Chapter 92: Endless Guesses
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Morris let out a long sigh, the sound carrying the weight of years filled with disappointment and unresolved questions. “For those of us dedicated to uncovering the secrets of the past and solving the world’s greatest mysteries, we often find ourselves facing an insurmountable barrier of uncertainty and unknowable facts.”
His face, visibly aged and marked by what seemed like a lifetime of global expeditions, stood as a living testament to the endless struggles he and his contemporaries had endured in their work. “The chronicles that exist prior to the event we call the ‘Great Annihilation’ are fragmented and inconsistent. Documents from each ancient city-state seem to recount entirely separate, bizarre stories, leaving us unable to definitively determine the truth about our past.”
Duncan paused, deep in thought, absorbing Morris’s words. Unlike Morris’s palpable sense of despair, Duncan wrestled with an internal storm of ideas and theories. Coming from Earth’s modern era, rich with information and technological advances, Duncan couldn’t help but speculate on the seemingly fantastical histories before him.
The protective dome covering the continent might be an advanced artificial ecological system engineered to simulate an optimal living environment. The “seawater fuel” mentioned could be a sophisticated hydro-fusion engine powering this complex machinery. Similarly, the giant spaceships said to travel the universe might actually be colonization vessels, stopping at various star systems to harvest essential resources like gases and metals, ensuring their long-term sustainability.
Yet, what stumped Duncan was the elvish tale of a demon god and a dream world where dreams and reality intertwined, a narrative more fitting a magical realm than one rooted in technology. Given the piecemeal and disparate historical records, reconstructing the past proved to be an impossible task, as Morris had pointed out.
“Our investigation seems to hit a ‘limited field of vision’ when we reach the core event of the Great Annihilation,” Morris interrupted Duncan’s contemplation, speaking from the other side of the counter and massaging his forehead. “It’s as if we can’t see or understand anything that occurred before that horizon, rendering the history leading up to the Great Annihilation an enigma permanently out of reach.”
Inspired by Morris’s melancholy, Duncan proposed a bold hypothesis: “What if every single one of these records is actually accurate?” Morris looked up, his eyes widening in surprise as he fixed his gaze on Duncan. “What are you suggesting?”
“What if all these stories and accounts, as recorded by each city-state or even separate races, are accurate reflections of their individual experiences prior to the Great Annihilation?” Duncan continued, rubbing his chin thoughtfully. “Is it conceivable that our ancestors, who lived 10,000 years ago, came from various worlds and civilizations? That the Great Annihilation wasn’t an extinction event but rather one that stranded these divergent groups of people, each with their unique histories, on this continent?”
Feeling increasingly confident, Duncan went further: “Could the true nature of the Great Annihilation be a ‘mass teleportation,’ connecting different realities or even universes?” Morris’s eyes widened in astonishment. “You’re referring to the Brock Bendis school’s hypothesis, the World Drift Theory? It’s a field that hasn’t been thoroughly investigated yet.”
While Morris seemed taken aback, Duncan was equally surprised, albeit for different reasons. He hadn’t expected that others had previously floated a concept similar to his speculative idea. “I’ve gathered bits and pieces about this theory, mostly from experience and sporadic reading. But I must say, I have a soft spot for it,” Morris admitted.
“I find it intriguing, even if it hasn’t gained mainstream acceptance,” Morris added, shaking his head. “But, as with any speculative idea, we’re missing solid evidence, so it remains merely a theory.”
Morris continued, elaborating on other intellectual currents. “Other schools of thought have their own theories. The Clark school believes the convoluted history results from corruption in subspace. The Villentium school argues the world existed as a matrix of isolated compartments or ‘lattices’ before the Great Annihilation. The residents of the Bologna city-state go further, denying a pre-Annihilation world, claiming historical texts are illusions conjured by shadows in subspace to deceive us.”
Morris leaned in, lowering his voice as if revealing something sensitive. “If I may tread into controversial territory, certain heretical cults have their interpretations. Take the Enders, for example. They worship subspace and preach that the Great Annihilation is imminent. They view history as a trailing shadow of reality, believing subspace corruption will distort and erode the truth until the world collapses into subspace itself.”
Duncan’s astonishment grew exponentially as he listened. After a long pause to collect his thoughts, he finally spoke, “I had no idea such diverse and supernatural hypotheses existed…”
Morris nodded understandingly. “Most people don’t venture into these specialized fields, which is why these theories are largely unknown to the public. Also, theories about history often tread close to occult or heretical ideas,” he explained. “But one thing is clear: if thousands of scholars over hundreds or thousands of years haven’t cracked this enigma, they’ve likely considered—and been stymied by—just about every conceivable theory.”
As he absorbed Morris’s words, Duncan began to understand. The issue wasn’t a lack of imagination or creative thinking; what was missing was the empirical evidence needed to substantiate any of these theories. “So, there’s no concrete evidence left? No tangible clues that could give us insight into the past?” Duncan inquired, his face showing confusion and disbelief. “If these theories and histories exist, there must be some basis for them, some fragments of evidence, however scattered.”
“Sadly, none that we’ve found,” Morris replied, his voice tinged with regret. “Over more than 10,000 years, with multiple dark ages and the rise and fall of countless civilizations, any physical remnants that might have existed are likely lost or destroyed. We’re left with unreliable manuscripts and second-hand oral traditions, much like the stories from the elvish communities.”
Duncan sighed, his shoulders slumping. “Trying to unravel the ancient history of this world is incredibly difficult.”
“Yes, we’re up against a double-barreled challenge,” Morris echoed Duncan’s sigh. “We have a fragmented historical record with gaps and a lack of concrete evidence in the present, making the task almost insurmountable. Given the limited resources on each island, no city-state can fully invest in-depth historical research. Most potential artifacts on land have likely been discovered. What remains is probably in places we can’t access.”
“Are you suggesting they might be at the bottom of the sea?” Duncan interrupted, his eyes lighting up with the idea. Morris chuckled at the sudden enthusiasm. “Under the sea, you say? It’s a daring idea, but you’re not the first to think of it. Many historians, in contemplative moments, have wondered if the seabed hides artifacts from past civilizations. These sunken treasures could answer many questions. However, the ocean depths aren’t places where humans can venture.”
Morris paused, allowing the weight of that limitation to sink in, then continued, “That leads to another hypothesis. While it hasn’t gained enough traction to be an established theory, some speculate the ‘old world’ might be hidden beneath the waters, between the deep sea and what we refer to as the spirit world.”
“Why would they think that?” Duncan was clearly intrigued by this new angle. Morris leaned back, pondering before answering. “Numerous ancient texts, fragmentary as they are, mention a ‘starry sky’ in the world before the Great Annihilation. This ‘starry sky’ seems to be an intermediary realm between the deep sea and the spirit world.”
Duncan almost choked, coughing uncontrollably. “Ahem… excuse me?” “Are you all right?” Morris looked concerned, puzzled by Duncan’s abrupt reaction. “I didn’t think the idea would be that shocking.”
“No, I’m fine,” Duncan reassured him, waving dismissively. “I was so engrossed in your storytelling that I choked. Please, go on. You were saying the ‘starry sky’ is believed to exist between the deep sea and the spirit world? Yes, I’m following you closely…”
Duncan’s eyes narrowed as he processed this information. Another layer of complexity, another strand in the tangled web of theories about the world’s history. With each new puzzle piece, the picture seemed more vivid, more tantalizingly within reach.
I can’t believe I’ve already caught up to the translated, great chapter.
so sky is like a middle layer of those two?