After the enjoyable spring outing ended, in the autumn of the same year—September and October—Rosalyn embarked on a solo journey around the island.

Whether it was in September or October was uncertain, as in this apocalyptic world inhabited by only two people, time was merely tracked through the changes in seasons.

She believed her teacher could accurately gauge time down to the date, though she was simply too lazy to do so.

Certainly, her swordsmanship lessons were an obstacle to this journey. Recently, Yvette had insisted that Rosalyn practice solo, prohibiting her from watching and calling it “liberating her time.” Rosalyn suspected this decision stemmed more from the slow pace of her learning challenging Yvette’s pride.

Indeed, even a teacher looking for excuses could be so adorable.

However, Rosalyn was concerned about what her teacher would eat and drink while she was away.

Despite her worries, Yvette confidently assured her that there was no need for her to fret about it; she was soon put at ease.

Of course, her teacher had survived alone for hundreds of years—why should she worry? Moreover, many of the culinary ideas came from Yvette, with Rosalyn merely executing the final touches. If Yvette rarely cooked, it was merely to give her student the chance to serve her and repay her kindness.

As she set out, Rosalyn packed her things and first watered the little garden at the manor, then greeted the rabbits and deer in the animal pen. Afterward, she made sure to check on the growth of the wheat in the other fields, as well as collect the corpses of any animals or aberrations caught in the electric nets.

Then, traversing the arched street covered in wisteria vines, adorned with classical ruins’ aesthetics, she stopped under the shadow of the elevated bridge where Miss Chicken resided.

However, the original Miss Chicken had become a mystery; this area had transformed into a breeding ground for her descendants.

When Rosalyn arrived, the second-generation birds were playfully flapping about an ugly centipede over a meter long, covered in strange eyes. This centipede had likely consumed some aberrant flesh recently and had only recently mutated, moving clumsily enough that it was easily toyed with by a group of wild chickens. Rosalyn couldn’t help but intervene after seeing one of the second-generation birds nearly meet its end, springing into action.

Before she left, she solemnly placed her right hand over her chest and bowed, expressing her respect for the second-generation birds’ bravery in defending their home.

—Years ago, as her father departed for the front lines to resist the demonic horde, her brothers had made a similar gesture before leaving, but at that time, she hadn’t understood its meaning. Now, reflecting on it felt somewhat too late.

After living at the End of Days for so many years, the hope of returning home seemed more distant. The book that detailed the tales of the Corrupted Demons mentioned that the Aurora Belt was a rare celestial phenomenon occurring once in a century; perhaps the notion of returning home had always been a beautiful delusion.

…

Rosalyn’s island journey lasted six months, primarily taking her around the island, excluding the Ish Mountains.

The trip served two primary purposes: to relieve the monotony of post-apocalyptic life and to continuously develop her ability to survive independently. She also aimed to check for nests or third-phase aberrations along the way to preemptively guard against any potential future crises.

She traversed the center of Grayport City, observing the large pit once occupied by a nest, now leading down into the city’s sewer system, which was more aptly described as an underground river today.

The area was covered in vibrant green moss, and occasionally in patches where sunlight fell, she spotted unfamiliar creeping ferns sprouting up. Due to the narrowness of the waterway, aberrations were scarce; instead, numerous nimble fish flitted through it, and many little creatures uncommon on the surface gathered here, frolicking joyfully, resembling a blissful paradise.

Later, she passed through an abandoned town, arriving at the ruins of Ruya City.

In the past, the nest on the shallow beach spawned countless aberrant jellyfish and fish monsters—particularly evil and unsettling. Yet upon returning, the white sand beach was gently lapped by the waves, washing up stranded starfish and sea anemones. Unknown crabs scuttled in groups beneath coconut trees; if one were to ignore the nearby overgrown, dilapidated streets, it felt oddly reminiscent of a leisurely seaside vacation.

Having left Ruya City, she continued along the long coastal road, adorned with frost and snow, returning to Ish City towards the end of winter the following year.

In the outskirts of the city, she encountered the half-mechanical aberration that had attacked both her and her teacher—the mechanical giant tortoise.

Last year, after obtaining the pale tendril, Yvette conducted a thorough cleaning of high-level aberrations across the island, and the mechanical giant tortoise had not escaped her scrutiny. It was now devoid of aberrant flesh, its body relatively intact because Yvette had shown restraint, believing it could potentially be repaired in the future.

As she passed underneath the tortoise’s sealed head, she looked up for a moment, feeling that the eyes, which should’ve appeared lifeless, had a surprising glimmer of life. Particularly through the angle of the camera beneath the glass layer, it seemed purposefully adjusted, fixed on her position as if quietly observing her presence.

Rosalyn recalled Yvette’s theory that “all things have spirit,” speculating that although the mechanical giant tortoise had perished, many soul runes remained within, which granted her that peculiar sense of vitality.

Thus, being someone unafraid of aberrations but wary of ghosts, she hurriedly left the area, deciding never to return.

…

After departing in the autumn of the previous year, Rosalyn finally returned to the central district of Ish City as spring descended.

On this day, a fine rain fell, creating a gentle spring shower that made the distant ruins of the Black Tower appear like a lighthouse standing tall amid the hazy rain—unlit but guiding.

Before returning to the manor, anxious about the conditions of the second-generation birds and several farms in the central district, she decided not to go straight home. Instead, she took an umbrella and headed to the shadow beneath the elevated bridge to check on the baby chickens. Fresh chapters posted on NoveI-Fire.ɴet

Clearly, during her absence, the chicken nest had faced fierce attacks, resulting in the second-generation birds’ population being reduced by about half since last autumn, which saddened her, leading her to pause for a moment of silence for the fallen birds. However, she quickly noticed that the nests were still brimming with eggs, at least a dozen of them. Instantly elated, she grabbed three and hurried away amidst the angry clucks of the hens.

Next, she checked the wheat fields on the farms.

But how should she put it—the sowing had occurred, yet the surrounding conditions were an utter mess. Weeds flourished, stealing nutrients from the wheat; the electric fence had been damaged and hadn’t been repaired promptly. Leftover stalks lay piled to the side, seemingly inviting aphids, caterpillars, and other pests without a care in the world.

This made her puff out her cheeks in annoyance, thinking her teacher was far too lax—this certainly didn’t count as proper maintenance, did it?

But quickly, her concerns shifted to worry, wondering if Yvette was struggling with a dire lack of resources, perhaps starving and feeling faint. Without hesitation, she summoned the wind and took off, not even bothering with her umbrella, flying back to the manor in haste.

The manor, under the spring rain, appeared peaceful and serene; the lamps hanging from the trees cast warm light, bathing the surrounding rainwater in a soft orange mist.

Seeing the familiar sights, Rosalyn relaxed, planning to surprise her teacher. However, she spotted several pieces of clothing hanging from the second floor’s drying rack that had been forgotten, helplessly drenched in the rain.

Taking a deep breath, she pushed open the door and found Yvette lying on the sofa by the floor-to-ceiling window, a book tucked under her arm while sleeping.

Disregarding the unkempt wheat field, the rain-soaked clothing, and the cluttered table, this scene still felt incredibly serene, perfectly in tune with the melody of the spring rain—like an ethereal sleeping beauty, transcendent and graceful.

Exhaling a breath of relief, she tiptoed up the stairs to gather the clothing.

She was finally certain that, indeed, her teacher couldn’t do without her.

…

After Rosalyn’s six-month odyssey around the island concluded, life at the manor returned to normal. The weeds were gone, dust had been cleared, clutter organized, and worries over laundry and meals faded away.

Yet Yvette felt somewhat innocent in this. She wasn’t really lazy. The reason she hadn’t retrieved the laundry during the rain was that she had simply fallen asleep; the carelessness regarding the wheat field stemmed from her ability to go without food and her lack of a pressing need to realize when her student would return. As for the mess on the table, it accumulated to a threshold where she preferred to deal with everything at once…

It was just like some single guy filling a dirty laundry basket to toss it in the washing machine all at once—living alone doesn’t necessitate meticulousness.

Moreover, setting that aside, she had been diligently practicing her skills with melee weapons and could now avoid forming a path dependence on large-scale spell bombardment. That was tangible proof of her efforts.

But she decided not to explain these points to Rosalyn.

Because that wouldn’t fit her persona.

Well, it wasn’t stubbornness, really.

…

Time flowed like an arrow, and another year passed.

In this year, Rosalyn turned nineteen and had completely blossomed into a young lady. Yvette crafted a pair of golden-rimmed glasses for her, adding an air of scholarly charm.

Rosalyn didn’t quite understand why she needed to wear glasses since she wasn’t nearsighted, but since her teacher liked them, she complied. Plus, she felt that whenever she looked in the mirror, she bore a closer resemblance to a teacher herself than to Yvette.

Of course, considering she truly was providing weapon mastery guidance to her teacher, this feeling didn’t seem out of place.

Compared to the previous years, this one was notably serene. Through a seed vault located beneath the ruins of an agricultural academy, the two began cultivating rice, bringing them closer to enjoying the days of eating rice.

The following year, with an improved diet, they traveled to the farthest reaches of Ruya City together, constructing a quaint seaside villa primarily of wood. When summer heat became unbearable, they could head north together to escape the heat, taking leisurely strolls along the white sandy beach.

In the third year, Rosalyn proposed the idea of a maritime upgrade, a concept that aimed to transform the sea into a super training ground for Yvette to absorb aberrant factors. However, due to Yvette’s lack of adaptation to underwater activities, most of their time was spent in shallow waters, not daring to venture far.

Nevertheless, efficiency had indeed improved significantly, and both confirmed that as they continued to consume and digest, those white tentacles would surely evolve, though how long this process would take remained unknown.

…

On a summer night, with the Milky Way descending.

Stars intermingled in the deep blue sky, resembling shards of crushed glass sprinkled across space, reflecting shimmering silver on the surface of the distant lake. Insects buzzed through the grass, and occasionally, fireflies flitted by, tracing brief glowing arcs.

Gliding on her magitek skateboard, Rosalyn gracefully landed on the metallic platform of the Abyssal Base, clad in a flowing blue mage’s robe.

This was her twelfth year since the traversal, and now, at twenty-two, she had completely shed the youthful demeanor she once sheltered under her teacher’s protection, blossoming into a figure exuding knowledge, maturity, and beauty. As her teacher put it, “You’ve matured into a proper young lady.”

She found this puzzling, but since her teacher offered no explanation, she had chosen not to question it further.

Pushing her golden-rimmed glasses up the bridge of her nose, she opened the door and descended the staircase, the sharp sound of her high heels echoing on the metallic steps as she ventured into the dark depths below.

Yet she wasn’t here to explore; she was fulfilling a soft furnishing request from Yvette for their new seaside villa in Ruya City, intending to cut and gather some magelight vines.

With her long hair swept behind her ears, she began her work, snipping the vines one by one, bundling them up to take back onto the metallic platform outside.

While undoubtedly tedious, she found herself motivated; who wouldn’t enjoy the gradual process of making their little home cozier and more beautiful?

As for the prospect of returning home, she had fully relinquished that hope two or three years prior. Traveling through the aurora and meeting her teacher had been unfathomable luck. For such a rare celestial phenomenon to reoccur, enabling her to return to her family and reunite with them after all she had learned, was really too fantastical. Not even a daydream could contend with that.

Thus, after half an hour of work, having bundled several bundles of magelight vines, Rosalyn was finally ready to leave. She strolled onto the metallic platform, stretching her back lazily and gazing up at the star-studded sky.

What she saw was a magnificent aurora cutting across the night sky, like a melted galaxy pouring its splendor directly into her eyes.