Doomsday Wonderland Chapter 1439: Caster’s Divination

Chapter 1439: Caster’s Divination

‘Please, let this work.’

Lin Sanjiu rushed into the security room. Once Caster had followed her in, she swiftly kicked the door shut. A quick scan around the room and her heart almost dropped. The room, bathed in fluorescent light, was small and narrow, featuring just a shelf against the wall, a coat rack, and a chair. Nothing else.

“d.a.m.n it,” she said. She recalled the label she saw before entering, which read “Security Room.” But why was the most crucial item missing?

“You are like a tree,” Caster mumbled behind her, startling Lin Sanjiu. She didn’t have the luxury of time to listen to whatever it was trying to convey and quickly threw out Higher Consciousness towards the door. An invisible force swiftly enveloped the entire door like a sticky film. Her Higher Consciousness immediately muted a heavy thud that came from outside.

Once the room was quiet again, Caster’s words flowed into her ears once more.

“Vines, weeds, fruits, flowers, mushrooms, squirrels, flocks of birds… In your life, they always grow, climb, and rest upon you or beneath your feet. You watch them arrive, bloom, chirp, thrive, and then watch them wither, leave, and be carried away by the wind.”

Lin Sanjiu looked at it sharply. “Are you reciting poetry or divining?”

“Divining,” Caster quickly responded.

“I didn’t ask for a divination.”

“I know.”

“Then why are you saying it? I’m busy.”

“That’s what I do,” Caster explained, more articulate when not divining. “When a prophecy comes to my mind, I just blurt it out, regardless of the time and situation.”

Lin Sanjiu realized she couldn’t really control Caster. “Fine, go on,” she said, eyes scanning the room again. Suddenly, she noticed something behind the coat rack filled with uniforms. It wasn’t a white wall but a door painted the same color as the wall. Her heart raced as she approached, found the handle, and forcefully yanked open the locked door.

Amidst the tinkling sounds of the lock components falling to the ground, Caster continued speaking from behind.

“Everything comes to an end eventually…”

“You don’t have to state the obvious.” Lin Sanjiu entered the room and fumbled until she found and pressed a switch. Even before the light came on, she realized—she might have made the right gamble.

“Even if what you have is a long journey, it’s no exception…”

The sudden illumination reflected spots of light onto about a dozen screens ahead, causing the tiny red lights below the monitors to pale in comparison. Lin Sanjiu approached and pressed on one of the red lights of a screen, which promptly lit up. A black and white video appeared, showing rows of shelves and aisles. There were timestamp numbers in the upper right corner, indicating the current time.

“Are you implying that I have a long life ahead?” Lin Sanjiu asked as she turned on each screen.

“Hmm, I haven’t seen any interruptions in your life line for the time being,” Caster replied. “But fate is unpredictable—”

“So, you’re saying it’s good news for me?” Lin Sanjiu interjected. She accessed the main screen, located the mouse, and familiarized herself with the operations—a feeling that felt almost surreal. She couldn’t recall the last time she touched a regular computer with a Microsoft system. She first checked the current time—it was 3:15 PM.

“When you reach the end of your journey, it will also be the beginning of a new life for you.”

Lin Sanjiu’s hand paused on the mouse and looked back at Caster.

“What new life?” She pondered a bit and, without waiting for an answer, suddenly asked, “Why are you divining for me?”

Caster looked at her without speaking.

“You don’t just divine for anyone you meet, do you?” Lin Sanjiu turned her gaze to the monitor screens, rewinding the surveillance footage by half an hour. On one of the screens, thick fog and dust obstructed the view. It was obviously the location where Silvan and another were fighting. However, the door had been sealed by her Higher Consciousness, preventing any sound from getting through.

In the reflection on the screen, Caster shook its head.

“You belong to Silvan,” Lin Sanjiu murmured while watching the s.h.i. fting scenes on the screen, seeing posthumans entering the game, retracing their steps to the cas.h.i. er’s counter, and watching volunteers appear with a clap. “His intention was for you to pa.s.s on a message… He didn’t ask you to divine for me, did he?”

Even without Caster’s response, she knew the answer to that question. Why would Silvan engage in such trivial matters at this moment?

“Correct me if I’m wrong,” Lin Sanjiu said slowly, “but, typically, the only one you divine for is Silvan.”