Nobita's Time Heist

She remained silent and said no more.

Author's message

Sigrún has taught at the Iceland University of the Arts as a part-time lecturer since and was Dean of the Department of Fine Art from -. In – she held a research position at Reykjavík Art Museum focusing on the role of women in Icelandic art. She studied fine art at the Icelandic College of Arts and Crafts and at Pratt Institute, New York, and holds BA and MA degrees in art history and philosophy from the University of Iceland. Sigrún lives and works in Iceland.

I'll update three chapters this morning, and another one around 9 PM tonight, probably two or three chapters. After that, my manuscript stockpile will truly be "running out"!

Thank you all for your support!

Chapter 57: Dutch van der Linde Opens His Eyes

“From the very beginning, you’ve been talking about Scarlet Goddess, Scarlet Goddess…” Although Miss Beth didn’t quite understand the whole story, she instinctively felt that she had been drawn into a huge vortex. But she wasn’t afraid at all; on the contrary, she was even a little excited—through this opportunity, she had finally glimpsed a corner of the world Nobita lived in.

"So what exactly is it? To give you an analogy, is it more like God, or more like Zeus?"

Her question was quite interesting: God and Zeus basically represent two different Western concepts of deities. God is pure and divine; Zeus is powerful and human; and Odin seems to be a combination of the two. Micah's answer was also far beyond everyone's expectations, and could be considered quite excellent.

"I do not know."

"..."

"He probably really doesn't know, right?" Asur asked tentatively. "With this prop on, he can't lie. He can't just make up something he doesn't know."

"No...maybe the way I asked the question was wrong." Nobita clearly knew more about the characteristics of various gadgets, so if the initial question was flawed, he naturally wouldn't get the answer he wanted. After a moment's thought, he changed his approach, "So, what does your Scarlet God know?"

"He...He is real, but he is very, very far away from us, so far that all units of distance measurement become meaningless."

"The moment I gripped the revolver, I heard it whisper in my ear, urging me to sacrifice my soul for it... I refused. No one would do such a thing. It would be easier to sacrifice someone else than myself, that's what I thought, and that's what I did. The feeling was strange, yes... like... a dream. After the child woke up, there was no trace left except for this gun."

"Are you sure you heard the whispers?" Nobita took out paper and pen from his pocket. Although there were more convenient tools, he still trusted the old method more in this situation. "Try to recall what you heard. Be precise, down to every word and every punctuation mark!"

"Uh...uh..."

Micah's face contorted in pain. For him, this was like asking a normal person to recall fragments of a dream verbatim—almost impossible. But the prop worked once again, forcibly pushing his brain to work beyond its limits.

“I remember, He…he seemed to have said something…”

Sigrún has taught at the Iceland University of the Arts as a part-time lecturer since and was Dean of the Department of Fine Art from -. In – she held a research position at Reykjavík Art Museum focusing on the role of women in Icelandic art. She studied fine art at the Icelandic College of Arts and Crafts and at Pratt Institute, New York, and holds BA and MA degrees in art history and philosophy from the University of Iceland. Sigrún lives and works in Iceland.

"Open your eyes, Dutch van der Linde." A voice somewhere between male and female echoed in Dutch's mind, "I am the [Scarlet God]."

"It's not over yet."

"Ugh..."

Dutch, his eyes still blurry, saw only a mess of empty bottles on the floor. He rolled off the bed but stumbled and fell, one foot sinking into the other.

In fact, he had foreseen this morning's outcome last night, and, not wanting to face it, he drowned his sorrows in alcohol. He simply decided to sleep soundly, as if his previous life had never happened. After a drunken stupor, all he would face was an empty cabin, not the farewell of his companions. To achieve this effect, he drank all the liquor in his saddlebag, including three bottles of aged rum, enough to keep him drunk for a day or two without any problem.

Unfortunately, the plan was forcibly activated halfway through. He felt a throbbing pain in his head, as if a thousand ants were gnawing at his brain, but the voice in his head refused to let him go.

"Get out of here... What utter garbage... I don't believe in God, I never have... If there really is a God, how could we... have fallen to this state? Why can some people feed their pet dogs steak, while others have to endure the elements and even filling their stomachs is a luxury? Huh?!"

At this moment, he was no longer the spirited man he once was. His hat was nowhere to be found, his red vest was covered in vomit, he reeked of alcohol, and his face looked as if it hadn't been washed in centuries.

The wheels of history slowly rolled over him, breaking his spine.

"Because that's what humans are."

Scarlet God's voice, calm and unhurried, entered Dutch's mind: "Humans are base, cowardly, and selfish, and are born without the ability to share. As a result, wealth only accumulates in the hands of a few, while suffering flows to the majority."

“I am too far away from you to change anything, but you are different… Dutch van der Linde, you have always been a dreamer.”

"Yes...yes!" Dutch was still quite drunk and, after a series of setbacks, he was deeply moved by this praise, which he couldn't tell was a hallucination or reality. He almost burst into tears. "You're right. You really understand me!"

He took a larger step and nearly fell, almost collapsing against the wall, but still muttered to himself, "This rotten, abominable world, billowing with black smoke, should have been... should have been cleansed long ago. Everyone, everyone has this obligation!"

“Micah Bell has completed his mission—to bring the Familiar to you. He is a useless person. Even though he has mastered a part of my power, he only uses it for plunder. His mind is filled with killing and hatred. Such a person can never achieve anything great.”

“But you are different, Dutch van der Linde. I can feel it…you love them deeply, you love this era.”

Dutch gritted his teeth and walked slowly and laboriously through the dimly lit wooden cabin. So drunk he couldn't tell if he was awake or dreaming, whether he was standing still or slowly moving forward. His fingers could no longer feel the walls; the door seemed to appear and disappear, as if it were the only exit from this distorted world.

"Squeak————"

Pushing open the wooden door, wind, snow, and cold rushed down his neck. Dutch squinted; everything outside was so familiar yet so strange to him.

After the great battle, everything was in ruins.

Everyone's attention was on Micah, and no one noticed that the wooden door was pushed open and Dutch, who looked ten years older than he had been, walked out.

This feeling of being ignored dealt a final blow to Dutch's already tormented state of mind.

"It doesn't matter. People who do great things are always lonely in the end. In the end, they are all just weak and short-sighted human beings who simply cannot understand your dreams and your grand ambitions."

His voice gradually faded from Dutch's mind. Seemingly having absolute confidence in his bewitching abilities, Scarlet God didn't say anything more, but calmly threw out his last card.

"Become a servant of [Scarlet], Dutch van der Linde, and offer me your pure and colorful soul."

"In return, I will give you..."

"The power to rewrite this world!"

Sigrún has taught at the Iceland University of the Arts as a part-time lecturer since and was Dean of the Department of Fine Art from -. In – she held a research position at Reykjavík Art Museum focusing on the role of women in Icelandic art. She studied fine art at the Icelandic College of Arts and Crafts and at Pratt Institute, New York, and holds BA and MA degrees in art history and philosophy from the University of Iceland. Sigrún lives and works in Iceland.

The sound of wind.

The sound of horses neighing in the distance.

The noise of people nearby.

In Dutch's ears, all sound disappeared, even the people and things that produced those sounds vanished. His attention was focused like never before; the world was gradually being eliminated, leaving only him and the revolver lying quietly on the ground.

The crimson light reflected from the gun barrel flickered erratically, like a pulsating heart.

Dutch slowly opened his right hand toward it.

……

“Buzz——!”

The familiar vessel emitted a light yet sharp resonance, suddenly soaring into the air, spinning, and steadily flying into Dutch's hand.

Chapter 58: Perhaps, we were wrong from the very beginning.

"How is it?" Fat Tiger didn't bother to look at the scrolling data on the instrument to see what it meant; he just craned his neck, his tone full of anticipation. "Did it help?"

Almost a day had passed since the two of them wreaked havoc in the barn and fought the shadow warrior. Osaka Castle returned to wartime order during the day, and perhaps at Nobushige's behest, neither the ronin nor the samurai mentioned the commotion of the previous night.

Meanwhile, the officers and soldiers had learned their lesson and were no longer as arrogant and domineering as before. For the first time, both sides maintained a tacit restraint, becoming like partners fighting side-by-side. No more chaotic orders emanated from the castle tower; in a sense, Hideyori seemed to have cut off the source of the Ōkura-kyō's legitimate power.

As for Gian and Suneo, they didn't appear in public, instead focusing on analyzing their hard-won spoils. Shizuka took out her classic gadget, the "medical kit," and pulled out an instrument focused on medical substance analysis from among the many items inside. She placed the Dragon Pill sample on it, collecting the information that popped up. However, the more she looked at the content displayed on the screen, the more confused she became.

“Strictly speaking, this is not a medicine at all. How should I put it…” The girl’s tone was full of confusion. “The main components of the so-called ‘Dragon Pill’ are actually starch, rush powder and lime. The only thing that is related to traditional Chinese medicine is the juice of dragon blood grass—the maker uses it to color the powder and make it turn into this vermilion color.”

"Huh?" Fat Tiger was completely confused. "Wait, you mean... there's no secret formula? This stuff that gives living people all sorts of buffs and eventually turns them into half-dragons, it's just colored starch?"

“At least, from a material point of view, that’s true.” Shizuka shrugged her shoulders, clearly tired from sitting on the tatami all day. “Unless its maker has some way of fooling the testing standards of 22nd-century medical devices. As for the reason it causes changes in the human body… Takeshi, I’m just as confused as you are.”

The room fell silent, with only the scraping sound of metal objects colliding.

"Perhaps we were on the wrong track from the very beginning."

Suneo wore a convincing "Genius Technology Helmet" on his head and "Technology Gloves" on his hands. In front of him were neatly arranged a few parts. (These two gadgets are used together; the helmet provides the steps for refining creative ideas, while the gloves can conjure various tools to bring the modifications to life. They first appeared in the theatrical film *Nobita's Little Space Battle*, where Doraemon used these two gadgets to transform Suneo's remote-controlled car into a miniature weapon capable of fighting in space.)

Fat Tiger came closer and vaguely recognized that these parts were the ones he had pulled from the Shadow Warrior's body. He hadn't paid any attention to them after they fell to the ground, but Suneo was different from him. Otherwise, how could Suneo be so rich? He would take every opportunity to profit, and if he didn't get something for nothing, he would consider it a loss.

They retrieved them all, without missing a single one. While Shizuka was studying the Dragon Pill, he was studying the parts inside the Shadow Warrior's body.

He casually picked up a disc-shaped metal object and tossed it to Fat Tiger. "Remember this thing? Take it out, and that guy will collapse instantly. I studied it, and it should be the body's power output, similar to the atomic reactor core inside Doraemon."

"Wait a minute, Suneo... what you're saying is a little strange..." Shizuka couldn't help but complain, "How do you know about Doraemon's body structure?"

"Well, haha..." Suneo smiled sheepishly, "As you know, I've always been quite interested in assembling models and such. Coincidentally, my uncle sent me some super high-grade dorayaki from near Kinkaku-ji Temple in Kyoto, so I used it to trade with Doraemon for a set of detailed design drawings for a cat-shaped robot from the future world."

"For Doraemon, that thing is like a birth check-up report, right..." Gian couldn't help but complain, "And then what, can you even understand it?"

"Oh, robots are made up of only a few parts, and there are explanations on the diagrams. You'll understand once you look at them." Suneo didn't elaborate on how he figured it out and changed the subject again, "Anyway, haven't any of you ever wondered why Doraemon, who is a robot, needs to eat?"

"..."

Gian and Shizuka exchanged bewildered glances. They had never considered this question before, probably because, in every way, Doraemon didn't seem like a traditional robot. The entire town, near and far, had accepted him as part of the Nobita family and naturally treated him as a human.

Eating is a natural right for people; there's nothing to consider.

"From what I understand, Doraemon's reactor is essentially a miniaturized version of controlled nuclear fusion technology! It provides a continuous source of energy for Doraemon's entire operation. However, he is not an ordinary robot; he is a 'childcare' type robot. To serve as a role model for children, the designers implanted many behaviors in Doraemon that are unnecessary for robots but necessary for humans, to demonstrate these behaviors to children."

"So he likes to eat dorayaki, needs to sleep, and goes to the toilet... All these actions are for the purpose of better educating Nobita."

"Is that so?" Fat Tiger crossed his arms and couldn't help but complain, "But Nobita is a picky eater, he doesn't eat green peppers, he sleeps all day long, and he's even afraid to go to the toilet alone at night. No matter how you look at it, it seems like he hasn't set a good example at all."

"..." That one sentence completely shut Suneo up, leaving him speechless and unable to refute it. He quickly shook his head, "Forget about Nobita's weirdo, that's not the point. Take a look at this furnace core!"

Fat Tiger, true to form, always has complete faith in his buddies. Even though the disc-shaped thing was still emitting a suspicious, eerie blue light, he still used sheer force and snapped it in two.

I expected to see a very complex internal structure, but the interior was surprisingly simple.

Several turquoise diamonds are embedded inside, and tiny, densely packed characters, the size of sesame seeds, are engraved on its edges and sides. It's hard to imagine what kind of miniature tools could have been used to engrave the characters on it... Blue light, like blood, flows into these characters, illuminating them one by one.

Unknown script.

However, no matter how you look at it, it has nothing to do with the word "science".

"Even the genius helmet can't identify what these blue stones are, but it can basically determine that the writing is used to stabilize the energy within them, acting as a restraint. The stabilized energy will flow out again through the circuit, driving the body's movement."

"Think back to what we encountered on the Santa Maria? It was the mysterious paper that could turn into a dragon with just a glance, and the 'Philosopher's Stone' that gave birth to Hydra, but whose true form was an alchemical creation!"

Xiaofu took the core from his hand and said, "Our opponent may not be someone who follows the path of science at all!"

Author's message

-------

Thanks to the author's hard work, two more chapters were added, bringing us back to a point where we have no drafts left. Five chapters for the new book's release were truly a testament to our best efforts.

The journey is long and prosperous; I hope you'll continue to support me in the future!

Chapter 59: Live on as a samurai once again!

"Drip! Drip! Drip!"

Halfway through her sentence, an alarm suddenly went off in her pocket. Shizuka immediately pulled out a monitor, adjusted the dial, and twelve channels were clearly listed. As former victims, Gian and Suneo immediately recognized what it was and narrowed their eyes. "Shizuka, you... you've used a dozen spy satellites?"

To everyone's surprise, Shizuka rolled her eyes at this, "A dozen? A dozen is not enough. I used the replication mirror to make dozens of copies and scattered them in various places in Osaka Castle. Toyotomi Hideyori is a key figure, and we can't be careless for a moment. If it weren't for the fact that we can't keep up with the split screen, I was planning to have spy satellites hidden in every household to monitor the movements of the entire Osaka Castle."

"You seem to be going a bit too extreme."

……

Hideyori, of course, never imagined that he would lose even the color of his underwear. He deliberately kept a low profile, traveling in an ordinary sedan chair and covering himself completely, fearing recognition. In truth, he was overthinking it. Even though this was Toyotomi's castle, to the people living there, Toyotomi was merely a symbol, a name. Until Hideyoshi's death, most of the inhabitants didn't know what he looked like, only that he resembled a monkey—the exact resemblance remained unknown, let alone Hideyoshi's son.

Regardless, the palanquin carrying him moved swiftly through the streets. Although the Tokugawa clan's offensive had temporarily ceased, they showed no sign of retreating, leaving the atmosphere on the streets still eerily quiet.

To be honest, this is the situation Hideyori fears the most.

The enemy is strong, and we are weak.

If Tokugawa is willing to fight him, that would actually be a good thing. He could use the castle's strong terrain to his advantage, taking a commanding position and constantly wearing down the enemy's forces. He could remain in the center while Nobushige directed operations from the front lines; overall, the situation would be manageable. Osaka Castle was his father's meticulously crafted dream castle, with incredibly strong defenses. If they just grit their teeth and hold out, they could hold out for a long time.

However... Tokugawa Ieyasu was known for his forbearance, which was evident in every aspect of his life.

In reality, war is always about logistical capabilities.

The city stands here, unable to move. So many ronin and samurai are gathered within its walls; feeding them and tending their horses are expenses that cannot be reduced. Even if they don't attack, you'll still have to spend these resources every day. In time, Osaka Castle will inevitably fall without a fight.

"We have to be quick."

Hideyori reached for the scarlet blade, which was completely covered by a black cloth, its edge completely hidden. His eyes flashed with a resolute light as he murmured, "I must... finish this quickly... and take care of Ieyasu!"

Sigrún has taught at the Iceland University of the Arts as a part-time lecturer since and was Dean of the Department of Fine Art from -. In – she held a research position at Reykjavík Art Museum focusing on the role of women in Icelandic art. She studied fine art at the Icelandic College of Arts and Crafts and at Pratt Institute, New York, and holds BA and MA degrees in art history and philosophy from the University of Iceland. Sigrún lives and works in Iceland.

The palanquin stopped at a temple in the suburbs, far inferior to the shrine where Hideyoshi was buried, but far superior in its seclusion. The temple courtyard was planted with many peach trees, but since it was the height of summer and not their blooming season, they lay quietly dormant.