Chapter 44 - "The Aurora Lit Up the Abyss."
"I am willing to take up arms for the safety of humankind.
I will grant a fair judgment to every compatriot.
Although wrong, it is still correct."
Pauli recited the words slowly.
"The Pledge of the Trial Court," he said.
An Zhe was stupefied. He had once heard the final line of this pledge.
After coughing up those two mouthfuls of blood, his body unexpectedly became lighter, and his senses gradually dulled. Winter's fierce wind blew into his face, but it no longer made him shiver with cold. It was a kind of ethereal airiness, as though he was about to scatter in the wind. He once again propped himself up. Leaning against the railing, he looked down at the two badges.
The hexagon-shaped badge was engraved with a design. The Trial Court's insignia was made up of two intersecting prismatic four-pointed stars, resembling the icon on a map that indicated directions. The star that pointed north, south, east, and west was slightly bigger, and the arm that pointed south was elongated, forming a cross-like shape. The star that pointed northeast, southeast, southwest, and northwest was slightly smaller and hidden beneath the other star.
An Zhe had examined this distinctively pointed shape many a time. Its cold silvery texture, sharp points, andstraight lines all displayed breathtaking severity and impartiality.
Pauli's fingers stroked the four-pointed star's surface. Perhaps he had traced its shape many a time, for the design on the badge bore deep traces of wear and tear.
"Its artwork was drawn by one of my colleagues." In the howling cold wind, Pauli looked into the distant night sky.
"We had hoped that the four-pointed star would pointhumankind in the correct direction like a compass."
"Weren't you... a scientist of the Fusion Faction?" he asked in a low voice.
"I was," Pauli said.
His tone of voice was soft, just like a sigh. "I was the leader of the Fusion Faction as well as the founder of the Trial Court. The Fusion Faction was the Trial Court's predecessor."
An Zhe suddenly remembered that in the Trial Court's long, long corridor, the portraits and birth and death dates of all the Arbiters were lined up in a row. The picture frame at the end, however, had been removed and the name and birth and death dates had been scraped off, leaving behind only a blurry "P." That was the record of the first Arbiter, but for some unknown reason it had been expunged by those who came after.
The Northern Base was a place where various ethnic groups mingled. He didn't know which language the word "Polly" was transliterated from, but he could vaguely spell out the similar word "Polly" with letters.
But his impression was that the ideologies of the Fusion Faction and the Trial Court were poles apart and completely incompatible. One hoped for humans and monsters to safely fuse, while the other mercilessly killed all fused xenogenics that tried to enter the base. The two sides were as far apart as the sky and the earth. He was so doubtful that he didn't know what he ought to ask about first. Pauli said, "It was a coincidental thing."
In the past, An Zhe had heard many people recount the history of the base. Those calm narrations were like limited rays of light, and he lifted the light to illuminate every corner of the dark room so as to piece together the full view of it.
"It seemed that the ability to maintain one's will postinfection only depended on chance. But we still believed that everything in nature had traces that could be followed.
It's just that our capabilities were limited and that we hadn't yet glimpsed the patterns within. We were constantly doing research, going deeper and becoming more frenzied in that area." At that point, Pauli had closed his eyes a little, and a faint pain appeared in his expression as he remembered. "An experimental subject's body divided into two for reasons unexplained, but the halves had a unified consciousness. One of the two escaped thelaboratory while the other remained in the observation room. Because it looked like it had stayed there the entiretime, we didn't discover the anomaly in time, and the half that escaped caused a tragic disaster."
An Zhe knew about the disaster. A leech had polluted the water source of the entire Outer City.
"The entirety of the Outer City was exposed, and the base had to distinguish humans from xenogenics and promptly eliminate the latter. The Fusion Faction was toblame for this calamity. However, the ones who researched infection and mutation and were the most familiar with the differences between monsters, xenogenics, and humans were us as well," Pauli said.
In an instant, An Zhe came to a realization. At the very beginning, the Trial Court was not one of the military's organizations. It used to be under the Lighthouse's jurisdiction.
"All the experimental projects were discontinued, thesamples were destroyed, and the experimental subject was killed, but the base still gave the Fusion Faction the chance to atone for its sins. We set up the Trial Court overnight, drafted the Trial rules, and tried the entire city. Over thoseten days, we killed half of the base's population," Pauli said slowly. "The infection was controlled, and the purity of human genes was preserved. And after that—the Trialsystem continued in that manner. The annihilation of the Virginia base served as further proof of its correctness."
"I was part of the Fusion Faction for ten years and the Arbiter for four years." Pauli spoke those words slowly. A shadow of a smile appeared on his face, but that smile seemed more like a soundless wail of anguish, a grimace of pain. "My original intent was to have everyone be able to achieve a peaceful life, but instead I slaughtered my compatriots every day. Over each day of those fourteen years, my sins became increasingly deep."
An Zhe said, "But you also protected the base."
"By no means was that the case," Pauli said. "I indiscriminately killed innocents every day."
"You drafted rules and followed the procedures, so you wouldn't have indiscriminately killed innocents," An Zhe said, defending him.
Pauli's reply landed like a thunderclap.
"There were no Trial rules," he said flatly.
An Zhe's expression went blank for a second, for he had a hard time digesting the information in that sentence.
With difficulty, he asked, "There... weren't?"
"To be exact, there were no rules that would identify xenogenics with a hundred percent accuracy." Paulisounded like he was sighing. "We drafted the Trial rules using the results of our lifelong research. From various aspects—appearance, movements, and thoughts—we could determine its species through the distinct reactions of creatures to external information, but there was no way to guarantee that it was absolutely correct. In truth, the rules could only identify eighty percent of xenogenics. For theremaining twenty percent, we could only rely on experience and intuition, along with... expanding the scope of execution. It was better to kill mistakenly than let a xenogenic through."
"The first ironclad rule of the true Trial rules was that under no circumstances were they to be shared with theoutside world. By no means did we really follow those rules. For the sake of absolute safety, the Trial Court has always left room for mistaken kills." Pauli's voice gradually darkened. "When I guarded the gate to the Outer City, every time I executed someone, there was an eighty percent chance that it was a real xenogenic. For the remaining twenty percent, I knew full well that they weremost likely a real human, but I shot them anyway just to be sure. And among those xenogenics, there was the one-inten-thousand chance of someone having consciousness and the one-in-sixty-five-hundred chance of someone recovering their human consciousness many years later."
His voice grew hoarse. "To this day, it's difficult for me to recall those four years."
An Zhe imagined that sort of spectacle, and he imagined himself as a Judge.
He asked, "So you left the base?"
"I couldn't contend with my inner suffering. In the war between humans and xenogenics, I couldn't endure to the end." Pauli looked up at the night sky. After a long silence, he said, "At first, I suffered because I was killing my compatriots, but later, even the deaths of xenogenics werehard to bear. I had been interacting with them for too long, and I knew that every monster had its own life. My hands were drenched in blood. I was a guilty man. Later, I defected from the base with a handful of my colleagues and came to the Highland Research Institute, where we quietly continued the Fusion Faction's research and accepted xenogenics. Throughout my life, I've been atoning for my own sins. From then to now, a hundred years have passed.
"
A hundred years.
An Zhe looked at Pauli, his expression slightly doubtful.
As if understanding his doubt, Pauli smiled. "I've lived for too long."
"In the wilderness, the most unavoidable thing is infection." Pauli rolled up his sleeve. On the skin of his right arm, there was a patch of messy black lines. "I had been accidentally injured and infected by a member of the research institute. Before losing consciousness, I left them."
"However, perhaps because the person who infected me was lucid or perhaps because chance favored me, I woke up." With those words, Pauli smiled. "I thought that only a few seconds had passed, but it had actually been several decades. It was like my consciousness had instantly traveled through time and space. Can you guess where I was?"
An Zhe shook his head.
"I was still at the research institute," Pauli said. "They had brought me back. Even though I was a mindless monster at the time, they didn't abandon me. I had onceprotected them, so they protected me as well. The sentiments between humans are just like that. What you give, you will get. In this age, trust between humans is something even more precious than life itself, but I had received it."
An Zhe looked at the warm and peaceful expression in Pauli's eyes. It wasn't until now that he understood whythere would be such deep bonds between Pauli and the other members of the research institute.
"I don't regret leaving the base back then, but I can also never forgive my own evasion or my powerlessness," Pauli finally said.
An Zhe said, "Because you are of noble character." Afterdoing some thinking, he added, "Because you're too kind."
It was only because Pauli loved every single person that he would suffer like that. If they were in an age of peace, he would definitely be someone who could not bear to kill even ants—yet such a person had to raise a gun against his compatriots.
"Kindness... kindness is humankind's most notable weakness," Pauli said. "Kindness to oneself is the starting point of selfish desires, and kindness to others is the cause of wavering belief. I couldn't achieve complete indifference or true neutrality, so I was not a qualified Arbiter."
After he finished speaking, they were silent for a long time.
But while thinking on Pauli's words, An Zhe frowned slightly, for he had thought of someone.
"But a Judge once said something to me," An Zhe murmured. "The source of the Arbiter's beliefs was not indifference, but kindness. Kindness not to individuals, but to the fate of all humankind. If one were to steadfastly believe that humankind's interests take precedence over all else, they will not waver."
As Pauli looked at him, he asked softly, "How can one steadfastly believe?"
"And supposing one does not harbor kindness toward every single person," he asked, each word clearly pronounced, "how can they steadfastly give their whole life for the interests of all humankind?"
An Zhe was stunned.
His fingers, which were hanging at his sides, began trembling. He finally knew why he would think of Lu Feng, who was Pauli's polar opposite, every time he faced Pauli.
Pauli closed his eyes, his voice hoarse as he said, "This is
the cause of all of the Arbiter's suffering."
"Abandon your humanity, indiscriminately kill innocents without restraint, and ultimately be executed by the base.Or maintain your clarity of mind and eventually fall into madness as a result of unbearable suffering. These are the only two fates for an Arbiter," Pauli said slowly. "The moment the Rules were drafted, they were all doomed to meet terrible ends."
An Zhe could not describe what he was feeling in that moment. Having difficulty breathing, he looked at the fourpointed star badge in his hand.
"If... If there was an Arbiter," he said, "who has always had clarity of mind and always guarded the city gates, and there have never been mistakes in his judgments..."
He suddenly came to a realization, and his voice trembled as he said, "There's nobody who doesn't hate him because other Judges only kill a few dozens of people each year while he kills up to a thousand. In truth... in truth, it's not because he particularly likes shooting. It's because there can be the greatest reduction in mistaken kills only when he shoots."
He understood. He finally understood. With a shiver, he asked Pauli, "What kind of a person would he be?"
Pauli's answer was simpler than he had imagined.
"He would be a lonely person," he said.
Something came plummeting down, striking An Zhe's heart with the force of a tumbling boulder.
For a long while, he could not speak, not until Pauli asked, "What are you thinking about?"
"I..." An Zhe's vision blurred. "I'm thinking about... about..."
He was thinking about Lu Feng.
He had once thought that Lu Feng was cold-hearted, and he had also once admitted that Lu Feng's beliefs were steadfast. He knew that for the illusory fate of humankind, Colonel Lu could give his entire life. He also knew that Lu Feng would suffer and be lonely, but it was only today that he knew exactly what sort of an internally rooted unimaginable colossus the man faced.
He once said that he understood Lu Feng, but it wasonly at this moment—when he and Lu Feng were many miles apart and would never meet again—that he completely understood Lu Feng.
"I know who the Arbiter you speak of is. Tang Lan mentioned him to me many times. If possible, I really would like to meet him," Pauli said.
"He..." While An Zhe clutched the badge, his tears finally began falling. "He's been the Arbiter for seven years and killed many people... Everyone hates him."
"But he was very good to me." He smiled, but the rims of his eyes felt hot and the tip of his nose was bright red. "In fact, he's very good to everyone."
"You said that you're a monster through and through,"Pauli said. "But as an Arbiter, I haven't found any differences between you and humans. What about that Arbiter?"
"He couldn't be certain." An Zhe's fingers trembled slightly, and he looked at the unbroken chain of mountains in the distance. "The first time we met, he spared me."
"Sir," he said, "if the Arbiter spares a xenogenic for the first time, will he do it a second time?"
Pauli only gave him a warm look.
"He also spared me a second time. He spared me many times," An Zhe said. "Later, he knew that I was a xenogenic."
"But..." He wanted to say something, but nothing came out. His heart had been caught in a death grip. He wanted to free himself of this inescapable imprisonment, but he could not.
"I'm sorry..." He recognized that he was utterly incapable of forming a complete sentence. Brokenly, he said, "I... As soon as I think of him, I... want to cry."
Pauli took An Zhe into his arms. "Don't cry, child."
"Live on," he said. "You will see him again."
"I won't see him again." An Zhe grasped Pauli's arm like he was grasping his final lifeline amidst the tempestuous storm of emotion. He couldn't stop his tears from flowing,and in the end, he could only shakily close them and rest his forehead against Pauli's shoulder. "I wish... I wish I hadn't met him at all."
"Why?"
An Zhe couldn't say anything.
"With me, you can say anything, child," Pauli murmured. "There's no need to deceive me, nor is there any need to deceive yourself."
Choking, An Zhe cried even harder. He didn't understand human relationships, but facing Pauli, he seemed to have understood them. It was like he was facinga gentle father, a loving priest, or perhaps a lenient God. Kneeling in the temple of the Lord, he could confess everything, just like any other ordinary person—but in fact it wasn't to any other person or deity, but to himself.
"I..." He opened his mouth, his entire body trembling because of the severe pain and his mind completely blank. He finally crossed the emotional barrier and blurted out, "I want to see him..."
"I want to see him." He repeated the words almost despairingly. "I want to see him, sir. I want to see him. I don't regret leaving him, but I... I regret it so much."
"I know... I know." Pauli gently patted An Zhe's back, comforting him.
"You don't know..." An Zhe said, his words contradicting each other. His emotions were torn to shreds, and grief inundated his soul like an ocean. If the omnipresent pain of yearning killed him, he would not have felt the least bit surprised.
It might've even been a mercy."
"I've lived many decades more than you, child," Pauli said. "You're still young, and there are still too many things you do not know."
"I..." An Zhe blankly lifted his head. He could not make any retort, nor did he have any intention to argue. There really was something accumulating in his chest, unable to be grasped or seen clearly. He couldn't describe it.
He looked past Pauli's shoulder at the boundless night sky and mumbled, "What do I... not know?"
"Ba-thump."
In the brief silence, An Zhe heard his own heartbeat. Hesuddenly had the feeling that what Pauli was about to say might change his entire life.
He heard Pauli's breaths.
"You don't know." In the stillness, Pauli said, "That you love him."
An Zhe opened his eyes wide.
In the sky, the aurora fluctuated, its deep green light like a rolling tide. It traveled from south to north, dissipating before being reborn.
He began to tremble violently.
A fierce intuition struck his soul like a shooting star hitting the earth, its glow brightly illuminating everything in the world. He actually didn't know exactly what sort of meaning those three words held, but he knew they were correct.
He was completely dumbstruck, forgetting even his sorrow as he stared dazedly at the faraway aurora. Pauli let go of him and gently dried the tears on his face with a handkerchief.
"But why would I be like this?" he mumbled.
Without waiting for a reply, he was swept up in another, more pressing question.
"Then... then will he love me too?" He looked at Pauli almost pleadingly. "Will he love me too? I'm just a... a xenogenic."
"Has he said anything to you before?"
An Zhe shook his head. Their relationship was frighteningly short. He said, "But he kissed me."
But he was by no means clear on the meaning of the kiss. That day, the power of words was too feeble, so they could only do that.
"You're still alive," Pauli said. "Did he let you leave?"
"I left him. He has always been a qualified Arbiter. I know he wouldn't spare me," An Zhe said slowly. "At that time, I only wanted to leave him and find a place to die. But it was only because his gun fell into my backpack that I was able to return to the Abyss."
"His gun fell into your backpack?" Pauli repeated.
An Zhe made a soft sound of affirmation, and an unsteady smile appeared in his eyes. "He liked to randomly leave his things with me."
Pauli Jones slowly stroked An Zhe's hair.
"You must know, silly child," Pauli said, "the Arbiter's gun never leaves his side. This is an iron-clad rule that was established a hundred years ago."
An Zhe silently met his eyes. In the end, he bit down on his lip.
"I don't know," he said. "I really don't know."
"No matter what reason it stemmed from," Pauli told him, "he definitely loves you too. That's what that means."
"Would an Arbiter like a xenogenic?"
"I don't know," Pauli said, "But I've also lived with many xenogenics for a hundred years—if you believe I still have the qualification to be called an Arbiter."
While looking into those seemingly all-knowing grayblue eyes, An Zhe thought that Pauli definitely knew the reason why Lu Feng would like him, but he didn't dare to ask. Pauli must have had his reasons for not saying it.
Image after image appeared before his eyes. At the city gates, a woman who had lost her husband hoarsely cursed him to die a miserable death. At the supply depot's public square, a bullet traveled through the back of Doussay's head, but she pitched forward toward him. Countless silhouettes appeared before his eyes. Those hoarse shouts, the trembling dread, the bone-deep admiration. Countless shadows rose up and surged together, reaching up with their hands. With love, hate, and tacitly understood grudges and fears piled up, they pushed him to the mountaintop where the cold winds howled, making him look down at these hordes of living things.
No one approached him, no one understood him, and his admirers would rather order a false mannequin using all their wealth than speak a single sentence to him of their own accord.
As for... As for the Arbiter's compassion and favor, it was something nobody dared to even dream of. What sort of bone-chilling fear and unimaginable honor was that?
He was a xenogenic, something diametrically opposed to humankind, but he faintly hoped to receive it. And unexpectedly, he had received it.
At least, the moment Lu Feng put his gun into An Zhe's backpack, within the eons, there was once such a second— in that second, the Arbiter left his pistol to a xenogenic, forsaking his lifelong beliefs to love him.
Then, just like the fairy tale in the children's textbooks, the midnight bell rang, and one returned to the Abyss while the other returned to the base.
Like a gradually stopping sandstorm, as the bell rang, the dust settled. An Zhe's heartbeat returned to its normal frequency bit by bit. He had received unimaginable gifts, but he was utterly calm.
He thought that it was enough. All of it was enough.
"If there comes a day when humankind is safe and you see him," he said to Pauli, "Please... please don't tell him that I came here."
Pauli said, "No one can lie to the Arbiter."
"Then say that I've come and gone," An Zhe said. "I've gone far away, and I may be anywhere in the world."
Pauli looked at him with a gentle yet sorrowful gaze.
"I truly hope God can favor you two," he said.
But An Zhe slowly shook his head.
"But I can't love him, and he can't love me," An Zhe
murmured.
"Unless—unless the day comes when humankind falls. But I hope that day will never come." In that moment, an assured tranquility enveloped him.
Countless translucent white chips of ice were born in the gaps between the aurora and the clouds. They drifted down, and the silent mountain scenery and night came alive as a result of all the flying bits of ice. It was snowing.
An Zhe held out his hand, and a hexagonal snowflake landed on his finger. The beautiful shape gradually lost its form amidst his skin's warmth and drew in upon itself to form a crystalline droplet of water.
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"I've known you all for only three months," he said. "But this is my whole lifetime."
The wind grew louder, and thousands of snowflakes blew into the corridor like willow catkins carried aloft by the spring wind. An Zhe looked up. He thought that everything from the forgotten past was unfolding before his eyes and dispersing into twinkling fragments.
The tempestuous storm subsided, the waves and undercurrents simultaneously ceasing to flow. He couldn't describe it as sad, nor was it anywhere close to being happy. He only felt that the snow was beautiful.
The joys and sorrows throughout his life, the meetings and partings, were just like the births and deaths of all the tangible things in this world. They were all ephemeral snowflakes.
"Are you cold?"
"Not anymore."
He memorized the shape of that snowflake, and in that second he obtained eternity.
The aurora lit up the Abyss.
From the laboratory suddenly came the sound of glass shattering.