NABC Chapter 295 Was Sisyphus happy?
Chapter 295 Was Sisyphus happy?
"You've saved another world."
Lukurgos's mechanical body stood beside Hanlu, with a faint hydraulic hiss coming from its joints.
His pair of optical lenses, emitting a pale blue light, turned slightly, aiming at the man in front of him who had his back to him.
The metal fingers tapped slowly, one tap at a time, making a crisp "tap, tap, tap" sound. The movements were unhurried, like an audience member watching the opening of a wonderful play, giving their protagonist the most appropriate applause.
He is providing emotional value to his master at just the right time.
but--
There was no emotion in Hanlu's eyes.
Those eyes have traversed countless worlds, witnessed countless partings and deaths, and seen countless universes rise and fall, be rebuilt, destroyed and reborn.
Those moments that once brought tears to his eyes, those victories that once filled him with passion, now appear before his eyes like a stone falling into a deep pool—the ripples disappear before they even spread.
His face betrayed no emotion.
"I'm alright." Hanlu's voice was very soft, so soft that it was like a breath of mist that could be blown away.
His gaze fell on the distant starry sky, where a blue planet was slowly rotating, quietly, gently, and unaware of its fate, enjoying its newfound salvation. "I just hope... it can all end soon. Sometimes, I'm a little tired."
The Cold Dew season is truly exhausting right now.
After settling his own post-apocalyptic multiverse timeline, piecing together the fragmented universes, and even separating out a severely polluted world, he immediately rushed to the MCU universe to fill in the temporal turbulence left behind by the God of Time after his escape.
The turbulence is like a tangled ball of yarn, all tangled together. If it's not dealt with, you might be sleeping soundly at home when suddenly a Tyrannosaurus Rex—or a whale, or an entire erupting volcano—falls down from the sky.
Moreover, because Loki is not only the god of time but also the god of stories, many wonderful stories that should have ended with heroes defeating villains have begun to unfold in other ways—in any case, not with a good ending.
The hero grows old, the villains succeed, the innocent die, and justice fails at the last moment.
Each of these stories is a thorn, piercing Hanlu's heart.
In particular, a certain Cthulhu octopus started darting around, trying to get revenge for itself, and constantly causing trouble for someone.
This forced Hanlu to split into countless clones, which began chasing after this giant creature throughout the entire universe—or rather, the entire multiverse.
His shadow is on every timeline, and his golden wings flash across every polluted world.
Damn it, how can someone work three jobs?
Who says God is so great?
A self-deprecating smile appeared on Hanlu's lips.
He raised his hand and pinched the space between his eyebrows, where there was a faint wrinkle that he himself was unaware of.
Lukurgos's mechanical body leaned slightly forward, as if he were seriously thinking about something.
His optical lens blinked twice, then opened.
The voice came from a metallic throat, with a peculiar, electronically synthesized quality, yet it was exceptionally sincere.
"Sir, you have only seen the beginning of this endless journey of salvation, but you have not seen its end."
You should have already sensed it—even if it's only a fraction of your original form, your body already possesses the power of a single universe.
Once you are fully restored, your strength will be unparalleled.
His metal fingers drew an arc in the air, as if sketching a grand blueprint.
"And you can use this as a starting point to project into every universe you exist in and are bound to, becoming the concept that symbolizes civilization in that universe."
In the near future, I believe you will surely become the most unparalleled creator god in the world.
A perfect compliment.
It can be considered a bowl of warm, comforting chicken soup for the soul, served up for the Cold Dew season.
But these are not needed during the Cold Dew season.
He understands these principles better than anyone else.
For him, the pursuit of immense power was purely a means to ensure his survival in this turbulent world.
Yes, to live a peaceful life.
Unlike Uranus, who was caught in the crossfire of battles between heroes and villains in his universe, unable to enjoy even the most basic peace and quiet, and even becoming one of the characters who were forced to step down in the mud.
He didn't want it to be like this.
He couldn't imagine what would happen if, in the next version, someone updated and iterated on it, and did something like "massacre the intermediate universe," and then just killed him like a piece of roadside food.
So he is saving the world, constantly saving the world.
It's kind of like a savior from next door, isn't it? Wow, so many rice-related elements.
He only plays Honkai Impact 3rd and Honkai Impact 3rd, okay? And he hasn't played Honkai Impact 3rd in a long time.
Hanlu's thoughts drifted for a moment, then returned to their source.
Lukurgos's optical lens rotated slightly, as if observing the changes in Hanlu's expression.
After a few seconds of silence, his voice rang out again, this time with a deeper, more philosophical tone.
"Sir, have you heard the story of Sisyphus?"
"I've heard of it." Hanlu said almost without hesitation, "and I've heard it countless times as well."
The king, who attempted to deceive the gods, sacrificed the rest of his life for his subjects. He used his wisdom to fool the people, and he fooled the gods as well.
His voice was so flat it sounded like he was reciting a text.
"Alright. Then it's simple—" Lugurgos's mechanical body leaned forward slightly, his two metal hands clasped together in front of him as if performing a solemn ritual. "Sir, do you believe Sisyphus was happy?"
He asked sincerely.
The Cold Dew paused for a moment.
When a person is punished by the gods, he is forced to push a huge boulder endlessly from the foot of a mountain to the top in a desolate abyss.
But just as he was about to reach the summit, the boulder would roll back to its original position, forcing the mortal to return to the ground and push the boulder upwards.
It goes on and on, endlessly, with absolutely no chance of breaking free.
The only character currently comparable to this miserable working-class man is perhaps Prometheus—tied to a cliff, his heart gnawed at by an eagle every day.
But the problem is, a hero will save him later on.
But what about Sisyphus? Who will save him?
Hanlu pursed her lips slightly.
"We must assume that Sisyphus is happy."
Lucurgos's voice was steady and firm, as if stating a theorem that had been verified countless times, "not only because of the great deeds he performed—protecting his people."
Similarly, he used his wits to fool those high and mighty beings, forcing them to exile themselves to such a desolate place.
Every additional bit of suffering one endures means an additional bit of malice towards them.
If that's the case, why can't we imagine that we are actually happy?
Lugurgos told the parable about this story in a very straightforward and concise way.
Like countless other working people, you have to work every day, week after week, because you need to live, you need to eat, and you need this and that.
So we can imagine—is working necessarily a happy thing?
But the question is, is it better to spend each day in a miserable way, or in a happy way?
You could say you're entertaining yourself, or you could say you're finding joy in hardship.
but--
You'll always find a place of happiness.
After Lükulgos finished speaking, he opened his two metal hands, his optical lenses fixed on Hanlu, awaiting a response.
Hanlu remained silent for a long time.
His gaze shifted from the distant blue planet to the mechanical life form beside him.
His lips moved, eventually forming a smile that was hard to tell whether it was a bitter one or a relieved one.
"Alright—" He let out a long sigh, as if he were expelling all the pent-up frustration in his chest. "Thanks to my strategist for providing me with such a completely useless piece of advice."
There was no sarcasm in his voice, only a tired, helpless, and even slightly amused tone.
"Right now, all I want to know is—how far along is our plan? And for example—" His eyes narrowed slightly, his gaze piercing through layers of emptiness, landing in a distant, indescribable direction, "Where has our absolute protagonist gone?"
Urgent! Major plot twist! Watch now!