I, the Final Boss of the Beta Server!

Chapter 147: I Came From an Era Long Forgotten by the “Shoreguards”

Present world, Arcane Tower, Hall of Ages.

The luminous screen had unfolded like rippling water, generating layer upon layer of shimmering waves, and it reflected everything that was happening in the Nightworld at this moment.

A young man stood towering above the distant sky, casting a majestic gaze down upon the earth.

Although it was morning, the frozen dusk had already overwhelmed the burning daylight, obscuring the entire firmament.

And upon the wasteland—

A silver‑haired girl looked up at the youth in the distant sky, and the brilliance in her emerald‑green eyes had completely arrested.

She did not flee, nor did she trigger another time rewind; she simply stood there, dazed and motionless.

“Wahaha, Rast’s aura is kinda… intimidating,” someone chuckled.

“He has sealed one of the Three Divine‑Ascension Keys—the God’s Scepter of Death God’s Holy Grail—and in just three years ascended to the throne of the Underworld, absorbing the Holy Grail and the faith of the myriad departed into himself.”

“This guy’s divine rank must be at the peak of the Sixth Tier… no, considering he’s currently within the Underworld, even an ordinary Sixth‑Tier pinnacle might not compare to him.”

Dean Silver, watching the figure high above on the screen, picked up a dried fish with his furry paw, brought it to his mouth, and pointed at the projection as he spoke.

The authority of the Death God’s Holy Grail, the added bonus of holding rulership within the Royal City’s Sovereign Domain, and the ability to command the lingering power of that Death‑God Remnant.

With those three combined, if Rast were to truly seal the other Sacrosanct Grail—the final Divine‑Ascension Key—he might even ascend to the rank of a fledgling Legendary.

At that thought, Dean Silver’s gaze sharpened.

His fluffy, snow‑white tail swept across the picnic cloth, gathering all the grilled fish and large bottles of “Happy Water” into a neat pile.

With such power, surely he wouldn’t come here to snatch my food, right?

Beside him, Ophelia watched the picnic spread and the ferret‑like Dean who, lost in a food‑guarding fantasy, had begun puffing indignantly; on her metallic form born of undying mercury, she also couldn’t help showing an exasperated expression.

Even though she herself might predate the founding of Starfall University, she still had to put up with this ferret’s malicious cuteness and infantile antics in front of her…

Damn you, ferret, you little…!

Ophelia felt that after spending so much time with Dean Silver, even her sharp intellect—one that could spar and gain upper hand against the noble families of the Imperial Capital—was being melted into a goo by this ferret.

“Little ferret, you’re overthinking,”

the mercury form, shaped into a girl, humanely brushed her forehead and said, “Unless it’s a transcendent item or crest‑attire granted by Nightworld certification as a mission reward,”

“everything obtained within the Nightworld is but a phantom echo of history, unable to be brought back into the present world.”

“Whether it’s the Death God’s Holy Grail obtained in the Nightworld, or the faith‑power from the Old Era, or the remnants of an Elder God’s corpse… when Rast returns, they will all become intangible and vanish.”

“I believe that as the Dean of the Magical Creatures Research Institute and a professor at Starfall University, Dean Silver of yours shouldn’t be unaware of this…”

“And besides—”

Ophelia narrowed her eyes.

The garnet eyes fabricated by her mercury form paused momentarily on the Dean, who was innocently flicking his tail atop the picnic cloth.

“I think, given Rast’s personality, he wouldn’t be interested in your pet snacks, Dean.”

Frankly, even Ophelia sometimes couldn’t tell whether this ferret was deliberately playing dumb and acting cute or if it genuinely was that way by nature.

Sure, Dean Silver was sometimes fearful because she couldn’t read its mind—but in reverse, hadn’t Ophelia also experienced the same…?

Even she, the Second Princess of the Empire, could not comprehend the depth behind this speaking ferret’s actions—its existence might predate the founding of Starfall University, and the Arcane Tower’s archives had no record of Dean’s origins.

A magical creature with perfect command of human language and emotion, seemingly immortal, possessing the unique “Moon” Sequence… beneath the adorably dumb ferret exterior lay countless mysteries and veiled fog.

Starfall University and the Granwell Kingdom had observed Dean Silver for centuries, but their only conclusion had been that this ferret indeed harbored goodwill toward present‑day humans…

And that it might genuinely be very lazy—hundreds of years spent cosied up at Starfall University, barely budging from its nest.

Yet despite all that—

Dean Silver had a corresponding entry in the Arcane Tower’s Forbidden Catalogue:

“0‑03 · Moon Beast.”

That was not the rank‑1 Forbidden Catalogue signifying legendary potential or promising future, but rather the “0” level.

Its very existence was equivalent to legend.

…

“So that’s how it was—I almost forgot.”

Dean Silver tapped her furry tail against her head: “After all, ferrets age too, and as they get older their memory isn’t as sharp as you young ones with your mechanical database assistance.”

“But since that guy’s Holy Grail can’t be brought out, I feel relieved.”

As if exhaling a long sigh, Dean Silver patted her chest with a little paw: “I actually thought I was about to be betrayed by Rast, becoming his true pet ferret—”

“And thus lose my freedom, destined to eat and sleep day in and day out… even with endless dried fish, but never again able to breathe fresh outside air.”

“Now when I think back, it still gives me the chills.”

Why do I feel that not only are you not terrified—you actually seem a bit eager…

You’re even a little regretful that you didn’t actually get betrayed, trained into a pet that just stretched out its paws for food?

Ophelia glanced at the innocent-faced Dean Silver lying on the picnic mat and then withdrew her gaze.

Whether she was acting or being true to herself, that ferret had literally become a sentient spirit.

Trying to probe Dean Silver’s secrets with just a few words was truly fanciful.

The conversation concluded.

Back inside the Arcane Tower, the attention of the duo returned to the luminous screen—the real-time broadcast of the Echoes of the Ages Nightworld.

On the screen, the youth enveloped in a dim golden halo stood alone above the distant sky, like a king reigning over all.

In fact, he truly was a king.

He was the solitary king of the Underworld, admired by all souls.

“But, becoming the Underworld King who rules life and death over all people, ascending that solitary throne… means that you will henceforth walk a lonely path.”

“No, it’s not loneliness from becoming Underworld King in the Nightworld.”

"Because, from the very beginning, he has always been alone."

Dean Silver watched the youth on the screen high above the distant sky.

In those ruby beast-eyes, the lazy, playful expression had slightly receded, leaving behind faint ripples.

She was the “Moon Beast,” growing by feeding on human emotions.

And precisely because of this, though separated by the world’s wall between the present world and the Nightworld…

At this moment, Dean Silver had fleetingly captured a corner of Rast’s true inner self.

That high-tower lone-king silhouette was not a disguise—it was also the manifestation of his heart.

Compared to the calm, approachable Rast in the present world, this moment’s him was closer to Rast’s true mental landscape.

“The iron will unaltered by countless sneers, and the solitude born thereof.”

“So then, who will teach you for the first time what love is…?”

Dean Silver murmured.

“Little Tina, Little Shiya…”

“Or perhaps someone you mentioned from Canaan—”

“Or maybe…”

Dean Silver’s beast-eyes slowly locked onto the silver-haired girl under the distant sky in the screen.

“It’s this little girl named Grey.”

Dean Silver’s whisper went unheard by Ophelia beside him.

But at the same time, in Ophelia’s mercury form, those garnet eyes also locked fully on the silver-haired girl on the screen.

Through Rast’s first-person broadcast, both Dean Silver and Ophelia knew what this girl had done.

Her name was Grey, and she came from the Shoreguards of the Sixth Era.

And apparently, she had some extremely special, indescribable emotional entanglement with Rast in previous Echoes of History.

That was why she had journeyed thousands of miles to the Royal City in Paradise, to the site of the Holy Rite.

She had risked her life to stop Rast from sealing the Grail.

Moreover, from the observer’s standpoint,

Ophelia discovered something even more startling about Grey.

“She possesses a higher-tier ‘Fate’ Sequence capable of influencing destiny and the flow of time.”

“Although in the Ruins Institute, professors had already predicted the existence and general capability of the Fate Sequence… but to see it with one’s own eyes is another matter.”

“To rewind time, overturn everything that has happened, to have the possibility to trial and error across countless timelines… such godlike power held by a human is a bit too shameless.”

“And moreover, this girl Grey seems to have some ability to mimic others’ Sequences and Night Blades, and reproduce them—”

In Ophelia’s mercury form’s eyes, several tiny runes for detection, analysis, and recording were slowly spinning.

Although it was just a brief glimpse from Rast’s POV broadcast,

But relying on Ophelia’s genius machinist mental strength and AI-assisted analysis, she still pieced together the full picture of what was happening in the Nightworld.

She exchanged glances with the ferret Dean beside her, and they both had the same thought.

Rast’s ability—

That Night Blade registered at Starfall University as “Copy Eye.”

And the ability displayed by this girl Grey at this moment was strikingly similar: both could perfectly simulate and replicate various kinds of Sequence abilities and Night Blades.

“I knew Rast was fooling me—he only has that Copy Eye for fake skills…”

Dean Silver sneered: “The guy already became immune to time rewinds, and he’s still babbling about Copy Eye, fooling his own teacher.”

Earlier she felt he’d been fooled, but had no proof—now she felt he might finally have the evidence.

“But this little Grey, did she get scared silly?”

She looked at the scene on the screen, tilting her tail in confusion: “Why is she just standing there, giving up resistance?”

Dean Silver had just made a few quips, but noticed the little princess beside her hadn’t followed her train of thought.

She turned her head in puzzlement… only to see Ophelia’s mercury form’s garnet eyes—the tiny computing runes that had been spinning—quietly halted.

And on the Second Princess’s pretty face appeared an expression of bewilderment similar to Grey’s on the screen.

Long after, Ophelia finally snapped back to reality.

“I say, Little Tina’s sister, did you get scared silly too?”

Dean Silver shook her tail: ‘Is Rast’s domineering aura really that terrifying?’

“No, it’s not because he’s going to be my future brother-in-law…”

A micro rune used for computation quietly faded from Ophelia’s eyes.

“I just analyzed the “aging” phenomenon in the memory-crystal that transmitted the Nightworld footage back here—that extremely anomalous degradation, far beyond normal usage.”

“And then—”

Ophelia’s voice now carried a faint, eerie tone.

“I finally somewhat understand—”

“The reason Grey gave up resisting, gave up rewinding time again.”

…

Far above the horizon, Rast’s figure drew closer and descended slowly toward the earth.

His body was cloaked in dim, majestic light, and his descent was not swift…

However, this time, Grey did not immediately choose to flee the way she had in the previous two timelines when discovered by Rast and trapped.

She simply stared blankly at the face of the boy before her.

Those emerald eyes that had never wavered or doubted their belief even in life-or-death dangers over the past three years now displayed an unprecedented shattering.

Until just now.

Only then did Grey fully comprehend everything that had happened to her—and the true cause of the extreme wear in her soul.

Why, though her memory recalled only two time rewinds, had her soul suffered far more wear than those two events would account for?

“It seems you’ve noticed as well, little Grey.”

Upon seeing the turmoil flicker across Grey’s pretty face, the boy’s cold, indifferent voice followed, descending like a storm.

“If I counted correctly…”

“This should be the one hundred eighty-third rollback that I and the entire Royal City of Paradise have experienced.”

The boy’s cold words, devoid of even the slightest emotion, imprinted clearly in Grey’s mind, confirming her previously vague suspicions.

Yes.

It was not the third time rewinding.

But the one hundred eighty-third time.

Since the first time she went to the Royal City of Paradise to stop the Holy Rite and prevent Big Brother Rast from acquiring the Grail… she had triggered time rewind no fewer than one hundred eighty-three times.

Yet, without exception.

Each time she rewound—

Even though she’d amassed past failures and learned lessons, which should have allowed her to avoid wrong choices and clear the challenge more easily—

She still failed once more and triggered another rewind.

And such repeated failure forced her to rewind further back, to earlier time points…

Under such high-frequency, long-span rewinds, the wear on her soul gradually intensified—

Until her soul reached a critical threshold and forgot all past rewinds… mistakenly believing she’d just arrived in the city and begun a new loop.

This cycle repeated innumerable times.

Yet, without exception—

Even with time rewind, with near-shameless trial-and-error ability… she still couldn’t achieve anything.

On this day at the Royal City of Paradise, destiny branched into one hundred eighty-three divergent, opposing pathways.

But all one hundred eighty-three branches—no matter how winding or arduous—

Eventually converged toward the same conclusion.

It was irreversible, irredeemable.

Just like the ancient mythical spear “Kún Gǔ Ní ěr”: the moment the divine spear was thrown, causality had already been inverted, the outcome fated—

No matter what attempts or efforts you made—

Building walls of steel, hiding behind Aegis shields, or fleeing to the ends of the earth—it was bound to be futile struggle.

But—

‘W‑what...’

Grey stared at the boy descending from the sky before her.

Her lips trembled slightly, uttering a hoarse voice.

Why had each of her one hundred eighty-three rewinds ended in failure?

Why did Brother Rast find her with pinpoint accuracy each time?

Even if a few initial rewinds failed because of Grey’s momentary mistake and Rast discovered a flaw—

With hundreds of trial-and-error attempts, even someone as clumsy as she should have patched all loopholes and found a true solution.

And most importantly—

Why?

Why did Big Brother Rast know “one hundred eighty-three” rollbacks—the number even she couldn’t confirm herself?

Faced with Grey’s questioning, Rast did not immediately answer.

He simply landed from the sky and took step after step toward Grey.

The horse’s labored breathing, the other passengers’ clamors within the carriage—the world froze in that moment, all noise sealed off from the outside.

Grey slumped into the carriage seat as Rast stood above her bathed in blazing daylight.

The boy and girl gazed at each other across the wasteland, the world swallowed by winds sweeping across the plains.

“Why...?”

His lips curved into a faint, cold smile.

“I think your heart already knows the answer.”

“It’s just that from beginning to end you’ve been avoiding it, never willing to admit or face it.”

Rast’s voice was not loud, yet each word rang clear in Grey’s soul.

Indeed—

This was a truth she should have realized long ago.

No being without Legendary status in the time-rewind ability could retain consciousness of prior timelines—

Except one who was Fate’s chosen, who could preserve personal will within the backflow of time like impurity or sand.

But “Fate” was a unique high-tier Sequence, a fact that Cisel the leader repeatedly emphasized.

Moreover, I knew Rast’s Sequence myself—it was “Tower,” and had no ability to manipulate time or meddle with fate.

Yet Brother Rast possessed traits that should only belong to a high-tier “Fate” Sequence.

Such an exception… within my knowledge, only one explanation remained.

And coincidentally, I had never truly known Brother Rast’s supernatural ability…

Nor the events ten years ago, when Rast and I first met in Frostwater Town—

That memory from when I was still an innocent little girl had become blurred, but I still clearly remembered Rast’s first encounter with me.

Also, when crushing the Crimson Moon contamination in Frostwater Town… Brother Rast had displayed multiple transcendent abilities not belonging to the “Tower” Sequence.

In the past, I paid no attention to this, and even if I recalled it, I brushed it off with thoughts like “it was so long ago, perhaps I’m misremembering.”

But now, recalling it once more and removing all other possibilities—

The remaining answer, no matter how absurd, how inconceivable…

Was an undeniable fact.

“Yes, your guess is correct.”

Though their bodies were inches apart, Rast’s words sounded distant and unfathomable, as if spoken from beyond the clouds.

“Little Grey, what sustained you—”

“What gave you the courage to stand before me again after three years… was the inheritance granted to you by Cisel, right?”

The boy slightly slowed his tone, softening from cold indifference to a gentler voice Grey recognized.

But in that moment,

Those comforting words, which once brought Grey profound relief, turned instead into a soul-searing curse that shattered the last psychological barrier within her.

Before her, the black-haired, black-eyed boy slowly extended his finger.

In the next moment,

A wisp of pale silver flame quietly emerged on Rast’s fingertip.

The firelight was ethereal, fleeting, and bore no killing intent.

Yet, in Grey’s eyes, that firelight was deeply familiar.

Indistinguishable from what she had inherited from Cisel—

But this was clearly a Shoreguard inheritance, stolen from the Gravekeepers… a unique spark.

And yet at this moment, another identical spark had appeared.

Just like before, once all impossible explanations were ruled out, the remaining one was the only answer.

At that instant.

Grey finally understood… the cold, aloof expression Rast wore as he gazed down at her earlier.

It was neither hatred nor loathing—

But pure condescension, as if observing ants in an experimental lab; how could a high human bother with insects?

Just as I once did—when I executed the Lost Paradise Plan, looking upon the departed in Paradise.

To a living being like me, the souls in Paradise were merely dead spirits, specimens stripped of fate and future potential—

And to Rast, people like me were also artifacts devoid of fate—fossils for archaeological study.

And because of some unknown towering power, a fleeting apparition of the past reemerged.

“Unfortunately, the spark you obtained, I possess the same one.”

“However, as you guessed.”

“I come from an era long forgotten by the entire world—the era of the ‘Shoreguards.’”

The boy’s final cold words

Sent Grey’s soul crashing into the abyss of despair.