The canyon swallowed sound.
峡谷吞噬了所有声音.
Every step Lin Jin took echoed back too loud,
林烬的每一步都回得太响,
as if the world wanted to remember him.
像是世界不愿忘记他的存在.
Wind howled through cracks in the stone.
风穿过岩缝嚎叫.
The light from above fell in thin white ribbons,
头顶的光线成一道道白丝,
catching in the dust that hung suspended midair.
折射在悬浮的尘粒中.
---
He had been walking for hours.
他走了很久.
No signs of a boss, no signs of life.
没有主怪的迹象,也没有生命的痕迹.
Just ruins and the sound of breathing rock.
只有废墟,以及石头的呼吸声.
---
Then he heard footsteps.
然后,他听见了脚步声.
Not echoing his own.
不是他自己的.
Measured. Even.
有节奏.平稳.
He turned,
他转身,
and there —
就在那——
a figure stepped through the fog.
一个身影从薄雾中走出.
---
Armor muted the light around him.
铠甲将周围的光吸收得只剩微亮.
A shield rested on his back,
背后挂着一面盾,
its edges worn,
边缘磨损,
but polished by care.
却被打磨得干净.
> "Didn't think anyone else was foolish enough to come here," the man said.
"没想到还有人愚蠢到进这地方."那人说道.
> "You alone?"
"你一个人?"
> "Always," Lin Jin replied.
"一直如此."林烬答.
> "Good. Makes it quieter."
"好.这样安静点."
He extended a hand.
他伸出手.
> "Lai."
"莱伊."
> "Lin."
"林."
---
They didn't shake hands.
他们没有握手.
Just nodded.
只是互相点头.
And started walking.
然后一起往前走.
---
The path wound deeper into the stone.
道路蜿蜒深入岩层.
At times it opened into caverns of light,
有时通向被光照亮的洞厅,
at others it narrowed until they had to turn sideways to pass.
有时又狭窄到必须侧身而过.
Sand drifted down from cracks above,
沙从上方的裂缝滑落,
sparkling faintly in the half-dark.
在半暗中微微闪光.
---
They didn't talk much.
他们话不多.
But silence wasn't empty — it was heavy, alive.
但沉默并不空,它是有重量的.
Lai's shield brushed the wall with a dull scrape.
莱伊的盾擦过岩壁,发出沉闷的摩擦声.
Lin Jin's blades reflected faint gold.
林烬的刀映出淡金色的光.
---
At one bend,
拐角处,
the air shifted.
空气忽然变了.
Lin Jin's skin prickled.
林烬的皮肤发麻.
> "Something's here," he said quietly.
"这里有东西."他低声道.
> "Yeah," Lai murmured. "They always hide before they strike."
"是啊,"莱伊轻声答道,"这些东西总是先藏着."
---
From the sand between stones, it came —
它从石缝间的沙中爬出——
a creature half-formed,
半透明的生物,
its body flickering like glass underwater.
身体像水下的玻璃般闪烁.
Its movements were soundless,
它的动作无声,
but the air trembled with each twitch.
可空气却在每一次抽搐中震颤.
---
Lai raised his shield first.
莱伊首先举起盾.
Lin Jin moved to his side.
林烬移到他侧旁.
The creature lunged —
那生物猛扑——
and its claws left streaks of light through the air.
爪子划出一道道光痕.
They blocked, parried, struck back.
他们格挡,反击.
The sound of their weapons was muted by the weight of the place.
武器相击的声音被这空间压得沉闷.
Each impact echoed like a heartbeat.
每一次碰撞,都像心跳的回声.
---
The fight wasn't long,
战斗并不久,
but the creature didn't die easily.
可那生物死得很慢.
Every wound it took released a burst of dust,
每一道伤口都喷出尘光,
as if the air itself was bleeding memory.
仿佛空气在流出记忆.
When it finally broke apart,
当它终于崩解时,
it didn't scream — it sighed.
它没有尖叫——它叹息.
---
Light settled again.
光重新安静下来.
The air cooled.
空气冷却.
Lai looked down at the remains — a faint shimmer in the sand.
莱伊低头看那残迹——沙中留着微光.
> "Doesn't seem alive," he said.
"看来死透了."他说.
> "Nothing here ever really dies," Lin Jin replied.
"这里的东西——从来没真死过."林烬回答.
---
They moved deeper.
他们继续前进.
Sometimes they found bones.
有时他们会找到骨骼.
Sometimes shards.
有时是碎片.
And sometimes,
而有时,
they found writing —
他们会看到文字——
etched into the stone itself.
刻在岩壁之上.
Symbols of old hunters,
是旧猎人的符号,
or warnings from those who never left.
或是那些"没走出去的人"的警告.
---
> "Think they were players?" Lai asked.
"你觉得这些人...是玩家?"莱伊问.
> "They were something once."
"他们曾是."
> "And now?"
"那现在呢?"
> "Now they're the world."
"现在,他们是世界的一部分."
Lai chuckled softly —
莱伊轻笑——
not mocking, not kind,
不是嘲讽,也不是温柔,
just tired.
只是疲惫.
---
Hours passed.
时间一小时又一小时过去.
The walls began to glow with veins of faint gold,
石壁上出现了微金色的光脉,
like the canyon itself was alive.
像是峡谷本身在呼吸.
The hum under their feet deepened.
脚下的嗡鸣越来越深.
Lai stopped.
莱伊停下.
> "This isn't the end," he said.
"这还不是尽头."
> "No," Lin Jin replied. "It's the beginning."
"不是,"林烬答道,"这是开始."
---
They didn't find the boss that day.
那天,他们没有找到Boss.
Only a broken altar buried in dust,
只发现一座埋在尘土下的破碎祭坛,
and the remains of a guardian long gone.
以及一个早已失效的守卫残骸.
Its core had cracked open — empty.
它的核心已经裂开——是空的.
The energy inside had vanished.
其中的能量,早被抽干.
---
Lai crouched beside it,
莱伊蹲下,
running his hand along the fractured metal.
手指划过断裂的金属.
> "Feels like someone got here first," he said.
"感觉有人先来过."他说.
Lin Jin didn't answer.
林烬没回应.
He was staring at the faint handprint burned into the stone beside it.
他盯着祭坛边那道烧灼的手印.
It wasn't fresh —
那不是新的——
but it hadn't faded either.
却也没褪色.
As if the world refused to forget it.
像是世界拒绝将它遗忘.
---
They stood in silence.
他们站在沉默里.
Two hunters.
两个猎人.
One shield. Two blades.
一面盾,两把刀.
And a world that breathed in its sleep.
以及一个沉睡中依然呼吸的世界.