What... is this?
Looking at the image on the light screen, Ron couldn't help but frown tightly.
Although Ron had never seen this little old man before, he knew exactly who this person was.
In the Simulated Universe gameplay of the original game, players would encounter various random events, one of which was identical to what Ron was experiencing now—
Encountering a History Fictionologist who was not simulated within the universe, and who could freely bypass Herta's authority to help the Trailblazer modify the Blessings in the Simulated Universe.
These History Fictionologists are a faction of Aeons under [The Enigmata] Mythus. Their relationship to [The Enigmata] Mythus is undoubtedly the same as the Genius Society's relationship to [The Erudition] Nous.
[The Erudition] Nous sends invitations to geniuses across the sea of stars. After they realize the Aeon's desire and accept the invitation, they are accepted into the Genius Society and simultaneously receive a generous gift from [The Erudition] Nous, becoming an Emanator of the Path of [The Erudition].
And the History Fictionologists have all received the divine revelation of [The Enigmata] Mythus, becoming Emanators of the Path of [The Enigmata]. Following the will of their Aeon, they throw themselves onto planets throughout the vast sea of stars, erasing and confounding the fixed history on these planets, causing all records of objective fact to vanish under the tips of their pens.
Because of the existence of the History Fictionologists, many scientific advancements have been greatly hindered. It could be said that the reason many civilizations have stagnated is due to the existence of the History Fictionologists, who fabricated false histories that led civilizations down a wrong path, forcing them to spin their wheels in place, unable to advance.
Although the History Fictionologists have almost never been heard of committing any heinous acts—they do not show their strength in combat, rarely take the lives of others, and would never use blood and fire to destroy a civilization, letting the sparks of life wither in the universe...
But their reputation throughout the entire sea of stars is notorious, almost comparable to the Antimatter Legion under [The Destruction] Nanook.
The Intelligentsia Guild once publicly condemned them, believing that the Antimatter Legion destroyed matter, while the History Fictionologists were destroying the universe itself.
However, although the Intelligentsia Guild holds such strong hatred and hostility towards the History Fictionologists, the geniuses who received direct blessings from Nous, another faction under the same Aeon, have made no public comment on the History Fictionologists.
Although the Genius Society is nothing more than a scattered group, everyone's ambiguous attitude towards the History Fictionologists, without any serious criticism, always makes people feel that there might be some secret hidden in the dark...
Ron thought thoughtfully, quietly watching the image on the light screen. His fingers unconsciously tapped lightly on the desktop as his mind replayed all the events he had experienced in this simulation—
To be honest, the appearance rate of [The Enigmata] Mythus in this simulation was a bit too high.
Although Ron's goal in this simulation was on the Path of [The Erudition] from the beginning, and he had been accumulating progress on the Path of [The Erudition], the first one to notice Ron in this simulation was not [The Erudition] Nous, but [The Enigmata] Mythus...
When he drew the first miracle blueprint, [The Enigmata] Mythus had already found him.
After that, like a persistent disease, whenever he triggered a Miracle Event, it would inevitably try to confuse his cognition, attempting to make him lose his understanding and memory of this miracle technology, completely unable to light up this technology tree—
Although according to this History Fictionologist's words now, these things were all done by this Fictionologist, who was trying to modify Ron's history, Ron wasn't foolish enough to believe that all of this came from this Fictionologist's own intentions.
The further one walks the Path, the more miracles manifest... and the heavier the shackles become.
At the pinnacle of every Path, those powerful Aeons who hold sway over an entire Path are all bound by the driving force of their Path.
And these Emanators, who have received the generous blessings of the Aeons and are permitted to use the Imaginary Energy of the Path to a large extent, are similarly bound by the will of the Aeons.
They faithfully carry out the will of the Aeons, execute their orders, and strive for the ideals of their Path. The History Fictionologists are among the most loyal of the Emanators.
Because after they receive the divine revelation of [The Enigmata] Mythus, they often throw themselves into the sea of stars alone, traveling from one planet to another, dedicated to fabricating, confounding, destroying, and erasing local history.
They believe that the past determines the future: when a universe, a planet, a civilization, a country has a definite history, its future development is already determined. All possibilities disappear from the future, leaving only a pathetic and lonely, rigid process.
In order to protect the world from the unfortunate fate of objective decay, the History Fictionologists, with [The Enigmata] as their sole purpose, are determined to shroud the universe in a fog.
They uphold a sublime and altruistic purpose that is difficult for others to understand, executing the mission of destroying history with solitude and determination—
These words were left by a History Fictionologist who modified the introduction document of their faction. Although its credibility is obviously not high, it does have a certain reference value.
—At the very least, it can fully prove their almost maxed-out loyalty to [The Enigmata] Mythus, and their high degree of identification with the concept of [The Enigmata].
So... my "miracles" seriously affected the ideals of [The Enigmata] Mythus, to the point that He even needed to dispatch an Emanator to erase the history of my miracles?
But... why?
Ron thought carefully, his brow furrowed tightly—
One must know that although his research was definitely a miracle on Jarilo-VI, the essence of that research was nothing more than that—just a technology tree that countless civilizations in this vast sea of stars had already lit up, not something particularly important.
And as the Aeon of [The Enigmata], with so many civilizations in the entire sea of stars needing "mystery," why pay special attention to a single Jarilo-VI, and pay so much attention to a small researcher like him?
These miracles... what exactly do they represent?
The truths that [The Enigmata] Mythus itself wants to hide, the veil it casts over the universe—what is it for? What relationship does the miracle he triggered have with the purpose of [The Enigmata] Mythus?
Ron was at a complete loss, feeling for the first time that his mind was in a mess, almost turning into a pulp.
He could only temporarily hide these questions in his heart, seriously note them down, and then look at the light screen in front of him, hoping that the subsequent simulation could answer them for him—
The image on the light screen continued to play:
"You are...?"
Ron was obviously extremely vigilant towards the History Fictionologist who suddenly popped up in front of him, but hearing this guy's angry words, he subconsciously retorted:
"How can observing reality be considered observing terror? All terror stems from the unknown... Life should not fear the vastness and incomprehensibility of the unknown, and thus kneel before the endless fog, no longer taking a step forward."
"Only by facing the fog without giving up the desire to explore, and still holding the passion to solve the unknown, can the meaning of life be reflected in this void of the sea of stars..."
Ron spoke, his words clearly showing no doubt in his own ideals:
"Carrying the passion and desire for knowledge, civilization can step forward in the void of the sea of stars, gradually moving towards a higher level—what's so terrifying about this? Being half-ignorant about everything is the true terror!"
But facing Ron's rebuttal, this History Fictionologist obviously became even angrier.
He was so angry his beard and eyes widened, looking at Ron huffily:
"Who am I? You haven't even forgotten to seek answers at this time!"
"You think the ideal of thirsting for knowledge is good, but you simply don't know what it represents—" He spoke, slightly changing his tone, as if quoting a classic:
"That all things can be perceived is a delusion. Life begins to calculate the unsolved merely based on a limited grasp of laws, little knowing that the universe is unsolvable, and truth is an illusion."
"Seeking knowledge, seeking knowledge, explaining unknown concepts with definite understanding. You think this is the process of cognizing the universe, little knowing that this is purely destroying the variables of the future, a chronic suicide of eliminating possibilities!"
"Can't you be a little more normal? How many more times must I save you?"
Looking at this History Fictionologist's angry appearance, Ron for a moment actually felt he didn't know what to say.
Because this guy's every sentence was obviously specious reasoning, completely without a shred of rationality, but he was so angry now, clearly having almost lost his reason for it...
So Ron could only sigh and obediently say:
"My problem? It must be my problem."
He tried to remind this History Fictionologist with friendly and gentle words:
"You're right, but Jarilo-VI is a planet invaded by the Stellaron and the Antimatter Legion. Here, Belobog's own power can only linger on its last breath in the cold wave. If we don't find a way to innovate, we can only head towards extinction in the shadow of the old days..."
"But this is the predetermined development track of this planet. Under the restriction of fixed history, it must go down this road."
The History Fictionologist took a deep look at Ron. There was no disgust or hostility towards Ron in his eyes, only deep helplessness:
"It's hard for you to understand my words now, because this kind of thing can only be understood when you have learned your lesson from it..."
He spoke, sketching a few strokes on it with his quill pen, obviously erasing something, then turned and walked towards the staircase leading to the sky:
"History is not real; objectivity can be erased. Let the past not exist in the past, let it only exist in the present, in your and my minds, to be dressed up by anyone. This is the ideal of us History Fictionologists..."
"I don't ask you to understand this ideal now, nor do I expect you to know what we are facing. If at this moment you choose to convert to [The Enigmata] Mythus and blur this history, that is the best choice... but it doesn't matter if you don't."
He stepped quickly up the staircase, climbing step by step on this spiral staircase that rose straight into the sea of stars and pierced into the darkness. His figure gradually became smaller, moving away from Ron.
His voice faintly came from the sky:
"I only hope you can be clear that I have no malice towards you. I am really helping you... Also, remember!"
His voice obviously grew several decibels. He turned his head on the high spiral staircase and cast his gaze towards Ron:
"All the haze and illusion you see outside the code-constructed fictional world, all the riddles that become chaotic because reality has been erased, are all my great masterpieces—I am not simulated!"
His voice echoed throughout the entire library.
He turned his head and stepped along the staircase into the darkness within that hazy sea of stars. Ron saw the entire sea of stars surge with a hazy undercurrent at this moment. A rose-colored mist precipitated from the dome of the library, gradually filling the entire library.
Ron stood in this rose-colored mist, able to smell a strange, illusory fragrance.
He felt his perception gradually become confused. His consciousness, shrouded by the fog, was unable to think. A torrent of metaphors pierced through his body, and a vaguely indescribable feeling emerged from the bottom of his heart.
He seemed to be in contact with the greatest riddle in the entire sea of stars, and also seemed to be trying to understand this fog that shrouded the sea of stars.
The layers of fog seemed to be peeling away for Ron, revealing the indescribable truth within its core.
But in the next moment, the world before his eyes suddenly changed—
The hazy sea of stars? The rose-colored mist? The fog that shrouded consciousness?
All confusion ended at this moment. Ron opened his eyes and found that there was no library shrouded by the sea of stars around him, nor was there that rose-colored mist or the fog that shrouded consciousness.
He was standing on the Simulated Universe recording device. What his nose smelled was the fresh taste brought by the frequent air exchange in the space station. Around him was Herta's concise and exquisite space station. Everything was so clear, without a single speck of dust hanging a hazy black veil.
And at his side, Herta, who had forcibly shut down the Simulated Universe, was standing with her arms crossed, scrutinizing him with a serious face.