Rast settled back into his chair, resuming the expression he'd worn before—as if the twisted, horrifying corpse nearby had never existed.
He spread his hands casually. "Of course I know I'm human. No need for Miss Hiltina to spell it out for me."
Hiltina—the name Rast had learned from the masked woman—remained utterly serious. Not a flicker of her stern expression softened at his teasing.
Even after confirming that Rast was not some projection, but truly human, the mysteries surrounding him hadn't diminished—they had multiplied.
The Night World was treacherous beyond measure.
Even credentialed Night Travelers, favored by the Lord of Silence, could only linger within it for short periods.
Rast, ignorant of both the Night World and its credentials, had survived there for so long with a mortal body. That could not be explained as mere chance.
And he had just displayed what appeared to be a Tower Sequence ability.
As far as Hiltina knew, that sequence had long been lost in the real world, preserved only in fragmented historical records.
"When a person has an almost infinite span of time, it's only natural to want to do something outrageous—like developing supernatural abilities," Rast said, eyes on the silver revolver in his hands.
"Though Deep Blue Port lacks flashy magic or advanced combat arts… I still managed to invent a few things."
"That thing you just used… by your standards, I suppose it counts as a higher sequence."
"Even using it wasn't easy. At first, it could only be triggered by the rarest chance, when I was truly on the edge of death. Later, after countless trials and refinements, I learned to activate it through self-hypnosis."
The moment Rast had pointed the revolver at his temple and pulled the trigger was no display of bravado.
It was a mental trigger he had installed for himself. When the trigger clicked, the subconscious self called "Rast" had truly died once.
Hiltina remained silent.
Though she had also ascended a higher sequence, she had done so through systematic learning and the full inheritance of supernatural knowledge over a long period.
Rast, by contrast, had created a sequence from scratch, without relying on any inherited knowledge—an unprecedented feat.
Hiltina had considered the possibility that Rast, like the Dancer from the Shadow Sequence, had somehow tracked her into the Night World, and that the time loop was just a trick to deceive her.
Yet she instinctively rejected that idea.
Rast's familiarity with this world was too natural. He did not behave like an outsider, unlike the Dancer; he seemed as if he had lived in this port town for countless years.
…
"More importantly," Hiltina continued, "if I'm correct, when you entered Deep Blue Port, you must have received some directive from the Night World—a mandatory task of some kind."
"After all, any entity that created the Night World, whether or not it's the Lord of Silence, must have a purpose."
Hiltina nodded slightly.
"Yes. My mission from the Night World is to survive in Deep Blue Port until seven o'clock on the evening of October 9th."
She glanced at the clock on the wall. It was one o'clock in the morning.
"Compared to other Night World echoes I've encountered, this task seems remarkably simple."
"Which implies that, aside from Night Travelers potentially clashing with each other, there must be some hidden danger—or catastrophe—lurking here."
"Surviving until seven tonight will not be easy."
She had entered the hotel to gather intelligence precisely because she suspected danger, only to find that its patrons were… unusual.
Rast gave her a measuring look. "In your world, there's no detailed record of Deep Blue Port's history?"
"No," Hiltina shook her head.
"The current world's historical records have a gap known as the Pale Interval, dating back over a thousand years."
"Before that, any records of past civilizations or eras are shrouded, like obscured by a mist—irretrievable."
"All knowledge of pre-gap history comes from explorations of the Night World."
"All I know is that Deep Blue Port was destroyed by a covert divine descent. Weeks later, a plague known as the Iron Cross spread across most of the continent, originating from the port."
"The Night World contains no detailed information about that divine descent or the plague's specifics."
She looked at Rast, a suspicion forming in her mind. "So… you mean that the Night World isn't particularly friendly to followers of the Lord of Silence like you?"
Rast shook his head.
"Unfortunately, the divine descent you mentioned occurs on the evening of October 9th. Six-thirty in the evening—seventeen hours from now."
"That's also the endpoint of today in every loop I've experienced."
"In other words…"
"To survive until seven tonight in Deep Blue Port, you will have to face a fully awakened ancient evil god."
Hiltina's light brown eyes narrowed.
The Night World preserved echoes from countless past civilizations, spanning enormous periods of time. Across all eras and languages, the meaning of the word god remained the same.
Hiltina did not imagine that facing a fully awakened ancient god would yield any different outcome for her than it had for the echo natives destroyed by divine fallout.
She had not expected that an ancient, sealed Night World entrance could harbor such a peril—nine lives were barely enough, perhaps ten wouldn't suffice.
"It seems we share the same goal. That's also the foundation for cooperation."
"You mentioned the credentials allowing holders to become Night Travelers and freely access the Night World. The woman who just died must have had one, too."
"Then… let's make a deal."
Rast rose, facing Hiltina.
"I will help you complete your Night World mission and survive until seven tonight."
"And in exchange…"
He paused, weighing each word carefully.
"I need your assistance."
"To completely conquer this endless, hopeless Deep Blue Port."