Tonight, Alice joins the hunt.

The young woman thought to herself as she landed at a café near MIT, then, like a typical North American college student, went inside and ordered a coffee and a window seat. Her tone and movements were natural, and her pretty face, slightly distorted by optical distortion, wasn't as striking as usual. Soon, she received her hot coffee at the window seat she desired.

She took a small sip, and the mellow, dark liquid flowed down her throat, warming her stomach, which had been chilled by the high altitude.

The coffee contains no toxins or foreign objects.

She turned her head to look at the pedestrians hurrying to and fro in the rain. They wore raincoats, their footsteps splashing up muddy water, and the morning mist showed no sign of dissipating. A hazy, white mist drifted with their breath, floating above the gloomy city.

This should have been a bustling and clean city. And indeed, it was. The overcast skies and rain at dawn might be unsettling, but they didn't significantly impact the city as a whole.

The city is not dangerous; the only danger lies in Alice's heart.

Death has its sights on me, but I can't sense it.

Alice leaned back on the sofa, casually scanning the somewhat empty café. She knew Death couldn't use the café's equipment to create a killing trap that could threaten her. And Death obviously wouldn't waste his time on such a futile effort.

Once it strikes, it will undoubtedly be a fatal blow.

But if you want a decisive victory, then at the very least you would have to use nuclear weapons.

The American raid was far too crude... Rain clouds, armored units, urban obstacles, and artillery barrage. This tactic could kill most of the Central State team, but not me. In this war, victory is achieved if either Patches or I survive.

【so……】

Alice picked up her coffee and slowly took a big sip.

The enemy is in the open while I am in the dark; the enemy knows me, but I do not know the enemy. If this were in the past, three or four hundred years ago when Alice was still young and impetuous, she would have chosen to charge straight in. If there were no clues about the enemy, she would create them; if she couldn't find a weakness, she would create one herself. But now… she can't do that.

She hated this kind of war.

Having lost the initiative, she could only passively wait for the other side to launch an attack. Even though she was now more than 95% certain that the so-called 'Grim Reaper' was the angels from the Church's mythology, she wouldn't draw a final conclusion until she had witnessed and personally experienced the power of these extraordinary beings.

She wouldn't gamble, or rather, she wouldn't dare to gamble.

After all, witches are a profession that exists in the shadows. They live in fear and live a life of hardship. After hundreds of years of witch hunts and a massive war between machines and information, those who are still alive are extremely cautious. Although only two witches survived in total.

[As expected, I'm getting old... Although I still dare to fight tooth and nail, I've lost much of my ambition compared to when I was younger. I hope Marisa won't become like me... no, she definitely will. After all, Gensokyo... is just a gentle haven that erodes fighting spirit.]

She couldn't help but recall her friends in Gensokyo. Aside from those very young girls—those who could be definitively called "girls" and not just "girls in quotes"—the rest had long since lost their will to fight, their claws dulled. Whether ancient gods who had endured millennia or once-powerful demon lords, they might, when provoked, still display a remnant of their former glory. But this was ultimately fleeting.

They have grown old, just like me. Even if their bodies are healthy, their appearances forever frozen in the prime of their youth, their hearts have aged, lost their ambition, feared change, and only dared to tinker around in their familiar territory, cautiously exploring the path forward little by little—or simply drift along, forgetting everything in the outside world, living their carefree daily lives day after day.

The latter number far exceeds the former.

Therefore, when Yukari Yakumo tentatively tried to access the Main God Space, Alice so stiffly, mercilessly, and decisively refused her. Bringing them in would only harm them, even if they initially thrived on their own power. If they couldn't overcome their own inner turmoil, inevitable defeat awaited them—Alice and Patchouli had no choice but to come. But the others… there was no need to drag them into this mess.

[Perhaps Mokou is an exception; her heart hasn't become stagnant. She hasn't become like me, placing all her limited emotions on Patchouli. Although I can't bring her from Gensokyo, if the opportunity arises... I can't let that past kindness go to waste.]

Alice gently tapped her sleeve, where a phoenix tail feather she had brought from Gensokyo was hidden. Naturally, after being examined by the main god, the feather would be free of any unwanted residue. However, this didn't mean she could only use the feather as a pretty decoration.

She downed her coffee in one gulp. Reaching out, she quickly set up a makeshift protective barrier around herself. The barrier wasn't powerful, but it was enough to stop small-caliber artillery and prevent interference from ordinary people.

The information she obtained from Saito Hajime drew her attention to MIT. Then, through gathering information about the institute, she gleaned some intelligence.

There is a large observatory in Massachusetts owned by the U.S. government. Just yesterday, when she and her group descended from the divine realm, an accidental fire broke out inside the observatory, resulting in the immediate death of one operator. While investigating this operator, she discovered that his child attended an elementary school called William Doss. The day of the incident was also the school's 50th anniversary.

The elementary school's anniversary celebration was a fascinating project—fifty years ago, the students drew pictures depicting their visions of the future, then placed them in a sealed metal bag and buried it underground. Yesterday, fifty years later, that bag was opened. The drawings from fifty years ago were distributed to all the students and then collected at the end of the anniversary celebration.

Alice used satellite network to remotely observe the paintings… unfortunately, she couldn't find anything noteworthy. However, when she shifted her focus to checking the signatures of other visitors who had attended the anniversary celebration, she unexpectedly discovered a name that should belong to the MIT faculty files—John Kessler.

The owner of the name was a widowed professor at MIT with one son. His subject was astrophysics. Alice spent half an hour investigating him and his family, ultimately concluding that he was probably just an ordinary person.

an ordinary person.

If he hadn't discovered the prophetic drawing his son had brought home from William Doss Elementary School, and hadn't spent an entire night deciphering it and actually drawing some conclusions, Alice might have genuinely thought he was just an ordinary person.

The prophetic diagram he obtained was a series of irregular numbers compiled fifty years ago by an autistic girl named Lucinda. It recorded all the major disasters that might occur in the world within the next fifty years, using time, number of people, and latitude and longitude. Of course, Kessler only deciphered the time and number of people; he hadn't yet deduced the intricacies of latitude and longitude. But for Alice, this level of code was a piece of cake.

And this also signifies one thing...

[What bad luck! We've stumbled into a complex horror world.]

Alice rested her chin on her hand and slowly, softly sighed. From the moment the so-called 'Apocalypse' appeared in the intelligence last night, she knew something was wrong with this terrifying world. And now, the appearance of the prophetic drawing and the astronomy professor who 'coincidentally' deciphered it undeniably told her that this world had been drastically altered. Although she didn't yet know which movie this so-called 'Apocalypse' came from, she was at least certain that this 'John Kessler' was a pivotal and important character.

It was of paramount importance to her, at least. Because she could follow this guy and uncover the truth of this world. Or rather... she had already uncovered the truth of this world.

[Without a doubt, Lucinda is a prophet, one who appeared fifty years ago and prepared many prophecies.]

But she died, she died, and she brought no change.

[The visionaries who could foresee the future appeared fifty years ago, yet fifty years later, the history of this world is no different from that of other worlds. Vietnam, North Korea, Yugoslavia, Iraq. The Taliban, the Quantum Foundation, the WTO… the same things happened as before. There are still so many countries in this world, still a unipolar world with multiple superpowers and five permanent members of the UN Security Council. If this is a coincidence, I absolutely do not believe it.]

If it's not a coincidence, then this world...

It's just a pre-written script.

I really hope all my guesses are wrong... Damn it, it's awful, what a world... what a world!

Alice turned her head to look at the rain-soaked street outside the window—she saw an old Ford car emerge from the rain, pause briefly at the entrance of MIT, and then drive straight into the campus. Without a doubt, this car belonged to Professor John Kessler. And only he himself could step out of it.

He hadn't fully deciphered the prophetic drawing yet, but he was certain it depicted three major calamities. The third was unknown, but the first two were within this city.

If my guess... my damned guess is correct. This third catastrophe will be the end of this world. A powerful, terrifying force lurks in the shadows of this world. It has marked the fate of this world, determining the rise and fall of dynasties, the rise and fall of civilizations, and even the life and death of every mortal.

Death, or rather, the angel I predicted, is its tentacles, its agents of will. And these servants' task is to ensure its will is fulfilled, to ensure this world… perishes in six days… five days from now.

"...We were let go."

It's like a tiny flying insect accidentally passing by while you're cleaning the house. The owner of this power had no intention of doing anything to us. It simply stirred up conflict between us and the US government, then tossed us aside, leaving us to our own devices... Since everyone is going to die in five days anyway, it doesn't care how many people who should have died long ago are still clinging to life before that fifth day arrives.

She stood up, her steps noticeably unsteady as she left her seat. But she still went out.

She paid the bill, took a deep breath at the door, and walked out of the quiet coffee shop.

"What's about to happen won't be something you can just easily handle," she told herself. It sounded like a hint, or perhaps self-deception.

"But that's better than waiting to die, isn't it?"

Section 43. Third Kind of Contact

That man holds no secrets; he might be the protagonist of a world… a chapter in a script. But he's not important in my current course of action.

Alice knew exactly what she needed: she needed to understand the nature of 'Death' and how the world would be destroyed in five days. She didn't have time to wait for this 'potential protagonist' to slowly advance the plot.' Her time was limited, and every single second was precious.

Using the internet to spy from high above orbit is indeed a means of gathering information, but for Alice, nothing can be concluded without seeing it with her own eyes—that's why she specifically came to this café just to see Kessler. However, after seeing him and personally testing him, she knew she didn't need to focus too much attention on this man.

He was just an ordinary person, an ordinary person with average talent, average character, average comprehension, and average luck. He couldn't bear too much responsibility, and even if she opened up his memory world and instilled in him the experiences of mountains of corpses and seas of blood, she couldn't turn him into a hero... Perhaps she could, but Alice wasn't sure of the success rate. Therefore, she wouldn't waste her time on it.

So, she was going, and was now going, to another place. The hometown of the Awakener who had existed fifty years ago, a woman named Lucinda—through her investigation, she discovered somewhat unexpectedly that Lucinda had died of illness a few years earlier. Although she left behind a daughter and a granddaughter, their investigations needed to be put on a slightly lower priority.

Because she lived a solitary life in the last few years of her life in an old mountain house without television, communication, or even satellite signal. And clearly, an 'ancient' Apostle like her couldn't just die doing nothing.

[She is not affiliated with the US government. Although she possesses precognitive abilities, she has never cooperated with the US government from beginning to end. Given that in this world, the Americans launched a brazen attack against us solely based on the prophecy of the Apocalypse, the Apocalypse's position within the government must be high, not low… No, that might not be the case.]

After all, the history of this world hasn't changed. Just like the many protagonists in Final Destination, no matter how much they struggle or resist, those destined to die will still die. It won't be long, and there won't be any room for resistance. 'Death' lurks in the dark side of the world, instilling future calamities into the minds of every Awakened One, only to revert everything back to its original state when humanity tries to reverse its fate. If this is a god, then he truly is a cruel god.

The people of this world have undoubtedly tried, struggled, and fought countless times. But the future has never changed. All the dedication, sacrifice, effort, and struggle have been utterly futile. After all…

If the King of Hell calls you to die at midnight, who dares to keep you alive until dawn?

She pondered, lamenting the world's tragic future as she moved like a shadow through the misty, rain-soaked city. With only herself to protect, she had little to worry about, and she knew Death wouldn't dare lay a hand on her under these circumstances.

Ordinary accidents or natural disasters cannot kill her, and when acting alone, she doesn't care whether she harms innocent people. Perhaps Zheng Zha and his gang would be restrained by the lives of ordinary people around them, but she is different.

Cooperation with the government isn't impossible, but I highly doubt its effectiveness. Oh well, let Xiao Honglu deal with those Americans slowly. If he can appease the government and reduce their interference, that would be a gain. But if not… well, we'll just have to crush them.

The skyscrapers on both sides of her vision gradually thinned out, while the lush green vegetation occupied an increasingly larger portion of her field of vision. She walked through the suburbs, across the woods and farms surrounding the city. The topographical map in her mind rapidly changed and corrected itself, and soon, she spotted her target at the foot of a verdant hill.

A cabin in the woods.

"We've arrived." Alice gently landed on the open ground in front of the cottage, raised her hand, and Shanghai and Penglai floated lightly out of her shadow, then flew above her left and right shoulders, looking around warily.

She sniffed; a rotten smell made her frown slightly. But she knew what it was, and she knew what it meant.

"North America, Native Americans."

"After the Native Americans, they evolved into the Aztecs, the Incas, the Maya... and many Native Americans died on this land."

The girl gently clenched her fist, and faint rays of light representing various magical defenses unfolded around her body in layers. The magic furnace within her body then activated, causing these faint rays of light to become extremely intense for a moment, before slowly stabilizing, shimmering quietly like rainbows after rain.

[Physical Protection] [Mental Protection] [Repulsive Field] [Emerging Vitality]

[Energy Activation] [Lightning Reflection] [Counter-Message Interference] [Enhanced Premonition]

[Physical Enhancement] [Further Physical Enhancement] [Multiple Incantations] [Elemental Resistance]

………………

A mixture of various magical radiances blended together, the energy particles representing different effects distorting the light due to the high density of information, thus displaying a dazzling array of colors. No deliberate incantation was needed, as these magical effects had existed within Alice from the beginning. Previously, due to the lack of a large infusion of magic, she had remained in a semi-activated state, but once needed, a single thought was sufficient to activate them.

That's why Alice asserted that Death couldn't kill her without using a high-yield nuclear weapon, and both she and Death were well aware of this.

But this is not enough.

We also need a ritual spell to govern.

Alice exhaled a breath of stale air. The heat in the breath was bound by the inert gas, floated up, and then transformed into a sun-like radiance above the girl's head.

"Tralok is the god of the third sun, the god of rain, and the master of hail and storms. Now that it is time for rain, there should naturally be ice and storms."

The next moment, the misty drizzle in the air vanished abruptly. A massive drop in temperature began to cover the land surrounding the hill, freezing the rain into ice before it even fell. The cold wind then whipped up, causing the colorless ice particles to spin like wheels in the sky.

The wind wasn't strong, but it was cold enough. Within seconds, the damp ground turned into solid frozen earth. On the old glass windows, cracked frost patterns crawled like centipedes across the smooth, translucent surface. The girl's surroundings immediately fell silent; the only sound seemed to be the howling of the cold wind.

She raised her hand and gently pushed open the old wooden door in front of her. The slightly warm, musty smell was completely overwhelmed by the icy cold the moment the door opened. Her gaze followed the spreading cold air forward, taking in the furnishings of the house beyond the door.

It was an old, cramped, and dark house. There were few electrical appliances, and the windows were covered with newspapers. The cramped furnishings in the living room revealed that the person living there had no sense of security—which was abnormal. As an apocalyptic who could foresee future disasters, she was unlikely to fear her own death.

—Prophets are generally not afraid of their own death; having witnessed so much, they naturally become accustomed to it. Especially in a world where the future is already predetermined and all efforts are futile. A prophet who can live peacefully for decades should have even less to fear. Because she should have long known that, whether brave or cowardly, whether to escape or confront, everything she will face in the future is unavoidable.

"What are you afraid of? Hmph... Aside from the apocalypse, there's probably nothing for you to fear."

Alice whispered, sensing every subtle change in her surroundings through the icy whirlwind outside the house. But her feet never faltered; she strode across the narrow hall and headed straight for the innermost room of the small house. She could feel her heart rate rising, her blood flowing rapidly; without a doubt, the answer she needed lay ahead.

—Because she had already noticed that just now, a faint cool breeze had brushed past her ankle.

They came... no, they never left.

Is the time finally coming for them to slip up?

As she thought this, her body drifted into the last room the instant a cool breeze swept by. Her enhanced senses, amplified by magic, instantly enveloped the bedroom, revealing everything within.

The first thing that caught my eye was newspaper clippings. The disasters, the words recording them, were neatly cut from the newspapers of the time, then pinned to thumbtacks and pasted onto the walls of the room. One side was covered before moving on to the next, and the records of the past fifty years were clearly enough to cover all the walls in this bedroom.

But there are more than just walls here.

She took a small step forward, and the faint feeling of resistance beneath her feet told her that she was standing on a smooth, round stone. Raising her hand, a black pebble was bound by a force field and quickly floated up, appearing in Alice's sight.