Chapter Twenty-One: The Ruins

Back then, “they”… Clearly, this referred to those fairy tale characters who had ventured into the inner ring. With curiosity growing as the wine took effect, Toasting Curiosity nudged Ashen’s shoulder, coaxing him to keep asking questions, perhaps to see whether the other would truly follow through on his words.

Ashen shrugged. Since their companion showed no desire to speak, he simply fell silent. Yet this mysterious figure was clearly shrouded in secrets; to leave without extracting even a fragment of truth from him felt like a waste. Unable to probe further with words, Ashen resorted to another tactic—producing certain special items in hopes of luring the stranger into speaking first.

He’d used this method many times before, always to great effect. Flashing the bloodvine bracelet to Little Bob, a relic of the Gardener’s lineage, or revealing the witch’s remnant soul from the living corpse’s lair to the masked man, both had provoked strong reactions. Now, he took out the matches he’d acquired from the Fairy Tale World, reasoning that since the masked man had some connection to that realm, perhaps the matches would elicit a unique response.

The result was just as he’d expected. As soon as the ordinary-looking matches appeared, the masked man’s attention was immediately drawn.

“Where… where did you get that?” The stranger’s rasping voice now carried a tremor. He even shifted away from the innocuous matches in obvious apprehension, yet his hand reached involuntarily toward them, only to freeze midair, betraying an urgent longing.

This contradiction piqued Ashen’s curiosity all the more, and he made no attempt to conceal the truth, recounting the matches’ origin.

“So, you really come from the Paradise World? That explains why your attire is so different from what I’ve seen before! If you hail from Paradise, acquiring a Wishing Match isn’t such a rare thing. What era is it now in Paradise World? 9102? Ah, I see—the timing fits. After all, time is running short. That little girl tried so hard to communicate with Paradise to preserve the Fairy Tale World. Now, having glimpsed a sliver of hope, she must be paying a heavy price to seize it.”

The masked man couldn’t help but sigh, his voice growing a touch less grating. “But how could a single sliver of hope ever illuminate the dark future awaiting the Fairy Tale World? Not long ago, I sensed a disturbance in the Forbidden Zone of Life—some spatial collision, perhaps, tearing a rift in the outer regions. In a few days, that breach will heal, and this so-called glimmer will vanish with it. The Forbidden Zone will resume its lifeless slumber, and whether it’s the Fairy Tale World or Paradise, both are doomed to face their own apocalypse.”

“Have you never considered helping that glimmer multiply—becoming two, three, or even breaking through the Forbidden Zone itself? After all, unlocking the secrets of the Forbidden Zone would surely benefit you as well, wouldn’t it?”

Ashen voiced his doubts, but the masked man snorted coldly. “Easier said than done. The moment the Nightmare Pumpkin Carriage came into being, I too became a derivative, bound eternally to the Forbidden Zone, incapable even of acting in any way that might disrupt it! Trying to feed a little sunlight into that gloom would only get me killed—and besides, I lack the power! Those who once possessed such strength are mostly dead and gone. Even if a few survived that day, they are but empty shells now…”

Though he objected to breaking the Forbidden Zone, the masked man’s tone betrayed a note of regret. “Too late. It’s all too late. There was no chance before, nor is there now. A single Wishing Match is simply not enough.”

“If one’s not enough, would two suffice? And if not two, then three?” Ashen took out all the matches he and Toasting Curiosity possessed. The masked man’s demeanor changed at once.

“Three… Yes, three is enough. Perhaps even more than needed. It seems the little girl really is paying a steep price. Could it be that the timeline has shifted? When the nightmare descended, I didn’t notice her power waning… Maybe the world’s will in Paradise is unwilling to accept annihilation and is stirring up some turbulence. Yet, even with the matches, it’s useless. You still lack… uh! Ah!!”

Just as he was about to utter the crucial point, the masked man convulsed, crying out in agony, startling the other three in the carriage. They saw a torrent of darkness surge above his head. Had he not fought back with all his strength, something truly unpredictable might have occurred.

During this chaos, the Nightmare Pumpkin Carriage happened to pass through the gate to the inner ring. Normally, its suppressive power would have allowed the Nightmare to force its way through with ease, but now, disturbed by the anomaly, its hooves flared with ghostly fire, leaving a trail of blazing light and incinerating, in the blink of an eye, a host of Giant Tree Institute guards stationed at the entrance.

Witnessing this, Ashen chose to put the matches away and abandon further questioning. The inner ring was before them; perseverance would reveal the final secret. From this exchange, the most critical information gained was the importance of the matches’ number. To strengthen that glimmer of hope, at least two matches must be preserved—meaning he could use one in a crisis without fear, knowing he would not squander this rare artifact.

At this point, hoarding the matches might even make things harder. Besides, Ashen was eager to see for himself what made the Wishing Matches so special.

Lost in reflection, he noticed the masked man return to normal. After being punished by the Forbidden Zone, he dared not speak further of the matter, and quickly directed the Nightmare to stop at a certain spot within the inner ring. As soon as Ashen and his companions had disembarked, the masked man vanished without a trace.

“It seems he still cannot let go,” Toasting Curiosity said with a gentle shake of his head, his eyes filled with regret. If he were truly resolved to perish with the Forbidden Zone, the masked man would not have revealed so many key facts, nor suffered such a vicious backlash.

“Fortunately, his words and actions didn’t match—so we’ve learned some vital things ahead of time! Let’s move on; the rest of the path is up to us! Little Bob, can you spot your father’s markings?”

Ashen lifted his gaze and surveyed the surroundings. The sense here was utterly unlike that of the outer ring settlements or the floating islands of the middle ring.

Wherever his eyes fell, he saw wide streets paved with massive stones, weathered yet unfallen stone buildings, and murals still visible on the walls. These features spoke of a once-mighty city. Though now reduced to ruins, shrouded in darkness and tangled with bloodvines, its grandeur was still palpable.

This was an enormous ancient city, yet according to the Wasteland explorers, only the inner city. Even though the map marked it as just the inner ring, its area spanned as much as a hundred football fields—nearly rivaling the Forbidden City itself. One could only imagine the full city’s scale.

This vastness favored their search. Even with the Giant Tree Institute’s overwhelming numbers, a bit of luck would keep them from crossing paths unexpectedly. No wonder the one called Thorn, the Chaos Apostle, had left special signals for Little Bob. In ruins so extensive, with the darkness suppressing one’s senses, simply standing at opposite ends of a street rendered one invisible to the other.

“Let me look…” Little Bob murmured, scanning the ground. Then, with a note of disbelief, he said, “Someone has been here before. Look—those dead bloodvines still bear faint footprints! Judging by the regrowth rate of the vines, the prints have been here a while. I have a feeling these prints were left by my father’s group! Do you think the masked man, unable to speak openly because of the Forbidden Zone’s restraints, chose to resist in secret by bringing us to the same place as my father?”

“That makes sense! Quick, let’s search!” Ashen’s spirits lifted at this. Game characters seldom made groundless assertions; Little Bob’s confidence meant at least an eighty percent certainty. Soon, after an easy search, they found the mark—a flaming leaf—once again.

“Fortune favors us.” Upon Little Bob’s discovery, Ashen and Toasting Curiosity exchanged a knowing look, the meaning clear only to them. Now, with forty minutes of game time elapsed, they had entered the late stage. The designers would never leave them lost without clues, wasting time and diminishing the experience. The masked man’s presence was meant to give players a swift entry point to the inner ring’s quest.

“Good! There’s no time to waste—let’s search for any written records!”

After the ordeal with the Nightmare, Ashen’s role as leader was firmly established. Following the marks as Little Bob led the way, it wasn’t long before they made a discovery.

The scene was reminiscent of their arrival at the floating islands—almost effortless. Yet, unlike the islands, the inner ring ruins held hidden dangers. Occasionally, patrols wandered the streets—decayed, zombie-like sentinels, yet still moving in patterns from their former lives. Ashen suspected larger forces would be stationed at key locations; otherwise, the Giant Tree Institute wouldn’t have mobilized so many.

The flaming leaf led them to a grand building resembling an official residence. A battle had clearly occurred here; scars of conflict marred every corner. After a thorough search, Little Bob found his father’s writing. However, the true meaning of those carved words brought a subtle shift to his eyes…