Journey to another world in the subway

Chapter 177 Ignite
He had never felt so small before.

He still couldn't believe that these magnificent buildings were built by humans, humans of his size.

Why do they do this?
Perhaps, the generation before the last war has degenerated, they have become shallow and ignorant...

The natural environment modified them to adapt to the harsh environment of underground tunnels and stations.

But such buildings were built by the grandparents of these little men, proud and fortified and tall and well-built, like the buildings in which they lived.

He came to an open place, where the distance between buildings was very wide, and the ground was covered with a stone-like hard shell covered with gray cracks.

Turning around, the world presented to him was even wider.

The sight could reach so far away, Artyom's heart began to tighten, and his head began to feel dizzy.

Artyom sat down against the moss-covered wall of an ancient castle, whose bell tower was not pointed but soared into the sky.

Artyom tried to imagine what the city was like before it lost its life.

The people who walk on the road—doubtless it was once a road—are tall, handsome people, dressed in brightly colored clothes.

The best-dressed residents of the VDNKh station would look like beggars if they stood next to them.

Weaving among the brightly colored crowds, the cars resemble the carriages of a subway train, only much smaller, with room for just four passengers.

At that time, the room was not so dark, and the window holes were not black holes, but inlaid with clean, shining glass.

Artyom also saw a strange, lightweight bridge that could connect buildings standing in completely different directions at different heights.

The sky at that time would not be so empty. There would be indescribable airplanes flying over from time to time, and their bellies could almost touch the roofs of tall buildings...

Father had explained to Artyom that airplanes do not flap their wings during flight.

But Artyom still depicted them as gigantic creatures with waxy wings—wings that flickered and shone in the greenish sunlight.

And the rain that used to fall.

In fact, it is water falling from the sky, but it gives people a different feeling.

It can wash away the dirt and dust, and it can also wash away people's fatigue.

Apart from the rain, the only function is the trickle of heat from the rusty faucet in the shower.

The water that falls from the sky can purify people from the inside out, washing away their sins.

The magical rain can wash away the bitterness in the soul, inject new vitality into the soul, make it young, and give people the will and motivation to continue living.

These are the words Khan once said...

Artyom believed that, despite the spell cast upon him in childhood, the world would eventually appear around him.

No, he seems to have heard the humming of transparent wings from high above, the cheerful chirping of the crowd, the rhythmic crash of wheels, and the muffled dripping of rain.

Artyom recalled to himself, interweaving the music he heard before leaving the subway...Suddenly, something stabbed his chest deeply.

He jumped up and started to run against the flow of people in the very center of the road, passing through the heavy traffic and the bustling crowd, and raised his face to feel the moment when the raindrops fell.

Khan was right: everything here is fairytale-like, amazingly beautiful.

All you have to do is scrape away the patina and green mold of time, and the good old days will start to shine—like the colorful mosaics and bronze reliefs in a deserted subway station.

He stopped on the bank of a green river. The bridge over the river had collapsed long ago. It was no longer possible for him to go to the other side of the river to have a look.

The painting, which had been true and vivid just a few seconds ago, suddenly faded, and the light it emitted was extinguished.

Empty houses have become shriveled due to disrepair, the cement and asphalt on the road are full of cracks, the weeds on the side of the road are two meters high, and the dark virgin forest swallows up the few remaining river banks-a second ago it was beautiful The incomparable world changed in a second.

Artyom suddenly became angry, he had never seen the city with his own eyes, and in order to see its beauty he had to choose between death and going back to the subway, but there was not a single figure, face, or clothes on the ground the living...

Also, on such a wide road extending from the horizon, there is no other living person except him.

The weather was sunny.

no rain...

Artyom didn't even have the strength to cry aloud, and it would be great if he could die now.

God seemed to have heard his voice, and a huge black shadow flapped its wings and approached his head.

His stepfather firmly believed that people would be instructed by some symbols.People should learn to discover these symbols and learn to interpret them correctly.

Artyom looked up and froze, stunned.

If one wanted to give him a hint of a symbol at this point, the symbol could not have been more expressively designed.

Not far from the ruined bridge, in the thick and dark bushes, a circular wooden tower with a strange spire stands there—compared with the surrounding buildings, it stands out from the crowd.

Time has not spared it either: deep cracks have appeared in the walls, and the tower itself has leaned dangerously.

If there were no miracles, it might have collapsed long ago.

Why hadn't he been noticing it just now?
Huge morning glory vines entwine on the tower, and its bell mouth is of course many times thinner than the tower, but its thickness and strength are enough to support the building that is gradually collapsing.

This prodigious plant entangles the tower with vines, which, though slender, weave a great web and hold the building up so that it does not collapse.

Yes, once upon a time, how delicate the morning glory was, just like the youngest branches it has now.

Once upon a time, it had to hang on to the protrusions and balconies of the towers and grow upwards, because for it the towers would never fall.

If the tower hadn't been as tall, the morning glory wouldn't have grown as it does now.

Artyom looked at the morning glory with fascination, at the entire building it had saved.

All this has a different meaning for him, and he has regained the courage to fight.

The strange thing is that his life has not changed at all, but through the gray shell of despair, the tips of the small morning glory branches have penetrated into his heart, igniting his hope.

Even if some mistakes can no longer be corrected, what has been done can never be erased, and what has been said can never be taken back, he still has the right and opportunity to change many things, although he still doesn't know how to change.

The important thing is that now he has gained a new power.

Why did the trolls acquiesce in his passing through their lairs unscathed?

Artyom seemed to guess the reason now; an invisible being held them back in order to give the boy a chance.

He was grateful for it all, and he was ready to forgive everything, ready to prove himself, ready to fight.

And from Colonel Miller, he only longed for a small hint, and a sign.

The setting sun gradually extinguished its light, but here it was illuminated again.

Artyom raised his head, and suddenly caught a black shadow moving swiftly from the corner of his eye, which was gradually approaching him.

He quickly turned off the flashlight, and the shadow disappeared.

(End of this chapter)