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The Golden Hour.
Sol and Sparkle leaned close together, chatting idly about a hundred amusing anecdotes from Penacony.
Silver Wolf, meanwhile, stared at the data cascading like a waterfall, performing real-time error correction.
She said irritably, "Don't you two think this is a bit much?"
Clearly, these two were the real culprits behind smashing up the Golden Hour—so why did it feel like she was the only one actually working now?
She felt like she was being used as a pack animal.
"But you're the aether-editing expert. We can't really help,"
Sol said with a shrug, sounding helpless.
It wasn't that he was deliberately slacking off—he couldn't exactly stand there pretending to be the 'vibes team.'
And besides, even though he looked relaxed, he was actually listening carefully to everything Silver Wolf said, updating and refining more theories on aether editing. Really.
"How about Lady Sparkle makes a few Sparkle dolls to cheer you on?"
Sparkle folded her arms, blinked, and suggested.
"Forget it."
Silver Wolf let out a breath, feeling utterly dejected.
Just then—
A mature woman dressed in shades of purple appeared abruptly on the street and walked toward them.
Lace and strap elements combined with exquisite black stockings that wrapped her thighs, while a fitted purple top accentuated her curves perfectly.
Above that was a refined, gentle face; her light gray hair tinged with violet, draped beneath a purple headscarf.
"You reopened this dreamscape?"
Silver Wolf asked, puzzled.
Sol shook his head, equally confused. "After we left that day, I gave Firefly and her some time to exit, then sealed it again."
"I even double-checked—Firefly had already left, and there was no one else in the dream at the time."
He'd even taken a glance while rolling around with Sparkle—there really hadn't been anyone there.
The swan-like elegant lady placed her right hand over her left shoulder and bowed gracefully toward Sol. "Mr. Mercer, I am Black Swan, a Memokeeper of the Garden of Recollection."
"Mhm, I saw you last time."
Sol nodded slightly, then asked with curiosity, "May I ask how you got in? I was fairly certain I'd set up proper isolation measures."
"Can you tell me? This is very important to Sparkle!"
Sparkle's eyes sparkled as she spoke, full of anticipation.
Last time, she'd been forced into a frontal confrontation precisely because she couldn't break through Sol's blockade.
If she could learn Black Swan's method, she might be able to turn the tables in a future game.
"..."
Black Swan paused briefly, then said gently, "I did not re-enter. Rather, I never left after last time—I waited here until you returned today."
After that great battle, Firefly had departed once Silver Wolf left.
But driven by curiosity about that majestic armor, Black Swan had stayed behind to record it properly.
And then… she couldn't get out.
However, she believed that since Sol had sealed the place instead of abandoning it, he would surely return to inspect it. So, she hid herself within the Memoria, falling into dormancy as she waited for the Golden Hour to be unsealed once more.
"Tch~"
Sparkle pouted. She'd thought it would be some amazing trick.
Sol fell silent for a moment, then said succinctly, "My apologies."
He'd only taken a cursory glance back then—seeing no one, he'd withdrawn immediately.
As a result, Black Swan had effectively been locked up here for two whole days. Truly a prison swan.
Memokeepers really were a bunch of reckless fools who would barge anywhere for the sake of memory.
It felt like if there were ever a war between Aeons, Memokeepers would be the first batch of frontline reporters to die.
"There is no need to apologize. It was merely my own carelessness," Black Swan said with a smile.
This incident also served as a warning to her: she should pay more attention to tangible reality, rather than focusing excessively on the phenomena born of it.
Over these two days, she had missed so many of Sol's remarkable deeds. The Garden of Recollection had suffered a tremendous loss due to her oversight.
After all, The Suffering of a Masked Fool would have been excellent material.
Black Swan glanced at Sparkle, feeling a faint hint of regret.
She gathered herself and said to Sol, "Mr. Mercer, I happened to overhear your conversation just now. If you intend to restore the Golden Hour, perhaps I may be of assistance."
"When it comes to handling Memoria, I doubt there's anyone more qualified than a Memokeeper,"
Sol praised her, accepting openly. "Then I'll trouble you, Ms. Black Swan."
Originally, he was confident he could restore ninety-five percent of the original state. With a Memokeeper's help, achieving a full one hundred percent should be easy.
"With Miss Silver Wolf's aether editing, and your celestial computer, restoring this place is a trivial task,"
Black Swan said modestly. "All I can do is help refine certain details."
"You're being too humble."
Sol smiled slightly, then asked Silver Wolf, "How's the data correction coming along? Any remaining issues?"
"I've corrected several logical errors in the aether-editing framework. At least syntactically, there are no problems whatsoever,"
Silver Wolf puffed out her chest proudly. "I can guarantee that with a hacker's honor. But whether your computer has any calculation errors—that I can't promise."
"Excellent. Then let's begin."
Sol connected his mind to Artemis's data.
A blue virtual keyboard appeared before him—over a million keys, covering more than a hundred square meters, carpeting the space ahead.
Then, using electromagnetic force to channel information into it, millions of virtual keys began dancing in accordance with aether-editing commands calculated by the celestial computer.
Sol's body became like a star, radiating boundless energy to power the aether-editing process.
For him, aether editing wasn't difficult—it was like an industrialized form of [Materialization of Imagination]. Aether editing was more complex and orderly, less direct than pure manifestation.
But that very complexity and order could be handled by the celestial computer, enabling the creation of an entire world.
Aether Editing + [Stellar-Grade Cognitive Computer] = The IRL version of Minecraft.
While the virtual keyboard continued its relentless editing, changes had already begun within the dream.
The Golden Hour seemed to turn into a massive funnel, drawing in the most ordinary Memoria from the Asdana star system.
These were repurposed by aether editing as raw material for reconstruction.
Foundations, bricks, Roman columns… every element of architecture was reborn in the void.
Like a 3D-printing process.
Some buildings reappeared from the ground up, bit by bit; others reconstructed themselves from the rooftops downward.
Scattered tiles emerged where streets once lay, gradually becoming complete, until the outline of the grand boulevard could be clearly seen.
The entire dreamscape was being reshaped.
"It's like watching a creator at work."
Even Silver Wolf—an expert in aether editing—couldn't help but be stunned by such a spectacle.
She suddenly felt that all her previous uses of aether editing—adding weaknesses to enemies and the like—were laughably insignificant.
Was this world-creation the true original purpose of aether editing?
Silver Wolf looked at Sol, and for the first time, felt a genuine sense of admiration for him.
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