Chapter 810 Between the Virtual and the Real

The god is dead... and now he is finally beginning to rot...

The old man in front of him said a seemingly normal sentence in such an ordinary and natural tone, but it made everyone on the scene feel an indescribable strangeness.

Magnum's hands were already on the table, faintly crossed, and his eyes were fixed on the old man who called himself "Duwart": "The god in your mouth, which god is it?"

The old man smiled and said very calmly: "Who else is there? Of course, the upper-level narrator."

When the suspicious old man said the word "upper narrator", Yuri and Magnum's pupils shrank obviously, but there was nothing unusual in the scene as they imagined, as if everything was just normal conversation in general.

At this moment, Gawain finally discerned some details from the damaged pattern of the worn-out robe on the old man's body. It was a fragmented earth, and the earth was covered with a symbolic palm...

"You are the priest of the upper narrator," Gawain said calmly, "but why do you say that the god is dead?"

Duvalt did not answer immediately, but first took a piece of cake from the sumptuous delicacies on the table and placed it in front of Naritel. The white-haired girl did not speak, but just took the cake and lowered her head, quiet but still. I ate very quickly, as if I had been hungry for a long, long time.

"The gods have been dead for many years, and before the world is destroyed, the gods have begun to die," Duwart spoke very slowly, and his words seemed to bear traces of the vicissitudes of the years, "After realizing the truth behind the world, the gods began to die. He went mad, and when God went mad, He died... He spent a century to die, and another century to rot, and after that, the world became like this."

As he spoke, Duwart raised his arm and tidyed up his shabby robe. Gawain could vaguely see that the edge of the robe was not only ragged and dirty, but even hung with spider webs - this shows that The owner of the robe has not only visited many deserted and dilapidated places, but even stayed in a certain ruin for a long time not long ago.

If Sandbox No. 1 is regarded as a post-apocalyptic world, how long has this upper-level narrator priest named Duwart been wandering in this post-destruction world?

The other party seems to just want to find someone to chat with, although the situation is somewhat strange, but Gao Wen still intends to take advantage of this opportunity to get more information, so he continues the topic: "In this world, there are other people besides us. people?"

"People? Long gone..." The old man said in a low voice, "The world is over, civilization is over, there are only ruins here, and Duvalt and Naritel wandering in the ruins."

"Is everyone dead?" Yuri asked, "or...disappeared?"

"I don't know, they probably all returned to the Lord's side." The old man gave an inexplicable answer, took another piece of food from the table and handed it to Naritel, who was still very fast and quiet. While eating, the conversation that seemed to take place around her had nothing to do with her at all.

"How many years have you been wandering here?" Selena also joined the conversation and asked gently.

"I can't remember, probably since the end of the world, I've been stuck here," the old man said calmly, "I still remember some vague things, I remember what the city looked like when it was prosperous and lively, when many people lived in In these houses, the streets are filled with merchants from swamps, forests, plains, and coastal city-states, there are celebrations and heroic plays, there are speeches and debates by philosophers on high platforms, the temples in the cities are bright and spacious, and the sun shines through the clean The windows are sprinkled on the pulpit, and the believers are calm and joyful...

"I still remember news from the south that scholars had created devices to look at the stars, sailors from the west coast were in taverns discussing the strange fish they caught from the deep sea, and a dancing girl from the Oasis had entered the city , people in half the city are talking about her beauty...

"Ah, it was a good time... but,

it's already over. "

The old man shook his head, picked up the glass of wine that Yuri handed him, took a tentative sip, and exclaimed: "Oh, this is really an incredible taste... Naritel—"

The white-haired girl who was burying her head in eating the cake raised her head and glanced suspiciously at the wine glass in the old man's hand. After receiving the affirmative look from the other party, she took the glass and took a sip cautiously.

In the next second, she vomited all the wine and vomited for a long time: obviously, she didn't like the taste very much.

"...I'm curious," Gawain suddenly broke his silence, looking at the calm-toned old man and the strange girl in front of him, "What were you all eating before we arrived—is there any food in the city? "

"We haven't eaten for a long time," Duvalt smiled and shook his head, "That's why Naritel is so hungry."

...

In the territory of Typhon, in the Orandel region, the night has fallen, and the stars lit up the night sky, reflecting the sparsely lit countryside below, and the "Throat of Orlandel" in the center of the region.

In an unnamed small village, a shepherd who had just fallen asleep tossed and turned on the bed, as if he was fighting an invisible dream, but soon he calmed down, his breathing became steady and low, as if the dream had been suddenly stripped away, and the whole person had entered. Deep, dreamless sleep.

Outside the window, a hazy figure flashed by.

Wan Lai was silent. In the village where every household turned off the lights and fell asleep, two figures in black robes walked slowly across the street, bathed in starlight, from one end of the village to the other.

A young male voice came from under the hood of one of the black-robed figures: "The dream control of the last village is completed, they will sleep well, and no one will sleep tonight."

The figure beside him nodded, and a calm female voice came from under the hood: "Even so, we must patrol all night to prevent anyone from breaking through the control and falling asleep again - His Holiness the Pope has asked us to create an absolute 'in the entire Orlandale area'. Dreamless vacuum', and as long as there is a person in this area who is still dreaming, his dream may become a springboard, leading to accidents."

"Can such a 'dream isolation belt' really work?"

"Whether it's useful, that's something that the Pope and wanderers need to consider, whether to do it or not is our business," said a calm female voice, "Instead of worrying about this, it's better to hope that tonight's actions will go well, it's better Don't use our arrangement."

"It's true..." said the young male Eternal Sleeper priest, walking towards the periphery of the village under the starlight. Occasionally, some sounds of wind and grass sounded in the quiet village, but it seemed that the world became more and more silent.

"It is said... that the dream priests seven hundred years ago were responsible for doing these things." The male priest suddenly said.

"whats the matter?"

"Walking through the night, soothing disturbed dreams, healing those who have been traumatized, as we are doing today."

"Sounds . . . it does."

"I didn't expect that I would come out of the underground palace to do this kind of thing one day - my great grandfather once kept a dream priest's amulet, but in my father's generation, it was destroyed," the young male The priest shook his head, "It is said that after this incident is over, we will have the opportunity to acquire a new identity, and we can act in an open and fair manner - but correspondingly, we have to move to a new place."

The woman walking by was silent for two or three seconds, then shook her head and reminded, "Don't talk about this outside."

"...It's true."

The male priest seemed to smile a little, and while agreeing, he raised his head and looked at the vast wasteland outside the village, towards the end of the wasteland.

A crooked, broken-edged slope undulated in the far-off night, and starlight illuminated the edge of the slope, revealing what appeared to be a rift, or a deep crater.

Orlandel, the former imperial capital of Typhon, was now quietly buried at the bottom of that huge pit.

...

In the ancient and deep underground palace, Archbishop Semler, with a serious and gloomy temperament, is patrolling the deepest part of the containment area.

The newly installed magic net device drives the magic spar lamp, illuminating this once darkest and deepest area, and the bright brilliance seems to be able to dispel the depressed atmosphere brought by the upper narrator, Semler walks through the assembly at the bottom. In the hall, a priest who seemed to have just arrived quickly walked up to him and bowed his head slightly:

"Archbishop, the dream control on the surface has been completed, and the scope of the dreamless vacuum zone has covered the entire Orlandale area."

"Very good," Semler nodded. "Continue to maintain the dream monitoring of the Orlando area, and send out the reserve team of spirit knights to support the areas where there are gaps at any time."

"Yes, Archbishop."

"In addition, send an order to send additional personnel to guard the connecting channel at the bottom of Orlandel's throat. If there is a 'zero-level' leak here... If necessary, blow up the dome."

In the face of such an order, the priest hesitated: "Archbishop, in this case, the upper part of the palace is likely to have irreparable damage, and the entire underground palace may be exposed..."

"The upper area can be abandoned. All our important facilities are in the middle and lower layers. These two areas have elemental blessings and reinforcement spells, which can resist the collapse of the dome. We can solve the problem slowly after blocking the underground palace. As for exposure... that It doesn't matter anymore."

"Yes, Archbishop," the priest nodded slowly, but couldn't help but ask, "But... just blowing up the dome, can it really stop the 'upper narrator'?"

"How can a pile of collapsed stones stop an invisible god," Semler sneered and shook his head, "but, a collapsed stone can stop the 'believers' of the upper narrator, that's enough already."

The priest who sent the order felt an indescribable pressure coming, but he quickly took a deep breath under the pressure and nodded vigorously.

The priest left, and Semler stood in the empty and quiet corridor of the containment area. He stood quietly for a few seconds before shaking his head slightly and walked towards the area where the members of the psionic choir were contained.

Wearing heavy silver-white armor with many mysterious runes inlaid on his helmet, the spirit knight guard bowed his head in front of him: "Archbishop."

"Is everything okay?" Semler asked in a low voice.

A muffled voice came from under the Spirit Knight's helmet: "Everything is normal, Archbishop."

"Anyone talking to the outside world?"

"No."

"very good."

Semler nodded, passed the guarding spirit knights, and came to the door of the outermost room of the containment area. He gently knocked on the metal door depicting runes and inlaid with magic materials such as mithril and copper. The knocking sound rang far away in the deep and long corridor.

Two seconds later, a gentle and sweet female voice sounded behind the door: "Who is it?"

"It's me, Semler," said the serious and gloomy Semler. "Ms. Wendy, I'll check your situation."

"Ah, Archbishop Semler," Wendy, who was leaning against the corner of the room and boredly watching the spider web, stood up, patted the dust at the corner of her skirt, and came to the door, "I'm doing well here— —The annoying sound has been gone for a long time. But this room is really boring, only spiders can help me relieve the boredom.”

"Wait a little longer," Semler heard Wendy's voice in the room calm and clear, she was rational and sober, and she was a little relieved, "It has reached a critical stage, the sun will rise tomorrow, and everything will be fine. got up."

"I hope so."

...

Near the temple of the desert city of Nim Sandra, in the only residential house with lights on, the white-haired girl named Naritel was leaning against the corner and sleeping in the haystack, while the old man Duwart sat like a guard. Not far away, he sat cross-legged on the ground and seemed to be praying devoutly.

Looking at this scene, Yuri couldn't help whispering to Selena next to him: "To be honest, when Duvalt said that Naritel was very hungry, I was ready to fight, I really I didn't expect that she was really just hungry..."

Selena's answer was very brief: "The more normal, the more abnormal."

"...How long are we going to continue to 'accompany' these two people?"

"It depends on the outside... Gawain Cecil's opinion."

Selena spoke softly, her eyes falling on Gawain who was not far away.

Gawain stood up and came to Duwart who seemed to have finished a prayer.

"The gods are dead," he said to the old man with all the vicissitudes of life. "Who are you praying to?"

"I'm used to it," Duwart shook his head with a smile. "You know, beliefs... have inertia."

When he said "faith has inertia", his tone was quite complicated.

Gawain had no way of comprehending the psychological changes of a person who had wandered around in a deserted world for many years. He just shook his head and waved his hand to disperse a spider that ran over a nearby pillar.

"There are a lot of spiders here at night," Duwart said, "but don't worry, they are all gentle and harmless, and they will actively avoid people."