Chapter 274

  Moon Lake (I)

  These were days of silence and solace, I must say.

  Ever since handing over the cultivation method, we barely spoke--only doing so perhaps once a day during the communal meals. For the remainder of the day, however, we either walked (during which they still seemed to be studying it, regardless), or they meditated in silence, in their own little corners.

  Even as we ate, they'd have their heads caved into the tomes, and it was kind of funny since it reminded me of going out with a bunch of friends only for all of us to whip out our phones halfway through the meal and barely speak to each other.

  ... Okay, that was a bit of a line. I mean, I remember it being somewhat of a joke, but even if we did pull out our phones, we'd usually still chat, just doing so in smaller clusters.

  Regardless, there were a few moments here and there when all of us would be looking something up, and I imagine this is sort of what we looked like from the outside looking in.

  A whole lotta people, a whole lotta nothing between them.

  In their defense, it was a difficult thing to comprehend--though I was just 'given' the immediate understanding by the system, I did try advancing it a bit, and doing so quite literally gave me a headache.

  I'm not kidding.

  It gave me that topside-pressure headache, the one that's not so much painful as it's just outright annoying.

  As such, I just sort of gave up; my hope was that by the kids making their advancements, the system would give me rewards, and at least one of those rewards would be advancing my understanding of the method.

  Wow.

  I might just be the most incompetent Master ever, huh?

  Ah, whatever.

  According to Lao Shun, we had about a month-long journey ahead of us to the Moon Lake, and that was supposing no interruptions and very minimal rest. We were still deep in the forest, beholden to darkness practically, as we've run out of the lanterns, which meant that, no, we were not likely to make it in a month.

  But, strangely, it wasn't... that bad. I mean, it was scary, especially when all of them went so quiet you couldn't even hear them breathe, but there was something eerily liberating about only having my own thoughts to accompany me.

  ... did I say liberating? I meant terrifying.

  Though I've had moments like this before, they were fleeting--and for a good reason. I haven't really processed much of my life on Earth and its rather ugly end just yet.

  I left behind a lot of people who genuinely loved me--how will they react when they get a phone call? Or, what if my body was so mangled in the crash that they can't even identify me?

  ... or what if there's no body at all? What if I was yanked wholly, and they'll forever think I'd gone missing, never to learn the truth?

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  Yeah.

  It's really not liberating.

  The more I think about it, the more I realize I'll never really have closure. My life over there, miserable as it was, will forever be severed, its finality uncertain. Would I have gotten better? Would I have found someone else? Or would I be one of those unfortunate stories in the newspapers with a title, 'Neighbor smells something strange; severely decomposed body found next door'?

  I'll never know.

  It might even be that this planet and Earth exist within the same universe, but what of it? Even if, by some miracle, I do eventually become so strong that I can travel like a spaceship and become a bit of an interstellar explorer, and in the even less likely scenario that I do find Earth, just how many thousands, if not millions, of years will have passed?

  Will there even be anything there? Perhaps a few derelict traces of a once middling civilization that tried its best but could never truly get out of its own way for long enough to make anything worthwhile of itself.

  A plastic bag there, a steel beam here, and little else in between.

  Wow.

  I really do have the magical power to make myself feel depressed even an entire world over. That's kind of impressive.

  ... but it also brings up another question: just how old is this world? Or, well, the many worlds surrounding it?

  Millions, at the very least. Is there somebody still alive from all that time ago? I don't know; Lao Shun said he was feeling bored, and he'd 'only' been alive five centuries. What about those who've lived for tens of thousands of years?

  I'd always thought that immortality--or, at least, a very long life--is as much a blessing as it's a curse. We'd all adapt, one way or another, if we couldn't die; it's simply ingrained in our DNA. But here, though, most of the drawbacks don't really work the same way--the biggest hurdle, that of your loved ones not living as long, can be remedied.

  What if you could spend millions of years with your soulmate? Well, I wouldn't. I loved Yas with every bone in my body, and I wish we could have had ten lifetimes together, but at some point... we would have experienced everything.

  Ugh.

  This is why I don't like being left alone with my thoughts; one way or another, my deep, philosophical teenage self always seems to crawl from the bottom of some hole I tried to bury him in decades ago.

  "Master," Rayce! Oh, thank God, somebody spoke to me! You're my favorite now!

  "Hm? What is it?" I asked.

  "What path do you think I should pursue?"

  "Hm?"

  "When I was growing up, I was being groomed to become the so-called Enchanter. That's why most of the Words that I know are about aiding others in one way or another. I've dabbled a bit, on my own, in some other paths, but each time I did, it felt like I was just reinforcing that the village Elders were right and that my current path is most suited for me."

  "... but you have doubts?"

  "Not... doubts. Just questions."

  "Hm." Aren't those the exact same thing? "I can't tell you what path you should follow, Rayce. And, even if I could, truth be told, I wouldn't."

  "W-why?"

  "Because it's your path," I said. "I will always do my best to guide you and aid you, but nobody in the world knows better than you what you want. Forget being useful, forget being perfect, forget utilizing your talents to the utmost--we don't live in a prison or a workshop. Pursue whatever it is that you want to pursue. Even if you keep failing, and you keep changing paths, that's fine. Even if you never stumble upon your path, that's fine."

  "You won't... abandon me?" he asked; it was an odd question for a teenager to ask, but I've sort of noticed a pattern in that they aren't really teenagers. I mean, their biggest concern doesn't seem to be how to get laid, or how to get drunk, or how to get one of those K-Pop idols to fall in love with you, so, right off the bat, they're unlike any other teen I've ever known.

  There was a bit of a stunted growth to all of them; it feels like they'd become so central in their pursuit of this one thing that they'd forgotten to do a bit of growing up.

  "No," I said rather simply. "You're my precious Disciple. The only way I'd ever abandon you is if I die--but even then, I'd claw through the cycle itself to find my way back to you kids, just to make sure you were doing okay."

  "Hm."

  He nodded, I think--I could only make out his movements based on the gusts of wind. What was his expression?

  I don't know.

  Perhaps, in times like these, it helps that we are enshrouded in darkness.

  Our most vulnerable parts remain shaded, and we feel ever so slightly safer giving voice to our deepest doubts.

  Hm.

  Though, it might just be that... they trust me that much.

  I'd like it if it were that.