There were only vast stretches of barren, withered beach, washed by the black tide.
Black reefs jutted along the coastline like canine teeth, backed by a dead, dense, and morbidly dark green primeval forest, alongside an endless expanse of mud flats reeking of rotting marsh gas.
That was not East Port at all.
At least, it was absolutely not the East Port that, in 1865, should have already begun to industrialize and bustle with people.
“Boom—”
Thousands of thunderbolts seemed to explode simultaneously in Ryan's brain, shaking him so hard his vision swam with darkness.
It was over.
Wrong again.
This timeline was still wrong.
He, too, was a victim.
The East Port of 1865 had not even been born on this timeline.
Following the extreme shock and terror, a bizarre calmness suddenly washed over Ryan's chest like a rising tide.
It was an absolute rationality, so cold it was terrifying, almost devoid of humanity.
The knowledge of the 【Lantern】 whirled, reorganized, and deduced frantically in his mind. Ryan closed his eyes, his thoughts becoming incredibly clear at this moment.
If the timeline was wrong, then continuing forward and stepping onto that barren beach would only lead to them slowly rotting in the wilderness, eventually turning into monsters identical to the failed versions floating on the sea around Bone Island.
This cycle was a complete failure.
And once they failed...
Ryan's eyelids twitched violently, and his stomach churned with nausea.
Inside his head, two voices tore at each other frantically.
Absolute rationality whispered:
“Kill them. Kill them now, and erase all traces of this cycle. Only then will they not turn into monsters wandering the black sea, and only then will they not become obstacles on the path home for the truly correct ‘self.’ This is the most correct form of self-defense. This is the only solution.”
But his remaining humanity roared in agony:
“That is Simon! That is Alvin! They survived so many days and nights with you on this wretched boat! They are living human beings! How can you turn your blade against your own companions? How are you any different from those crazed monsters?!”
Ryan's right hand gripped the hilt of the dagger at his waist, his knuckles cracking under the immense force.
Cold sweat slid down his temples, mixing with the saltiness at the corner of his mouth.
Human morality and reluctance seemed so small and fragile in the face of those complex causal calculations.
If he allowed the current version of himself to continue living, the future, correct Ryan would die at the hands of these “failed scraps.” At this very moment, he had to personally sever this branch destined for corruption, clearing all obstacles for the most perfect self who could escape.
“I'm sorry,” Ryan whispered in his heart.
In an instant, his gaze turned cold. All pain, struggle, and warmth were completely evaporated by the white glare of the 【Lantern】.
Slowly, he drew the dagger from its leather sheath.
The small boat was now less than fifty yards away from the jagged reefs.
Simon and Alvin were excitedly discussing their plans after landing. None of them noticed that Ryan, standing behind them, had a gaze so cold it lacked any trace of human warmth.
“Simon,” Ryan suddenly spoke, his voice as calm as a pool of dead water untouched by the wind.
“What is it, Ryan? Are you going to buy me a drink when we get out...”
The moment Simon turned his head, what met him was a bone-white blade carrying a bone-chilling coldness.
“Pfft!”
The throat of the off-guard 【Heart】 was precisely and ruthlessly pierced by the bone blade.
Ryan did not hesitate for a second. The moment he pulled the blade out, he twisted his wrist sharply. Warm, viscous blood erupted instantly, staining the dim deck a deep crimson.
Simon's eyes widened in shock. Clutching his throat, he let out a hollow, gurgling sound and fell backward into the cabin in disbelief. His body twitched violently; the power of the Heart was still sustaining this flesh.
“Ryan! What are you doing?!”
Beside him, Alvin was struck with absolute horror. He instinctively reached for the weapon at his waist. Under extreme terror, the fire inside him spontaneously began to heat up, his skin cracking with glowing, dark-gold fissures.
But Ryan was faster.
Once the shackles of humanity shattered, only highly efficient slaughter remained. The moment Simon collapsed, Ryan threw himself forward.
He didn't care about the intense heat radiating from Alvin, letting the scalding spirituality burn his own flesh with a sizzling, scorching sound.
Using his left hand like an iron vise, he clamped Alvin's jaw shut to suppress him. His right hand, holding the dagger, plunged ruthlessly between the ribs and stabbed into Alvin's beating heart.
“This timeline... is wrong,” Ryan whispered hoarsely against Alvin's ear.
Alvin stared intently at Ryan. Reflected in his eyes was the cold, emotionless, and blindingly bright glare of pure white light in Ryan's left eye.
Faced with this absolute rationality that transcended even the fear of death, Alvin seemed to understand something. The trace of spirituality in his eyes finally gave up resisting. The furnace fire within him died out in an instant, and he collapsed into the pool of blood.
Covered in blood, Ryan stood on the rocking boat.
He looked down at the corpses of his former companions. There was no sadness on his face, nor any madness.
He knew that Simon and Alvin would not turn into the monsters aboard the East Port.
“Next... it's my turn.”
Ryan lowered his head, looking at his blood-stained right hand. It was being continuously assimilated by the knowledge of the 【Lantern】, and had even begun to turn faintly translucent.
He turned around, facing the dark, dead, barren beach, and slowly placed the dagger against his own throat.
He only needed to close his eyes and slash.
Just a split second before he was about to apply force, Ryan instinctively turned back to take one last look at the direction they had come from.
The black sea was boundless, and thick fog rolled slowly in the last rays of the setting sun.
Right at the boundary of that viscous, dead fog.
Ryan seemed to see an illusion.
A slightly different, small bone boat was floating quietly on the undulating waves.
And at the stern of that boat, three figures could be vaguely seen standing.
A young man was also staring quietly at this version of himself, looking across dozens of kilometers of heavy fog.
...It was him.
Ryan withdrew his gaze. The corner of his mouth twitched neurotically as he let out a faint smile.
He closed his eyes and jerked his arm.
“Splash.”
Muffled splashes echoed one after another.
The small bone boat rocked a few times in the black tide. In the darkness after the sun had fully set, the three still-warm corpses in the cabin drifted slowly toward that barren, dead beach along with the directionless currents.
Rate on N.U.
