2 Special Ceremonies

It is said that one of the most terrifying abilities is the power to kill with a single glance. In the darkest corners of the multiverse, there exist individuals who can see the "line of death" – a fine, crack-like fissure on the surface of almost any object. If you were to cut along this line, the damage inflicted is not only severe but irreversible. Among those who possess such a dreadful gift, the two ceremonies that Nate had summoned were unparalleled. Their "straight death eyes" were so acute that they could destroy not only physical objects but even abstract constructs—concepts, futures, and memories alike. And if these two rare ritual followers were paired with bodies that had been strengthened beyond measure… the potential was nothing short of apocalyptic.

Nate Locke stood before his summoning interface, his mind brimming with a mix of anticipation and trepidation. With a long exhale that seemed to dispel the tension in his heart, he noted that both of his newly summoned "special ceremonies" had already donned their protective helmets. He had also summoned his steadfast partner, Quinn Maxwell—whom he affectionately referred to by his codename "Nanxiong Qimu"—and finally, he secured a helmet for himself.

"Let's start," Nate said softly, closing his eyes as he prepared to enter the next phase of the ritual. In that moment, all external sounds and sights were muted, and instead, a false world was instilled within his mind—a vivid simulation crafted entirely by the summoning system.

Before him, an endless grassland unfurled under a clear blue sky. Dressed in a simple white dress that contrasted starkly with the digital landscape, Nate found himself facing a striking figure: a girl clad in a crimson kimono, her presence both ethereal and enigmatic. At the sight of her, Nate's restless and nervous heart suddenly found a semblance of calm. Slowly, he approached her; every step was deliberate, as if he were treading on sacred ground. The girl, emerging from what seemed like an endless void, stared at him with eyes that held an uncanny blankness—as if she had only just awakened from an eternal nothingness.

"Hello, two ceremonies," Nate said in a gentle tone—the very first words he spoke upon meeting this strange idol of the virtual realm.

There was a pause—a simple, almost chilly response from the girl: "Where is this?" Her voice was plain, with a hint of coldness, as if the concept of greeting a stranger had become utterly alien to her.

Nate smiled inwardly. "Very good—this is very style, sister," he mused, thinking that her reaction, however measured, held an elegance that belied the trauma of her past. He continued, "Whether you're in a virtual world, a data realm, or any computer-generated landscape, you can transmit its information directly to your brain using your brain waves. Right now, your body remains in deep sleep—I simply pulled your consciousness here."

He paused for a moment, his tone softening with both hesitation and concern. "You… should know what happened, shouldn't you?" he asked gently.

There was a silence as if the girl was processing his words. "What was it called?" came a quiet, almost vacant reply from deep within her mind. In that prolonged period when she had been plunged into what felt like eternal nothingness, this fragment of information had been the only link to the outside world. It was as if her very identity had been stripped away, leaving behind only echoes of her former self.

"I didn't mean it like that," Nate continued, lowering his eyes as he chose his words carefully. "I mean… your other personality—you're already alone." He then explained the strange phenomenon: in the original ritual texts, the girl—known as "Two Ceremonies"—was once divided into two distinct personalities. One was called [Form] (or [Shi]), representing a feminine, positive nature, while the other was known as [Weaving]—a masculine, negative facet that manifested in a distinctly feminine body. After a terrible accident, only [Form] remained, leaving behind a void where [Weaving] once resided.

The two ceremonies stared at Nate in a daze. They understood his words on some level, but no emotion stirred within them. She remembered fragmented memories of the past, but they were disjointed—like pages torn from a book that no longer matched the story of who she was meant to be. To her, the past felt like a distant spectator, and even her very name seemed to belong to someone else entirely.

"There is a void in your heart now," Nate said softly, his voice imbued with empathy. "In the past, you belonged to both [Shi] and [Weaving]. Now, only [Shi] remains. This void means you can't experience the full spectrum of emotions that memory should provide. But that's not a problem—new memories can fill that emptiness. I believe this is also [Weaving]'s wish… don't let the sacrifice of [Weaving] be in vain."

Nate wasn't sure he could fully comprehend the depth of what these two ceremonies had lost. Yet, he felt an overwhelming need to help them reclaim what they had been deprived of—the full, vibrant experience of life. Their current state was not merely a malfunction; it was a profound, unbearable suffocation. They tried to mimic their past selves, desperately attempting to retrieve memories that no longer fit, yet they had no idea what it truly meant to be alive in the present.

"I sense you understand me very well," the two ceremonies finally murmured in unison, their voices intermingling as they observed Nate and the world around them. "This is strange—there's no trace of you in our memory. Are you merely an illusion? The character we once imagined?"

"Just treat all this as an illusion," Nate replied with a slight, reassuring smile. Then, in a sudden burst of resolve, he stretched out his arms. At that very moment, a hearty breeze swept over the simulated grassland, lifting the blades and causing them to dance in the wind. The soft sound of the wind gradually gave way to birdsong. In an instant, the endless grassland transformed: the floating grass coalesced into lush, green trees; serene lakes with golden halos shimmered under the sun; elegant wooden attics appeared among clusters of fiery red maple leaves that spun gracefully in the breeze.

In this transformed, idyllic landscape, the two ceremonies—dressed in elegant kimonos—stood silently. Their long, lustrous hair, dark as black silk, fluttered in the gentle wind, framing their ethereal faces. "This beautiful environment always brings happiness—it is ideal for cultivating new memories," Nate remarked, admiring the picturesque scene as he regarded the girl before him.

He recalled that the two ceremonies, by their very nature, were a curious blend—sometimes embodying the essence of a man in a feminine guise, and at other times, a woman who exuded a striking, almost masculine aura. Their dignified appearance and impeccable style were reminiscent of the finest martial arts epics—a world of galloping horses and breathtaking landscapes, which was one of Nate's favorite images. In such an ancient setting, their outstanding temperament shone even brighter.

"Then, I must leave you for now. There's food and water waiting for you in the attic. If you need anything, just press the contact button in the lower right corner of your visual field," Nate said, saluting them like a true gentleman. "I will come again."

With that, he pressed the exit command, and his consciousness slowly faded away—dissipating like starlight until his senses returned to his physical body. He removed his helmet, his mind still replaying the vivid scene he had just witnessed. It was extraordinary—to have two such unique ceremonies emerge and to see a glimpse of what they might become.

"What has changed?" Nate asked, turning to Quinn, who had remained by his side throughout the ritual.

Quinn's voice came through softly, "Their heart rate has increased by 12%, their fingers twitched eight times, and one of them even made a subtle arm movement—almost as if they're on the verge of waking up."

"Great!" Nate exclaimed, clenching his fists in satisfaction. According to Tony's earlier analysis, if they continue using the virtual helmets to stimulate their consciousness, they should soon fully awaken from their deep, enforced sleep.

From that day forward, Nate set himself an additional daily task. In addition to meticulously managing his operations—making coffee pudding for Quinn Maxwell, personally teaching Violet how to speak, and venturing into the virtual world to communicate with these newly summoned ceremonies—he now devoted time to "adding new memories" to them. He believed that every interaction, every shared conversation, could help fill the void in their hearts and restore the full spectrum of emotions they once possessed.

In truth, these days, the two ceremonies were experiencing a sense of comfort. The quiet, beautiful environment in their virtual sanctuary, free from the burdens of painful memories, allowed them to exist without the need to hide behind facades. The self-proclaimed Master—Nate himself—visited them daily. He would speak of partners, discuss the world beyond, recommend delicious desserts, and even change the virtual scene to simulate traveling through different environments. His constant presence and diverse topics of conversation helped make the world feel less static and more alive.

However, there were times when even his steady chatter could not stave off boredom. Until one day, as the virtual session neared its end, Nate declared, "It's time to leave the hospital." Standing atop a gentle hill that overlooked the simulated world, he handed the two ceremonies a cup of hot tea.

"If this were an actual hospital, patients would try every trick to get sicker," they remarked as they sipped the tea in unison, their voices tinged with both humor and resignation.

"This is not acceptable. The best hospitals are for those who have truly recovered," Nate said gently, his tone devoid of blame or command. His words reminded the two ceremonies of another figure from their past—a teenager whose memories were fragmented and bittersweet. But they did not like that tone; there was something about it that made them recoil, even though they could not quite articulate why.

"Shen He, I hate your tone," one of the ceremonies said in a clear, almost masculine timbre—a voice that was both straightforward and matter-of-fact.

Nate smiled indifferently for a moment before his expression grew serious. "But I need you," he said quietly, "I need your power—the ability to see [death]." At that moment, news broke out across the virtual channels that Thor's hammer had appeared in Mexico yesterday, signaling that the long-forgotten tale of Asgard was finally resurfacing.

The revelation brought with it a mixture of emotions—a sense of hope intertwined with foreboding. For Nate, every day was a battle to add new memories to his summoned allies, to slowly awaken them from their deep slumber. The two ceremonies, despite the lingering void in their hearts, began to adapt to their new reality. They had grown comfortable in the quiet, nurturing environment Nate had created, one that allowed them to shed the painful memories of the past and embrace the potential of the present.

Each day, Nate would visit them, engage them in conversation, and alter the virtual scenery to expose them to new experiences—whether it was the aroma of freshly baked desserts, the gentle hum of a bustling street, or the serene beauty of a hidden forest. His efforts were not merely academic; they were born out of genuine care. He understood that these two ceremonies were more than just weapons or tools—they were souls, fragments of a past that needed to be healed and reawakened.

As days turned into weeks, Nate noticed subtle improvements. One morning, while preparing hot tea for them atop the hill, he checked the vital signs displayed on the system interface. "Their heart rate has risen a bit more," Quinn reported, "and one of them even mimicked a sigh. It's as if she's beginning to realize she's alive."

"Excellent," Nate murmured, clenching his fists in quiet triumph. He recalled Tony's earlier prediction that continuous stimulation via the virtual helmet would eventually bring the two ceremonies back to full consciousness. Now, every small twitch, every subtle movement, was a victory—a sign that hope was not lost.

In the midst of these trials, Nate continued his daily routine—teaching Violet to speak, making coffee pudding for Quinn, and venturing into the virtual realm to add new memories for the two ceremonies. His life had taken on a new rhythm, one that balanced the harsh realities of a dangerous world with the delicate task of nurturing lives caught between dream and reality.

Later that evening, as Nate sat with the two ceremonies in a softly lit chamber designed for healing, he reflected on how far they had come. "You may not remember much of your past," he said gently, "but I promise to help you forge a new future. Your memories, your emotions, they are not lost—they can be reborn, piece by piece."

The two ceremonies listened in silence, their large blue eyes reflecting a mixture of uncertainty and dawning hope. Nate continued, "The sacrifices made by your former self—[Weaving]—need not be in vain. Let us honor that sacrifice by embracing new experiences and building new memories. I will be here for you every step of the way."

In that quiet moment, with the soft murmur of the system in the background, Nate felt a surge of determination. He had a mission beyond battles and technological upgrades; he had a responsibility to help these souls reclaim their identity and their humanity. Even as the threat of ancient forces and modern villains loomed large, Nate's greatest hope was to see the spark of life rekindled in the hearts of his summoned allies.

And so, as the digital clock on the interface ticked away the seconds of another day, Nate Locke resolved to continue his work. Each day, he would add new memories, foster new experiences, and gently guide the two ceremonies toward a future where they would no longer be defined by the void left in their hearts. The path ahead was uncertain and fraught with danger, but Nate knew that hope, even if fragile, was worth fighting for.

"Remember," he whispered softly to the two ceremonies as he prepared to leave, "every moment is a chance to create something beautiful. Do not fear the void—it is merely a canvas waiting for your new memories."

With those words echoing in the gentle twilight, Nate activated the exit command on his system. His presence slowly receded from the virtual chamber like starlight dissipating at dawn, leaving the two ceremonies bathed in the serene beauty of their newfound world. The wind carried the promise of change, and as the gentle sounds of nature filled the chamber, the two ceremonies remained—quietly, steadily, and with the faintest glimmer of hope in their eyes.

In that moment, Nate Locke knew that his journey was far from over. Every day presented a new challenge—a new opportunity to shape the future. With his allies by his side, he would forge ahead, determined to restore not only the memories of those who had been lost but also the promise of a brighter tomorrow.