The past, whether bright or dim, hung in the sky like stars, shining in all its colors under the blood moon.

It's like looking at a street lamp with teary eyes, the light fading in the hazy world.

Of the many memory fragments Russell had seen, this was the farthest and most completely shattered.

Maybe it's because he's dead, maybe it's because "Andrew" is already dead — or maybe it's because he's embedded too many memories that don't belong to him into his mind, so that the past that really belongs to him has been infiltrated into fragments and fragility.

And as Russell opened his hand to the "stars" in the night sky, the light from the past came into the mirror—

The cramped, messy room is filled with electric lights and the pungent smell of rubber, plastic, and oil wafts from the air.

A man is wearing a fully enclosed helmet with a silicone rod in his mouth. He was the only one in the room.

Sturdy rubber rings anchored his hands and feet to the rudimentary instrument chair, which was taped to the palm of his hand with a button tied to the armrest.

As he slowly pressed the button with some determination, the various instruments in the room rang out with the sound of a turbine that gradually became sharper. He closed his eyes, and then his body suddenly began to twitch violently—

He suddenly bit the rubber plug in his mouth, and the exposed neck instantly turned red, and the muscles went in and out. It was only a few seconds before he couldn't help but press the button in his hand.

As the helmet was raised, the man coughed violently and continuously, spitting out the silicone rod with saliva in his hand. His entire face turned red, his eyes bulged out visibly from the pressure, and he began to develop intense asthma. He injected a needle into his muscle with a violently trembling hand before it gradually calmed down.

It was a middle-aged man with brown hair and blue eyes, and some greasy and messy hair. After he had calmed down, he coughed violently a few more times, and then stretched out his still trembling hand and picked up his gold-rimmed glasses.

As soon as he put on his glasses, he began to cough more and more intensely. Coughing and coughing, he couldn't even straighten up, and dropped the glasses he had just put on on again.

Then he suddenly reached out to cover his mouth, stumbled to the sink in the corner, and began to vomit, but he couldn't vomit anything, only thin gastric juice and the porridge he had drunk in the morning. When he ran past, he even stepped on his glasses in a panic.

"Damn it, shit! Shit!"

The man reached for the mirror on the sink and cursed in a low voice, "Messed up again......

He looked at himself in the mirror and saw tears in the corners of his eyes. The world in front of me is so blurry. Not just from coughing, or vomiting, but from the experiment itself, which kept failing.

"Saint, if you look at me, please let me succeed" He muttered in a low voice, his voice hoarse as if it were a whimper, "Even if it's only once. Just let me succeed once-

"I really, almost can't hold on

Suddenly, he suddenly turned his head and looked in Russell's direction: "What sound?

"—Who are you?"

Russell didn't say a word, but there was a look of surprise or anticipation on his face, as if crying and laughing, "Can you speak again? I think I heard it! I'm like—I've never heard anything like that—that's not my memory!

"I seem to have succeeded! I might have made it! I succeeded!"

Ephemeral memories shattered.

What resurfaced before Russell's eyes was a dim yellow sunset.

"His Holiness the Pope.........

"He's" perspective seemed to be a little skewed, so he pushed his glasses a little uncomfortably. But the temples had been bent, so they couldn't be pushed properly. In front of the white-haired and white-bearded old man, he looked very nervous. His hand pinched the corners of his clothes from time to time, and his back unconsciously bent a little. He felt that his lower back and his buttocks were a little itchy, maybe because he had stood for a long time, or maybe because he hadn't exercised for a long time, and the heat of sweat was sealed by his pores. He wanted to tickle, but he didn't dare to do such a disrespectful act in front of the old man.

It made him feel more and more uncomfortable.

But these discomforts add up, and they can't catch up with half of his inner apprehension.

He watched the old man flip through the papers—the painstaking efforts, the forbidden research, and felt his heart beat deafeningly.

The old man was silent. He watched it for a long, long time, and didn't say a word. Then, he sighed slowly. The sigh seemed to tug at his heart.

"Andrew."

The old man's voice was slow. Generous and kind, it gives a strong sense of security.

"Do you understand what taboo you're touching?"

「.. … I understand, His Holiness the Pope."

The words from the heart came out of the mouth of a middle-aged man: "But I think that even a sinful life is better than a clean death."

"Oh. That's what you think."

The old man raised his head and looked at him seriously, and sighed a little helplessly: "Andrew, I only ask you one word.

"If you were to channel the memories and emotions of the sages into yourself—would you still be able to die as yourself, as a human being?"

"Of course."

Russell replied without hesitation, "Whatever is injected into my brain that ultimately makes 'me' who I am will be will only be what I have experienced. Those are just foreign objects."

"Remember what you're talking about, Andrew."

The old man sighed deeply again, and gently slammed the papers on the table. He looked out the window with deep, sad eyes.

Under the setting sun, the mage towers floating in the air in the distance are like slowly advancing air fortresses, and the bombardment makes blood and fire the background color of the sunset. "Your Excellency..."

Although Andrew was not denied, he did not receive a clear answer, so he was still a little unwilling. He picked up the papers on his desk, still tentatively asking, "Are you preferred... So-called, 'clean death'?"

"Andrew, you have to remember. The reason why we oppose the Dharma is not because they are wrong, but because we are right. It is a word addressed to the believers, and we cannot believe it ourselves."

The old man said slowly, "There is only one reason for this war - that is, we exist in the world at the same time. And this world is so small that it can only accommodate one side of the church, and the mage.

"If we win, the world will be a better place; If they win in the end, the world may not be much worse. The world always works, the difference is whether it is inclined to us or to them; But those ordinary people, how to live or how to live.

"If we control the world, their lives will indeed be better because of our system, but that doesn't mean they'll be out of the bottom. If the mages control the world, they will only continue the previous society. The world is a sad cycle, the top is always changing, but the bottom is always the bottom.

"If we are doomed, we might as well accept it. Choose a clean death, leaving behind a clear fire. In the future, when the rule of the mages decays and the Tower is about to fall, someone will remember that we once existed.

"It's the other way around. If we become high one day, they will also remember the good of the mages and learn spells again. For in their limited understanding, the mages were 'dying with the fire of cleansing.' The old man's voice was slow, like a teacher who would make people drowsy during a lecture. It's like a lonely old man with a pet in his arms and talking to himself.

"For those of us who have finite lives, existence and death are the most important things. But in the long run, 'cleanliness' and 'correctness' are the proof of our existence. The Divine Descent may lead us to victory in this war, but we will also lose our cleanliness as a result.

"We have chosen the path of victory, but we have become the future of the people to fight against'The future of mages has not yet arrived, but I have seen the end.

That's why I'm emotional."

The middle-aged man apparently didn't fully understand.

He nodded as if he didn't understand, for now

Take the Pope's words to heart.

"What do you mean......

He stubbornly asked, searching for the only clear and correct answer.

"I promised."

The old man replied.

"Good!"

The middle-aged man was overjoyed, smiling innocently and innocently, like a child who had received his favorite toy: "Thank you – don't worry, I also know that this research is full of sin and risk. But I'm not going to put this ugliness on you!"

He hurriedly bowed, pushed his glasses, and hurriedly retired.

The old man looked deeply at his back and shook his head slightly. Then he looked at the sunset in the distance, and finally sighed.

The middle-aged man, on the other hand, turned his back to the Pope, turning the Pope's room handle.

Then, pushing the door open.

The moment he pushed the door, the memory scene suddenly switched.

Andrew arrived in the brightly lit hall draped in ribbons.

The back that had always bent slightly in front of the Pope before, was so straight.

He wears the papal white robe and a pure gold shoulder strap. I changed into crystal glasses with silver studding, and my hair was neat and clean. He was smeared with fragrant balm and had a big smile on his face.

Seeing "Russell" push the door in, the people gathered in the room cheered enthusiastically and saluted him. Russell's face was full of smiles, and he reached out and pressed lightly in the void, signaling quiet. But the cheers could not be suppressed at all, wave after wave, one wave after another, and "Russell" did not blame, but just kept quiet while smiling and enjoying the cheers.

"My brothers and sisters!"

He shouted, "We have won, complete victory!"

Screams and cheers echoed through the room. The cheers and ecstasy of the people could not be suppressed at all, and Andrew's words could not be carried out at all. He held out his hands and raised them above his head. This time, the voice fell silent for a moment.

The bishops, like courtiers serving the monarch, easily understood when Andrew really needed to be quiet and when he was just reserved and polite.

"Under the guidance of God and the Sunnah of the angels, we have overcome the evil and mad mages. In gratitude for the sacrifices of the angels, and to correct the wrong paths we have taken, the church is being renamed Cyber Church today!

"We are no longer here to serve God and return to Him one day, because it turns out that neither our devout faith nor our words and deeds can bring us to God. The gods had been separated from us, and under the stunned or abrupt gaze of the people, Andrew's gaze slowly swept over everyone's faces, noting everyone's attitudes.

Then he said, "But there is still a way for us to walk with God!

"One day, we will make the whole world, all mankind, immortal cyber!

To put all our consciousness into the same 'holy book', so that the consciousness of mankind can be united again, so that everyone can become an angel walking on the earth, so that we will always be happy and healthy.

"Create our own God! Create a new world that belongs to us!"

Andrew cried out, "And I'm going to be 'Promoted,' This is how we are inscribed with our faith

"One day we will rise up from the earth and reach the stars!"

His words did not receive any cheers.

But Andrew was not timid. He commanded the angelic legions, and defeated the mages, and no one could make him hesitate.

He left with a calm smile and pushed the door on the other side.

The next moment he pushed the door, the scene in his memory switched again.

Andrew, who did not have the slightest smile on his face, calmly came to the luxurious and sacred Holy Seat. In the center of the uninhabited sanctuary was a throne decorated with gold, silver and crystal, on which placed the triple crown of his own design.

It is a complex halo with three rings like the sun, and from the inside out, there are three colors: pure white, brilliant gold, and light gold.

The power of an angel called "Savior".

But unlike the other angels, he has to receive this memory,

It is also necessary to preserve one's own personality and memory. This is the secret of making it easier for him to keep himself clean and his personality not to decay.

"It's been three years.......

He gently stroked his aura and muttered in a low voice, "I now understand some of your teachings. But there's more to it than I understand."

The old Pope, whom he respected and admired the most, finally died.

But his death stimulated Andrew.

Why would such a wise and merciful man die because of flesh and blood? Why do those who are depraved and stupid live calmly?

"If there's a way to get them dead and get you back, I don't think I'll hesitate to do it.

"I have such thoughts, and I already have sin. You are right, the world is cyclical. One day, I will fall.

"I still need your guidance, so..."

As he spoke, he took out a crystal piece. Attached it to the halo.

It was the personality data that the previous Pope had secretly copied and preserved when he was dying.

Then, Andrew solemnly raised the halo and put it on his head.

He chanted in a low voice, as if praying to God:

"—Please help me, Pope."

The next moment, the aura opened.

The memories of eighty-nine years of life rushed into his brain and Russell's sea of consciousness like a surging river.

Andrew stood there in silence for a long, long time, and then sighed slowly.

Just like the old Pope of yesteryear, his expression was complicated, but he didn't say a word.

And that's just the beginning.

At the moment when the memory was inserted, Russell heard the sound of a keyhole rotating slightly in the void.

A large door slammed open, revealing new memories.

"Sure enough, some people are starting to miss the rule of the mages."

Andrew stood in front of the mirror and muttered in a low voice, "Everything was as I expected. However, if my memory, my personality, is solidified, I will lose the experience of dealing with new events, which is not as good as the skills of the famous elves.

"But I also have my skills. Let me see what they would do if they were mages.

"—I'll do to them as they want to do to us." He said to himself, taping a new patch of memories to his aura, greedily extracting the memories of his old enemies like a sponge.

He closed his eyes and pondered for a long time, and when he opened his eyes, there was more indifference and wisdom in his pupils.

"Okay. Then let them be forgotten by history."

He turned and pushed the door open.

The insertion of new memories is like a keyhole being turned again.

Another door opens, revealing the new Andrew in front of the mirror.

Or in other words, I have prepared a new memory plug-in for myself.

One key after another kept turning, and one door after another kept opening with a bang—

And every time he appears in front of the mirror, his appearance is completely different.

Generations of popes have been infused with the same will by the halo, and they will be their successors, providing knowledge and helping to heal their blindness.

Each time they turned to leave, and when they pushed the door again, they saw another Pope standing in front of the mirror. Each generation of popes stood in front of the mirror, but their expressions and demeanor changed subtly each time. And they will all push the door and leave, and then see the next "promotion".

"The angels are a little annoying to me. They are completely disobedient to the administration of the human clergy, and no fatwa can be carried out."

"Resisting the company? This is not the time to be willful, the church needs the support of the elves, and we don't have the strength to fight another war. The congregation needs to rest, not to mention, and at this time we will become when the war starts

The opposite of the people. People crave peace, and angels always want war. Hmm."

"The execution of the angels is not realistic, and it will make the Church lose its deterrent. We also need their help. Maybe freezing them would be a good idea, but I'm new to the field, and I need some new knowledge to test the feasibility..."

"Missionary power alone is not enough, people don't care about faith in this hectic life, the dragon is too eccentric, too cunning. If this continues, the company will be nothing more than a new mage tower, and we will lose people's hearts. How can we get a voice in the country, maybe we can try church schools and welfare homes."

"The company alone will not be able to sustain its expansion. Everywhere it costs money, and if we continue like this, we will have to sell our shares in the corporate church. All the channels that can make money have been blocked, how can I conjure up something that can be sold for money out of thin air..."

"Mages and psionics can also use the Sacred Source... How does this work? But this is a good business, huh, such a high price, is it trying for me to disintegrate the deterrent power of the Angel Legion on its own? There's no need to refuse, it's better to recruit some new angels..."

"The Tower of Babel? Lost lambs, there is no point in seeking historical truths. Forget it, let's pretend I don't know. They are already obsessed with history in pursuit of history, so maybe they can help a little."

"Stole the 'anti-electron,'? It doesn't matter, it's just a failure. Well, just in case, let's turn off the permissions. Then again, I wish he succeeded. How can we use pure biotechnology to infuse the power of the Holy Rank, in that case, it should not be called a mechanical angel."

"A newborn mage? It's a good chance, they don't think I've sold all the angels, do they? The technology of artificial angels is also almost complete, so let's thaw a batch of mechanical angels at this time and give them some adaptation. After a hundred years of forbearance, the time has finally come for us to seize power." Door after door, opening faster and faster.

The different images and voices of the Popes who stand in front of the mirror and talk to themselves gradually overlap, but they inexplicably give people the feeling that "this is the same person". Finally, Russell heard the sound of the key not moving the lock.

It was like turning the doorknob a few times, but the door was locked. Make a Gragra sound.

And Russell's hand rests on the doorknob.

He looked down, only to find that his hand was no longer the old and thin hand of the Ascended Twelfth. Rather, it is the own hand of "Russell".

「... What do you mean?"

Russell paused, and suddenly couldn't help but sneer: "The 'promotion' of the thirteenth generation, is it me?

"It's not that I can't say that. After all, I also accepted all his memories, although it was only a short period of more than a hundred years, but he fused so many people and accepted the memories of so many people's lives. No wonder he so eagerly longs for cyber immortality and the fusion of minds.....

"He's just too lonely. There are so many people in this world, but there is not one like him."

"But you know, I'm different from him.

"Masks are just masks. No matter how long you wear it, it will never grow on your face. Dreaming of so many lives, I will never forget who I am.

"—Dreams."

As Russell's voice fell.

Everything around them suddenly melted and faded. All that was left was the door in front of him.

The doorknob that doesn't turn, the keyhole that is black hole.

It turned out that just now, Russell had fallen asleep and entered the dream world.

Maybe it was when he touched the stars, maybe it was when he looked at the Pope's memories. While Russell was most focused on experiencing the lives of others, he had been dragged into the realm of dreams.

- and within the dream realm, no matter what the area. You can see the pitch-black Tower of the End.

The next moment, the door and the doorknob melted.

All that was left was the tiny keyhole.

Everything else turned into a white blanket of light, and only this little keyhole remained—

At first glance, it looks like a dark tower

。

That's the Tower of the End. The end of the dream world, a place that can never be reached.

Under Russell's watchful eye, the tower slowly toppled over.

When it falls completely, becomes one "one".

All of a sudden, it started to get bigger—and it kept getting bigger. Only then did Russell see that it was not getting bigger, but "getting closer".

It is the cage where the Dream is imprisoned, the place where God is.

And the prisoner inside has already woken up.

Russell opened his arms and calmly greeted the galloping darkness, and disappeared into pure darkness.