Chapter 83
Chapter 83
-----------------------------------------------------------------
Translator: True Detective
Chapter: 83
Chapter Title: Echoes of the Past
-----------------------------------------------------------------
Darkness.
All around was darkness.
“Anyone there?”
“Is anyone here?”
Celia panted, looking around in bewilderment, but everything was pitch black, not even a hand in front of his face. After a moment, he tentatively groped forward. He walked for a while before spotting a faint glimmer of light ahead.
What was that?
Celia hurried forward, soon stumbling into a staggering run. The light grew larger, brighter, until suddenly the view opened up before him. He realized he had plunged into—a pool of water.
The pale blue liquid was warm and clear like amniotic fluid. Celia instinctively thrashed upward, only to hear the world around him shatter with a splash.
“He’s out!”
“Sample One is out!”
“Medical team on standby—prepare full-body scan!”
Vague shapes of countless people rushed about, shouting. Many feet pounded across the ground in front of his eyes. Celia squeezed his eyes shut in dizziness, then opened them again, repeating the motion forcefully until a crisp voice rang out beside him: “Are you out?”
He looked up blankly, wet hair drooping over his eyes. Blurrily, he saw a little girl in a bubble skirt squatting in front of him.
“What’s your name?” she asked.
“...”
Celia opened his mouth, but for some reason, no sound came from his throat.
“Stay back, Edna.” An elderly man stepped forward then, pulling her up from the ground. He loomed over Celia, studying him for a long moment before saying gravely: “His name is Gavin—”
“Gavin Celia, White Eagle in ancient Earth tongue, the war god.”
Half a year later.
Sunlight bathed the mint fields, the sky a flawless blue. Several silver-white mechs circled high above like hawks.
The young Gavin sat on the ridge of the field. A short distance away, several lab staff emerged from the building, spotted him, and veered wide to avoid him.
“...”
Little Gavin hung his head. Moments later, he sneaked a glance upward, eyes full of longing toward the sky. The mechs soared freely in the vast heavens, and he swallowed unconsciously, reaching out toward the sky on instinct—
If only I had one of those...
If only I could fly...
The thought was so vivid and intense that it consumed his entire mind. He didn’t notice the mechs plummeting from the sky!
The silver-white shadows grew larger, clearer in his retinas. The roar of engines drew nearer, the plummeting frames streaking trails of blinding light through the air—
The distant staff suddenly erupted in chaos, turning and charging toward him!
“Stop him!”
“Grab that monster—now!”
“Someone help—!”
Little Gavin whipped around in terror. Before he could stand, a heavy slap crashed into his face!
A sharp crack, and his vision went black. For several seconds, he nearly lost consciousness. In that instant, the mechs skimmed the ground, pulling up sharply in a whirlwind, carving a perilously tight U-turn amid the gale!
The staff cursed furiously: “What the hell are you doing!”
Gavin was dazed from the blow: “I...”
The man raised his hand to strike again, but colleagues swarmed in, holding him back. Every gaze brimmed with undisguised wariness and disgust. Gavin opened his mouth futilely to explain, but under those stares, not a word escaped. Tears welled in his eyes, spinning endlessly until he finally mumbled and bowed his head.
“They say you’re a freak.” Little Edna stood before the culture tank, head cocked in confusion. “What’s a freak?”
Little Gavin’s face flushed red as he lowered his head. From the reflection, he saw Edna’s innocent wide eyes. After a long pause, he sorrowfully shrank deeper into the water.
“I’m talking to you.” Edna draped her arms over the tank’s edge, standing on tiptoe. “Where are your mom and dad? Why were you born from a test tube? They won’t let me play with you. Did you do something bad to make the grown-ups mad?”
“...”
“Why won’t you talk to me? Can you even talk?”
“...”
The room fell silent. The two children stared across the water’s surface. After a moment, Edna giggled, pointing at him with a pale, tender finger: “Little mute! You’re a little mute!”
“I... I’m not...”
“You’re not? Then why won’t you play with me? Why stay in the water?”
Gavin blinked in confusion. He didn’t know why he spent so much time in the culture tank each day—it just felt wrong otherwise. Edna’s emerald eyes were round and sparkling like green gems. Gavin gazed at her, mesmerized and yearning. After a long moment, he cautiously poked his head out and stood up from the water.
Splash!
High-concentration culture fluid splashed onto the floor, leaving deep blue droplets.
But neither child noticed. Gavin hopped clumsily onto the ground. Edna wiped his face with her snowy bubble-gauze skirt, then took his hand and ran out to the sunlit mint fields. The air carried fresh, fragrant blooms. Vibrant hummingbirds darted over the ridges, their wings stirring gusts that set countless tiny flowers swaying. Edna wove a flower crown from branches and leaves Gavin gathered, placing it on her head and twirling joyfully: “Pretty? Gavin? Is it pretty?”
Gavin nodded vigorously, his tiny heart swelling with delight.
They played on the ridge for a very, very long time that day—long enough that Gavin began feeling unwell. The evening sun pooled like endless molten gold. Edna’s little face flushed with excitement, but waves of indescribable fatigue seeped from his marrow, every bone aching with cold.
For some reason, he desperately wanted to return to the culture tank, to let that deep blue fluid envelop him. But Edna hadn’t said to go back, so neither did he.
The feeling of not being alone was so wonderful. He’d rather endure the intensifying agony deep in his bones.
But Gavin hadn’t realized the pain would soon become unbearable. As the sun dipped below the horizon, its final ray vanishing like a signal amid clashing light and shadow, Edna laughed and tossed the flower crown to him. Gavin reached out—then his heart seized violently!
He couldn’t even cry out. He staggered to his knees and crashed to the ground with a thud!
“...Gavin? Gavin! Wake up! Wake up!” Edna crouched and shoved him twice. Seeing his bluish face, she burst into terrified sobs, stumbling back toward the lab: “Grandpa! Grandpa! Help—someone help—!”
Gavin lay on the cold ground, straining to glimpse her receding figure, but his vision blurred despite his efforts.
That night, the lab blazed with lights. Researchers boosted the nutrient fluid to 400% concentration. Countless people worked through the night. Near dawn, word came: Sample One’s breathing had stabilized. Cheers and applause filled the lab as everyone stood in celebration. Only Gavin, in the massive culture tank, cracked his eyes open slightly, staring blankly at it all.
He didn’t know the depths of the waters this incident concealed, nor that he’d just danced on the edge of life and death.
Afterward, those responsible faced punishment. Many vanished from his sight forever. His treatment improved slightly—the most notable change was regular sessions with psychologists, who talked to him.
But that small perk didn’t excite him much. What Gavin longed for most was Edna’s visits. The girl with her sweet smile and lively spirit was like a dream, embodying countless vague yet desperately craved hopes.
This life continued until the end of their childhood. At fourteen, Edna faced her first heat unexpectedly.
Footsteps echoed through the alley. Gavin dragged Edna desperately around the corner. Mere meters behind, several panting Alphas pursued with guttural roars, their chaotic shadows twisting on the walls.
“I can’t run anymore, Gavin... Gavin... just leave me...”
“Shut up! Run!”
A roar erupted. The lead Alpha lunged. Edna screamed as all three tumbled down. Gavin scrambled up, yanking her behind him: “Don’t look back! Run!”
But Edna couldn’t run anymore. She knelt sobbing in despair. The Omega pheromones drove the Alphas mad. They howled and charged, faces bloodshot and feral like ravenous beasts.
In utter terror, Gavin calmed. He clenched his jaw as a strange, familiar power shrieked awake in his blood, making his outstretched hand tremble:
“Pho... Phoenix—Phoenix!”
The word was weak, hesitant, the ending note slightly off. But the instant it left his lips, the pendant on his chest rose without wind, erupting in brilliant silver light!
Edna looked up, screaming: “Gavin!!”
When parliamentary guards arrived that day, Gavin still stood before Edna, his military blade as if blood-soaked. The Alphas writhed and wailed on the dusty alley ground. Gavin panted, gazing down coldly, blood trickling down his pale cheek, his eyes chilling and awe-inspiring.
The guards recoiled instinctively, then rushed forward: “M-Miss Edna!”
Clang. Gavin dropped the blade and staggered to the wall, slumping down.
That was Gavin’s first time striking a person.
It was like a signal, a gate flung open, unleashing the angry, resentful, sorrowful, volatile soul within. Years of hostility and bone-deep loneliness twisted him. The moment he realized his power, he thrust thorns at the world.
On the Bailu Star landing pad, amid pouring rain, Edna wept: “Do you have to go?”
Her voice hoarse, Gavin waved dismissively, backpack slung as he headed for the lone shuttle.
“Why do you have to leave! They don’t like you, but you have me! If you just go like this, what about me, Gavin!”
The defiant youth didn’t pause, striding toward the shuttle while yanking something from his neck and tossing it back without looking. Silver flashed through the downpour. Edna caught it, stunned mid-sob: “This... the Phoenix?”
“I don’t need the Alliance’s crap anymore.” Gavin’s cold voice cut through the rain. “This vast universe has a place for me somewhere. Goodbye, Edna.”
“—You! Where are you going?!”
The world’s roar of rain answered. Gavin boarded the shuttle and vanished.
What Edna didn’t know: Gavin piloted it beyond the galaxy, crash-landing on an obscure planet in a distant system.
Locals in black armor, robes, and masks rescued him, bringing him to their armed base: Dark Star Warrior Hall.
Dark Star Warrior Hall—years later infamous, then unknown: headquarters of the universe’s premier terror group. And the brilliant start of Gavin Celia’s life.
In official Alliance records, Celia’s history began with master “Desert Saint” Walton. After Walton’s death, he returned, rising from lieutenant to marshal, ending his campaigns on Red Earth Star.
His boyhood in Dark Star Hall, the people he met, his tangled hatreds with warrior Yunes—none would ever be known. Not even closest Edna, Karyan, or the emperor Heinrich who killed him learned it until half a century post-mortem, dredging from his deepest memories—
“—You’re amazing. Can I know your name?”
Fireworks of flames lit the sky. Below the platform, a young apprentice craned his neck, eyes brimming with shock and admiration.
“I’m Celia...” Centuries later on Youkong Star, Celia lay in the cockpit, rasping in delirium: “What’s your name?”
Nearby, on the black mamba mech’s cold shell, the decapitated corpse sat up. Space tore a black fissure at the neck, gravity drawing the head from the feet:
“My name is Yunes...”
Scenes overlapped seamlessly with that starry night centuries ago. Time looped, wars and hatreds vanishing—
“My name is Yunes,” the apprentice stammered, extending his hand expectantly.
Young Gavin leaped down. Their hands clasped tightly.
“My name is Valeri Yunes. The elder says we’re partners from now on.”
Centuries later on the plain, Yunes’s bloody head floated above the neck via spatial rift, slotting perfectly. Eyes rolled back, revealing pupils, head creaked robotically. A eerie smile twisted his death-stiff face.
He reached out. The flung longsword floated back, slicing air to his grip.
Nearby, oblivious Osrod leaned on a rock, panting, pondering the mess. Yunes dead, Elder Mandtilas dead—how to report? Spotting Mandtilas’s distant black robe, an idea struck. He rose to fetch it.
But as he stood, ice pierced his heart.
“...” Osrod stared down in disbelief, eyes trembling in shock. Blood gushed from his mouth as he spoke: “...Yunes?!”
Yunes withdrew the blade from his back. Blood sprayed from Osrod’s chest. He crumpled to his knees.
“Fool,” Yunes said flatly. “You were never worthy to face me.”
Osrod’s eyes bulged, but he couldn’t turn—collapsing in spasms on Youkong’s barren plain, final futile struggles fading. Eyes open, he stilled.
Yunes watched coldly, then slashed the black armor, flinging heart, limbs, helmet far away. He stabbed the skull savagely, splitting it in two.
“You won’t come back.” Yunes turned, eyes sword-like on the motionless red anaconda above, at the tiny cockpit hatch.
“Celia...” He laughed, bellowing: “Celia—!”
Youkong’s wind howled, drowning him in memory shards!
“—One day I’ll return, as the true Gavin Celia... Until then, safeguard my most precious legacy. I entrust it all to you...”
Fifty years prior, Marshal Celia stood under starlight, Youkong’s breeze tousling his hair: “Why, human marshal? Man dies like a lamp snuffed—your soul returns whole to the cosmos. What do you wish to leave?”
Celia fell silent. Countless faded, vivid memories flashed—sinking deep, one lingering:
The planet, rainy night. Gavin huddled behind a massive boulder, robe soaked. Wind howled distant plains; lightning snaked the sky, paling his tense face.
Thunder and footsteps boomed. Walton approached, sighing as he clapped his shoulder: “Don’t wait. He’s not coming.”
“But I left a note...”
“He saw it but didn’t betray you—that’s enough. People choose paths. Yunes chose the opposite.”
“...”
“You’ve waited all night. Go—patrol warriors are coming!”
Gavin rose shivering, glancing back repeatedly at the rock. Yunes never appeared. Torrents washed that night away. As they boarded and left, Gavin wept soundlessly. Eternal parting—they diverged forever, opposite roads.
Utter light and total dark—no turning back.
“I...” Celia’s lips moved, words swallowed.
Youkong’s wind whispered by, waiting. After a pause: “After my death, the Alliance Guardian God Project’s secrets may vanish... That tech, forged by so many, shouldn’t die with the Alliance. Perhaps others will benefit... If new visitors land on Youkong, tell them: Guardian God’s core is on Bailu Star, my birth lab—miracle of human limits’ breakthrough...”
The wind faithfully recorded, burying Celia’s secret in the desolate plain.
Three months later: Celia fell at Red Earth Star; Heinrich ascended; Alliance crumbled; Gemini Empire ruled the galaxy.
Bailu Star became imperial capital—power, wealth centralized. Vast changes in years. Celia’s mint fields razed in war, traces lost to reconstruction, buried under urban sprawl.
No one noted the secrets beneath. No one—not even Dark Star Hall, desperately seeking them.
Like Yunes, ignorant of that rainy night, the desperate wait.
All buried in history’s heavy pages, ashes with time, scattering to the cosmos on Youkong’s winds.
·
“Celia...” Yunes’s voice trailed to a whisper.
Youkong winds scattered, drifting away. Yunes gripped his hilt white-knuckled, unable to stop shuddering. He clutched his eyes, kneeling.
“I didn’t see... I thought...”
“Too late, Yunes.” Celia had emerged from the cockpit, pale against the hatch, shaking his head with a sigh: “Centuries gone by in a blink. You think we can return to that era? It’s far too late...”
Yunes roared hoarsely: “Because I didn’t come that night?!”
“No. You know that’s not the root.” Celia paused, then slowly: “We were always headed to enmity. No matter what happened, the end wouldn’t change.”
They stared. Yunes’s eyes bloodshot, Celia’s wearily calm. Heinrich jumped down, eyes flicking puzzled between them, brows furrowed deep.
He missed the memory this time—perhaps mental threshold lowered since last mark; or denser electromagnetic winds, not yet triggered. But content shouldn’t differ much from before. Why Yunes’s... bizarre reaction?
He recalled prior visions—no element to move Yunes so.
Heinrich frowned warily.
“...I didn’t see the note...” Yunes shook his head, gasping. “Where did you put it?”
Celia calmly: “Forgotten. But that’s not the point.”
“No! Where?!”
“Really forgotten.”
Yunes’s lips trembled, despairing: “You really waited all night?!”
Celia nodded silently.
Cold wind swept the plain, mingled with fading Youkong voices. Celia slid down the hatch, exhausted: “I wanted to beg Master to take you too. He agreed, so... But I’ve always been grateful you didn’t betray me. Truly. I didn’t know you missed the note.”
Yunes hoarsely: “Even if I saw it, I wouldn’t have betrayed you.”
Celia neither confirmed nor denied. “Really? Then why kill Walton later?”
Yunes fell silent, red-eyed at distant sands. He rose: “You’re right. Irreversible.”
His movement sharpened Heinrich’s gaze; he gripped his blade, stepping toward Celia.
But Yunes ignored, even smiling oddly warmly: “I got what I needed, Gavin. I know the secret’s location. That fool Osrod and Mandtilas doomed themselves. No one checks me now. What’s my next move?”
Lightning realization struck Celia.
So that’s it... that’s it—!
Youkong traitor, Yunes’s arrival, staged memories... All his doing, Gavin Celia’s!
Twists along the way, but it landed here—his deathbed ploy for the Alliance, enduring centuries!
Celia’s breath quickened, unnoticed in the wind. After a pause, voice steady: “Do what you want. Can I stop you now?”
Yunes burst laughing.
Indescribable: bitter loss, irretrievable regret, triumphant joy, soaring ambition... Contradictory emotions tangled. He laughed wildly, unhinged, tears glinting unseen: “Knew you’d say that, Gavin. You selfish— you—”
Finger jabbing Celia, Yunes shook his head speechless. Celia watched coldly.
“Then, until next time,” Yunes quelled his laughter, straightening: “Hope it’s soon. Maybe we’ll collaborate.”
“Doubt it,” Celia snapped.
Yunes smiled ambiguously, no reply. Air cracked—a meters-long black fissure. He stepped back into it. Heinrich lunged blade-ready; Celia yanked him back.
“You...”
“Let him go,” Celia whispered. “I’ll explain later.”
Yunes’s smile deepened, smug glance at the emperor. The rift yawned, swallowing him—vanishing silently.
“—Why let him leave?” Heinrich demanded.
Celia glanced up, eyes indescribable: “When’s the Ninth Fleet arriving?”
“...If not for Glory Legion blocking, they’d be here. Why?”
Celia hesitated. They locked eyes seconds. Heinrich’s face changed: “You—you’re about to—”
He seized Celia, sniffing his nape fiercely, swallowing: “You’re going into heat?!”