The words "I'm sorry" lay quietly on the first page of book of commonality, the ink still wet, like a fresh scar or an old brand.
Inside the bridge, silence persisted for a long time.
In the mechanical right eye of Enoch, the representative of the Hybrid Civilization, the data stream stagnated for a moment, finally turning into a very faint sigh, as if a weight of three thousand tons had been lifted.
"I'm sorry, we cannot bring the dead back to life."
Recorder Seven's voice was low and clear; every word felt like carving a tombstone, yet also like gilding it.
"But we can let their stories live on—live in this book, and live in the memories of everyone who reads it."
He raised his hand, and the "common book" floating in the center of the fleet detached from the giant mirror, slowly drifting toward the dawn.
The pages turned without wind, and all the memory fragments that had just merged began to rearrange and reorganize, as if billions of stars had found their respective orbits.
The Spirit Race of the Emerald Sea, the warriors of Thunder God Island, the Mirror Spirits of the Nest of a Thousand Mirrors, and all the hybrid lives that had perished in the fusion experiments.
Their faces and voices flashed between the pages before settling into eternal words.
It was not a cold record.
It was a last testament with the warmth of a body, a dream filled with regret, a persistence born of indignation, and—love.
"This is not the end, but the prologue."
Bai Cheng's voice rang out. She looked out the porthole at the sea of stars composed of diaries and teardrops, which was slowly dissipating, replaced by a vast and real starry sky.
In the starlight, there were no more experimental labels, no more evaluation codes—only pure, undefined light.
"The observation protocol for Experimental Field ST-774321 is hereby officially terminated."
She paused, her silver eyes reflecting the light of all the ships, the weary yet relieved faces of the twelve former observers, and the still-glowing "pen" in Recorder Seven's hand.
"From this day forward, this is no longer a sky island civilization experimental zone; this is the Free Star Abyss."
"Belonging to all life that refuses to be defined."
"Belonging to all rationality that dares to shed tears."
"Belonging to all existences willing to pick up a pen and write their own stories."
The moment her voice fell, a thunderous resonance erupted from the fleet.
It wasn't a cheer or a war cry, but the relieved sigh of ten million souls, the crisp sound of breaking shackles, the sound of the first morning breeze brushing the earth after a long night.
The muzzles of the Thunder Battleships lowered completely, and tiny, lightning-flickering vine flowers quietly grew upon the barrels.
The Spirit Race flower boats erupted in an unprecedented rain of emerald blossoms, the petals forming ancient blessing runes in the air.
On the surfaces of the Nest of a Thousand Mirrors shuttles, they no longer just reflected the past, but began to show every tearful, smiling face of the present.
And on the flagship of the Hybrid Civilization, the book emblem slowly rotated, finally settling into a new pattern:
A sprout growing from ruins, its roots entwined around broken gears, its leaves cradling a crystal teardrop.
Within the tear, the sea of stars was reflected.
Watching all this, silver-white tears finally rolled down Recorder Seven's face.
The tears dripped onto the cover of the experimental log in his hand.
The log he had just personally incinerated, yet which had gained new life within book of commonality.
The cover slowly peeled away, revealing a brand-new title beneath:
Chronicles of the Free Star Abyss · Volume I: The Book of Dawn
Editor: All life that once breathed here
Seven Days Later · Shandora Golden Bell Tower
The bell chimed with a brand-new rhythm. It was no longer a uniform announcement of time, but sometimes hurried like war drums, sometimes soothing like a ballad, sometimes impassioned like a questioning, and sometimes gentle like a consolation.
It was the real heartbeat of life from all over the Star Abyss, transmitted through the oath of starlight network.
The plaza was surging with crowds. Shandora residents, warriors from Thunder God Island, the Spirit Race of the Emerald Sea, Mirror Spirits from the Nest of a Thousand Mirrors, wanderers from the Fringe Star Sectors, survivors of the Hybrid Civilization...
And the twelve former observers who had shed their data halos to step upon the earth in real flesh and blood.
They wore simple cloth clothes, and their bodies still bore the paleness of long-term data existence, but their eyes were no longer hollow.
Recorder Seven stood atop the bell tower, holding the "common book" that already had hundreds of pages written. The ink for the latest chapter's title was still wet:
After the Gate of the Endgame—How We Learn to Be Our Own Authors
"The rules are broken, and the pen has been handed over." His voice spread to every corner of the Star Abyss through the Mirror Abyss fragment network, calm, yet carrying a warmth never felt in three thousand years.
"But freedom is not weightless. Writing a story means bearing the consequences of choices, finding a balance between reason and emotion, and facing the still-bleeding scars left by history."
He looked at Enoch below the stage, and at the representatives of the Hybrid Civilization: "Are you willing to participate in the writing? Using scars as ink, and survival as witness."
Enoch's ➤ NоvеⅠight ➤ (Read more on our source) mechanical right hand pressed gently against his chest, the place where flesh and metal merged feeling slightly warm. Behind him, all the hybrid representatives stepped forward simultaneously.
"We were originally a collection of wrong answers," Enoch's voice was somewhat raspy.
"Within us flows the genes of seventeen failed civilizations, carved with the scars of thirty-nine incompatible technologies, burdened with all the dreams judged invalid over three thousand years."
He looked up, his mechanical right eye and flesh-and-blood left eye both reflecting the light of the golden bell:
"Now, we will take these errors, these scars, and these invalid dreams—"
"And write them into the most unique chapter of the Free Star Abyss."
Applause rose like a tide. It was not a celebration, but a witnessing.
The Bridge of the dawn · The Night Before Departure.
Bai Cheng sat before the main control console, a brand-new star chart of the Star Abyss floating in front of her.
The star chart no longer had experimental coordinates, only countless routes, settlements, resource zones, and ruins marked by the civilizations themselves.
The coordinates of the Silent Sanctuary flickered quietly, with a handwritten note by Bai Cheng next to it: "Bring back those silenced souls."
Fluctuations from the Edge Echo Belt appeared faintly, with a note saying: "Listen to the echoes singing alone in the darkness."
And at the very edge of the star chart, there was a newly marked area named the Place of the First Fire.
Those were the coordinates provided by Recorder Seven: the original base established by the observer group when they first set up the experimental field. It had been abandoned for years but might hold the initial records of why the experiments began.
"We cannot go everywhere at once." Abraham pushed his wheelchair closer, the spark in his gray eyes now as steady as a star. "We must choose a starting point."
Zi Yuan wiped her long blade, the steel reflecting her sharp gaze: "The Silent Sanctuary is the closest, and the voiceless ones there are the most vulnerable."
"They were purged before they could even form a civilization; they are the ones who need to be heard most."
"But the Edge Echo Belt is decaying," Leng Ningxue called up the scanning data.
"Those civilization remnants are like candles in the wind. If we go too late, even the last trace of their echoes might vanish."
Blue Bird slumped over the control console and said grumpily, "If you ask me, go to the Place of the First Fire first! Dig out why those bastards started this crappy experiment so we can stop anyone from doing it again!"
Lu Duo and Yu Nian held hands, the glow of emerald eyes and pure heart vines intertwining. "Behind every choice is a life... which one should we choose?"
Everyone's eyes turned toward Bai Cheng.
