# Chapter 25: Interlude: Darkness and Dimness
The multiverse is dark.
All civilizations possessing the technology to enter and exit the void, when they first cross the world barrier and truly step outside the heavens, will invariably fall into confusion and disorientation, because what they see is not the beautiful paradise of their fantasies, but a pitch-black hell.
—Stretching their vision to the very limits of sight, all they can see is silent darkness. Within the endless, deathly still void surge temporal-spatial currents, containing absolute cold, despair, and loneliness, intimidating any intelligent life that beholds it.
How should those who came to the void amidst blessings and expectations describe to their compatriots what lies "beyond the heavens"? Outside the world, there is not another vibrant world, no paradise, no sweet wine of the gods or magnificent palaces—only lifeless, even extremely dangerous, dead silence and nothingness. Here, even the stars are obscured, and everything is dim and lightless.
If in the distant future, one's race occupies all the space on the ground, then where lies the path? Where lies the future? Perhaps, one can only step into this darkness, savoring the taste of curiosity, fear, and loneliness, exploring this road hidden in shadow and danger, even if the journey is filled with unpredictable terror.
But there is one thing more disheartening, more terrifying, more helpless, yet more captivating than darkness and the unknown.
That is a single point of light in the darkness.
In a distant and unknowable past, there was a tormented race. They were born from the fire in the forest, multiplied on the vast plains, gave birth to wisdom, created civilization, established nations—everything progressed step by step, until a violent earthquake that swept the entire world.
This was a disaster long hidden deep within the earth's crust, a hidden danger predetermined since the world's creation. Their world was tortured by increasingly active geological changes, scarred and battered. Continuous volcanic eruptions and earthquakes tore apart most of the continent. Erupting lava and metallic clouds scorched the cities and their inhabitants. Their civilization, just entering the Middle Ages, had no solution whatsoever, only praying to the heavens in despair, begging for this apocalypse to end soon, or to arrive quickly, so they could be freed from endless scorching heat.
But beyond the void, another powerful civilization descended from outside the heavens. This civilization possessed extraordinary power. They calmed the earth's crust, reshaped the ecosystem, penetrated deep into the planet's core, pacified plate movements, and helped the suffering race return to their homes—all without asking for any price.
The suffering race worshipped this civilization prostrate, willing to dedicate everything as servants. But they were told by this civilization that no repayment was needed, no gratitude required—they only needed them to survive, to progress slowly, until they too became a civilization capable of crossing the void. That would be the greatest help.
"As long as you too can become a point of light in this multiverse, then all our hardships will have meaning."
Thus spoke the civilization calling themselves the Pioneers. They were a civilization that had left their home world and wandered the multiverse. Their purpose was to help one after another still-budding race and civilization cross the void, becoming what they called "light"... The suffering race could not understand such a lofty purpose. They asked incredulously why a civilization as powerful as the Pioneers would also leave their home world to wander.
The answer they received was silence and helpless bitter smiles.
"That is a destruction you cannot understand now. But one day, you too will face the infinite darkness... At that time, you might understand our purpose."
The suffering race truly could not understand. But when, centuries later, they first piloted their flying ships, broke through the world barrier, entered the void, and witnessed the darkness of the multiverse, they felt they understood—understood the purpose of the Pioneers.
—Because the multiverse was too dark and vast, the light of a single civilization too small. So they needed companions, more companions, more light to illuminate this dark multiverse!
Thus, the former suffering race resolutely embarked on this path. They named their civilization "Sanctuary of the Weak." Like the Pioneer civilization of old, they did their utmost to help surrounding species and civilizations develop, inviting them to join their ranks. They swore, like the Pioneers before them, to help all civilizations in this multiverse grow. They planned to form a great federation, gathering all faint lights together, shining upon the world like the sun.
They swore to eradicate all darkness and the unknown.
But they failed.
At the final moment, infinite darkness spread from the center of the multiverse—the shadow fearfully called "Evil God," "Finality," "Destruction," and "Apocalypse" by many civilizations. Only when they truly encountered the Evil Gods did the former suffering race, now the Sanctuary Civilization, understand what the "darkness" spoken of by the distant Pioneer civilization truly was, and why they wandered, why they were so at a loss, only able to advance in confusion, helping any race they encountered, one by one.
Because they felt despair from the bottom of their hearts, believing this darkness was unstoppable. So they could only light one flame at a time, comforting hearts confused and lost in bewilderment.
And the facts proved exactly this.
The final age descended. Worlds overturned. Burning wheat fields, along with farmers' hopes, were consumed together in flames. Magnificent floating cities fell amidst boiling dark clouds. Glorious holy temples were dragged down by filthy shadows, eventually swallowed into subspace. At the world's center, tens of thousands of powerful spellcasters joined hands, attempting to teleport the people away before the apocalypse arrived. But their passionate efforts, burning with all their might, rapidly cooled before the Evil God that tore open the world's shell, revealing its indescribable true form.
They retreated step by step, utterly defeated, abandoning one world after another. The Evil Gods feasted gluttonously, devouring the remnants of civilizations. They watched as more and more cities turned to dust, more and more races turned to ashes, as their painstaking efforts turned to nothing. More and more disappointment and frustration eroded their hearts. Finally, a temporal-spatial storm capable of shattering worlds swept through the entire temporal-spatial domain, extinguishing stars, sinking them into the domain of darkness.
Another civilization, broken by darkness, was abandoned like an extinguished torch. The Sanctuary Civilization disappeared from the multiverse. Though they briefly emitted light, they ultimately faded away in gloom.
Thus, the multiverse is actually dim. It is not completely pitch black, but has a few flickers of radiance.
It nurtures worlds, gives birth to civilizations, grants hope to all beings, allowing them to become flames illuminating the void—but uses Evil Gods to end it all. In the eternal darkness, endless lights flicker. One after another, civilization-fires are lit, allowing points of light to appear in the world. But the existence of this light is not to display beauty—it is to let civilizations use their own radiance to illuminate what is hidden beneath the darkness, the true face called despair and finality.
One civilization after another struggles against the arrival of chaos and nothingness. They burn their own light to illuminate the path ahead, but never reach the end of victory. Under the erosion of endless chaos, they only grow weaker, more exhausted. No matter how hard they persist, they will eventually collapse from exhaustion.
Compared to this light in the dimness, darkness can be considered merciful. At least it hides the face of finality, letting everything end in painless extinction.
The eternally dim light reveals to civilization the terrifying vista filled with nothingness: no hope, no future, everything is meaningless gray. No matter how fiercely a flame burns, it will eventually turn to ashes, fall into eternal slumber, or awaken in the resentment of despair, becoming a member of the darkness.
Redemption Calendar Year 5922, more than 5900 years after the ancient Pioneer civilization descended upon the Sanctuary World, in the endless void, a mass of "dark" mist enveloping a world awakened from a long information self-check.
The black mist surged like ocean tides. It strictly and meticulously inspected the database within itself, checking all information about its creators, including all their history, technology, culture, art, and beliefs. The black mist self-checked again and again, ensuring this information had no errors or losses.
Because this information was the final remnant of its creators. Protecting this information was also one of only two remaining tasks in its core directives.
After a long time had passed, ensuring the database's information was complete, one could see the black mist suddenly begin to surge. It flickered like flames in the temporal-spatial currents of the void. Deep purple lightning could even be seen flashing within the mist. The black mist condensed power, gestated offspring. It was about to prepare to complete its other unfinished, most important task.
The black mist still remembered the painful faces of its many dying creators a thousand years ago. It remembered the "final task" reiterated by them again and again.
That was to gather strength to resist the destruction sweeping through the multiverse.
In accordance with its creator's wishes, it would exert all its power.
Even if it itself became the darkness that extinguishes light, it would not hesitate.