Dawn Sword

On a certain day, in a certain month, at a certain hour, and at a certain minute, the world below remained as usual. The observable region was clear, windless, with thin clouds.

Gavin, in a state of serene contemplation, gazed upon the distant land from an absolute bird's-eye perspective, pondering life silently—after all, there wasn't much else for him to do.

He could no longer recall how many years or months he had maintained this state. Uncertain of his current appearance, he could roughly gauge time based on the alternation of day and night. Frankly speaking, after several hundred thousand cycles of day and night, he lost interest in counting.

Is this considered a journey across worlds?

In truth, Gavin was quite open-minded about the concept of "transmigration." It's not that he possessed a profound understanding of life and death, but when he fell from an airplane in his previous life, he realized the unpredictable nature of life and death. In a situation where death was certain, having the opportunity to transmigrate was preferable to plummeting to the ground in a box. What troubled him was why, after transmigrating, he found himself floating in the sky...

For countless millennia.

Gavin couldn't determine his current state. He couldn't shift his perspective, nor could he sense the existence of his body. In fact, apart from sight, he had completely lost his ability to perceive the external environment. Therefore, he couldn't ascertain if he was a lingering soul or a celestial corpse floating in orbit. One thing, however, was certain—he wasn't floating there in a normal human state.

Because he was sure that a normal human's mental structure couldn't endure floating in the sky with clear thoughts and intact memories after countless millennia.

Normal people would have gone mad long ago.

But he didn't; not only did he not go mad, but his memory was exceptional.

Countless eons had passed, yet time hadn't eroded Gavin's memory. Today, he could vividly recall the final moments of his previous life—piercing screams, alarms, the violent shaking of the cabin, the tumultuous sky and earth outside the porthole, the neighboring passenger struggling with a malfunctioning breathing mask, and the thunderous roar as the plane disintegrated in mid-air.

Everything was as clear as if it happened yesterday. After that thunderous roar, he opened his eyes once again, only to find himself floating above an unfamiliar celestial body.

From the moment he reopened his eyes, he knew he wasn't gazing at Earth's land and oceans. So, he took some time to deduce and accept the fact that he had arrived in another world. Subsequently, he invested even more time in figuring out how to stop himself from floating aimlessly.

Regrettably, the second task was unsuccessful.

He found himself "fixed" or, more accurately, devoid of mobility. He became a "fixed perspective" overlooking the land, firmly restricted to his current position. He could observe the land, but only the land; he could even observe a delimited area on the land—an irregular continent surrounded by an ocean. Yet, he couldn't rotate his line of sight left or right, and thus, he couldn't confirm whether there was other land beyond that ocean. For the same reason, he hadn't been able to glimpse the night sky of this world.

He wasn't even sure if there were other celestial bodies in this world—turning his head might reveal an old man with a white beard holding a spotlight, illuminating everything.

Oh, how he wished to swim...

Even if after swimming, all he could see was an old man with a white beard holding a spotlight.

However, all hopes were in vain. The fixed perspective couldn't change direction.

Yet, after considerable effort, Gavin found a manipulable aspect of this perspective—although he couldn't turn it left or right, he could zoom in and out within the field of view, bringing his perspective closer or farther away.

Upon discovering this capability, he was elated for a long time. He then attempted various zoom levels within his visual range. Although even at the maximum distance, he couldn't observe anything beyond that circle of ocean, at least he could choose to zoom in and see what existed on that continent.

It was lush and vibrant, evidently teeming with life.

If only he could witness the daily lives of the inhabitants of this realm. Although he could only float here, at least observing the customs of this alien world would alleviate some boredom, wouldn't it?

He then zoomed in to the closest level, observing the details of the land, every blade of grass and every tree.

On that day, he despairingly discovered that the mammalian creatures on the land...

Had yet to evolve to walk upright...

But it was fine; Gavin was patient. Perhaps in his previous life as a human, he had limited patience. Still, after transmigrating into a fixed perspective, he discovered an enormous reservoir of patience within himself.

He waited until the day those primates learned to walk upright.

Then, after many years, he witnessed the birth of the first artificial fire on the land.

It was fire-making with flint.

Change, it seemed, occurred after the birth of that fire.

Gavin didn't know what had happened, but after the first fire was kindled on the land, he felt that everything suddenly "accelerated," or rather, his own perception of the passage of time became skewed—events on the land began to rapidly evolve, like a video played at countless times its normal speed. He saw humanoid races swiftly constructing primitive tribes, and these tribes evolved into early city-states. He witnessed humanoid races mastering incredible abilities, using seemingly magical techniques to expand territories. However, before he could comprehend what exactly happened on the land, those early kingdoms one after another turned into ruins, and new humanoid beings proliferated from various corners of the ruins...

The pace kept accelerating, and Gavin gradually found it challenging to process the massive amount of information he saw. He witnessed dragon-like creatures abruptly entering his field of view, yet he couldn't discern whether these "dragons" had evolved on the continent or came from beyond the ocean.

He observed the rise of bladed warfare, where conflicts almost incinerated the entire land, but in the blink of an eye, new civilizations were established.

Afterward, over a considerable span of time, he realized that it wasn't the pace of events on the land that had quickened, but rather, he was "skipping" through vast amounts of information.

His "observation" was becoming intermittent. Initially continuous observations transformed into recording a few scenes every few years, or even decades. The cumulative effect of these scenes presented an illusion of accelerated progress.

He hadn't been aware of this because during the periods when his observational perspective was interrupted, his own thoughts also ceased.

And when the observational perspective restarted, his thoughts seamlessly continued.

Hence, he was entirely unaware of the issue that had occurred within himself.

Must escape.

These three words flashed in Gavin's mind like lightning, though this lightning-like thought likely took hundreds of years to transpire.

Because he clearly witnessed the ever-changing landscapes on the land—just as the three words emerged in his mind, another kingdom went from prosperity to ruin.

Gavin didn't understand what was happening, but he knew it wasn't normal. From those rapidly passing scenes with time spans

counted in centuries, he realized his ability to think was slowly disappearing.

Every hundred years, the cumulative time he could devote to contemplation probably amounted to less than a second.

Moreover, his "thought interruption period" was continually extending.

As he recognized the extraordinary leaps taking place on the land, with the "slides" switching so rapidly that they were becoming incomprehensible, he realized his thinking was on the verge of vanishing.

Perhaps, at some moment in the future, the mind named "Gavin" would completely dissipate in this inexplicable place, sinking into eternal slumber and forever losing the chance of restarting.

For the first time in countless millennia, Gavin felt an urgency. He began frantically driving his thoughts, attempting to escape from this situation. He felt his mind racing at a speed (if he still had that organ) that produced an outpouring of countless thoughts. However, watching the rapidly switching "slides" on the land, he knew his thoughts were slowing down to the point of waiting a thousand years for each frame.

Certainly, this might be an exaggeration, but the reality wasn't much better.

Escape from this situation, escape from this situation, escape from this situation, escape from this situation...

No matter what method, in whatever form, he must escape from this situation. Even if it meant returning to that falling airplane about to crash, he couldn't accept dying in this inexplicable place in such a mysterious way!

Gavin felt his thinking becoming chaotic, his consciousness gradually blurring. The once "seamless" train of thought seemed to be encountering issues, and he fervently contemplated. Yet, as a transmigrated entity with a fixed perspective, no matter how furiously he thought, he couldn't change his predicament.

But at the moment when he felt his thoughts were about to dissipate or come to a standstill, a voice suddenly emanated from an unknown source:

"Energy malfunction, mainframe reboot failure.

Escape program initiated."

In the next moment, that fixed perspective disappeared—Gavin was surrounded by darkness.

But his thinking didn't cease.

For the first time in countless years, he maintained contemplation even when "closing his eyes."

He didn't know how long he stayed in this darkness, feeling as if he were tumbling, descending into a cold and confined place. Various unfamiliar sensations reached him from all parts of his nonexistent limbs, throwing his brain into chaos. Amidst this confusion, he faintly heard a young female voice, sounding quite anxious:

"Don't... Please don't kill me yet! Compared to that, your ancestor's coffin is about to burst! What a predicament!"

As the ponderous stone door slowly closed under the influence of an ancient enchantment, the magical energy meandered along the grooves on the walls and floor, forming a sealed energy cycle. The nightmarish world outside seemed thoroughly isolated.

Deaf to Captain Wei's furious shouts, absent were the agonized cries of the mortally wounded, and absent too were the roars of the terrifying monsters. All sounds were barricaded by the weighty and robust stone and steel, though everyone knew this barrier was only temporary. Yet, in this fleeting moment of tranquility, Rebecca couldn't help but exhale deeply — how preferable it would be if the hellish world beyond were merely a nightmare.

However, the next moment, Rebecca forcefully shook her hair, dispelling the feeble thoughts lingering in her mind. The ponderous rocks and steel wouldn't bring lasting safety; instead, they could weaken resolve, ensnaring her in the illusion of transient security.