Chapter 128: The Knight’s Lament – Eternal Night
In the southern part of Silgaya, at the midsection of the Holy Wall.
The gray wind howled, sweeping over the desolate wilderness of the barren desert. Amidst the miasma, the smell of d*ath mixed with charred remains and decay filled every corner beneath the darkened clouds.
The magnificent golden city walls rose like a miraculous dragon, coiling along the hills. But now, that “dragon” seemed to be all hacked up, riddled with holes and pierced by countless gnarled and dead branches. Among the collapsed debris of the walls, some grotesque, shriveled corpses could still be seen, looking as tragic as they smelled.
Chaotic mists drifted over from the lifeless scorched earth on the opposite side of the wall. The grayish-black d*ath fog cloaked one broken section of the wall after another.
On the other side of the wall, the Sin Barrier surged, fueled by the faith of the clergymen. This semi-transparent golden barrier remained the last line of defense, protecting human lands from terrible disasters. The thin wall flickered precariously, visibly on the brink of collapse.
A cold winter wind blew from the dead lands towards the realm of the living, to the field hospital two kilometers away from the Holy Wall, where heroic warriors struggled and cried out in agony.
Haunting injuries were brought in, while charred bodies wrapped in shrouds were carefully dragged away. Looking around the camp, all one could see were filthy faces, either in pain or numbness, as the stench of bl**d mixed with the odors of excrement and earth, filling the heavy, grim air.
“How many is that today?”
“Thirty-eight, I think.”
“I swear it was forty.”
Among the wounded, someone was counting the corpses brought out of the camp since morning. Some of the bodies were strangers to him, but some were his teammates with whom he had shared laughter just yesterday. Now, they were gone, wrapped in white cloth and taken away.
The chaos was spreading too quickly; so fast, in fact, that sometimes one wouldn’t even feel the pain before slipping away into an endless sleep.
“If tomorrow I end up like that, don’t let the medics carry me away. Just find a place and secretly bury me. Put a few stones up as a grave marker. And write a letter to my family, so my mom can find me…”
The speaker had already lost his left arm, but it didn’t stop the chaotic power from crawling over him. A faint black mist spiraled from his gruesome wound, and a good part of his shoulder already looked as shriveled as old parchment. One could only wonder when that deathly aura would consume him completely.
“Stop thinking about that. Who knows if this place will even be here by then…”
“Maybe we’ll d*e before you do, you dumb a**.”
“We can’t even stop that d*mn tree. Don’t even think about where to hide your remains; your mom might not even be around anymore.”
“Hey, you little—”
They stood in the desolate ground outside the tents, capable of moving about and joking, which meant they were among the least injured in the camp, yet they understood they too would ultimately meet d*ath. Their words were light, but if you looked into their eyes, you’d see the cold fear hidden deep within.
These knights of the First Knights Order and the clergymen of the Faith Organization stationed at the Holy Wall to fend off the “Disaster” were the sharpest tools of the Church, the most unwavering heroes. Many among them would d*e without ever understanding what they were fighting against or even what this nameless “Disaster” truly was.
The only thing they grasped was the despair of erosion and the fear of silence.
“Raise your swords—”
Outside the First Knights Order’s camp, dozens of bound men knelt in a row on the barren land, their heads bowed. Their filthy cotton garments hung loosely on their bodies. Some murmured pleads for mercy, while others muttered to themselves, eyes closed. Behind them stood knights clad in golden armor from the First Knights Order.
At the command, the knights drew their swords with a metallic “clang,” pressing them against the necks of the kneeling men.
Bald Isaac rode atop a horned horse, with a few other knights arrayed nearby, gazing upon the makeshift execution ground. He also glanced at the pile of swords at his feet, all confiscated from the kneeling men, crafted from fine steel by the central workshop. They resembled the swords carried by the executioners.
The man could no longer bear to watch what would happen next. He signaled to the knight beside him, turning the beast’s head away. Moments later, a decisive shout pierced the air: “Execute!”
The swords sang their deadly song as heads rolled, the sound of bl**d spraying resounding harshly in the still air.
Isaac recalled just an hour ago, when he had received the report about some deserters from the knights’ ranks. He had personally led the team to catch those cowardly runaways—among them was one familiar face, once kneeling before him, pleading with tears streaming down his face.
“I’m not afraid to d*e, Commander, I’m not…”
“It’s just that my woman is pregnant… and it’s time to see my child. I just want him to remember my face. I know I’m going to d*e… I’ve never backed down in all these years with the Judgment Fist. Just let me see this one last time; I promise I’ll come back. The knights are my true home…”
That face came back to him, seemingly alive, a brave knight of the First Knights Order.
Isaac rubbed his forehead, his brutal demeanor finally showing some weariness.
“How is Captain Seattle? Is he healing?”
A man beside him swiftly replied, “The Saint went to see him this morning; he still can’t get out of bed. Sometimes he’s coherent, sometimes he’s not.”
“That’s just… ”
Isaac scratched his bald head, wanting to grumble but keeping silent. Instead, he ordered one of the others, “Hang the deserters’ heads on the flagpole later as a warning to everyone else. No one who tries to escape gets away with it.”
He paused.
“Let Seattle handle this kind of thing next time. Don’t call me again.”
With that said, Isaac turned to gaze at the sky above the camp.
The heavens were shrouded in dark clouds, swirling like a miasma.
In the distance, behind the Holy Wall, countless towering dead trees twisted and knotted in the overcast mists. Strange, eerie sounds occasionally echoed from the depths of the fog.
“This really gives me the creeps…”
…………
At the command tent of the defensive line at the middle of the Holy Wall.
“Saint! I said the Saint!”
Dozens of captains and bishops were blocking Margaret at the camp entrance after their routine daily meeting. An elderly cleric, looking quite seasoned, pressed her forcefully, “What’s the stance from the Holy City? Give us a straight answer today!”
“Every time we ask, you keep pushing it back. The Second Knights and Fifth Knights, when will they finally come to reinforce us? The Holy Wall is under severe strain; does the Pope have a new decision? Which cardinal is being sent to take charge?”
“Even those in black robes, The Choir of Saints! At this point, let bygones be bygones; all previous grudges and ideological differences must be set aside. If they are willing to support the Faith Organization, we old clerics here are ready to bury the hatchet and work together. We cannot let the last barrier protecting the Western Continent fall…”
“We are running out of people—”
Suddenly, someone in the crowd burst into tears: “Two thousand clergy have stood their ground at the midsection of the Holy Wall. Twenty years of the Church’s effort has turned into this small band of elite clergymen. In just two months, half have returned to the Deity!”
“Do you know? Many of them haven’t been eroded by the power of the Disaster, but rather, they’ve exhausted their faith and simply dropped dead standing on the wall… Dying is just too regrettable and frustrating!”
“If we go on like this, we’re truly going to run out of people…”
Margaret looked at their pale faces. Someone stood off to the side, whispering to others, “If the Holy City really abandons us, shouldn’t we think about ourselves a little more…?”
That person was promptly shouted down as an ambitious opportunist, like St. George. Arguments intensified, with others lamenting “the hearts of men are about to scatter.” The scene grew increasingly chaotic, and in the commotion, someone knocked Margaret down. The saint, sitting on the ground, looked frostbitten as she watched the scene unfold, her mouth trembling, her eyes reflecting resolution and sorrow.
…………
On the north side of the camp, under dim light, thousands of figures stood in unison, shouting in the cold wind: “May the Deity be with me—!”
They were the reinforcements that had arrived with the food convoy two days ago, recruited by the Church’s relaxed screening across various cities in the Western Continent—trainee knights of both genders, all decked out in ill-fitting armor, their faces excited yet youthful. Many among them had only held a sword for only a few months.
They stood arrayed in the wilderness, honored with medals bestowed by aging captains, their hearts swelling with anticipation that they would soon guard their fellow citizens, protect their parents and kin, and ensure the prosperity of human society. They would raise their swords high, charging toward the grand Holy Wall, pouring their fervent bl**d into the essence of that sacred bastion.
“History will remember you, remember the names you take pride in. The Church is proud of you, the Knights Order is proud of you, and your families will also be proud of you. They will pass your names down to the next generation of brave children. When you accomplish your noble deeds, the Pope himself will confer upon you the highest honors as Pope Knights, admired by all—”
On the other side of the camp, flames and smoke began to rise.
In the ranks, some looked toward the distant black cloud with an exhilaration that was almost manic.
Those grotesquely charred, blackened corpses absorbed by the chaos, were piling up endlessly; the Faith Organization’s clergy had long lost the strength to clean up these highly dangerous chaotic remnants. Numb medics and disheveled nuns wrapped the bodies in dirty rags and tossed them into the roaring fire.
Most of the corpses were unrecognizable, but among them, there were a few with youthful faces similar to those eager trainee knights.
They would soon turn to ash in the flames, leaving behind the once-glimmering medals representing courage and honor.
…………
The smoke from the raging fire floated toward the grain storage camp to the west, heavily guarded by the Knights Order.
The food convoy from Alectine City had just emptied its carts and departed when several captains rushed to the door, nearly ready to fight over how to distribute the food.
Some of these units hadn’t received new rations in almost half a month. The knights were starving, yet here loomed mountains of grain bags, bulging to the point of almost overflowing. However, pressured by Isaac’s intimidation, everyone suppressed their anger, temporarily refraining from seizing the food. Their resentment only grew as they failed to understand why they were in such dire straits without being allowed to fill their stomachs before going to meet their doom.
In the crowded granary, the older knights, the most respected of the First Knights Order, watched the heaping bags of grain, fully aware that these were just temporary fills for the night-time dirt.
“How much longer can we hold out…?”
In the darkness, someone sighed softly.
“We will find a way to hold out longer.”
Unbeknownst to them, a tremor echoed again from the direction of the wall.
…………
Boom!
A massive, dragon-like black branch burst forth from the shattered remains of the Holy Wall, crashing down with frigid winds and deathly aura!
The thick branch, over ten meters wide, slammed into the Sin Barrier without reservation. The golden light wall instantly flickered. Several clergymen from the Faith Organization stationed on the watchtower were struck by the impact, bl**d spraying from their mouths and noses as they lost consciousness and tumbled down from the tower, landing in a crumpled mess.
“Hold it up! Quick, hold it up—”
The thin light barrier shattered explosively, revealing a massive gap. The knights below reacted swiftly, chanting miracles, and forming a tightly packed flesh wall with their large shields in just seconds.
“Come on!”
The knights shouted ferociously, their crimson eyes glaring from beneath metal helmets: “Waaahhh—!!”
From the swirling fog of darkness ahead, countless small, dead branches twisted and struck against the shield wall like serpents. The tremendous force deformed the iron shields, the dull thuds echoing as knights fell and were thrown backward by the impact.
Thick, warm bl**d gushed across the ground, and the shield wall crumbled, more knights surged forward to fill the gap, as black mud began to seep beneath them. Some stepped on it, their feet being corroded and emitting white smoke as they laughed manically: “If I hold this off just this once, I’ll have a perfect record of ten times. If I can keep this d*mn thing from crossing the line, dying is worth it! Hahaha—”
Soon after, the clergy finally managed to patch up the gap, leaving over ten blackened, desiccated corpses in the muck, the stench of bl**d suffocating, and the ground littered with shattered shields.
“Go to hell!”
The red-eyed captain gasped, yelling at the shriveled branches that retreated: “No matter what you are, as long as I’m here, for another ten years, you won’t be shoving those filthy hands onto my clean land…”
He then started to laugh bitterly, bl**d spilling from the corner of his mouth, wisps of black smoke rising from his right arm.
Suddenly.
From the distance within the fog and d*ath, something was creeping up, rustling ominously.
The captain’s expression stiffened.
In the next moment, he ducked down, pressing his face to the ground.
Rumble rumble rumble…
It sounded like countless living beings were racing toward them from afar.
The captain suddenly stood up!
He looked beyond the light barrier, and for a long moment, he muttered in low tones, “You son of a…”
The long sword he raised went down again, revealing a profoundly grim expression. As his tense body slowly relaxed, he closed his eyes.
…………
Isaac and the others returned from outside the camp, chatting with Margaret by the light of the fire when he suddenly turned toward the south, his expression turning ashen.
There, high-pitched sounds rose continuously—like mirrors shattering, the golden barrier that protected the Holy Wall began to shatter piece by piece.
A scene of despair came without warning, and everyone froze in shock, blank minds taking it all in.
A few seconds later, Isaac was the first to react, shouting at Margaret, “Go find Captain Seattle, we need him to stabilize the rear—”
Upon finishing, he swung back onto his beast and was about to charge towards the shattered Sin Barrier, but someone suddenly dashed from the side and “plopped” down, kneeling before Isaac’s horned horse.
“Commander Isaac, what do we do…”
He stammered, fear evident in his voice: “Captain Seattle and his confidants left the camp two hours ago…”
Upon hearing the news, Isaac and Margaret stood there, dumbfounded for an eternity.
Suddenly, the robust warrior atop the beast’s back began to smirk derisively.
He looked up at the sky.
The roiling dark clouds seemed even darker than before.
“This sky won’t brighten again, will it…”
