TBR CH205

Many years later, Hilda would still remember that afternoon, waking from a nap.

By then, the Mage Tower had become the second most incredible place on the Mirar Continent, and increasingly elusive. 

Dangerous formations were everywhere, sparkling glass screens were embedded in the tower walls, exquisite tea sets still poured hot black tea for themselves, and the refrigerator next to them was filled with ice-cold milk that pythons loved.

“Those who shouldn’t have left are gone, and those who should return haven’t yet.”

The witch said deeply, recalling the thrilling sensation of being in a completely unfamiliar world at that time, with nothing to protect herself. 

The sky had suddenly turned to night, even wild cats in the dark alley howled warnings of danger, and she, alone, was adapting to the dim moonlight, completely lost, when suddenly she heard clear footsteps behind her…

Her apprentice waited expectantly for her to continue, but she just slowly sipped her tea: “Are all the tasks done?”

“N-no…”

“Organize the experiment report into an email and send it to me before tonight.”

Hilda said, and no sooner had she spoken than the young apprentice scrambled to his feet and rushed downstairs, almost stepping on the large python on the floor. The python hissed and flicked its tail.

The witch rubbed the python’s scales. 

She had lived for many years, and many things had already sunk into memory, but a hint of nostalgia showed in her expression. What happened then could still be clearly recalled even now, and to some extent, it had changed the Mage Tower.

—Even the entire Mirar Continent.

“Perhaps it’s best to part ways here…”

Kriesmeier’s face was cold, clearly annoyed by another forgotten dream. His boot stopped in front of the black cat, and he reached out, grabbed the black cat by the scruff of its neck, and lifted it up, staring face to face into its amber pupils.

“You haven’t done what you promised me.”

“Let you see the memory of that bone when it was alive?”

Roland, in front of the screen, rubbed the bridge of his nose. 

“Your Majesty the Demon King, you should know that this level of magic requires a lot of preparation. Even if you drag me to the Demon Palace now, it’s useless, and it would only hinder you from handling your affairs. Why don’t we give each other some time—with your strength, finding me won’t be difficult.”

The black cat had a point. Kriesmeier knew this, but his knuckles couldn’t help but exert increasingly terrifying force, so much so that he could almost hear the black cat’s cervical vertebrae about to crack under the pressure. This action was no different from venting emotions.

The black cat, with a chance of being suffocated alive, showed no reaction. Its amber pupils calmly reflected him until the Demon King slowly released his fingertips.

“Get lost.” Kriesmeier said with disgust, not looking at it, “Before I change my mind.”

However, the black cat silently retreated two steps, appearing a bit hesitant: “You… you’re not feeling uncomfortable anywhere, are you?”

This sentence seemed particularly abrupt. Kriesmeier paused slightly, then walked away in the opposite direction without looking back, leaving the black cat behind. His footsteps were steady and powerful. Roland listened quietly, not noticing anything unusual. 

The Archmage couldn’t help but mock his own impulsiveness, how worry clouded his judgment. The “Dreamcatcher” just now hadn’t even left any side effects on it, let alone the powerful Kriesmeier.

Roland watched the Demon King disappear from his sight, then used magic to send a detailed message of everything that had happened to the Kingdom, along with the address of the location. 

Only then did he control the mouse to click out the menu and click the “Exit Game” option at the very bottom.

The black cat shivered slightly on the cold stone wall, then gradually became transparent. He was destined not to see the Demon King’s lonely back stop after he left his sight. Kriesmeier’s waist-length silver hair fell as he bent over, obstructing his view of other positions.

The Demon King bent down, and in his cold, dark golden eyes, a crimson, blood-red withered petal was reflected. The petal had stuck to his boot at some point, like a splash of blood after a murder. Kriesmeier reached out and picked it up, intending to examine this unknown mark, but the petal instantly shattered into countless dust particles in his fingertips, dissolving into the air.

Was it just an illusion?

The Demon King’s expression remained unchanged as he straightened up. The wings behind him stirred up a black hurricane, and in an instant, he disappeared into it.

At this moment, Roland watched the window on the screen disappear, feeling a little dazed. He rubbed his forehead, telling himself not to be so disheartened. Whenever he spent too much time in Abyss Continent, he would feel a strong sense of incongruity. 

The game closed, and his connection with the world was severed. Even in the past few days, he had been unenthusiastic about knowledge of the real world.

The Archmage’s gaze flitted across his computer desktop, then he decided to go out and get some fresh air. Just as he was about to take off his headphones, he heard a stiff, electronic voice suddenly sound in his mind, as if speaking directly to him.

“Hello, Roland.”

In an instant, Roland’s amber eyes were filled with vigilance. He slowly reached for his phone, then opened the Black Book app. 

Although he felt a little familiar, it wasn’t until he saw the Black Book frantically send a “black cat peeking out.jpg” emoji, hurriedly revealing its identity, that he let out a sigh of relief. 

The staff “Nova,” which had solidified halfway, dissipated again, and he complained: “Where did you download that voice pack? It sounds quite unsettling…”

Usually, the Black Book would defend its taste to the death, but this time it unexpectedly agreed with him, speaking in that emotionless electronic voice in his mind again: 

“I think so too. What a tasteless fellow.”

The Archmage tapped the desktop with the back of his finger, basically guessing who the “tasteless fellow” the World Consciousness was referring to was. 

He chuckled softly, but still chose to take off his headphones, after all, he wasn’t happy about anything talking in his head.

Seeing Roland do this, the World Consciousness quickly shifted its position from the headphones, appearing on the Archmage’s phone screen with white text on a black background. Then, long paragraphs of text appeared.

The Black Book faithfully recorded the conversations it had overheard. Faced with someone like the Archmage, it saw no need to show off and summarize on its own. Roland was also not polite, silently reading everything carefully, breaking down all the information to ponder it, then slowly blinked. The Black Book immediately asked: “So, what do you think?”

Roland turned his eyes to him. In the brightly lit room, the Archmage looked unusually tired. He whispered, “I just want to go home earlier. If this is a suitable opportunity, I’m not afraid to wait, and I won’t miss it.”

“So, you think this is feasible.”

“Even if it’s not feasible, don’t we still have to stop the fusion from happening?”

Roland perked up slightly, “The channels of two worlds opening simultaneously, with such a close connection, it’s even possible that there won’t be time distortion. Seizing control of the system and preventing the Son of Fortune from acting recklessly, I can’t think of a more suitable time.”

“But it’s still a bit rushed.”

“Being rushed is the only problem now,” Roland said. “We must consider how to act.” He understood the Black Book’s concerns. It wouldn’t be easy to formulate a complete and effective plan in a short time, and if there was even the slightest error, the result could be counterproductive. 

This was not just a matter for the Archmage alone; it concerned the fate of two worlds, and Roland was not so arrogant as to let his desire to go home override his reason. On the contrary, in some situations, he was terrifyingly rational. Many people believed that the Archmage was a rare saint on the Mirar Continent.

Roland took a deep breath, then looked at the sunset outside the window and stood up. He didn’t turn off his phone screen but directly grabbed his phone and thumped down the stairs.

Passing through the internet cafe lobby, the owner, Shan Sheng, was standing on a chair changing posters. He saw Roland free a hand and greet him. Roland paused, waved back, and then asked: “Are you replacing the old poster?”

The painting of Kriesmeier that had been hanging on the wall was already a bit old, stained with dust and grime. So Roland received a perfectly natural response. He lingered for a moment, thought for a bit, and then said: “Can you leave the old poster for me?”

“Of course,” Shan Sheng said, then looked at Roland with some concern. The young man seemed not to have come downstairs for a long time; his face was a bit pale, which started his usual lecture: “But you young people, you need to exercise restraint when playing games…”

For his boyfriend’s portrait, Roland behaved considerately and patiently. A moment later, Shan Sheng handed him the old poster and took the new one, beginning to put it up.

Roland examined it. The new poster was for the Abyss Continent‘s anniversary and themed version update, which was to be launched three days later. At the edge of the poster was a black frame symbolizing a computer screen, as if the player was sitting in front of a computer screen, looking at the Abyss scene. 

The poster’s background was cleverly designed from an overhead perspective. The hero in the visual center, holding a sword, was bathed in light, and below his feet were condensed scenes of settlements of various races from the Mirar Continent, giving a sense of looking down with satisfaction.

The event name was “From a New World.” These stylized words were bolded and enlarged, embedded in the poster.

Roland stared at it for a few seconds, then calmly and indifferently turned his gaze away. He first carefully put away Kriesmeier’s old poster, then walked out the door again.

Shan Bin happened to enter, brushing past him. The young man with bright hair looked back at him, asking somewhat strangely: “Xiao Luo, what are you going out for at this hour?”

Roland lightly rubbed his phone screen with his thumb: “Picking someone up.”

“Lady Hilda might just have an urgent matter.”

The King said, slowly glancing at the hero, Bai Mingchen, and the Queen sobbing beside him. They had originally decided to discuss the future direction of kingdom affairs that evening after a day of rest, but now a key figure was missing… and so was much evidence.

“In that case,” Bai Mingchen said self-righteously, “with even the witness absent, you cannot convict me no matter what.”

Bai Shi, in front of the screen, looked at the other end of the screen with a slight excitement. She was gone. Truly gone, that witch who was always rude to him, completely deleted from this world like a game bug. He felt incomparably refreshed at this moment. To confirm, he had also hastily visited Hilda’s temporary palace. If it wasn’t for himself, even the guards wouldn’t have discovered the witch’s disappearance by now.

“Then,” the King scrutinized the hero. Bai Mingchen indeed had a good appearance in the game: golden hair, blue eyes, a sword at his waist—everything about him exuded gallantry, and he had garnered a following. The version he recounted was completely different from the Knight Commander’s. If there were one more witness, it might prove he had made a mistake.

The King slowly sighed, “Let’s discuss the specifics of this incident later. I think Lady Hilda won’t be gone for too long. When she returns—”

She’s dead. Bai Shi thought with satisfaction. She’ll never return. He hadn’t expected solving the whole incident to take so little effort, and he had even caused the Knight Commander to face questioning by revealing a past relationship she had with him years ago: “Perhaps it’s due to old grievances against Lord Hero.” 

Although the elderly lady hadn’t even blinked in the face of these accusations.

“Then,” the hero declared triumphantly, “I can confirm that all those slanders against my reputation are false accusations.” No one could refute him.

Bai Shi controlled the hero to bow and withdraw, almost unable to suppress his curved lips. But his glorious expression was suddenly dampened by a small figure that appeared. Princess Debbie had somehow sneaked out of her bedchamber—she had been startled these past two days, had been lying in bed with a high fever, and was completely unable to recount the truth of what had happened. She was like a small, pale shadow.

“Debbie, come here.” The hero extended his hand to her, but the princess just stared at him for a few seconds, then turned and ran. The Queen sobbed heavily again, almost fainting. 

The King immediately ordered the guards to chase after the princess. Bai Shi also wanted to step forward but was stopped. 

The emotion that had just peaked suddenly came to an abrupt halt. He couldn’t help but angrily thump the desktop: “If only that witch had been eliminated earlier!”

The system did not respond. 

The system had told Bai Shi that it would need to spend time and energy preparing for the upcoming world fusion in the next couple of days, thus making contact difficult. Bai Shi wasn’t surprised, as the system had already expended considerable energy to eliminate the witch Hilda. 

Its energy was only sufficient to eliminate one last person’s existence in the game world. Therefore, before selecting Hilda, the system had seemed quite hesitant. 

As far as Bai Shi was concerned, there was no need to consider it at all; from all indications and facts, the only candidate was the witch Hilda. Now that she was gone, the world left to him was finally peaceful. He could finally approach pretty female characters without any reservations.

Bai Shi shrugged, and at the same time, his controlled character walked out of the imperial palace.

Hilda wasn’t so lucky. She just closed her eyes, felt everything around her turn dark, and when she regained consciousness, she found herself in what seemed like a street. But the passersby here wore clothes completely different from hers; her dark witch robe seemed a bit too flamboyant, especially that pointed hat. 

Then she suddenly realized that her python wasn’t with her. Even worse, she couldn’t find her staff.

Hilda felt confused. She surveyed her surroundings, took a couple of random steps, and unexpectedly, a rapidly moving metal box whizzed past her, almost knocking her over. 

The witch had never seen such a thing, but years of learning experience taught her that she must maintain reverence for the unknown. So she stepped back.

About ten minutes later, she had to understand two things. First, she wasn’t dreaming. Second, the metal boxes only moved when the light in front of them was red. Although neither of these facts helped her figure out where she was, at least she could explore her surroundings.

Hilda slipped into the alley across the street as dusk began to fall. 

She walked cautiously between the tall, narrow walls, her shadow growing dark and long under the streetlights. The crowd grew thinner and thinner. Eventually, she was the only one walking slowly in the damp alley. When Hilda looked up, she could see lights shining above her, but they weren’t candles or oil lamps, nor were they powered by magic. The Archmage had once mentioned a term that came to her mind: electric lights.

“What exactly is this place?” A hint of confusion appeared in the witch’s eyes. Frankly, she knew how dangerous it was to be alone in an unfamiliar place at night, but it would also take some time to navigate through the messy alleys.

Hilda was still hesitating when she suddenly heard footsteps. She instantly became alert. The footsteps seemed to be more than one; indistinct footfalls echoed from distant alley entrances both in front of and behind her. 

A pale moon hung in the sky, and Hilda hoped to convince herself that this was still the Mirar Continent, but she couldn’t make up her mind. The lights here were too bright to see the stars.

Hilda silently turned on the ball of her foot and pressed herself against the corner of the wall. Dressed in black, the witch was like some highly concealed nocturnal creature, holding her breath. 

The footsteps from ahead grew closer, and a figure stepped into the alley first, swaying exaggeratedly as if to ensure he wouldn’t be missed, a stark contrast to Hilda. Then he noticed the witch in the corner.

Hilda took a deep breath. 

The person clearly saw her as a target and walked towards her happily. But just as he was about to reach the witch, Hilda swiftly pulled out her arm, dragging him towards her while grabbing his neck. Her movements were incredibly light.

“Who are you?” Hilda demanded.

“Ow, ow, ow, that hurts!” The young man in front of her, whose hair seemed to have been pulled, cried out. His wild, brightly colored hair was almost crushed by this stranger in the dark alley. She was clearly a beautiful woman, but how could she be so tough? Shan Bin cried out in pain twice before realizing the other party was unmoved, so he forced himself to negotiate: “Your… your name isn’t Hilda, is it?”

“Who told you to ask that?” Hilda turned the tables.

“It’s not me looking for you,” Shan Bin mumbled. 

“My friend asked me for help, said it would be faster if two people looked together. I must have been crazy to come to a dark alley in the middle of the night to find someone. Look, he’s right behind me, coming over now. Can you let me go first?”

Just as he finished speaking, a familiar voice echoed from behind Hilda. At the sound, the witch’s eyes widened. She immediately threw the hostage, Shan Bin, aside, then turned around and respectfully called out “Teacher.” 

She blinked, then clearly saw the figure under the streetlamp.

Roland stood with his hands in his trench coat pockets, his amber eyes as bright as a cat’s in the night. He walked forward, the orange-yellow light from the streetlamp above him softening the outline of the Mirar Continent’s most famous Archmage in history. His dark hair lay flat.

“I didn’t expect it to happen so quickly,” he said thoughtfully, glancing apologetically at Hilda at the same time. “But I will explain everything to you. Next, I will need your help.”

“Okay,” Hilda quickly went into business mode. But the next second, she awkwardly looked away, “Uh, but my staff…”

“It’s fine.” Roland calmly looked at the witch, who was experiencing the exact same thing as him. “Hilda, time is short. If we want to go back, we have to get this done within a few days.”

Having the Archmage standing there simply meant he was extremely reliable. Hilda nodded involuntarily.

Shan Bin curiously peeked out from beside them, clearly not understanding anything, and feeling the atmosphere suddenly become inexplicably solemn. He busied himself straightening his colorful hair, then muttered and followed, but was unexpectedly flattered to hear both Roland’s “Thank you” and Hilda’s “I’m sorry.” As a good young man of the new era, he quickly waved his hand.

However, the witch’s attention quickly shifted from him to the Archmage—specifically to his chest—where his trench coat wasn’t fully buttoned, revealing a chain hidden within his lapel. 

She hadn’t noticed before that her mentor had a habit of wearing necklaces. Hilda began to let her imagination run wild. It must be some precious magical artifact, or an expensive, rare treasure.

Roland seemed to notice Hilda’s gaze and thoughtfully tilted his head. The witch quickly averted her eyes; she had always held the Archmage in great respect, even a bit of awe, and would not casually pry into his privacy. However, Roland smiled, clearly not minding, and reached out with his fingertips to pull out the chain. At the end of the chain was a feather, sharp and black as night. 

Its owner was already self-evident.