People in Terra, governing a bizarre little country

In other words, Trevor Friston, the "Preserver," was speaking to himself during those last few words.

He was asking for his final opinion, and without consulting or persuading anyone, it was simply his own opinion.

Am I special?

Ernst wanted to ask, but Friston remained silent.

"What exactly is this 'treasure'?"

Ernst spoke again, but Friston remained silent in response.

"What would happen if I didn't stand with them, didn't stand with Terra?"

Ernst frowned, and this time, Friston spoke slowly:

Nothing will happen.

His mechanical eyes emitted a pale yellow glow, and his gentle tone seemed to carry a hint of relief, as if he were recalling memories far more distant than the thirty-three thousand years of vigil.

"Nothing will happen, that's all I can answer your question."

"You can find the answers to the remaining questions during the debate. Or, you can wait for the debate to end, and I will answer them afterward."

That was his entire response.

Nothing will happen—what a tempting option. Ernst wasn't one to take risks; given the choice between yes or no, unless it involved life or death, he would generally choose "or."

The last time he chose no was when the extermination order was aimed at Terra. He was forced to passively become the savior who brought it upon himself.

But this time, Friston's choice required him to take the initiative.

A choice or not? Stand half and stay the other way around? But Ernst had no idea where he would stand if he didn't side with Terra. Was he some unknown pre-civilization?

Choosing "no" means nothing will happen. He spent some time and effort on this trip, but he finally managed to defuse the bombshell that was Christensen, and it seems like everyone is happy.

And what about choosing "yes"? The effect is unknown.

To be honest, this choice of Hedgehog Folding Agent: 0÷4·潵《五"路】驷驺 is a bit unfair. He has never liked to take the initiative.

But at this point, he can't easily say "no," because nothing will happen, which also has another meaning.

He missed an opportunity, but such an opportunity is fleeting and will not come again.

He didn't like this feeling. And, ultimately, it wasn't that he didn't care about Terra. Or rather, he could be indifferent to Terra, but Terra had people he cared about.

If Ernst chooses "no," the price of doing nothing is to wait, like the Preservers, for them to also embark on the path of sealing themselves in sarcophagi and awaiting their end. Ernst would absolutely never choose "no."

So

"You're going to choose 'or,' right?"

Before Ernst could speak, Friston suddenly spoke up.

"That's just like you. This wasn't an option, but I knew you'd choose it."

"That's just your personality. To put it badly, you're greedy. You don't want to give up anything, you want everything, and you always want to leave a share of any benefit for your own people."

"But to be honest, I prefer your own way of putting it: what you hope for is a utopian society where everything is available, nothing is lacking, and everyone enjoys happiness."

Ernst's open mouth slowly closed. After a long while, he looked deeply at the giant eyeball in front of him, which, though almost touching his face, did not inspire fear, and uttered the question he most wanted to ask:

"Have you seen me before?"

"You can find the answer in the debate."

[The Preservator] Gentle Way,

“I don’t need your answer urgently. The debate that takes place in the mind is almost dreamlike, in which you gain time beyond words, and you can answer this question slowly.”

His vision began to blur, and Ernst had to close his eyes.

Before the dizziness subsided, Ernst silently uttered a word he hadn't used in a long time:

"The Riddler of the Grooves!"

When he opened his eyes again, he was in front of a base he had never seen before, a base full of science fiction.

Er noticed that the brown-haired beauty standing to his side had taken off her glasses, rubbed her forehead, and slowly exhaled a breath of stale air.

"debate."

"Long time no see, my [treasure]."

Her voice revealed a hint of joy, but it quickly turned into disappointment under the bewildered gaze of the newcomer.

"Even though I knew you really didn't remember me, right?"

The woman, who looked like a researcher, forced a very negative smile:

"Then let me introduce myself."

"I am Precyth."

Chapter 636 was once a miracle far exceeding 99 million years.

"I know you're feeling confused right now."

“You have never seen me, and I am not in your memory. Whether it was the ‘Preserver’ who you got along with the most, or the ‘Priestess’ and ‘Prophet’ who discovered you, our former code names have been reduced to an insignificant page in the dustbin of history over the long years. You do not know us, which is something we had long expected.”

"But I still want to call you that, [Treasure], because of all the things that change, only you remain unchanged."

"I just hope you can realize that the you of the past was once very close to us."

With a serene face, seemingly carrying the naivety and innocence of a bookish young girl, every word Precys uttered slowly was enough to make Ernst ponder.

[The Preservator] Trevor Friston is a despicable riddle-maker whose mechanical, eyeball-like body grants him maximum secrecy. Ernst's prized ability to read people is of no use to a machine that doesn't even have a human form.

However, he still revealed a few key pieces of information.

He should have known the [Preservers].

【Precys】, the being named after this, is also a member of a mysterious prehistoric civilization, and has an extraordinary relationship with both himself and the Doctor.

As for myself, I may have lost my memory for some reason.

"Losing your memory is just the simplest way of putting it. In fact, in our eyes, you haven't lost your memory at all."

Precys suddenly spoke, responding to Ernst's silence.

But Ernst did not reveal his true thoughts.

He raised his head and faced the mysterious woman, the one Kal'tsit had mentioned as unspeakable.

Why can I hear that?

Precys smiled and said, "Flame."

"Debate, preservationists and prophets alike love this ancient form, which, in its simplest terms, is dreaming. It lets you have a dream that goes straight to the deepest part of your consciousness. Here, there is no deception, no ambiguity, everything comes from the heart, and everything the heart thinks can be best conveyed."

"Hmm, it's like they've had a harmless truth serum injection?"

She blinked, her hands behind her back, like a harmless violet.

Ernst paused for a moment, then nodded: "A very simple and easy-to-understand explanation."

"Because I explained the same thing to you once before."

Precy Road, 4

"The metaphor of truth serum was also something you made back then. In our time, humanity has long abandoned this method of interrogation using drugs. We have many ways to find the answers we want directly from the soul. Debate is one of them, well, the gentlest one."

He said something incredibly chilling in a very calm manner.

Ernst silently thought that although he knew this idea would most likely be amplified in this so-called "dream," or "world of consciousness," or "world of mind," sometimes thoughts are uncontrollable.

Moreover, Precys maintained his smile and seemed not to care much about Ernst's little grumbling.

She seemed exceptionally tolerant.

Since he could no longer hide it, Ernst simply stopped concealing it and asked directly and crisply:

"How much do you know?"

“All of them.” Precyth nodded.

At least everything you've said.

"include"

"Including your origins, including that world that is not Terra."

""

Ernst took a deep breath and remained silent for a long time.

Silence seems to be the most prominent feature here. Communicating with Priscilla seems to be much more efficient than communicating with the Preservator, because Priscilla always answers every question and solves every problem. However, after each question, Ernst always has more and more questions.

And all of this stems from one major premise.

He exhaled a long breath, looked at Priscilla, and asked the question that had always been on his mind, a question that even he himself felt somewhat apprehensive about:

Tell me about me from your perspective.

Without any hesitation, Priscilla nodded slightly, offering a reminder:

"This is a long story. Where would you like to begin?"

"Let's start with why I don't have the memory of the [treasure]."

Precys closed her eyes, as if she were contemplating something, or perhaps searching for a starting point. After a brief wait, she asked Ernst a question he had considered countless times, yet had repeatedly put aside.

“Treasure, or Ernst, that’s what I should call you now.”

"Have you ever wondered why your memories are so vivid?"

"You've spent twenty-three years in Terra. Twenty-three years is not a short journey. But you still remember everything."

She raised her hand, and a series of images flashed before Ernst's eyes.

"The country you once lived in, the environment you grew up in, the predecessors who taught you and helped you grow, and the speeches and books that impressed you and made you applaud more than once."

"Those long histories, those texts that most ordinary people could never memorize, and even after twenty-three years, they might have forgotten even the names of the characters. Or even just a figment of imagination or metaphor that they saw by chance."

"Have you ever wondered why you remember it so clearly?"

Ernst opened his mouth.

Didn't he think about this question?

He had certainly thought about it, but he put the issue aside.

Because this issue is not actually that crucial; in fact, it could be said to be insignificant.

As a transmigrator, he was acutely aware that he lacked systems like auto-login or world-modifying abilities, and he possessed extraordinary martial prowess capable of torturing all sorts of monsters and demons. Even his intelligence, frankly, wasn't particularly outstanding. What he could rely on was experience—experience accumulated through countless trials and observations in his previous life.

These memories are his treasure, the foundation that allows him to establish himself in Terra without the need for supernatural factors.

A "treasure"?

Seemingly realizing something, Ernst looked at Precyth, a hint of surprise flashing in his eyes.

"My memories are the real treasure?"

“Not entirely.”

Precyth nodded, then shook his head.

"Your stability is the treasure."

"The prophet, my beloved, once made the following statement."

Precys's face was filled with longing for the past.

"Imagine an imperfect forest, where insects and birds are rare, and no hunting beasts roam freely. There are only the trees that make up this forest. Sometimes, two saplings that were originally quite similar will have different fates; one will die young, while the other will grow into a lush tree. Sometimes, certain trees will cast a malicious shadow, causing their neighbors to wither in the shadow."

Trees are civilization.

The rise and fall of civilizations are akin to their premature demise and flourishing. The shadows they cast symbolize the struggles between civilizations.

"These are not such terrible things, after all, they are just trees."

What an arrogant statement!

Only humankind, the victor in this endless struggle, this giant who stands alone as a forest, can make such a judgment from the perspective of the forest, the one in a superior position.

It's just trees.

Unfortunately, they were just trees.