---o---
"Are you insane?!"
Herta's face was a picture of astonishment. She had never imagined that after handing the Lantern of [Salvation] to Bronya, Ron's method of filling the gap would be to throw himself into the furnace as well.
Just as Ron worried about Bronya's condition, worried if her mind in reality would be affected by the memory of being burned to nothing by Phantylia's possession, Herta was equally worried if Ron could withstand the boundless agony of thoroughly burning his own self, of forging himself into a lifeless lantern.
One must understand, Bronya would only have the simulation's memory loaded after the game ended. Even if that memory was deeply etched into her very bones, for the her in reality, it would ultimately be something that had happened in the "past."
No matter the pain, it will gradually heal with the passage of time. Any pain is only at its peak in the moment of injury, when suffering raises its blade and slices open the skin, cleaving open the heart.
A memory inherited by Bronya would, at most, be a shock that left her in a daze for a period. If her will was strong enough, it might not even have a severe impact.
Take Fu Xuan, for example. Even after experiencing a thousand years in the simulation and being turned into cold ash by the holy light from Ron's indifferent glance, the pain of that incineration was surely far greater than the agony of having one's soul burned by Phantylia. Yet, in the end, it only carved an indelible scar upon her heart.
Fu Xuan had developed a severe post-traumatic stress reaction to Ron because of it, but it was far from affecting her thoughts. For the sake of saving the Xianzhou Luofu, she was even able to force herself to overcome her fear and stand firmly before Ron.
She might still feel fear because of it, but that was just the wound in her memory bringing her waves of pain. It was a far cry from causing Fu Xuan to lose her sanity.
But… that was because she had not truly experienced it. She had simply "loaded" all the memories from the simulation as a shortcut.
Everything she experienced had become a story buried in her memory. A story might be painful, but it did not stand in the way of the present. Ron, however, was different.
Herta, having made this choice alongside Ron, knew very well that Ron was now personally entering the simulation.
Although on the surface they were just playing a life simulation game, for Herta and Ron, what they were experiencing now was reality.
The cyan floor tiles of the Artisanship Commission were a bit dusty; the cleaning staff must have slacked off today. A gentle breeze carried the acrid smell of burning, as if a forge somewhere had spilled over. The faint sound of hammering echoed in her ears; clearly, the artisans of the commission were at work.
Everything was incredibly real. Even as an Emanator of [Erudition] who had personally built the Simulated Universe and tested it countless times within her own creation, Herta still couldn't tell the difference between the floorboards under her feet and the cyan tiles of the real Artisanship Commission.
If that was the case, then the brilliant golden flames burning Ron's body would not bring him any sensation other than the searing pain.
If he really threw himself into the forge and personally experienced the agony of his entire being burning, of being completely turned into a silent, shining lantern… could he truly recover from that?
Herta knew the answer to this better than anyone. Since the creation of the Simulated Universe, how many rules had been established through trial and error?
Herta couldn't count them all, but she remembered one rule that, for the mental and physical safety of the test subjects, could never be changed.
That rule was that under no circumstances could the Simulated Universe be too similar to reality, nor could it provide the test subject with more than 60% of all sensory feedback. This was to prevent the subject from being unable to distinguish reality from illusion, time from space…
Or even their own life from death.
And the Life Simulation Game's immersive simulation had no such gap with reality. How could Ron possibly withstand such pain?
Even someone like Herta, who so clearly understood Ron's capabilities, still felt a sense of dread at his choice. She would rather this simulation end in a sloppy, hasty conclusion than let Ron throw himself into the flames, completely disregarding what he would experience.
So Herta unhesitatingly reached her hand into the brilliant golden fire, grabbed Ron's arm, and forced him to halt his advance.
"We are personally in the simulation right now! What you're about to do is no joke! You can't possibly be unclear about what it feels like to forge yourself into a lantern. No one can bear that kind of pain, not even you!"
But the brilliant golden flames gently wrapped around Herta's hand, not scorching her in the slightest.
Ron's hand, just as easily, slipped from Herta's grasp like flowing water. His steps toward the Furnace of Creation did not pause for a moment.
A voice that seemed to come from beyond the heavens emanated from Ron. It was calm and detached, yet it held the weight and resolve of a mountain.
"When I was a child, I played a very interesting game. I loved the story it told, but thinking back on it today, the story was rather naive."
"The game said that in the land where all converges, the promised Lordran, the First Flame separated all concepts. The world was born from fire, and so it shall die by fire."
"The flame's burning affects the world's continuation, and to keep the flame burning, countless souls must be fed into it as Kindling."
"And so, Gwyn, Lord of the Gods, who received a Lord Soul, stepped into the Kiln of the First Flame, using his own soul as Kindling, becoming the first Lord of Cinder."
"Since then, gods, witches, pygmies, and demons… the noble and the ignoble, the brave and the cowardly, all have, at the end of each fading of the First Flame, thrown themselves into the fire, allowing the world to eke out a sliver of light."
"But this tragic world will eventually fall to ruin. The souls of heroes cannot sustain the First Flame's eternal burning. In the end, even the dregs of ash, burned over countless times, crawl from their graves, struggling to walk the long road to the Kiln of the First Flame."
"I used to think they were heroes, but now I think they are naive. Great power should bring an unimaginably luxurious life. Why would they give it all up to jump into a furnace and become a piece of burnt Kindling?"
Ron murmured to himself, but there was not a trace of mockery in his words. Instead, they carried a faint, calm sense of acknowledgment.
"Perhaps some among them were forced, but the vast majority did it willingly. These willing Lords of Cinder certainly knew what their power represented, but the heroes were equally worried about the world's future."
"To prevent the world from facing the dark end of the First Flame's fading, they would rather jump into the furnace and become Kindling, just to buy a little more time for those who would come after, to find the best way to save this tragic world."
"To them, as long as continuation is possible, then no sacrifice is unacceptable."
"And we should be glad, Herta."
"Glad that we don't have to bet our lives to achieve our goal, to entrust the future to the next generation. A single simulation is a single attempt. We have the chance to end [The End] with our own hands. This is so much better than their endless despair."
As Ron spoke, he let out a soft laugh, but his smile was drowned in the brilliant golden flames. No one could see his face, only hear his soft chuckle and the sound of him falling into the Furnace of Creation.
"If even Bronya can resolve to burn herself, what is there that I cannot do?"
"Even if I'm personally here, this is still just one simulation. The pain will pass. Could it really burn the me in reality into a lantern?"
The brilliant golden flames suddenly surged, rolling up the lid of the Furnace of Creation and sealing it shut with a muffled thud.
"My consciousness may become hazy, but I will do my best to control the power of [Salvation] and let it follow your guidance…"
"Now, Herta—open the blueprint for the Guiding Spirit Lantern. Look at all the markings on it."
"Listen to me… Fire up the furnace, and forge the lantern!"
---o---
At the same time, on the other side.
After stepping onto the seven-colored branch wrapped in a transparent void, Bronya was completely swallowed by the world within.
It was just a moment of disorientation, and then she could no longer see Ron, Herta, or Fu Xuan. She couldn't see the giant Furnace of Creation in the Artisanship Commission. Instead, she saw an endless void.
She looked down in a daze. In this endless void, the seven-colored branch beneath her feet, wrapped in a transparent void, extended out into several smaller branches. These branches, some thick, some thin, all stretched into the distance, connecting with the main trunk of the great tree that was too far away to be seen.
Bronya was no fool. Seeing this, she understood that what she was stepping on was the most fundamental form of the Path of [The Destruction] that Ron had spoken of, the truest form of this sea of stars according to the "Sea of Trees" theory.
The Lantern of [Salvation] in her hand glowed with a brilliant golden light. The seven branches of [The Destruction] shimmered with different colors, but under the Lantern's illumination, they became dim and pale. Only one extremely thin branch resonated with the Lantern's light, glowing with a similar golden radiance.
"A similar light… this should be the 'New Life' branch of [The Destruction]..."
Bronya had a plan. She recalled Ron's words, knowing this was the path she had to take.
Without any more hesitation, under the guidance of the Lantern's gentle golden light, she lifted her foot, preparing to step onto that slender branch of the Path.
But a cyan-white flame ignited deep within her pupils, and a playful voice whispered in her ear, laced with thick malice.
"He actually let you come to this place…"
Phantylia's voice held a hint of subtle curiosity. Bronya felt the foot she had lifted become incredibly heavy, as if she were mired in mud. With all her strength, she could only make her foot sink slowly, sluggishly, bit by bit.
"I really don't understand why he would let me possess you, and then come here. The Paths of the Aeons are their own private domains. Even other Aeons have absolutely no way of meddling. Even if he really is an Aeon, it's impossible for him to reach you."
"But… none of that matters anymore."
"No matter what he wants to do, you've been possessed by me, and you've come to this place. Now, I'm the one calling the shots."
The curiosity in Phantylia's voice gradually faded, replaced by a malicious playfulness.
"Wasting so much effort on this Xianzhou Luofu and getting nothing for it… I have to vent this frustration somewhere."
"Tell me, should I completely usurp you, lock your soul away in your body, and force you to watch as I use your body as I please, then refine you into a Voidranger when I get bored?"
"Or should I just burn you to a crisp, and turn you into a pile of ash? Hmm?"
"It really makes one hesitate, doesn't it?"