Chapter 381: A Day Repeated

In the vast, hollow expanse of the void, two figures drifted downward at a measured pace. Fine threads trailed from their bodies, stretching up toward an unseen origin.

“Thank goodness we made it. But what even was that force? It was like a tide of annihilation! I saw everything in its path unravel into base particles. Even those lingering phantoms were reduced to nothing!”

Wang Yu looked down at the young woman he held tightly in his arms. He and Avia discussed their strange survival. Only their swift decision on the brink of disaster had kept the raging torrent from consuming them.

“I don’t know,” Avia replied softly. “The only thing I can compare it to are the wonders of the world—or divine strength.

“But why that tide of oblivion appeared at all… I don’t have any guesses. Can you not feel it, Wang Yu? This void is utterly unlike that which surrounds the material world. Its nature and its very essence feel different.”

She kept herself tucked as closely as possible within Wang Yu’s embrace, unwilling to expose even a fingertip to the open air, for they were now inside the void itself.

By all reckoning, such a thing was impossible. Apart from Wang Yu, a being who had long since ceased to conform to reason, no living creature should be able to survive here in the flesh. Without some material anchor, such as Roland’s thirteen Keys, even legendary magicians of Yule’s stature would be twisted into writhing abominations of flesh within moments.

And yet, Wang Yu had done the impossible. With the Chariot’s power enfolding them tightly, he had transported her into the void itself.

The risk was staggering. He had long theorized such a thing could be possible once the Chariot could interact with magic, but until now, he had never dared test it. With annihilation closing in on them, however, he had had no other choice.

As the tide bore down, Avia herself had reached into the void, tearing open a rift that could not be opened before. Wang Yu had seized it, forced it wider with the Chariot’s strength, wrapped Avia within his power, and hurled them both inside.

The void became their refuge. Even the tide that devoured all matter could not pierce the barrier between worlds. It thundered past, a storm raging beyond their reach, while within the void the two continued to fall in silence.

“You’re right,” Wang Yu murmured at last. “This void isn’t like the one outside. It feels calmer. It’s not as wild or dazzling as what’s here.”

He knew the void well enough to say so. He had entered it twice before, and though it rejected him as a wizard, he had learned to taste it, to some extent. At the very least, its color here was different.

In the material plane, the void shimmered in prismatic violet, beautiful, dangerous, and mad. But here, it was a heavy, tranquil green, vast and still.

Such a change could not be dismissed. He might be lacking in terms of knowledge, but this difference in color was sufficient to overturn centuries of the world’s lore.

Put plainly, this was no less surprising than if the sun were to suddenly burn blue one day.

“Color,” Avia mused. “We’ve always believed the void’s iridescence is a reflection of the starry sky. But here, it is nothing like that. Monochrome, subdued… Wang Yu, what does this green color remind you of?”

“The deep sea,” he answered without hesitation. “The abyss, but lacking the splendor of the heavens. There’s an old saying, ‘If the sea terrifies you, then the stars should terrify you more.’ There’s a grain of truth in those words.”

As he glanced about, another thought struck him. “Avia, have you noticed? I haven’t seen a single void creature. Not a single one has passed us.”

Indeed, since their fall began, not even a flicker of those grotesque lifeforms had crossed their path. On past excursions into the void, Wang Yu had always glimpsed such horrors drifting through the void. This time, there was nothing.

“Yes,” Avia said gravely. “This void is unnaturally still. Of course, the void tends toward stillness, but even so, this place feels different. I can sense it.”

She drew a slow breath, eyes narrowing. “This void rejects all intruders. I believe even a legendary wizard would be unable to command it. It feels as though this void has a master—and that master denies all others its power.”

Her words built upon his observation, carrying them toward a darker conclusion.

“Like when the Undying Lord seized control of the void at Villa Mayene—and at the Academy, when another power claimed it?” Wang Yu asked.

“No,” Avia shook her head. “Those times, the void’s power was borrowed, bent, and extended. But here?

“Something has claimed the void here in its entirety. It’s as if this domain is fully under another entity’s control.”

Her voice dropped lower. “The strength I called upon just before the tide struck—it must have been a fluke. A special circumstance bound to the very essence of this place. Wang Yu, this void belongs wholly to its master.”

Wang Yu understood her at last. Evil gods merely seized larger shares of the void’s strength, leaving less for others to draw upon. They hoarded power, but they did not alter its essence. Wizards and the like could still seek strength from the void itself.

But here, some unfathomable being had claimed a whole portion of the void outright. To ask the void for power now required petitioning its master—and that master was refusing all petitions.

“…Ah. The turbulence outside has stilled. We can leave the void.”

At first, Wang Yu found the idea absurd. He had never once heard of anyone strong enough to seize a part of the void for themselves. But then he thought of the Chariot’s power and how it seemed to supersede the void entirely. Perhaps such an unreasonable feat was possible after all.

His thoughts were cut short by a new sensation reaching him through the starsteel threads he had set down before. Just as they entered, Wang Yu had unraveled his starsteel blade into threads fine as hair and anchored them at the rift’s edge. The near-indestructible strands allowed him to extend his senses outward to bring him glimpses of the world beyond. Now, they would also serve as a lifeline to draw them back.

The upheaval outside had quieted. Wang Yu seized the threads and pulled on them, guiding them both toward the rift.

He probed at the outside world with the Chariot’s power. What he saw stunned him for a moment—then he gathered Avia close and pulled them both out through the rift back into the material plane.

“…Everything’s whole again?”

Wang Yu frowned, baffled.

The gate of the city stood the way it had before. The buildings, the sparse crowd, even the guards at their posts—all as they had been.

Yet he and Avia had watched every one of them swallowed by the annihilating tide. How could they now be restored, unchanged?

“Look at the light,” Avia said quietly. “It’s darker than when we first arrived. And the people—observe them closely. We’ve arrived at an earlier time.”

With her Perfect Fractal lens gathering every detail, and her own piercing insight weaving what she saw together, she reached a grave conclusion.

“This day has begun anew. That tide consumed everything, and the day must have reset thereafter.”

Her face hardened. The conclusion was simple, but its implications left her shaken. Time itself could not turn back; that was impossible. Some power must have reshaped the world after its annihilation and re-created all that had been devoured.

Who could accomplish such a thing? Somewhere within this realm they had fallen into, there was a being for whom this result was a mere fragment of its strength. And even that fragment was terrifying beyond imagining.

“Wang Yu,” Avia whispered suddenly, “that song—could you still hear it in the void?”

“I could!”

In the crisis and their focus on the void’s strange stillness, he had barely noticed the melody. When she brought it up, however, he realized that the melody had never ceased. It had followed them even into the void—and there, it had grown louder.

“The tide of annihilation could not pierce the barrier between worlds,” Avia said, her eyes alight. “Yet this song could. It may be far more important than we first thought.”

For the first time since this ordeal began, she could sense a beam of illumination, a spot of order hidden in the chaos.

“Wang Yu, hum the tune for me. We’ll search the city and see if we can find anything about it.”

Excitement brightened her face as she conjured a spellbook. While Wang Yu whistled the melody, she transcribed its structure across the pages.

Then the two set out into the city in search of the song’s origin. The place was intact, preserved as though no time had passed. Only the people’s possessions were gone, as if erased deliberately to prevent the phantoms of the past from interacting with this reborn world.

The search was easier than expected. Though the written language of this place was foreign, it was simple enough to discern the purpose of certain buildings—libraries, bookshops, places where music might be found.

There, among shelves of preserved volumes, they sought out records of melody and song. By comparing the notation with Avia’s own transcription, they began to close in on an answer.

At last, in a modest shop, Avia opened a certain book. Her breath caught. She turned to the page, eyes fixed on the illustrations. Here, pictures bridged the gap words could not.

“The moon… a bed… a sleeping child… and a mother.” Her voice was hushed, almost reverent. She looked up at Wang Yu. “The song you heard seems to be a lullaby.”

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