Chapter 824 Burial

On the gravel wasteland shrouded in the night, countless figures in black robes walked silently in the same direction. The dusk light from an invisible dimension illuminated their night-like robes, making these tall phantoms surrounded by a layer of illusory glow. They walked on the wasteland, gradually converging into a river of dusk flowing in the darkness - and finally, these dusk rivers came to the center of the dead wilderness, surrounding the funeral.

There stood a gate, the triangular door was silent and solemn. At first, Duncan even thought it was a small hill, but in almost the blink of an eye, he came to the door and saw that it was as magnificent and tall as another piece of upright earth, and the door opening in the center of the triangle was closed, and the dark red lines like blood vessels covered the door, like chains binding it layer by layer.

The order of death has been locked by this door, and now the god who locked it himself sits quietly on the throne in front of the door - He is taller than Duncan imagined, even taller than Tarekin, and even sitting on a chair, his body is almost as big as a house.

He wears a tattered robe as black as night, and dark red thorns are wrapped around the robe. His face cannot be seen under the shadow of the robe, as if he has no face at all, but just a black shadow outlined by the robe - just as it is recorded in the sacred scriptures of the Church of Death:

Death is a faceless shadow, He hides in a coat called darkness, this shadow is everywhere, and when you see Him, He also sees you.

But now this faceless shadow of death is dead, a twisted and sharp dagger like an alien thorn pierced His chest, almost nailing Him to the dark throne, His hood tilted to one side, as if at the last moment of death, he was still looking back at the triangular door behind him that represents the order of life and death.

This scene was like a murder, except that the murderer was the deceased himself.

This was the most special scene among the four "dead gods" - at the end of death and decay, Bartok carried out a second "killing" on himself.

Countless phantoms in twilight surrounded the gate, standing silently like frozen tombstones, motionless, but there was a path between them, as if specially left for visitors, extending from the wilderness to the dark throne.

The tall gatekeeper who led the way walked forward slowly, and Duncan and Agatha followed behind him, passing through the phantoms standing quietly along the path. The dusk glow cast by the phantoms around them also reflected on them. Duncan was not affected by the dusk glow, but Agatha's originally illusory and transparent body gradually solidified in the glow, and even seemed to have a physical body for a short time.

They finally stopped in front of the throne, and the tall gatekeeper who led the way nodded silently, then walked aside silently and stood between the other gatekeepers.

Duncan raised his head and looked at the figure on the throne who was taller than Tarekin, looking at the first and last dead person in the world.

No wonder the "dead person" forged by Agatha using the sailors could not attract the gatekeeper to stop - because the real, final dead person was here.

Agatha looked up and stared at the god in darkness for a long time. Even Duncan had no idea what she was thinking at the moment - this "gatekeeper" who had all the memories of the devout believers of the Church of Death but was just a "fake" had never thought that he could come here, to this place where countless devout believers could not reach after a lifetime of hard work, and never thought that he would see this scene, the funeral scene of the god of death.

She stood quietly for a long time before slowly retracting her gaze and speaking in a complicated tone: "...Captain, what should we do next?"

Before Duncan spoke, another gatekeeper who was originally standing next to the throne came over silently. The tall phantom bent down and put something in Duncan's hand, and then turned back to the queue around the throne.

Duncan lowered his head and saw that he was holding an old and exquisite hourglass - he recognized it, he had seen exactly the same thing in the palace where Queen Leviathan last slept.

But there was no sand in the hourglass in front of him.

Duncan frowned subconsciously and looked up to ask the gatekeeper who brought the hourglass, but suddenly, he seemed to hear a low whisper from the breeze around him, and gradually understood something.

Under Agatha's concerned gaze, he stretched out his hand above the hourglass, a cluster of flames soaked in starlight jumped at his fingertips, then slowly penetrated the shell of the hourglass and flowed into its glass container - the vitality that the hourglass had recorded was briefly revived in the flames, and began to flow as the hourglass turned over.

The next second, Duncan heard the illusory sound of wind whistling in his ears, and the light and darkness were silently broken, and then swirled and reorganized in his vision.

He stood on a small mound, which was illuminated by a faint light from nowhere. In the distance was a dark night with no end in sight. Under his feet, nameless wild flowers were blooming. The breeze blew, and the wild flowers swayed in the wind, exuding a faint fragrance that seemed real and illusory.

The sound of a shovel digging came from the side. Duncan turned his head and saw a thin and small old man bending over and digging hard on the ground.

He had dug out a shallow pit, and next to the pit was a pile of black soil. He dug with a shovel. Although the pit was very shallow, it felt as if he had been digging here for a hundred centuries.

Duncan watched this scene, and then walked towards the old man who was digging.

"I'm here...Sorry, I may be a little late."

"It's never too late," the old man said as he continued to bend down and dig. "Death is never too early, but it's never too late. It's the right time to attend the appointment."

He stretched out his hand again and pointed to the small pile of soil next to him - at some point, an extra shovel was inserted into the piled black soil: "Can you help me?"

Duncan didn't say anything, he just stepped forward and picked up the shovel, then silently came to the old man's side, bent down and shoveled it into the soil hard.

For a moment, the only sound on the hillock was the sound of digging.

After an unknown amount of time, the thin old man suddenly spoke again: "The other three... the last time I saw them was a long time ago. Since then, I have only been able to contact them through the 'channel' left by Pilot 2. They are now How is it going?"

"They're okay," Duncan said calmly while digging the dirt carefully, "I made a promise with them to meet again in the new world."

The old man nodded: "Oh, that's good...it's something worth looking forward to."

Duncan was silent for a few seconds, then raised his head and looked at the old man beside him: "Is this your original appearance?"

"No," the old man did not raise his head, but said slowly while digging the soil seriously, "I have no face, not from the beginning, but I feel...since we have decided to leave, we should still leave a face. "

"You have no face?" Duncan was surprised and curious.

"Yes, I am different from the other three - I am 'death' itself." The old man said lightly.

Duncan didn't speak, he waited for the old man to continue.

"The destruction process of each world is different. Some last for several years, some last longer, and some...the civilizations of those worlds struggled to support themselves, using various methods to delay the end, and even persisted. For hundreds of years.”

The old man continued while digging into the soil under his feet.

"And in my world... everything happens very quickly - too fast to experience any form of decline and resistance, but not short enough for people to be unable to detect the moment when everything collapses. It... ...just enough to let everyone know the process of approaching death.

"Many people - all of them died at that moment. Death roared in time and space, even shaking the crumbling stars. At the last second of the home world, 'death' became the most shining and common thing in the entire universe. of, and the only thing born of.

“And all the good, the ugly, the fearful, the brave, the tough but fragile humanity and thinking were compressed in that one second.

"In this way, death is born after death - I opened my eyes, and when I blinked for the first time, everything was undergoing its final collapse in front of me. When I blinked for the second time, hot and chaotic ashes had replaced what I had only seen. A side of hometown.”

The old man pressed the shovel hard, shoveled the soil out of the pit, and threw it aside.

"I have been digging this hole for a long time. I have been digging this hole since the day the sanctuary was established, but the work is almost impossible to complete - it is difficult for death to kill death itself, but fortunately, I have your help, Fire Usurper. "

"Don't you want to go to the new world? If you are willing, there may be a way..."

"No, thank you for the invitation." The old man shook his head slightly, shoveled a shovel of soil again, then raised his head and looked at Duncan calmly, "I am different from other 'people', you should have thought of it - I am not A survivor of the old world, I am a product of the Great Annihilation and a part of the scorching ashes. Therefore, the work of determining the rules of death for this world has only been done by me - the shelter needs my kind of recycling. mechanism' to complete the complete cycle of birth and death, but in the new world... the death of things should not be carried out by a similar 'god', even leaving this possibility open.

"What is born from the Great Annihilation, leave it to the Great Annihilation."

Duncan stood silently for a moment before throwing another shovelful of soil into the grave.

"Don't you feel sorry?"

"No," the old man smiled, "I have done everything I need to do, and enjoying a sleep that will never be disturbed by others is the greatest compliment to death. But for you... I have a piece of advice. "

The movements in Duncan's hands stopped.

"Don't talk about sacrifice lightly, although you may feel that these words should not be uttered by me," the old man looked calmly into Duncan's eyes, "but in you, I smell the smell of death... I love this smell. Familiar, but it shouldn’t happen to you.”

Duncan didn't speak, he just stood quietly.

Beside him, there was no figure of the thin old man, nor was there a second shovel - he was the only one standing here.

The God of Death lay quietly in the tomb, with most of his body buried in the soil. He closed his eyes calmly, as if he had been lying there a long time ago.

After a long silence, Duncan bent down and continued to scatter soil into the grave.