Gun of Ashes

Chapter 937 15: Dark Soul II

The Pioneer slightly nodded, said nothing, and left simply and neatly, like a machine pushing open the door. Apart from the halted movements of the believers, nothing changed, as if the Pioneer had never been there.

The man lingered in place for a long time, and with a deep sigh, he felt much relieved.

"Never thought I'd see you again."

Suddenly, his vision went black, and a delirious frenzy of hallucinations surged from the darkness. This wasn't happening to him alone; all the believers saw the same scene, as a massive wave of memories flooded into fragile flesh. Some couldn't bear the pressure and collapsed to the ground, blood streaming from their orifices.

The erosion descended.

The man also began to buckle; he fell into the brazier before him, and the blazing fire ignited his clothes. But instead of a painful groan, he stared straight into the hallucination... or perhaps this was a memory of the past.

Years of memories, hundreds of years of memories, thousands of years of memories... seemingly endless memories.

"So lonely."

Endless years rushed by, and from beginning to end, only the owner of the memory stood alone within it.

The man's skin began to wither and fracture, and under the bizarre erosion, his flesh shrank into a blackened hardness, clinging to fragile bones. The fire scorched it, but he felt no physical response anymore.

His will began to collapse under the immense weight of memory; a mortal's will was so fragile. From an outside perspective, only seconds had passed, but for the man, countless years had elapsed, and he was losing track of his own identity.

Yet, at the brink of death, he saw it, overstepping the barrier, walking into the darkness.

At the end of these memories, in the abode cursed and forsaken by gods, amidst that ghastly, viscous black swamp, despair and fear took shape here, as though a realm concentrated with all evils and anomalies.

Something unspeakable lay dormant in this forgotten and sealed place until the man crossed the ages and became aware of its existence once more, saw its form, and disturbed its long slumber.

Thus, it awoke from its slumber, traversed time and dimensions, and reached the present world.

"Ah... ah..."

The believers let out the same wretched screams, their voices weak, as their bodies began to disintegrate. Within the burning longhouse, everything descended into extreme madness.

Blood drained from their bodies, and then viscous black water gushed forth like an endless tide, chilling to the bone, so cold that even the flames couldn't warm it.

It seemed that beneath human husks lay these sinful liquids, gathering into a mass. Its sleek surface began to pulsate, raising the withered corpses as if chewing food, devouring them completely.

The man still retained a sliver of consciousness, but it was like a flickering candle. Black water continued to draw from his mouth and nose, as if a flock of crows had picked his eyes, rendering him blind in one eye, with a rotting eye socket, from which black water gushed like a spring.

The man felt his body had been entirely drained, both blood and organs emptied, yet black water continued to pour forth... perhaps it was now extracting something else, perhaps his very soul.

He sorrowfully watched it all but sensed the malicious presence around him. Dimly, he saw the black water being drawn from his body, saw the form of his soul.

It all seemed somewhat amusing to him.

So this is his soul? These dark and viscous abnormal entities are his soul, the human soul, a sinful soul.

The viscous black liquid writhed frantically as if alive, raising countless protrusions on its gelatinous surface, bubbling. From within the liquid sprang forth bizarre life... indeed, it was hard to say whether such a thing possessed life.

An inhuman spine extended from the black water, appearing to belong to some beast. Judging by its size, the beast must have been as large as a skyscraper. Dried muscle fibers hung from it, intestines dangling like ribbons between ribs, which looked like a cage protecting an entirely exposed large heart. Thick blood vessels linked with the black water pulsed vigorously, drawing in fluid.

This thing tremored gently, as if breathing. It appeared newborn, but the man considered it more like a guise taken by the black water, simulating a form of life.

The black water's surface grew agitated, countless hands reaching out from it. At this moment, the black water resembled a solid mirror, leading to another world beneath.

The hands were pale, like a woman's delicate and beautiful hands, swaying lightly like grass brushed by the wind, creating an incredibly impactful scene, as thousands of hands swayed together.

Delicate blood vessels cracked open from their palm centers, exposing a ghastly white pupil underneath, with a black cornea rapidly swiveling. More small eyeballs appeared along the eye corners, and tens of thousands of eyes swayed with the hands.

The dense network of blood vessels spread across the bone and flesh. A ghastly black maw bloomed from a tumor, breathing in the air, emitting wailing hoarse cries, and the myriad voices gathered together, turning into a mad scream.

The man gagged violently, but his body was already empty, even his soul gone, while his sole remaining eye witnessed everything, witnessing the embodiments of "madness," "darkness," "death," and "fear."

His body gradually sank into the black water, the entire longhouse consumed by flames. The frigid wind carried snow inside, while the black water, seemingly unbound, continued to expand outward, spawning grotesque things upon it, eroding the entire world into a state of riddled decay...

This is what the soul looks like, this is the darkness beneath the shell, and in this beautiful world resides such awful life. The man thought the Pioneer was right - this world should embrace a future where all of humanity perishes.

This is the end of all things.

He completely submerged into the black water, which poured back into the withered husk beneath.

Amidst the ultimate darkness of death, unsure if it was a hallucination or reality, the man saw countless angels fluttering their wings gently descending. They came from the heavens, carrying holy white flames.

It seemed they were reaching out to him, as though at the end of this nightmare awaited the endless banquet of the Heroic Spirit Hall, or perhaps the beautiful Celestial Kingdom.

Ah... whether it's light or darkness, it doesn't matter, as long as it means escape for his sinful soul, departing this mad world, anything would suffice.

In the end, the man thought this.

Fiery rain fell, and all things turned to ash.

...

The Pioneer gazed into the direction of the longhouse, witnessing countless angels descending from the sky. The vast flames accompanying them instantly melted the cold frozen ground, then scorched it to a charred earth.

As the oath foretold, they had always guarded the fence, abiding by the iron rule set a thousand years ago.

The Pioneer witnessed all this, then lowered his head to look at the Holy Silver Helmet in his hand, which, although meticulously maintained, had become utterly mottled under the baptism of time, covered in deep dents, some almost penetrating the helmet and hacking through to the skull beneath.

"I despise stagnation."

The Pioneer suddenly spoke, a man of few words, sometimes going years without uttering a word, yet now he spoke to himself.

"So what's the difference between now and the past, Ed? The problems remain unsolved, and the world is still terribly rotten."

He put on the helmet, concealing it within the shadows of his hood.

Supporting himself with a spear, the Pioneer left the place, heading towards the distant mountains, his figure so small and lonely amidst the wind and snow.