,' deserve some special treatment?"
"Was that also a consideration during the design phase?"
"Yes."
It didn't seem too bad, perhaps. While equality should arguably be one of humanity's highest pursuits, in actual execution, whether intentional or not, "worldly disparities" are always unavoidable.
But Michael [Official Michael] had also said, and repeatedly emphasized—this was only the consideration during the design phase.
"So, what's the actual situation?"
"Ahem, ahem! Captain Michael, if you're so interested, perhaps our first stop should be visiting a Tower?"
"Alright. There aren't many people inside right now anyway. Mei, what do you think?"
"Hm?" Seeing Michael turn his head to consult her, Mei hastily put away her phone, offering a slightly awkward smile. "I have no objection."
The corner of Michael's [Duplicate Michael's] mouth twitched slightly, and then he leaned back somewhat dejectedly against the seat—Mei's chat partner went without saying. And Elysia? Probably with his original self right now...
Tsk! This feeling of being jealous of himself...
Ultimately, even knowing he was a duplicate destined to be eliminated after completing his mission, he was still a living being. He too felt lonely, yearned for love and to be loved...
Stop!
He suddenly pinched his thigh hard—now, he finally understood why his original self was so wary of this duplicate.
Because duplicates were indeed living consciousnesses. After creation, they would inevitably develop pursuits beyond their mission. And if, by chance, a duplicate's desire for other things overwhelmed his dedication to the mission...
Then it would be perfectly normal for him to raise arms against his original self.
Thanks to the City Hall credentials, the sedan passed unimpeded, driving directly to the base of a Tower.
Michael [Duplicate Michael] and Mei got out first. Michael [Official Michael] gave the driver lengthy instructions. While Michael's [Duplicate Michael's] ear twitched slightly, catching every word and confirming neither had ill intentions, he craned his neck, observing the towering building.
The building's base was a standard square, over five hundred meters per side. As for the height... Michael [Duplicate Michael] strained his neck looking up. Apart from the red aircraft warning lights constantly flashing, outlining the building's shape, the top, hundreds of meters high, completely merged with the night sky, impossible to distinguish visually.
The building featured a fully enclosed design, with almost no windows apart from a few ventilation openings. Instead, thick metal armor plates covered the exterior. The armor plating showed clear segmentation every other floor.
Michael [Duplicate Michael] guessed these armor plates could likely retract inwards, revealing balconies on all four sides, but for some unknown reason, they were currently lowered.
In short, the building was a thick, square iron pillar. At least, Michael [Duplicate Michael] couldn't see any resemblance between it and its name, Tower.
"Tower..." Back then in R'lyeh, the building housing the last survivors had also been named "Tower."
This was surely just a coincidence. That incident involved scandals concerning the von Liechtenstein family and the United Government. Himeko's subsequent mission report was required to be redacted. Memories of the Tower remained only among the few involved parties.
And they clearly had nothing to do with naming this type of building.
Yet... this coincidence seemed too coincidental, making Michael [Duplicate Michael] sense something different—
Back then, the Mu Continent where R'lyeh was located was the most advanced place in human civilization, in a sense, humanity's promised land, just like the Americas now.
The same airport reception, the same handsome man from the contradictory von Liechtenstein family.
The same hidden truths, the same Tower...
Even the season was the same (R'lyeh was in the Southern Hemisphere, Third New Heaven City in the Northern Hemisphere)!!!
One, two, three, four, five, six...
The probability of flipping a coin six times and getting the same side all six times wasn't zero. After all, miracles with probabilities of one times ten to the power of negative fifty-something had already happened in this world. Compared to that, something with a one-in-sixty-four chance seemed almost highly probable.
But whether coincidence or fate's arrangement, Michael [Duplicate Michael] could no longer banish the thought from his mind—Perhaps... everything in the world is just hopelessly repeating itself.
Slightly turning his head, Mei was also gazing at the indiscernible boundary between the Tower and the sky. She was partially involved in the R'lyeh incident back then and should have later discussed it with Aldemir. Had she noticed these many coincidences? What were her thoughts?
Michael [Duplicate Michael] instinctively wanted to probe with the Authority of Sentience; such an impulse was almost as natural as breathing for someone with psychic powers. Besides, Mei, as an ordinary person, wouldn't detect anything unusual.
But he didn't do it. It wasn't just out of respect for his comrade-in-arms.
Although this duplicate possessed all of Michael's memories, just like Hua watching her own past memories recorded by Fenghuang Down, he always experienced those memories as a third-party observer.
Precisely because of this, if anyone in the world understood Michael best, it certainly wasn't Michael himself, nor Elysia, but this duplicate who knew almost all of Michael's past yet wasn't Michael.
In his view, Michael's biggest problem was—he had never lived purely as Michael.
His relationship with the Flame-Chasers outwardly appeared as comrades, on a shallow psychological level as family, but deep down, he never placed himself on equal footing with them.
Unlike other "transmigrators," he didn't look down on them from a position of superiority. Quite the contrary, he always stood beneath them, viewing the Flame-Chasers as insurmountable beings.
Once this mindset took hold, he would naturally resort to clumsy imitations of the Flame-Chasers, and even certain people later on.
Thus, he ceased living as Michael, instead living as a substitute for Elysia, a substitute for Kevin, a substitute for Mei, even as a substitute for that person...
Most of the time, he pondered, "What do they want?" "What would they do in this situation?"
He rarely truly listened to his own heart—"What do I want?" "What do I want to do?"
Precisely because of this need, he sometimes couldn't suppress the urge to use the Authority of Sentience to understand their thoughts.
He forever overlapped his footsteps with theirs, forever curled his body within the shadows they cast. This allowed him to navigate mostly smoothly until now, but it also doomed him, preventing him from surpassing them.
After all, the people he imitated existed merely as Icarus; they never managed to touch the real sun.
And Michael, always hiding in their shadows, could at best only fly to Icarus's height again, never beyond it.
Thinking this, the duplicate couldn't help but reveal a mocking smile, partly self-deprecating, but the target of the mockery wasn't entirely himself.
Has the original realized this now?
The duplicate couldn't be sure, because even from him, the original had concealed some memories, especially from the last two years.
Those forcibly "extracted" memories left behind distinctly outlined blanks. If one were inclined, one could perhaps use these outlines to try and sketch the true purpose the original hid behind them.
But the duplicate felt weary, unwilling to waste energy on an ending he was destined never to see.
"Ready?" He suddenly turned back and urged.
Michael [Official Michael] pulled himself out of the car, smiling sheepishly. "Ready, ready... Please follow me."
"No... no, no, I'm getting old. I can't handle the exciting activities you young people enjoy." Reugel chuckled, declining the other City Officials' invitation to join their nightlife activities. Everyone was used to it.
Niu He's gaze flickered hesitantly between Reugel's white beard and the neon lights just beyond the wall. He couldn't resist the temptation. Besides, Reugel was indeed old and experienced enough to have the right to decline; Niu He certainly didn't.
Thus, only Reugel remained among the City Officials in the City Hall corridor.
His aide stepped forward with his overcoat, draping it over his shoulders while asking softly, "Sir, it's getting late. Should we retire early?"
"No... no, wait a moment longer." Reugel took out his phone, stared silently at the message displayed on the screen for a moment, a faint smile touching his lips, making his white beard twitch.
A few minutes later, urgent footsteps echoed from the end of the corridor. A man dressed as an aide approached. His suit was soaked through by the rain, clinging tightly to his body, making his figure appear even thinner and more frail.
Seeing Reugel standing in the corridor, staring straight at him, the aide was startled, quickly straightening up and bowing.
Reugel waved his hand, indicating no need for formalities, then took white gloves from his pocket. While putting them on, he asked seemingly casually, "You're Michael's aide... what was your name again?"
"Lord Reugel, my name is Levi."
"Oh, oh... And your master? Why haven't I seen him return?"
Levi frowned, a strong sense of foreboding washing over him—Why does it feel like Reugel was waiting specifically for me?
He quickly shook his head, warning himself not to overthink. After all, the only person in their group who could potentially leak information had been killed by the First Herrscher. Reugel had no reason to know about those events.
"Um... Sir asked me to come back and inform everyone that the two Commissioners asked him to play games with them, and he probably won't be back tonight."
"Oh, oh, I see." Reugel nodded nonchalantly. He had finished putting on his gloves and was silently contemplating his palms.
"Is there anything else?"
"Uh, regarding the other City Officials, should I inform them directly, or trouble you to relay the message?"
"Neither is necessary." Reugel shook his head, elegantly unbuttoned his tailcoat jacket, and drew a pistol from his waistband. Under Levi's astonished gaze, he pointed the barrel directly at his forehead.
"Lying is not a good habit, child."