Chapter 182

Chapter 182: A Peaceful Tomorrow Will Still Come

The noise in his mind rose and fell, as if a huge source of interference was sometimes drawing close to his brain and sometimes drifting away. The antique shop in his field of vision stayed mostly stable, yet from time to time something dark flashed between the shelves, as if trying to show the reckless visitor the sinister Truth from Subspace.

Morris sat carefully at the counter, pulling back his thoughts and emotions. In the brief clarity granted to him by the God of Wisdom Rahm, he tried his best, within his limits, to think through one question after another.

The conversation was still going on. Until the “Mr. Duncan” across from him had said his fill, he, as the “conversation partner”, had to keep accompanying him.

However, Duncan was not speaking at this moment. He had also fallen into thought, thinking about things related to the Black Sun and the history of corruption.

That dead, yet noise-filled silence lasted for who knew how long before Morris suddenly heard a deep voice from across the table: “One last question. If something really is Corrupting history, how should that problem be solved?”

“Something is really… Corrupting history?” Morris raised his head a bit slowly and looked at Duncan in confusion. “Who are you talking about?”

“No matter who it is,” Duncan said calmly. “It might be Subspace, it might be the Black Sun, it might be some other Heretic God. If something is trying to Corrupt history, then how should it be dealt with? How do the Flamebearers handle that kind of crisis?”

Morris froze for a second, then shook his head hesitantly: “I… I’m sorry. I can’t answer that. It is already beyond what I know. Even among the Flamebearers, I’m afraid only the strongest Saints or Chosen Ones know the secrets of how history runs. Most Flamebearers are actually like the Guardians of the Storm Church. In daily life they only wipe out Heretics and carry out purification against corruption and the like. After all, a true corruption of history is almost impossible to happen…”

“…Right. It’s my question that’s too deep. It’s hard to make you answer this,” Duncan sighed softly. He realized his curiosity was too strong and had probably put a lot of pressure on the old Mr. in front of him, so he simply ended the topic. “Then let’s stop here for today.”

A wave of unprecedented relief rose in his chest, and Morris let out a long breath.

His head had grown groggy again a while ago. His thoughts broke off again and again. Many questions floated up in his mind, but he could not put them together. Now that Duncan was willing to end the talk on his own, Morris could not have wished for more.

Duncan raised his head and looked at the sky outside through the nearby glass window.

By the time of day, there was still a while before sunset, but the gloomy sky had already made it completely dark outside. The gas streetlamps lit up early, their pale yellow glow shining on the streets. Against the background of heavy dark clouds, the Lower City of Pland looked as if it had been thrown into the veil of night ahead of time.

“The weather looks bad,” Duncan withdrew his gaze and looked at the old man across from him. “Do you want to stay? Nina should have finished cooking by now.”

Morris’s heart started pounding at once. All of a sudden, he remembered a saying popular at the Truth Institute, used to describe the maddest and most legendary scholars who chased after knowledge—

Swam in Subspace, bragged in front of an Eldritch God, watched the Gods’ war at the scene, and mooched a bowl of soup cooked by a Retainer.

If he treated this antique shop, already occupied by “Mr. Duncan”, as Subspace, if Mr. Duncan’s rank was equal to that of a God, and if there really was a struggle between this Subspace Shadow and the God of Wisdom… then he had already accomplished three of the four great sacred miracles…

At this point, if he went upstairs for a bowl of soup, he might actually be promoted to “legendary” on the spot!

Morris was a little surprised that he still had the strength to think about such nonsense right now. At the same time, he carefully gathered his words: “Actually…”

“Actually, you want to leave, right?” Duncan nodded before the old Mr. could finish. He still had some self-awareness. “Even though I want to say the weather is bad and staying for a bowl of hot soup might be better for your health, it looks like, compared with the comfort a bowl of soup would bring, the pressure of sitting in front of me right now is even greater?”

Morris hurriedly stood up and nodded along: “To be honest, every second is torture—of course, I don’t mean any offense, it’s just…”

“No need to say it, I get it,” Duncan waved his hand, a bit helpless. “If we could meet in a more relaxed way, I would really like to talk with you properly about history and the Gods. I’m very interested in knowledge—the kind of interest without any malice. But this time, it looks like it won’t work.”

Morris stood beside the counter and fell silent after hearing this. After quite a while, he finally met Duncan’s gaze: “To be honest, I drifted off several times just now and almost forgot the ‘truths’ I saw. Your… curiosity and friendliness felt so real. You talked with me like a friend. This is the first time I’ve met someone like you who is so friendly…”

The old Mr. got stuck. For a moment he really could not find a positive word. Duncan saw this and laughed: “If you can’t find a good word, then don’t. Just don’t go and report me to anyone after you leave.”

“No, no, no! I would never do that!” Morris waved his hands at once, as if he was afraid Duncan would misunderstand. “No matter what, you truly saved Heidi’s life, and you have always been friendly. I have no reason to report you—besides…”

The old Mr. hesitated, then spread his hands with a bitter smile: “Judging from how you look, you probably aren’t afraid of being ‘reported’ anyway…”

“It would feel troublesome,” Duncan said casually, “but probably not a big trouble.”

Then he paused for a moment, looked up toward the second floor, and then looked back at Morris: “If the weather improves tomorrow, Nina will go to school as usual.”

“Nina…” Morris blinked. He remembered the arc of blazing flame he had seen, and he remembered what he had just discussed with Duncan, especially the part about the Black Sun. Combined with Duncan’s attitude just now, he already vaguely guessed something in his heart. “Nina… is she connected to what those Suntists worship…”

He did not finish the question, because Duncan gently shook his head.

“Nina is just Nina. You don’t need to be curious about the secrets behind her,” Duncan said softly. “Treat her like you always do, and then nothing will happen.”

“…I understand,” Morris lowered his head slightly. For some reason, after hearing Duncan’s words, he felt even more relieved than before. He stepped back two steps. “Then I should take my leave. Please say goodbye to Nina for me—I am not really in a state to ‘look’ at her again right now.”

Duncan made a sound of agreement, came out from behind the counter, and walked the old Mr. to the front door.

There were hardly any pedestrians left on the street. Only rows of streetlamps lit the cloud-covered district. A cold wind blew between the buildings, circling back and forth, and the dampness in the air grew heavier.

Morris pulled his coat tighter and pressed down the short top hat on his head. But before he walked to his car, he still could not help stopping. He turned back to look at Duncan, who was still standing in the shop doorway.

What he saw was a middle-aged man with a calm smile. The distant street view still shook from time to time, but it no longer looked like the terrifying Anomaly it had at the start.

“Mr. Duncan,” Morris suddenly said, “you actually like this place a lot, don’t you?”

“That’s right, I like it here quite a bit,” Duncan laughed and waved to the old man. “So go home without worry. Pland will safely welcome tomorrow—and every day after.”

Morris took off his hat, gave Duncan a small wave, then turned and walked toward the car parked by the roadside.

Duncan did not look away until the car started up and disappeared at the end of the street.

But he did not go back inside right away. Instead, he stood at the door, lost in thought.

The first question he thought about was whether the Old Gentleman would report him after going home…

His conclusion was that the chance was very, very small. If he had only been an ordinary cultist, or even a slightly higher-ranking Sun priest, then as a believer of the True Gods, Morris would have had a one hundred percent chance of reporting him afterward. But judging from today, in the other party’s eyes he probably looked more like an Elder Gods-level being. That actually made the Old Gentleman’s chance of reporting him drop to almost zero.

The reason was simple: to report a few cultists, two Constables would be enough to wipe them out. To report a Cult priest, a few Guardians could cut him down on the spot. But if what was entrenched in this place was a Subspace Eldritch God… then what level would you even report that to?

Forget about the local Cathedral—reporting it to the city’s Bishop would be useless as well…

It would be more reliable to go back and mutter a few words to the God of Wisdom he believed in than to report it to the Church.

And even aside from all that, if Morris really did go to the Church to report him, Duncan still would not care much.

After all, even Vanna-F, the Inquisitor who stood at the peak of combat power in the Storm Church, still looked a bit weak in his eyes…

Compared with such minor details, what Duncan cared about more right now was actually Nina’s condition.

That surging, burning arc of flame… this was the “truth” Morris had seen on Nina with the Eye of Truth given to him by the God of Wisdom.

“A shard of the Sun, huh…” Duncan lifted his head and looked at the dark sky outside, muttering softly to himself. “Just what the hell is the Sun in this world…”