The disoriented and blindly foolish wanderers lingered outside the power plant. The low rumble of the harbor's power facilities echoed through the thick fog, and the icy steam core ran hollowly. The steam itself had become part of the distorted anomaly, and the flame's protection had long since dissipated.

But "protection" itself was already dispensable in the current world. The boundary between "normal" and "abnormal" had blurred long ago. When all minds fell with the world, "reason" instead became a madman and a source of corruption in the eyes of this world. Now, the madmen gathered within the high walls, building their last refuge, anxiously watching the outside world gradually descend into darkness.

"We will prepare ample supplies for the Bright Star," Helena said to Vanna and Lucretia, standing on a platform high in the power plant, "You can transfer to the west docks—it's one of the external passages we can currently control."

"Can this 'lighthouse' still provide supplies?" Lucretia looked at the female pope with some surprise. "Do you have that many resources?"

"Yes, there's no shortage of supplies. This may not fit your first impression of this place," Helena smiled. "But in fact, the 'operation' of the entire world continues. The production, transportation, and even the 'commercial activities' in the city-states of various major materials... Every half month, a cargo ship full of supplies arrives from the border base to replenish fuel and other things for this lighthouse. Those compatriots who have fallen into a trance carry out the handover as usual, and we, the 'Awakened,' take the permits we find in the old files to transfer some of the supplies to another warehouse. In the same way, we can also call on many facilities and equipment here."

She turned her head, looking at the vast platform outside the power plant.

"Yes, this world is still running, every part... running along the old trajectory in a trance, like a large ship whose interior has collapsed, still drifting on the sea along its original trajectory under the drive of inertia. We, the people who woke up on the ship, are powerless to repair it, but at least until it capsizes, we can still 'sail' with it."

Vanna and Lucretia didn't speak for a while, unsure of what to say.

The world was already completely unrecognizable to them.

But Helena obviously didn't care. She simply waved her hand and continued, "Thank you very much for telling me what happened at the end of the world. In this way, we who are waiting on the big ship finally know what the situation is outside. Now waiting at least has meaning, instead of simply eking out an existence.

"The Ship of the Lost... is still sailing at the end of the world, isn't it?"

"Yes, the captain and Alice stayed at the end of the world. They are still moving further," Vanna said softly. "The captain is preparing for the new world. When everything is ready... you can 'blink your eyes'."

"Okay, then I won't delay your next journey," Helena's avatar turned her head and breathed a sigh of relief. "I'm going to arrange the supplies. Someone will send you two back to the dock later..."

She suddenly stopped, staring fixedly into Vanna's eyes, and only spoke after a long time.

"Vanna, safe travels—we'll meet again in the new world."

Vanna nodded solemnly, "Yes, Your Holiness, we'll meet again in the new world."

...

The howling wind had stopped at some point, and now all that remained on this ice sheet was pure and extreme "cold"—the cold penetrated flesh and blood, soaked into bone marrow, freezing the soul, and the flame-bearers in this cold wind had long forgotten the warmth of "fire."

The undead trudged on the ice sheet. In the dim night, the lamps on their chests stretched out in a winding line, becoming a faintly flickering, wriggling line in the depths of the ice sheet.

Frem stood on a hastily built platform, gazing at the distant ice. At the end of his vision, the towering silhouette of the Cathedral Ark stood silently in the distance. The lights on the Ark outlined a faintly shining "mountain" in the night, and the starlight-like light from the lamps flowed between that "mountain" and the ice under his feet, coming and going tirelessly.

After the icebreaking device became completely unusable, the flame-bearers used the explosives they carried to break through the next section of ice. After the explosives were used up, the Ark used its surging power and solid armor to crash through another section of road, and after that, its power system finally stopped completely—even though the steam core was still howling hollowly, and the airflow was surging in the pipes, the giant ship still stopped between the ice floes, on the last stretch of road before its destination.

But fortunately, it was not far from the final "focus," and was even within the range of its influence—at this moment, the last "archive" of civilization was being established in this ice sheet.

Footsteps sounded from the side, and a veiled priestess walked onto the platform. She stopped beside Frem and bowed slightly, "Eleven more have 'awakened.' They have been settled in the camp and are currently receiving psychological comfort and guidance."

Frem nodded lightly, "Yes, how are they doing?"

"Better than the last batch," the priestess replied. "It is useful to constantly convey some hints and reminders to people in a 'trance' state, so that after they 'awaken,' most people will almost immediately realize that this is a still-controlled 'situation' and seek help from the nearest liaison... This experience can be passed on to the city-states."

Frem nodded slightly and didn't say anything more, but instead raised his head and quietly stared at the archive under construction.

Engineering machinery transported from the Ark was busily working on the ice sheet, and a simple, even somewhat ugly, group of buildings had taken shape.

Compared with the magnificent Ark and the simple and solemn ship-borne church, those buildings that were almost indistinguishable from crude factories had basically no aesthetic appeal, because their design goal was only one—to strive to build storage space that was as strong as possible in the shortest possible time in an unfamiliar environment.

A soft murmur came from beside him: "Is there really any meaning in doing this?"

Frem turned his head and looked at the priestess standing beside him.

"I'm sorry, Your Holiness, I'm not wavering, I just..." The priestess shook her head, explaining, "I was just thinking about recent events—more and more people are awakening from the 'trance,' and many of them, their last memories even go back to the day they just set off. Many people asked me what happened along the way, many questions..."

"I understand what you want to say, Delise," Frem softly interrupted the priestess's explanation, and his eyes were still fixed on that "construction site." "Many people think that as long as people are preserved, it is equivalent to preserving everything, because civilization was created by people, and people can create civilization once, and they can rebuild civilization countless times... I understand, yes, and I agree even more—as the pope of the flame-bearers, I understand better than many people how civilization is established and continued."

He paused for a moment and continued softly, "A civilization without people is meaningless, but Delise, there is also a second half to that—people without civilization are the same.

"Civilization is indeed not just those cold stones and books, not just those speechless carvings, scores, and handicrafts. Those things are just the carriers and manifestations of civilization, not the abstract civilization itself. All of this is correct, but—

"Civilization needs a carrier, needs evidence.

"It is foolish to cling to the 'carrier' and abandon the 'essence,' and it is also foolish to only know the essence and think that no carrier is needed—without carriers and evidence, even the most glorious memories will always be eroded by time, eroded before people have time to rebuild civilization, and even if we don't consider it from this perspective... Delise, we also need to leave some evidence so that future generations can understand what happened in this world.

"One of the meanings of cultural relics and archeology lies in this 'notification'."

The veiled priestess met Frem's gaze calmly. Her once bright eyes had been turbid and dim for many days, but now those turbid eyes were still firm.

"I understand, I will tell your admonition to others..."

Frem nodded.

And a thin "fog" quietly appeared around them at some point.

The priestess Delise raised her head in surprise, looking at the white mist fluttering around her.

After entering the ice sheet, they had not seen "fog" for a long time.

Although the edge of the horizon was the magnificent fog wall of the Eternal Veil, unlike other border seas, it was almost impossible for fog to form on this ice sheet.

"The weather is changing..." She raised her hand, touching the intangible fog. "Does it also fog on the ice sheet?"

Frem frowned, he looked up at the sky, at the wisps of white that were constantly drifting and flowing like fluids, and after a moment he finally realized.

"No, this is not fog," he said suddenly, with surprise in his voice, "...This is cloud!"

"Cloud?" The priestess was stunned for a moment, as if she thought about it before she remembered what "cloud" meant, and then she widened her eyes in astonishment, "The clouds are falling from the sky?"

"...The height of the clouds is decreasing," Frem said with a solemn expression, but he quickly realized that this statement didn't seem to make much difference, so he added, "All the clouds are descending in sync. Rather than saying they are 'falling' down, it's more like..."

He stopped, and Delise had already understood what he meant. The priestess blinked, with a hint of unease in her tone: "The sky itself is getting lower..."

(End of this chapter)