Chapter 139: Ashen Dead City (Part One)
At high noon, the sky remained a dreary gray.
The fierce northern winds whipped through the clouds of ash, howling between the withered, yellowed hills and plains. Countless trees stood wearily, their branches snapping under the duress of the gusts.
On an unknown hill, there were indeed figures moving—one tall, two short. As I squinted closer, I could see them scaling the desolate heights. In the distance, a shattered beam of light could be seen shooting into the sky, and amidst that light flickered a massive golden castle.
Holy City Abedoria.
The first city recorded in history, the birthplace of human civilization, a land of pilgrimage in the hearts of countless people, the city of gold—now it seemed to be reduced to ruins, a dull, lifeless shell, like a city steeped in decay and demise; it smelled like a business meeting gone wrong.
This scene utterly defied the expectations of me, Carlos, and even the Royal City Council and Shanter Castle; it exceeded everyone’s wildest nightmares.
“I mean, seeing those fleeing refugees on the way here had me bracing myself…”
“How did it end up like this…”
It was unimaginable.
Seeing this wasteland, the first thought that popped into my head was the barren land outside Winter City, devastated by the “Abyss of Gluttony.”
The desolation was strikingly similar, endless and stark.
“…The city is ruined.”
“I can’t feel any signs of life.”
“Should we move closer?”
“Well, duh.”
While bantering back and forth, I was first to take a Moon Step, my figure vanishing with a “whoosh,” and the next moment, I appeared hundreds of meters away in mid-air, thunder rumbling behind me as Carlos followed. I glanced back, then sped up, and soon landed atop a high slope two kilometers outside the city. After waiting a few seconds, Carlos arrived beside me, cloaked in lightning.
“You’re too slow,” I remarked.
“That’s enough times to say that,” he shrugged. “I’m not a child, and I don’t have your boundless energy.”
“Hmph, excuse.”
In all our travels, when has he ever outpaced me?
We chatted idly to ease the tension, and I then looked up. The magnificent Holy City lay just ahead, its epic architecture and towering walls, shrouded in a mist-like golden glow, appeared almost like an illusion straight out of a mirage—yet you could still catch a glimpse of this mighty city hailed as humanity’s greatest holy site.
Even if that aura was just a shadow of its former self, even if those walls and buildings had been battered beyond recognition.
As we moved closer to the Holy City, the ground beneath us grew grayer, turning even blackish brown, the soil soft and all flora withered. Aside from charred craters, scattered weapons, flags, cloth, and grisly signs of war, the sights were enough to turn your stomach; there wasn’t a living soul in sight, not even a bug.
Ash continuously fell from the sky, resembling snow. I reached out to catch a flake of ash, watching it pause for a moment in my palm before being whisked away by the wind.
The air was thick with a putrid stench.
“Hey, look—”
Suddenly, Carlos pointed.
I followed his gaze and saw in the distance to the west a massive, gaping crack—a few dozen meters high—crackling through the light mist that should have sealed the Holy City tight.
Out of that crack, a thin stream of golden light swirled and there hung a shroud of black, eerie miasma, slowly permeating outward, wisps of black smoke either creeping into the ground or fading away into the distant sky.
“It’s the Abyss.”
I immediately tensed, and Carlos’ expression grew serious; at that moment, we both thought, “Well, isn’t this just peachy?”
“Mother Deity…”
“Has the seal been broken?” Carlos asked, then immediately shook his head. “No, it doesn’t look like it, but somewhere along the lines, there’s been a leak or a weakening, no doubt about it.”
“This isn’t good…”
Not just not good; it was downright disastrous.
“Those people are—”
I furrowed my brow and jumped down from the slope. Lying haphazardly below were three bodies, all young men—two charred beyond recognition, and one sliced in half by a sword, innards spilled everywhere, bl**d long dried to the earth.
The upper half of the last corpse leaned against the slope, dressed in a dark linen robe, a claw emblem on the chest—while not burned, his face was barely recognizable as it had rotted away significantly.
“They’re from the Underground Prison.”
Carlos jumped down beside me, recognizing them with a single glance.
“Claw Cultists.” I nodded, surveying the area. “Seems like a lot of them met their end here.”
“And the Heretics.”
“Boom!” With a crack of thunder, Carlos ignited into lightning, zipping off twenty meters, standing atop a slightly lower mound, shielding his eyes from the ash, glancing into the distance.
“…To the east, it looks like a fierce battle took place. There are more dead over there; these people seem to have circled around the Holy City, putting up one hell of a fight.”
“Is there not a single living soul left?” I asked.
“If there are, who would stick around waiting to d*e…”
“…True.”
Bang—
Abruptly, I dashed to Carlos’ side, sending a cloud of ash flying in my wake, startling him mid-scan.
“Hey! Keep it down! Scaring who over here…”
“Move aside.”
Ignoring his complaints, I shoved him aside, suddenly raising my right hand. “Bang! Bang! Bang!” Three loud booms erupted, noticeable ice projectiles shot up through the frosty mist, and Carlos shivered again, eyes widening. “Hey, hey, hey! What do you think you’re doing? Is this a contest to make me jump?”
I remained poker-faced. “Looking for my hound.”
“Your… what?!”
“I’m looking for the Sword Demon.”
“Anacelis?” Carlos blinked, understanding dawning, and said with exasperation, “Go ahead and look for her, but did you have to make such a racket?”
“Goat cheese won’t dare come over; this is the quickest way—once she sees those ice projectiles, she’ll know it’s me.”
“And what does that have to do with you making a big boom by my ear?”
“…Maybe, just a tad?”
“Bull! You did that on purpose!”
“Well, duh. And? What’s it to you?”
“……”
Whoosh—
Suddenly, from the southern wasteland of the city, accompanied by a piercing shriek, a dazzling golden light slowly ascended. Carlos and I turned quickly at the noise and saw that light rise for a few seconds before—boom—it erupted in the falling ash.
“Whoa?” Carlos halted, surprised. “There’s really someone responding.”
But it certainly wouldn’t be the Sword Demon…
“Divine Miracle, Light of MaFa.” I stated grimly, “That’s Church people. Be careful.”
“I didn’t need you to remind me…”
Carlos zapped ahead like lightning, the commotion nearly plastering me with ash. I quickly executed a Moon Step to catch up, and in less than two seconds, we were running neck and neck, yelling into the wind, “Carlos! Are you doing this on purpose—”
“Yep, what’s it to you?” a flippant phrase drifted back amidst the howling winds, sounding painfully familiar.
“Don’t forget it!!”
While bickering, we sped southward around the Holy City. Even as I told him to remember, the feeling in my gut remained calm; both Carlos and I seemed remarkably composed.
On the way, that light flared up again, but we began to slow down, circling the area around our destination, spreading out to confirm there were no ambushes, patiently observing until we were sure it was clear before moving in.
Before long, we discovered a figure slumped against a stone in a stinking, rotting mud puddle, dressed in the garb of the Choir of Saints, appearing quite injured.
The figure hung their head, gasping for breath, and with the sound of footsteps nearing, they managed to raise their head weakly.
To my surprise, it was a face I somewhat recognized.
“Ramiel…”
