Four Split Personalities

The end of memory is the dawn quietly obscured by the clouds.

After regaining consciousness, all that could be seen was darkness, monotonous to the point of boredom yet somehow making oneself feel incredibly murky.

The illusion of a splitting headache became increasingly severe.

This was not a good omen, but since there was no way to change it, it was ignored.

The same illusion was the increasingly blurred consciousness.

In fact, now I seem to be exceptionally clear-headed, only deliberately wanting to stop thinking because I don’t want to delve into this murky darkness around.

However, the more I wished for that, the more unstoppable my thoughts became...

It’s laughable, really, that despite having large blank spaces in my memory, I can still think continuously in this situation.

But...

What exactly am I thinking about?

This person who once thought they were nearing the end of life suddenly began to feel curious.

According to Alramis, before a person dies, their mind seems to play a carousel of important or unimportant scenes from their life, like a summary review.

But I seem to be different...

Sunrise and night hidden, moonset and stars sinking—at this moment, my mind contains only these common things.

Something must be amiss.

If Alramis wasn’t wrong, my out-of-control emotions should probably lean toward something like the Bathed in Fire adventurer team that leaves a deep impression, rather than these dull, theoretical experiments.

Yet it makes sense because Alramis hasn’t died, and neither have those who proclaim what happens before death, so it can’t be taken seriously.

It’s really laughable, like those who blindly believe in countless untouchable existences, hypnotizing, deceiving, or even brainwashing themselves—those poor souls.

It’s just like...

Someone utterly consumed by stubbornness, brainwashed by countless equally pitiable people, firmly believing in the existence of a paradise in this world, holding onto the absurd theory that as long as they do certain things, others do certain things, after falling they’ll get to enjoy in another place.

You ask him, does paradise exist?

He says, it exists.

You ask him, have you seen paradise?

He says, I know it exists.

You ask him, how do you know it exists?

He says, it is written in the scriptures.

You ask him, who wrote the scriptures?

He says, a sage wrote them.

You ask further, was the sage alive when he wrote the scriptures, or did he come back to life after dying?

He falls silent.

You laugh and say that dead people cannot write books, only living ones can, and living people haven’t died, so they haven’t verified the existence of paradise, meaning it’s at best fiction, at worst deceit.

He gets angry, thinking people like you aren’t worthy of paradise, deserved to be sent to the eighteen layers of hell to repent.

The laughable thing is, the existence of this so-called hell also cannot be proven by anyone by any means.

So such things simply don’t hold up under scrutiny.

Indeed, this world might truly have things we cannot understand, many sages indeed have their ’noble’ reasons, perhaps there exist ’Karma’ or similar concepts somewhere, but they are ultimately unknowable and unverifiable.

There’s no need to utterly deny them because if those great powers truly exist, being too obstinate might lead to trouble, but blind fanaticism is equally unwise because the most foolish people are those who are unshakeably certain about the unknown.

’Paradise might exist, doing good may bring rewards,’ rational and wise people often say so; they don’t offend anyone, they neither get punched for believing nor struck by lightning for disbelief.

He snorted with a bitter laugh, completely unaware of why he was thinking about such absurdities, only knowing that countless bits of knowledge that he should’ve known were surging from deep within his consciousness, yet they didn’t make him feel dizzy.

Those incredible things were astonishingly accepted by a more astonishing self.

But it doesn’t matter, because they’re visible and tangible, so it doesn’t matter.

No difficult-to-accept, unverifiable things appeared in his thoughts, just like that intangible paradise.

Within his field of vision, there was only the absolute of absolutes, the real of the real, just like...

"This murky Sin."

Having reclaimed what was originally his, the curve of his lips vanished, showing an expression of no sorrow or joy.

Then—

[Connection completed, reading character information]

The voice that had just terrified Mo echoed once more beside his ear, but it could no longer disturb this heart laden with Sin Karma.

"Very well."

He raised his hand, dispelling the never-dissipated reality before his eyes, and returned to the solid plains, in the moment of day and night transition when no stars were present, the moon shadowed, dawn obscured by clouds, he opened his eyes once more: "Back just in time."

[Welcome back, Chaotic Evil Mo, loading into The Realm of Innocence, good night]

With the final system message falling, the adventurer named Mo completely disappeared from this world, this young man with black hair and eyes, donned in an excellent suit of armor, reclaimed his player identity, bringing an end to this less-than-grand dress rehearsal.

Everything from those previous days seemed like a bewildering dream, though no trace of sentiment was left after he awoke.

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