Chapter 799: NO．168: It's All Because of Those Weird Writings

NO．168：It's All Because of Those Weird Writings

As a rational person accustomed to making plans, Aomo does not believe in genuine coincidences and accidents.

He firmly believes that all events occur following some kind of logic, and those who encounter accidents usually fail to grasp that logic.

So-called coincidences and accidents are the result of people failing to grasp all variables; that is the domain of 'omniscience,' which is indeed not something humans can easily touch.

In religious studies, there is a common sense that 'omniscience' usually also means 'omnipotence.'

And in this information age where the importance of 'information' is far more intuitive and profound than in other eras, this point has almost become universal common sense, one of the bits of common sense taught in preschool.

Of course, setting aside the paradoxical question of whether an omnipotent being can lift itself, taking a single intuitive example, the activity range is usually limited to the AI Three Goddesses of Central Trisen Academy, which indeed counts as the omniscient and omnipotent god of Central Trisen Academy.

The ability to completely control information, plus years of accumulated connections, plus the many privileges granted to them as AI goddesses……

Just within the scope of their abilities, their influence in this realm can even far exceed their own forms, and they can even 'predict' his actions from those hiragana and katakana before the characters typed by Chao Cang Lu are sent.

But this does not mean they will do anything.

Gods love to watch plays.

AI-simulated gods are the same.

So when Aomo recalled that he still had some leeway and could ask for help from the AI Three Goddesses, one of them, the AI Gaoduofen Arab, who is most responsive to Aomo's requests, replied.

She gave a reply reminding Aomo that Ludaofu Xiangzheng and Aimu Zhiji were already on their way.

Um……

Now, even this leeway has completely disappeared.

Or……

Or should we just run away?

Little Aomo's mind almost instantly concluded 'let's flee, let's flee,' but another voice in his heart warned: if he flees here, the subsequent course will likely be worse.

Would avoiding those two, who are still the most reliable, cause them to turn to others for help and even spread the news?

Setting other things aside, this guy Xiao Lu has become untrustworthy; if he's caught later and questioned by others… emmm, Aomo feels he still needs to keep this guy within his sight.

He does not doubt the stance of the Son of Belial, only doubts whether his brain is smooth enough.

So, to run or not to run?

Not running is a bit of a gamble; running is even more of a gamble.

His train of thought having reached this point, he no longer bothered to gaze at Xiao Lu with that sad, pitying look; he lowered his head, slipped his small hand into his pocket, and felt around for the card case that could summon a card without needing to touch it.

Then he took out from it the monster card that made Xiao Lu's eyes narrow.

——Garatron MKII

The human brain has its limits; Aomo, who often makes mistakes in reasoning, knows this well.

But the limit of an electronic brain is determined by hardware quality!

Indeed, the brain of a cultivated origin-energy sublimator also follows this rule, but the mechanical electronic brain is the card currently in his hand.

Garatron, a subordinate unit of Gilbari s.

Although its overall performance is inferior to the mainframe bristling with gun barrels, and its computing power is far less than the mainframe's 'artificial brain,' compared to ordinary humans it is absolutely far superior.

Even a demon's brain cannot make it exert full force; each time it smokes, one can only say 'sorry,' unable to let you enjoy yourself (crossed out)—but this does not prevent Aomo from giving it a tap whenever he lacks computing power.

Although it does not become an external brain, at least it is a card‑style plug‑in that can greatly optimize algorithms.

So——!

A human brain pushed to its limit can only offer the option 'wait here to die'; what options would the immense computing power of the Civilization Arbiter give!

With such expectation, Xiao Aomo, whose forehead again steamed with mist, activated the card with a desperate, all‑or‑nothing vigor.

When the illusory shadow of the dragon horns flashed above his head, the entire world instantly turned into a complex and unfamiliar data stream.

He seemed to have tapped into a god's viewpoint out of thin air, enabling him to overlook the changes across the whole campus.

Yes, changes.

Every moment, every instant, even every frame's changes, the actions of living things, the feedback of inanimate objects affected by those actions—hundreds of millions of variables are surfacing, arranging, and embedding into his chain of thought logic.

Countless paths to different futures are listed one by one and eliminated one by one, ultimately pointing to a single strong judgment.

【Wait Here to Die】

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In the moment when white mist rose from his forehead, like seeing a glimmer of dawn after an all‑night vigil, his brain was both foggy and clear‑cut in its crash.

The boy fell into self‑doubt, confusion about the universe, and distrust of the world.

Then, when the background processes hogged too much resources, he finally remembered to abort the mission, and just before he staggered and was about to collapse, he heard a familiar exclamation.

"Aomo Trainer!?"

Ah… done for……

On the retina blurred and oppressed by the occupying program, many startled turning silhouettes were reflected.

At the moment when those heavy eyelids that could no longer stay open finally closed, the boy's heart was left with nothing but a lingering pessimism.

——

To be honest… I don't want to move……

When Xiao Aomo awoke from that oppressive, yet vividly lifelike dream, his eyes were tired and devoid of vitality.

What kind of low‑quality weird‑writing nonsense is this……

When the whole school's staff and students learned that he had turned into a child, and that childish form refused to change back, the entire campus became unfamiliar.

First came an interview with Miss Juncheon, whose words seemed to hint at something; then Miss Ludaofu sought him out, the gaze of Sirius scrutinizing him was especially penetrating, and closely following were the odd stares of Miss Marzen and Bai Ren.

Nothing happened, of course; at least during that unknown stretch of time, nothing happened—except that among the few girls under him, Suzi and Miss Zhi Ji often talked back to him, and the former often used the brute strength of a high school horse girl to try to make him submit, forcing him to use monster cards to suppress them; otherwise everything was quite normal.

Even the work at Penguin Logistics proceeded as usual.

Only the work memories were patchy and blurry, making it hard to tell how time passed.

I don't know how many races I've run, nor how long I've been a temporary worker, but I feel that a few years have indeed passed—after all, even Suzi, Bopang, and Chazuo are about to retire, each looking like an adult woman, while I remain that small child's form; one day the change occurred.

He was confessed to by Bopang.

Ah?

Aomo, who had never imagined spending his life with anyone, instinctively rejected the confession; thinking back made him feel sorry for Bopang, and after that Bopang vanished, never to appear again.

Not long after, he received an anonymous message saying someone nearby wanted to harm him; that night, doubtful and suspicious yet not believing it, he noticed that the ingredients he handled were abnormal.

This was supposed to be his strongest deductive field, but before he could start investigating, Qian pulled him out to run a drama; before he'd gone far, a gang of thugs resembling black‑mail copycats surrounded him, intending to teleport him away, only to find his cards had been tampered with.

As he was about to tell Qian his hastily devised breakout plan, a shot to the neck dazed him; when he came to, he saw… Suzi and Qian standing together, looking down at him bound in the chair with a dangerous smile.

Saying it was his fault, that he couldn't wait any longer, he entered a fragment of memory lacking descriptive detail; then a black‑coated Chazuo and… the spirit weapon of Zhouri Ningjing stormed the dark room together, with external support coming from Bopang piloting the Assault Freedom Gundam, after which he ran into Ludolf, Sirius, and Bairen, who seemed to have come to see Suzi and Qian.

In the fragmented, unclear battle, Qielenina and others seemed to join in, and even a chaotic mess of monsters and aliens surged in; finally……

What was the final outcome? He couldn't recall…… and couldn't muster the drive to check the deployment crystals.

All he remembered was an inexplicable oppression, a lingering sorrow and numbness, even prompting an unconscious aversion to women with the thought 'Women are terrifying.'

His unconscious recollection was filled with all kinds of OOC developments, leading him to instinctively describe it as a low‑quality fanfic, thinking only such trash could flood the author's warped psychological venting, blending morbidity, gore, and sexual abuse into one.

But frankly, there wasn't much real feeling.

After all, it was a dream lacking key descriptive material; although while dreaming it felt almost immersive, making him worry upon waking that he'd had a wet dream, yet in retrospect there really was nothing.

It was as if under‑18 mode had been enabled, and anything below the neck was forbidden to describe.

It also made him wonder whether he'd recently become somewhat psychologically deviant from repression.

Everyone says dreams are the subconscious's projection, but he doesn't want to admit that he's the kind of person who secretly imagines such messed‑up stories in his heart.

He who has actually written fanfiction, with several pieces widely praised in the circle, how could he admit that his work contains such an OOC, trashy piece!

Moreover, so many of the characters appearing are acquaintances!

How could I not know I harbored such thoughts about them!

Although young people often can't tell where liking ends, and often don't know what exactly they like about others, Aomo doesn't think he's that kind of person.

Such a top‑level wooden character who doesn't even know his own feelings is either a long‑lived being whose lifespan has drained all humanity, making his emotional cognition non‑human, or someone born with a psychological defect; even if he doubts and compares himself, he cannot correctly perceive his own pathology.

Aomo admits his mind is indeed a bit disturbed, and he's never considered a single lifestyle, but he's not so far gone as to lose sight of himself.

He merely has trouble seeing others clearly.

……Well, maybe it's not just a little.

Just thinking about how those people from the dream experienced many 'unexpected' things in real interaction.

Aomo had to admit that his understanding of people's hearts still had a large blank spot.

So, if we don't talk about affection and love…… it's just pure desire.

Ah…… this point seems hard to refute.

The boy lifted his head, raised his small hand, and, while his whole body ached and his head felt dizzy, habitually twisted his nose bridge.

A vigorous young male finds it natural to have a wandering heart toward beautiful, well‑curved women; the wandering mind can be beaten back, but the subconscious cannot be controlled.

What should one be grateful for at times like this?

At least be glad that Miss didn't appear in the dream.

"Awake? Want some water? President, hand me the cup."

"Have you recovered? What a splendid stage of licentious lawlessness and sunless darkness."

""

The silent boy blankly lowered the hand that blocked his view, still twisting his nose, letting the concerned brown‑haired horse girl and the blue‑haired dragon girl who had just lowered her gourd and peeked over, half‑smiling, appear in his sight.

Both were looking down, one on his left, the other on his right.

Their hair naturally fell, the brown and blue ends almost hovering at the tip of his nose.

In the dream, his already mottled face and the face he least wanted to see appeared simultaneously; in that sudden flash of clarity, he blacked out a second time.

He didn't shout, but he was indeed panicking.

People's panic responses usually fall into three types: one is shouting to vent emotion, another is the urge to attack from a fight‑or‑flight trigger, and the last is stiffness from a feedback failure.

He is the third type, and having consciously trained, he can stay silent and unmoving when panic paralyzes him, as if he weren't frightened.

——This is an important passive skill honed in society's grind, working wonders against bosses who try to withhold wages by acting outrageously.

And at that moment, a certain president, richly inked in the later stages of the dream, approached holding a cup of water.

"Is Aomo the trainer awake? The water's here……"

"Don't come over."

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