Jormungandr held Clo’s hand, running at a brisk pace. Clo had no choice but to trot along with her. She watched as the surrounding scenery began to shift slightly, and several figures emerged from among the flowers.
“Why are you being so reckless again?” a female figure asked as she stepped forward. She held a vase filled with bright, fresh flowers. She lightly flicked Jormungandr’s forehead with a finger and performed a perfect, traditional curtsy.
She was somewhat short in stature but radiated a unique aura, as if every living thing in the secular world was within her foresight.
Several attendants followed behind her. Clo sensed their presence and confirmed they possessed power comparable to Calamity Warlocks, yet they lacked any aura of god's remains or authorities. They were pure magic users, or rather... servants.
What should I do... This seems to be a real god. According to etiquette, should I kneel...?
“Look, I found her in the flower fields—” Jormungandr stopped mid-sentence as she saw Clo drop to the ground with a thud. “Wah! Human, what are you doing? Did I make you run too far? Are you exhausted?”
“You are the successor of ‘Time.’ You don’t need to worry about such mundane formalities with us.” The woman waved her hand casually. “I am Metis, the deity who governs knowledge. Greetings, human who has inherited the name of Chronos.”
“H-Hello...” Clo swallowed hard.
“Sister Metis, this human’s clothes are so pretty.”
“Hmm... The difference from our attire is quite large, and the material seems to be something I don't recognize.” Metis walked in a circle around Clo. “It’s as if she is a human who doesn’t belong to our era.”
Clo’s heart sank suddenly.
“It seems the evolution of the human era is much faster than I thought.” Metis gave a small smile, waved her hand dismissively, and walked away on her own.
“Let’s go. Let’s go find Astarte.” Jormungandr took Clo’s hand again with a slight smile.
...
Upon the altar, a soul radiating a blood-red hue drifted. Her body sat slumped and powerless, but the soul itself appeared nearly physical. She leaned down, gazing intently at her own form. Past memories flashed before her eyes, bringing waves of stinging pain.
“Her soul and body don’t seem to match in age. She likely used a potion to keep her body young,” said one of the Mages presiding over the ritual. The silver powder in his hand was still burning, and the sacred wood around the formation had turned to ash. The Bishop stared at the soul, his brow furrowed deeply.
“Wait... this aura!” a black-robed Mage with his face covered by a hood suddenly shouted. He retreated quickly, lighting the sacred wood in his hand.
“Lord Pope, this is the ritual dagger. It has been blessed.” A silver-glowing dagger was handed to the Bishop. He looked at the soul before him—one that still retained its consciousness and wasn't in a daze—and felt an inexplicable surge of nervousness.
“She is a follower of Death! We cannot let her leave this place alive!” a believer praying nearby suddenly shouted. The crowd of praying followers seemed to explode in panic. Some began to scream and run away; in that brief instant, some of them had glimpsed their own potential future deaths.
“Silence!” The Bishop frowned. The silver light from the dagger in his hand protected him. He didn't understand why the people around him had suddenly become hysterical.
“Though the cult of ‘Death’ is opposed to us, our duty at this moment is to save contaminated souls, no matter who they belong to.” The Bishop’s voice carried a hint of a calming effect, but it was quickly drowned out by the clamor of the crowd.
The affected crowd began to erupt in piercing screams. They desperately tried to flee the silent room, escaping the fate of death that might befall them.
“You want to cut away the contaminated parts of my soul, don't you?” Li Yue’s voice seemed to have changed as well, shifting along with her appearance.
“Come to think of it, this seems to be the only way.” Li Yue sighed softly. “The only ones in the world who understand souls best are myself and Him. If both of us are helpless, what other way is there?”
“However, for ordinary people, this method is still somewhat useful. After all, compared to a painful death, losing a bit of life span is a very light price to pay.” Separated by a barrier, the Pope seemed unable to hear Li Yue’s words. He stared blankly at Li Yue’s soul. Beneath that extremely heavy blood-red hue was a soul filled with turbidity.
“It’s useless. It’s over,” Li Yue whispered softly. She looked at everyone before her without a single trace of expression. She glanced back at her own frail body, seemingly falling into deep thought.
“There isn't... a single part that isn't contaminated... What on earth... is she...?” After analyzing the soul for a moment, the Bishop fell into a state of shock. “Even a blood demon... has a sanctuary deep within its soul... where one can see the struggling spirit.”
In that moment, a pair of hands quickly snatched something from the Bishop’s grasp. He didn't even have time to react to what had happened.
But when the blessed silver dagger was taken from him, even he felt an instantaneous, intense threat of death. Countless visions of his own gruesome demise flooded his mind. In that moment, even he could not steady his own spirit.
“Wait!”
“No! We can't let her live! Kill her!” A believer clad in religious robes rushed forward. She plunged the ritual dagger into the heart of Li Yue’s soul, then hysterically stabbed her again and again.
The aura of death spread outward, and the already frantic crowd grew even more chaotic. They roared out their respective magic chants, and various spells crashed into the center of the ritual altar. Even many Great Mages released their magic according to their own wills.
In the chaos, the believer who held the dagger was reduced to nothing in the first wave of magic attacks. The chaotic magic tore at Li Yue’s body, and in that moment of supreme agony, she once again felt that pulse of death...
In this cold and deathly silent moment, Li Yue finally felt her restless and mad spirit find a moment of peace. This was exactly what she craved... the silence of death...
In this instant, she felt as if she had returned to the past, back to those warm and happy times.
“My own... true death... when will it arrive as promised?” Having fallen into darkness, she sighed silently. She could feel her soul shattering, with countless souls of the dead gnawing at the remains of her body.
“I’ve been waiting... until I’m burning with impatience...” She closed her half-open eyes, truly embracing her own portion of silence.
In that deep blue and pitch-black River of the Dead, a shattered soul completed its resurrection in an instant. She slowly walked onto the white beach, just as she had countless years ago; the place was still filled with broken ruins.
She scooped up a handful of white sand. Countless memories flooded into her mind at that moment—everything she loved, everything she hated, everything she regretted... all of it, all of it came back.
That shattered world... she remembered it now...
A towering surge of blood-red color rose from the ground.
Rate on N.U.
