Chapter 1514
Is Chapter 1514 their own business?
Rewriting the ending isn't as difficult as you might think, because Ovira was originally the author of this story. So, if she wanted, she could use her pen at any time to erase the parts she didn't like, and then let her favorite characters have the best future.
At this moment, the pen that could rewrite the ending was in her hand—the very law known as mystery, the authority to grasp the knowledge of the universe. Ovira understood its power better than anyone else: with knowledge, man is omnipotent.
Diseases that have left their mark on history can be cured by past knowledge; diseases currently raging can be foreseen by existing knowledge; and diseases that exist only in fantasy and ramblings, theoretically impossible to appear in reality, are already encompassed in future knowledge, waiting to be discovered. If Ovira is willing to relinquish her authority and open the door to truth to all those with a thirst for knowledge and a spirit of exploration, then all calamities will be averted by human wisdom, even the witch's dying wish.
Can mortal wisdom create miracles? This is beyond question. Ovira firmly believes that no one can do it better than them, for she has witnessed it firsthand. Every time a poem has been passed down through the ages, every moving story, every formula or theorem that has altered the course of civilization has captivated her, keeping her awake at night. The world is unpredictable, but only human wisdom can prevail, and this is precisely the difference between her and Perec. The Plague Witch, through her own death, posed a complex question to the world, while the Mystic Kingdom chose to believe in human wisdom and personally granted all beings the right to answer this question.
But what is the cost?
If someone acts recklessly simply because they are the creator of a story, completely disregarding the logic of reality and the feelings of others, and only acting according to their own preferences, then whether that person is the creator or the young queen, they will ultimately pay a heavy price. For the former, what they lose is not only the trust of their readers, but perhaps also their original aspirations for embarking on the path of creation. Why did they write this story in the first place? Were there any people or events they wanted to remember? If the original plot and setting are altered, what is the point of such remembrance?
As for the latter, what she was about to lose was no secret; anyone who had considered it already knew the answer. Moreover, just moments before, someone had demonstrated this to Ovira, showing that while it might be much heavier than imagined, it was by no means unbearable.
Beneath the enormous butterfly wings, Ovira slowly raised her palm and pressed it to her chest, feeling the surging, tide-like pulse beneath her touch. It trembled neither in fear nor in confusion, but beat steadily, soothing all the emotions that were about to burst forth. It was the rhythm of life, so close yet so fragile, constantly reminding this girl, now a goddess, not to forget her mortal identity.
She closed her eyes, her butterfly wings drooping like nebulae, fluttering slightly.
A magnificent gate opened to her, the scene before her eerily familiar, as if she had seen it countless times in her dreams. Now, it all conveyed a sense of exhilaration, as if the entire universe held its breath, awaiting her answer. She saw the essence of the mysterious monarchy: neither a repository of truth nor a bridge for wisdom, but a measure of knowledge. Naturally, its purpose was not merely to be a vessel for power, but to tell mortals what can be known and what cannot, what knowledge will inspire them, and what knowledge comes at a price.
In a sense, this is very similar to the "Principle of the Circle" doctrine of the True Spirit School. The area encompassed by the circle is the realm that mortals can touch, while everything outside the circle is forbidden. Although mortals and the young queen are vastly different in status, their essence is the same. The only difference lies in the size of the circle. Mortals wander within the small circle, and may never be able to transcend the boundaries of their cognition in their entire lives; while the young queen overlooks this huge circle and has never been so clearly aware that it is not her cage, but a protective shackle.
Therefore, a complete mystical monarchy should include—
Knowledge and temperance.
That is the discipline of reason on the desire for knowledge, and the constraint of order on curiosity.
If one were to cross this boundary and spread knowledge to everyone like Persephone spreads a plague—those who should not have it, those who are not yet ready to receive it, those who would be overwhelmed by it once they have it—the consequences would be unimaginable.
While the wisdom of mortals is certainly trustworthy, their ambition and shortsightedness are equally frightening. While naturally powerful beings remain obsessed with their strength without seeking deeper understanding, Saint Thom and his thirteen disciples have already written *The First Understanding of Spirituality*, a systematic analysis of the spirituality of all beings, ushering in a new era. Yet, wasn't he also troubled by so-called prophecies, even making a decision that betrayed his ideals? The philosophers of the Witch's Society are all outstanding mortals. Whether it's Merlin, the progenitor of magic who created the magical system, Martha who researched refined magic, or Copernicus, Bruno, Archimedes, and others who gradually summarized many laws related to magic, despite being called Earth philosophers, no one can deny that their wisdom is comparable to, or even surpasses, that of the otherworldly philosophers they emulate. Yet, didn't they also blindly believe in Tentis's theories and fanatically promote the so-called grand plan to sever magic?
Knowledge is a double-edged sword; it can cut through the shackles of ignorance, but it can also cut the hand that wields it. When mortals grip it, they often only see the blade pointing at the enemy, forgetting that every swing can wound themselves. Ovira has seen too many examples of this: those who claim to have grasped the truth are ultimately abandoned by it; those who think they can master knowledge are ultimately devoured by it. This is not the fault of knowledge, nor the fault of people; it is simply the law of nature, like fire that burns the hand, like an abyss that swallows the voice.
Nevertheless, the girl was still willing to believe them.
Such trust is utterly irrational, even contradicting all the knowledge she possesses. So much so that the moment this thought crossed her mind, the mysterious power of royalty stirred, and the instinct called mission and duty reminded the young woman that all created life is capable of error, of getting lost, of forgetting its ideals, and even of losing its beliefs, the moment it gains power. If mortal wisdom is not restrained, then even if your actions today resolve today's calamity, who knows if they won't one day lead to a new tragedy?
Humans are beings with infinite possibilities. These possibilities may be the source of all their sorrows and sins, but in most cases they still propel people forward, giving them strength and courage. These weak lives, who are naturally swayed by emotions and ideals, can always face endless challenges and unexpected futures with lofty beliefs and fervent passion.
Ovira only came to understand this so deeply after she met that young man.
While using one person to represent everyone is inevitably biased in any era or context, we should also understand that the young man held a special place in Princess Beman's heart. If he hadn't said those words to the princess, "You've read so many books, and you know their plots and philosophies by heart, why haven't you ever thought about writing your own?" the young girl, still lost and confused about life, her journey, and her future, would never have embarked on this path, let alone imagined that her story would one day be seen by millions of people, loved by them, recognized by them, and bring them hope... Even if it's just to let everyone know that there was once a group of people in this world who embarked on such a journey for such an ideal, just such a story, wouldn't that be enough?
At least, it's better than living alone in a cold, ancient castle, only able to gaze wistfully at the words and images in a book.
Ovira recalled the chapters and stories that had once captivated her, the moving verses and theorems. Which of their creators hadn't groped in the dark, persevered through confusion, and chosen to continue after countless failures? They didn't know what lay ahead, whether their efforts were meaningful, or who would ultimately see or remember the words they poured their hearts and souls into. This path was never bright, just as punishment for speech wasn't the sole domain of politicians, and academic struggles could be even more brutal than real wars. Yet they continued writing, calculating, and seeking, like a group of people searching for light in a boundless sea of suffering, knowing the flame would eventually die out, knowing the light could only illuminate a small area, yet still advancing relentlessly, willing to burn themselves as fuel. This is the wisdom of mortals.
Ovira recalled once again the proverb her mother had left her, or rather, an eternal dilemma: those with deep emotions tend to have shorter lifespans, and those who are too clever always end up hurting themselves. But if you knew the ending beforehand, would you willingly give up your emotions and knowledge to avoid ending up like that? She hadn't sought to understand it deeply back then, but now that she thought about it, hadn't mortals already provided the answer?
The Mysterious King slowly closed his eyes.
Those eyes, which once reflected nebulae and truth, were now covered by eyelids, like a sky shrouded in night. Yet the colors they revealed remained vibrant, like the world's diverse tapestry. In these familiar scenes, in those déjà vu-like memories, she heard many voices.
Pereira's voice was as soft as a sigh in the rain: "Isn't it time for me to stop?"
My mother's voice was gentle and distant: "If you had known this would be the ending, would you have given up those precious feelings to protect yourself?"
Xia's voice was as warm as sunshine: "Great job, Ovira. You did a great job!"
And then there was Ling's voice… Incredibly, she couldn't actually hear what Ling was saying, yet she understood his unspoken meaning with an almost divine intuition. This near-perfect understanding filled her with both relief and, for some reason, a touch of sadness. For two equally lonely people, how many times must they go through trials, how many times must they exchange their feelings, how many times must they reach a deeper understanding to achieve such an experience? Perhaps, in their lives, there would never be a second time like this.
Don't think that way.
Someone whispered that her voice sounded a lot like hers, but Ovira knew it was definitely not her.
Life's path is always bumpy, but the human will makes it warm. Therefore, no matter what fate tells, you can still have your own choices. You can walk a different path than mine, have different ideals, pursue different goals, and try different methods; or become someone different from me, become that Ovira who, even knowing everything, still chooses to believe in mortals, become that mysterious king who, even at a price, is willing to impart knowledge to all beings. Become that—
People who are willing to continue even knowing there will be a price to pay.
Ovira took a deep breath.
Then, she opened her eyes.
The brick-red sunlight shone on her, carrying the dampness and heat unique to post-rain, a warmth so intense it almost brought tears to her eyes. Behind her, the enormous star-shaped butterfly continued to slowly flutter its wings, each flutter sending specks of light falling, merging with the wind, and vanishing in an instant. Those specks of light fell into the soil, into the flood-ravaged earth, into the souls of those who survived the catastrophe, and then, transformed into something even more subtle and imperceptible, continued to exist.
Undoubtedly, something changed at this moment. It was subtle and silent, and not everyone could perceive it, but everyone who could perceive this change would understand its profound meaning.
The deity beneath her wings raised her head, silently gazing at the specks of light, watching them drift away into the distance, towards the lands she could not protect, towards the souls touched by her dying wishes. She knew that from this moment on, their knowledge would no longer be solely hers, but belong to everyone willing to seek it. Those who wished to heal the ills of history could find answers in the knowledge of the past; those who wished to combat the current plague could glean clues from known patterns; those who wished to explore the mysteries of the unknown could gain inspiration from prophecies of the future.
The mysterious monarchy will no longer guide anyone, or rather, she has betrayed her mission and thus lost that qualification. Like the poets and scholars who once deeply fascinated her, she has merely lit a match in the darkness; how long it will illuminate, how far it will reach, and how many people it will illuminate—that is not something she can decide.
That's a matter for mortals.
That's their own business. (End of Chapter)