PDLP Chapter 680 - 679: Things That Have Passed
Chapter 680 - 679: Things That Have Passed
Artificial Human No. 36.
The room fell silent, and Amber quietly looked at the line of letters drawn in the diary. For a full two minutes, she said nothing.
Just as Gawain couldn’t hold back the urge to speak, Amber’s fingers began to move again. She pressed her lips and slowly, very slowly, turned the diary to the next page—
The story of Sali Randolph continued:
"...My mechanical watch broke. After relying on my pulse and intuition to record dates twice, I had to give up the pursuit of ’time.’ Now I don’t know what day it is, but I guess I’ve been in this ancient fortress for at least half a month.
"During this time, only ’Amber’ has been with me.
"This little one lay quietly in her ’sleeping bed’ without making any noise. In recent days, I’ve started trying to talk to her. She, of course, doesn’t respond, but I continue to do it every day—speaking helps maintain my will and sanity, and a sleeping little girl is at least a better listener than a stone in the corner.
"...During such a long period, the Shadow Inhabitants have appeared twice in total. Honestly, their appearance brings a bit of surprise to me—they are indeed strange and look somewhat frightening, but at least they are some kind of ’living things.’ Sometimes I even have crazy thoughts, wanting to try to communicate with those ’Specters,’ but that really is too dangerous...
"I finally put my crazy idea into practice once, yet those Shadow Inhabitants simply ignored me. They just wandered in this room for a moment, then gradually dissipated.
"In the end, only Amber remains with me.
"...My health is deteriorating, which is inevitable. The only sustenance I can find here is moss and water. In fact, being able to survive on them until today is already miraculous—the moss growing in the shadow realm can actually sustain human life, which in itself is a blessing, isn’t it?
"I am very frightened, having caught a low fever, perhaps due to the cold floor or maybe because I am too weak. This insignificant illness almost prompted me to plan my final affairs right away—but what’s the use of planning last affairs? Today, for the first time, I cursed the King; honor has already gone far away from me.
"...How long has it been outside? I have long given up recording dates; estimating time has become impossible for me. I can only judge based on instinct. Maybe I’ve been here for several years, and over at the royal capital, they’ve probably already listed me as missing, or according to royal shadow guard regulations, as ’suspected deserter.’
"During this time, I have been reducing the frequency of diary entries and tried to simplify and shrink the font, because my ink is about to run out. Despite diluting it with water several times, it is still insufficient. Tomorrow, I will try to burn that moss to ashes, then mix with water to see if I can make some ink. If I can’t... from now on, if I want to write anything, I fear I will have to use my own blood.
"I made some crude ink. The color is a bit strange, and the smell too, but obviously, it can be used for writing!
"...Something absolutely worth recording happened today! Absolutely worth recording!!
"Amber moved—it’s true, I’m sure of it. She moved her tiny hand; she was sucking her fingers!!
"She’s alive! She really is alive!"
After this, there are many scattered notes written by Sali Randolph in his excitement, including some of his survival experiences in the Shadow Fortress. Amber seemed to become impatient, flipping through the pages faster, until she stopped at a diary entry where the handwriting trembled slightly, as if the writer was particularly excited.
"...I don’t know what I did, or maybe it had nothing to do with me, but the ancient device in the room suddenly made some noise. Strange sounds of water and buzzing came from the big pillar, and I practically jumped to where Amber was sleeping, by the gods above—I saw what?
"The crystal container opened, and Amber was crawling out of it, using both hands and feet, nearly falling to the ground.
"To all the gods and ancient people I know, I simply cannot describe in words how I felt at that moment—I slapped myself several times, banged my head on the nearby wall, then yelled and used every method to eliminate the possibility of an illusion, only to finally confirm it was real, and Amber just sat there on the floor, staring blankly at me!
"Damn it, I hope I didn’t scare her?
"I find that I can only feed this little one with moss—what could be more depressing, nerve-wracking, and terrifying than this? How is this poor child going to survive in this godforsaken place?
"There was some pale yellow thin liquid remaining in the egg-shaped container, at least it wasn’t toxic. I tried feeding it to Amber, and she quickly consumed some, but there was too little of that liquid. I still have to figure out her food issue.
"She doesn’t drink blood.
"The remaining liquid in the container is almost gone, and I have no choice left.
"I fed her the moss—I used the iron shell container I collected to make a pot, lit a fire using combustible trash found in the warehouse, and cooked the moss until it turned into some kind of mushy soup...When letting Amber drink it, I even felt like I was feeding this little one poison.
"She ate those things, and for the moment seems alright, but who knows what might happen afterward...For the foreseeable future, I have to stay awake to prevent her from choking if she vomits...
"...Thank heavens! She’s fine!"
The handwriting on this page shakes violently, as if the tension and excitement of the writer, preserved through the strokes for decades, now suffuses the page. Amber stared at the gray-black handwriting, suddenly speaking softly, "No wonder I didn’t grow tall...right, old man?"
This is the least funny self-mockery Gawain has ever heard.
He extended his hand, pressing it lightly against Amber’s head. As the big hand touched the top of her head, the half-elf’s body trembled slightly, and then she took a deep breath and continued to turn the pages.
"...The thought that this little one can only eat moss with me fills me with guilt, but compared to the worst scenario, it’s a huge blessing just to be alive. I think I should stop complaining, as at least now I’m no longer alone...
"Amber can’t speak; she can only make a strange, hoarse sound, akin to the lowest murmurs of the Shadow Inhabitants, yet she’s clearly trying to communicate with me. I spend most of my time talking to her now, though she can’t make the same sounds, I have a feeling she can at least understand some of it.
"Amber learned how to help me make ink! Just by adding the ashes of burnt moss into water and stirring it, but I have to watch her because she tries to sneak bites...
Amber’s fingertips slowly moved through the yellowed, fragile pages, turning them one by one until she reached the end of the diary filled with the words chronicling her childhood. Finally, the diary reached its conclusion.
At the end of the diary, Sali Randolph finally discovered the abnormality of the little creature he had "adopted."
"...I saw Amber conversing with the Shadow Inhabitants!
"No, strictly speaking, it shouldn’t be considered conversation because Amber doesn’t have full speech abilities yet, but they’re definitely communicating—Amber was gesturing to those suddenly appearing ’Specters,’ and those ’Specters’ surprisingly responded!
"Almost instinctively, I attacked the Shadow Inhabitants, and upon realizing their closeness to Amber, I was utterly dumbfounded...
"...Amber possesses some kind of shadow affinity that I can’t comprehend, and I can finally confirm that.
"She’s already chatted with those Shadow Inhabitants more than once, even dragged me along last time—she seemed to be trying to introduce me to those terrifying ’Specters,’ and I was so nervous I didn’t know how to react, while those ’Specters’ as usual showed no response, which angered Amber for quite a while.
"I even witnessed her moving swiftly from one side of the room to the other, enveloped by a force of shadow magic that allowed her to run at an incredible speed, a speed even I, as a Shadow Transcendent, almost couldn’t catch up with.
"She even entered a completely sealed room through some kind of high-level shadow jump...
"I think I’ve guessed why the ancient Gondor people would put such a little girl in a container... such extraordinary shadow power, perhaps this is what those Gondor Empire folks were ’striving’ for?
"I’m really curious about the secrets behind Amber, very curious about what those ancient Gondor people were doing here...
"My curiosity reminded me of things from the outside world. I told Amber many things, describing to her the flowers, grass, trees, and vibrant colors of the outside world, she seemed quite puzzled, probably unable to imagine those sights, but she was also very interested, appearing to care a lot about the things I described.
"I felt guilty; I shouldn’t have told her those things... she really wants to go out, wants to see the outside world, though she can’t express it, I can feel her emotions and thoughts, but I can’t find a way; I can’t even get out myself!
"Amber has been restless these days, starting to create shadow-covered whirlpools and rifts in the room, I told her it’s very dangerous, but she doesn’t listen—I don’t know what she’s trying to do, but it’s really, really dangerous!
"...Maybe this is my last diary entry in the Shadow Fortress.
"After being trapped for so long, after being forsaken by the gods for so long, after even I abandoned hope... I never thought this day would truly come—
"Amber has opened a rift leading to the outside world!
"Although it’s still slowly growing and not yet large enough to pass through, it’s right in front of my eyes—bright sunlight and vivid colors are right across the rift!
"Goodbye, this cursed place!!"
The diary ends here, the following pages are blank.
The room fell into dead silence; after even the sound of turning pages vanished, it was as quiet as a faded oil painting.
After a few minutes of unbearable silence, it was Pittman who first spoke, breaking the silence: "...When I first saw Sali Randolph, he was lying weakly in the wilderness, his clothes in tatters, hair and beard both long, as if he’d been surviving in the wild for years, and you sat quietly next to him, draped in a ragged cloth, neither crying nor fussing, your quietness was scary.
"At that time, I was evading pursuit, barely able to save my own life, and upon encountering you in the wild, my first instinct was to leave quickly, letting you fend for yourselves in the wilderness...
"But just as I was about to leave, you suddenly moved, grabbing my robe—you know? You seemed only about four or five years old in human terms, but your strength was astonishing. You pulled at me as if you wanted me to save the dying person beside you. At that time, you couldn’t speak much, merely making some hoarse noises, completely unlike any human sound."
"I was very tense and afraid at that time, and I used all my strength to shake you off, but you climbed up again and hurriedly presented me some things."
Amber finally raised her head slightly and looked at Pittman: "What things?"
"A heap of gray-black ’moss’," Pittman grinned, his face wrinkling like a patchwork quilt, as if the matter was truly comical, "I took quite a while to understand your intention; you were offering the moss as payment to save the person beside you.
"I will always remember your expression back then; you were holding that moss as if handing me a handful of gold—
"You made me laugh, and then... my heart softened, I’ve never managed to shake off you two since."
Amber’s eyes carried a trace of bewilderment: "I... don’t remember at all."
"Of course you don’t remember, your memory didn’t stabilize until six years later, and before that, it took you four and a half years to learn your first word," Pittman shook his head, letting out a sigh, "because your soul is synthesized—you are an Artificial Human!"