Chapter 177: Rewriting the Ending of the Fairy Tale with You Once More

Present World, Starfall University, University Hospital.

"With this, the neurosurgery is just about complete."

"99% of the severed nerve bundles have been successfully bridged. Next, with some time to recuperate, his neural function should be fully restored."

The doctor in a white coat tidied up his surgical tools while pushing away the surgical microscope that displayed the nerve bundle fibers. He stood up beside the operating table and let out a long breath.

He was also a graduate of Starfall University, but did not belong to the university hospital. After graduation, he chose to serve the royal family of the Granwell Kingdom and became highly valued for his superb medical skills.

With his legitimate identity as a "Royal Court Physician", it would ordinarily be impossible for him to return to Starfall University's hospital to perform surgery on a student...

However, the identity of the person he served this time seemed to be somewhat extraordinary.

A simple request from Shiltina herself was not particularly unusual... As a royal physician, he was aware of some inner workings of the royal family and understood that Her Highness Shiltina had never liked to assume her identity as a royal princess. She never relied on that status to act imperiously or force others against their will.

However, on the eve of this neurosurgery, he received a vague hint—more like a warning.

The hint came from the Empire’s second princess, Her Highness Ophelia.

As for the content of the hint... it made this court physician seriously suspect that if he botched the operation, his entire family might be cemented into pillars and sunk into the bay outside the Imperial Capital the next morning.

Of course, the actual hint he received was not so blunt or violent.

But considering the rumors in the Imperial Capital about the true nature of the "little swan" of the Empire—Her Highness Ophelia—combined with her fearsome reputation that could stop noble children from crying...

The physician felt that this was not his groundless imagination or needless anxiety.

In truth, upon seeing the patient’s real condition, the difficulty of the surgery far exceeded the expectations of this Royal Court Physician.

As a graduate of Starfall University, his Night Blade was called "Molecular Scalpel". Although named a blade, this Night Blade did not possess any formidable offensive power.

The greatest utility of the Night Blade "Molecular Scalpel" was that it allowed him to perform ultra-precise microsurgical procedures at a molecular level—for instance, carving a lifelike statue of His Majesty Allen on a single strand of hair was entirely possible.

Thanks to such a unique Night Blade, he had become a medical authority in the fields requiring extremely high precision, such as minimally invasive and neurosurgeries. Over his lifetime, he had performed countless operations and treated countless complex illnesses.

Yet even so, the surgery he had just completed was among the most challenging of his entire medical career.

Fine root-like structures had penetrated the patient's entire nervous system. Although they had long since withered, the nerve fibers throughout the body had been torn in a radial pattern under the roots’ influence, spreading from the chest to the extremities.

Every inch of blood vessel had been invaded and shattered by the withered plant roots, with more than eighty percent of the nerve bundles completely severed.

Just using the "Molecular Scalpel" Night Blade to thoroughly remove the remnants of the withered plant roots from the patient’s blood vessels and nerve endings took an entire day and night.

Following that, sewing the patient’s damaged organs, repairing the torn blood vessels, and bridging the severed nerve junctions raised the surgery’s complexity exponentially.

The entire operation lasted for seven days and seven nights, with six assistant doctors taking turns. Had this Royal Court Physician not been a Starfall University graduate and an extraordinary being who had undergone trials in the Nightworld... he might have collapsed on the operating table long ago.

Nevertheless, the surgery, which involved the lives of two individuals, had finally been completed.

In this way, not only would he avoid punishment from Her Highness Ophelia, he might even receive a reward.

The physician exhaled deeply, storing away his tools. In the medical waste bin beside him, blood-soaked cotton balls and gauze were strewn everywhere.

While organizing the surgical instruments and equipment, his gaze fell upon the patient information form and he could not help but speak:

"Rast, second-year student at Starfall University, enrolled for half a year, nineteen years old..."

"Dean Silver, are you certain this junior of mine is truly only nineteen?"

The nerve and vascular reconstruction surgery demanded extremely high precision, typically requiring the patient to be under full anesthesia. Otherwise, even the slightest reflexive pain response could nullify all previous efforts.

But for a neurosurgery involving eighty percent of the body's nerves and blood vessels, even a Royal Physician had no absolute confidence. After completing each segment of nerve and tendon repair, the patient had to be able to confirm whether the neural function had been properly restored, to evaluate the surgical results.

Initially, the physician planned to divide the surgery into multiple stages, anesthetizing the patient each time to fix only a small section, confirming functionality before proceeding with the next stage.

But this patient named Rast had outright rejected the proposal, insisting the surgery be done without anesthesia.

When the physician first heard this request, he nearly blacked out, thinking to himself that his long career was finally coming to an end and already envisioning himself as a concrete block sinking into the sea after a failed surgery.

After all, as a Royal Court Physician, he had seen too many veteran officers and generals who boasted they could endure surgery without anesthesia after downing a bottle of strong liquor—only to bawl like a two-hundred-pound child the moment the scalpel touched them.

But no one had expected that throughout the entire surgery—let alone writhing in pain—this patient hadn’t even furrowed his brow once. He merely watched in silence as his blood vessels were torn apart, the severed nerve endings peeled away from the neural sheaths, then sutured back together.

"Mm, maybe, probably, should be nineteen, I guess..." On the distant windowsill, a massive ferret flicked its fluffy tail. "Anyway, that’s what’s registered on the Starfall University obelisk."

By standard procedure, such a major surgery required a guardian or relative to be present, yet somehow... Dean Silver, the ferret whom this Royal Court Physician had encountered back in his student days, had taken up the role of the patient’s guardian.

This only made him even more curious about the true identity of this junior, Rast, whom he had just operated on.

To think he was entangled with both royal princesses and Dean Silver.

"Anyway, just assume he really is nineteen and be done with it."

Dean Silver growled threateningly, "Don’t ask what you don’t need to know. Once you’re out of here, don’t talk nonsense either. Of course, if you’re not afraid of retribution from a certain scheming little princess, then go ahead."

Rast’s identity and origins were directly tied to the secrets of the Nightworld, bearing the highest level of confidentiality. Even across the entire Present World, fewer than five people truly knew the truth, and of course, Dean Silver would never reveal it to this Royal Court Physician—

Rast’s real age remained a mystery to this day, even to himself.

"Understood, understood."

"Though I’ve already graduated from Starfall University, there’s a saying—once a teacher, always a father. Of course, I’ll obediently follow Dean Silver’s guidance."

The Royal Court Physician nodded and bowed, clearly showing the signs of someone who had been bullied quite a bit by Dean Silver during his student years.

"Didn’t remember you being so smooth and fawning back in the academy. Turns out becoming a Royal Court Physician and hanging around that old geezer Allen really does corrupt a man." Dean Silver flicked his tail. "If there’s nothing else, you may leave."

"Understood."

The Royal Court Physician finished packing up his tools and prepared to leave. Yet, just before stepping out the door, he couldn’t help but glance back at the black-haired youth resting silently on the bed.

The so-called "pain" was an evolved sensory nerve impulse in higher beings, developed to avoid harm and danger—an instinct engraved deep in human genetics.

Thus, every person was born tender and afraid of pain.

Some, however, became accustomed to suffering because they had endured more hardship and faced pain more frequently... It wasn’t that they feared pain any less, only that they could bear it more.

It was difficult to imagine what a youth of "nineteen," as Dean Silver claimed, must have gone through to remain expressionless even when his nerve endings were being tugged—defying that biological instinct.

Had the physician not personally opened up the youth’s body, stitching every inch of tendon, blood vessel, and organ... he might have assumed the patient was a robot.

A machine with a human appearance.

...

Once the Royal Court Physician had left the university hospital, Dean Silver leapt down from the window and onto the bedside cabinet next to Rast’s bed.

"You little rascal..."

Dean Silver sighed but seemed unsure what more to say. "You always end up like this—covered in wounds. It’s like this hospital’s become your second home."

Its tail rested idly on Rast’s shoulder. "I’ve been here so long, even my dried fish snacks reek of disinfectant. I’ve lost my appetite. You’d better treat me to a feast once you’re discharged."

On the bed, Rast didn’t respond to Dean Silver’s complaints.

He simply closed his eyes slightly, and only after a long pause did he softly speak again. "Akxia... how is she?"

According to his last memory in the Nightworld, Akxia should have successfully exited the Nightworld and returned to the current timeline—thus restoring the correct history.

However, that was merely his assumption. No one could be sure whether the Nightworld might pull another stunt like it had with Queen Helen.

"Mm, Little Shiya has returned safely as well."

"Her physical condition was far better than yours when you came back—with all your organs and blood vessels shattered, hanging on by a thread... She was merely weakened from prolonged slumber and recovered enough to be discharged after a few days of rest."

Dean Silver stood at the bedside like a cat, licking its small paw. "She and Little Tina came to visit you several times, but you were undergoing nerve repair surgery then, so I kept them out."

"As for her identity, we’ve already investigated. We’ve gathered a general idea."

"Though the Nightworld is mysterious, it never acts without cause. For Little Shiya to abruptly assume Queen Helen’s identity after entering the Remnant of the Age of the Sixth Era... there must be a reason behind it."

"Based on my deduction, Little Shiya and that Queen Helen aren’t past and reincarnated versions of each other—none of that vague spiritual nonsense."

"Rather, it’s because... they are the same person."

"That Queen Helen—was Little Shiya’s identity back in the Sixth Era, before she lost her memories and powers."

Dean Silver swayed her tail. “Within Little Shiya’s body, the Divine Bloodline of the Old Death God indeed flows. She was the Perfect Vessel created by that Old Death God, and as early as the Sixth Era, she lived in the world under the identity of Queen Helen.”

“However, in true history, that Old Death God had not yet reached the chance for revival before the Sixth Era came to an end.”

“And Little Shiya then fell back into the Nether Abyss, entering a prolonged slumber and self-imposed seal, lasting until the end of the Sixth Era… when the Seventh Era, the age we now live in, began.”

“Little Shiya was discovered and adopted by the old headmaster during an exploration of certain ruins… Now it seems, the ruins where Little Shiya was found may very well have been the Royal City of Paradise from the Sixth Era, which also lies in the Nether Abyss—the place where Little Shiya sealed herself and slept.”

Dean Silver paused slightly. “Though we had our suspicions in the past—such as the organization 'Gravekeepers' persisting into the present day—those were just speculations, never truly confirmed.”

“And Little Shiya is the first person we have verified to have truly crossed that 'Pale Body'—someone who survived from the ancient eras reflected by the Nightworld all the way to today.”

At this point, a look of seriousness flickered in Dean Silver’s ruby-like beast eyes.

This was an unprecedented discovery, one that could be called a milestone in Starfall University’s exploration of the Nightworld.

And through this discovery, Starfall University finally confirmed that the many historical reflections mirrored by the Nightworld were not illusions of another time and space, but were directly connected to their world and to the Present World.

It was a strand of real history, passed down to this day. And Akxia was a witness to both the Sixth Era and the Seventh Era—holding historical research value beyond imagination.

“Unfortunately, it seems Little Shiya also lost most of her power and nearly all of her memories during that slumber across the entire era.”

As she spoke, Dean Silver couldn’t help but shake her head with some regret.

“Not only did her strength fade with time, she also long forgot everything she experienced during the Sixth Era… If not, we might have learned some secrets earlier.”

“For example, the final fate of the Sixth Era civilization, and what sort of Final Catastrophe that era ultimately faced.”

Dean Silver shook her head for a while, then as if remembering something, spoke again:

“Oh right, Little Shiya asked me to pass you a message…”

“When your injuries are healed and you’re discharged—”

“She wants to see you again, there.”

As she spoke, Dean Silver puzzledly swayed her tail. “Yes, she said ‘there’... but I didn’t catch where she meant since I was preoccupied with your surgery at the time.”

The Little Snow Ferret pulled out a smart terminal from her sub-dimensional space, wrapped her tail around it, then unlocked it with her paw print and was about to open the chat app. “I’ll go ask her for you…”

“No, Dean Silver, it’s fine.”

But the Little Snow Ferret’s action was gently stopped by Rast’s soft voice.

He looked at the touch screen of the smart terminal in his hand, where the map application had popped up. “I think I know where Akxia meant.”

The Sixth Era and the Seventh Era of the Present World.

A full era, spanning thousands or even tens of thousands of years, could indeed change many things.

Enough to let once-prosperous kingdoms fall, becoming ruins buried in dust… enough to let once-passionate and radiant ideals fade, degrading into grotesque and hideous distortions.

But there were always things that would never change.

Rast’s gaze fell on a corner of the map application.

He had already discovered during his entry into the Sixth Era that though place names had changed many times with civilization’s progress and the passage of time,

many of the terrain and outlines of the real world still vaguely resembled those from the Sixth Era—like the Fractured Coastline, like the Endless Sea…

and like the outskirts of the Royal City of Paradise, that cliff bathed in the faint golden light of the setting sun.

Even if Paradise had perished and the Royal City reduced to dust, that high mountain still stood silently, unmoved by the shifting times.

“On that cliff…”

Rast’s murmur was so quiet that even Dean Silver beside him hadn’t heard it.

“To write once more, the story of the caged bird and the boy—of you and me…”

“That final, fairy tale ending?”

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