novelraw Chapter 1284 643: In Hell
Chapter 1284 643: In Hell
"On the high mountains, the flowers are blooming, in the sparkling sky, the stars are shining brightly…"
Amid the swirling dust, the children's singing came from afar.
The air was filled with Dust, carrying the scent of sheep manure and fermented pasture on the wind.
A bird descended from the branches, landing on the shoulder of the hunched old man, singing, bidding farewell.
As if, in a fleeting dream.
The lamb bleated, licking the old man's palm, waking him from the long dream. The vegetation was lush, glowing under the sunlight.
As if it were Heaven.
"Your Majesty, it's time to leave."
The Old Woman offered fruits and cheese, respectfully reminding him.
"I…"
The old man stared blankly at everything, wanting to say something, but unable to speak.
On the village road, shepherds and farmers smoked and chatted idly, snot-nosed children played, chased, fell to the ground, got up, their dusty clothes stained with dirt; by the river in the distance, mothers doing laundry scolded angrily.
Tanned young men grinned, revealing teeth as white as silver, waved to girls picking dates across the crowd; the girls glared at them, annoyed, and bowed their heads amid their companions' teasing.
Smoke rose from the slightly dilapidated houses, the air filled with the aroma of baking wheat.
The old man gazed at the mundane scene before him, focused and content, as if looking at the most precious treasure in the world.
"Are you all…"
He turned around stiffly, looking at the Old Woman: "Are you all doing well?"
"It's time to leave, Your Majesty."
The Old Woman smiled slightly, "We are all freed, please don't worry… You, hoped I would say that, didn't you?"
The old man stood there in a daze.
"But this is all false."
The illusion of the Old Woman retracted her smile, not angry or resentful, just calm, "Your Majesty, we are all dead, and when a person dies, there is nothing left."
"No consciousness, no Heaven."
The lamb raised its head, telling him: "Only leaving behind hatred with no place to go."
"In a dead world, there is no Hell."
The emaciated old cow turned back, gazing at the wretched figure seeking solace, without pity: "Hell is where you the living are."
"Your Majesty…"
Snot-nosed children tugged at his sleeve, looked up puzzled: "Can't you see our decomposing bones?"
The old man stood dumbly, stiffly.
Involuntarily, he reached out to touch, but only passed futilely through the illusion.
The singing birds spread their wings, flying into the fiery sky.
Thirsty farmers hoisted hoes, heading to fields set ablaze. Coughing blood, the shepherd drove the rotten flock towards the chemical weapon-tainted wasteland.
"Struggling in pestilence, crying in thirst…"
"Planting barren bones in desolation, worms growing in intestines."
"Ah, ah, the torment is endless, suffering has no end."
The children still sang joyously, danced and sang, their voices echoing in the absurd Illusion Dream.
Echoing in this hell that belongs only to one.
Until they too gradually faded away.
In the darkness, only oneself remains.
No matter how one calls.
No one turns back to look.
And then, he finally understood.
They were all dead.
Died in bloodthirsty plague, under the claws of kin, beneath the fiery sky, in their homeland turned to scorched earth, died before his eyes.
Died by his own hand.
In that moment, he finally heard the call from the mortal world.
Again and again.
He opened his eyes.
And saw a sky as red as blood no different from Hell, desolation and earth, the wind carrying the stench of decay and blood… Across the sky, falling lights of Destruction, stirring up terrifying waves.
"Father! Father!!!"
Those feverish eyes stared at him, brimming with tears: "How wonderful, Father, you've finally awakened!"
Unable to restrain the joy and delight from the heart, dancing in ecstasy.
"Father, everything is ready, the resurrection is almost completed! Please, Father, take control once more and save White Country!"
"…Ensuer, is that you?"
The White King looked at him dazedly, confused and weary, as if he couldn't recognize the child he had once picked up from the ruins.
He had grown old, no longer young, nor confused.
His face covered with wrinkles, as if older than himself, unable to resist the passage of time.
Only those eyes burned with turbulent flames.
So fervent, so thirsty.
And thus, the White King finally understood what had happened after his death.
"Even you have become like this…"
The Sacrificial King murmured in realization, trying to weep but unable to suppress the hollow laughter, mocking himself, "Haha, hahaha… Turns out… Even my child wants to push his kin into Hell?!"
"Father, I…"
Ensuer stood in a daze, wanting to speak, could no longer make a sound.
The White King closed his eyes, reached out gently, touched his forehead.
And so, Ensuer fell backward, the empty face still holding excitement and fear…
Silence reigned again.
Only a corpse dressed in magnificent clothes rolled down from the steps of the audience hall, landing at someone's feet. The newcomer glanced down at him indifferently, stepping over the body and ascending the blood-stained steps one step at a time.
Finally, he looked at the fragmented White King, nailed to the giant tree.
Unhesitatingly, he bowed low, paying the highest respect.
He greeted with a smile:
"—Shekri, congratulations on behalf of my master!"
On that smiling face, there was genuine joy, without the slightest shadow, yet it also bore the unhidden greed and hatred deep in his bones.
Thus, everything already had an answer.
"Is that so?"
The White King looked down upon that mocking smile, unable to comprehend: "You still dare to appear before me?"
"Why would I not dare?"
Shekri rose calmly, brushed the dust off his knees, and walked step by step into the reach of the White King. He retorted: "Apart from Your Majesty, am I not the only one who can save the White Country now?
Well, despite the chaos and destruction, from today onwards, at least the name of the White Country can persist because of Your Majesty... It seems, in this light, my efforts have not been in vain!"
He looked up without shame, staring at the White King within reach.
But as the White King raised his hand once more, Shekri instantly flashed to the bottom of the stairs, full of vigilance, leaving no opportunity for the White King.
The White King spoke no more.
He merely raised his head, wearily gazing at the sky.
The upraised hand clenched tightly onto the sword blade in his chest, impaling himself on Shangrila, forbidding it to spring out, and not allowing himself to truly become a wolf...
So, Shekri's expression gradually darkened.
That futile delaying, how pathetic!
"I understand, Your Majesty, I understand."
He sighed lightly, speaking slowly: "After all these years, you're still the same, always having hope in your heart, right? You've always been like this... harboring unrealistic expectations of others, yearning for relief, craving compassion, always placing your so-called hope on others.
Well, perhaps that's for the best..."
Shekri's smile abruptly vanished: "Unrealistic dreams should awaken, Your Majesty, today, let me act as your ceremonial officer.
Allow me to report your decree!"
The Corroded Scale Wolf raised its head, turned back, looked at the ruins and the dense forest behind, solemnly proclaimed:
"—There is one more to come for an audience!"
The White King stiffened in silence.
He lowered his head, only to see Shekri's mocking smile: "The person you most wish to see—"
Boom!!!
A roar came from the ruins of the Old Capital.
Blood sprayed, soaring into the sky, only to fall down once more.
Roaring and wailing drew near, amid the rising and falling howls, someone shouted furiously, smashing through the last obstruction ahead, breaking in!
A bloody wind and rain rushed toward him!
It was difficult to discern whether it was human, beast, wolf, or something even more crazed and hideous... The entirely black fur was dyed crimson with blood.
Mangled flesh, with one gaping wound after another, flipped over like hungry mouths greedily feasting on blood.
When it roared to the sky, cracks covered the mutant's face, revealing white bones and gums.
It staggered forward, almost unable to stand, yet moved incredibly fast.
Letting broken blades pierce its body.
The sword in hand slashed and swept, aided by claws and fangs, tearing apart the last blockade ahead, breaking into the lock of this audience blockade.
At the cost of life, caring not for death.
Squandering this power suppressed for ages, to fulfill the promise made by the Sacrificial King and his most trusted Forbidden Guard!
Inaya, should the day come...
At this moment, the surviving blood-red eyes finally lifted to look at the long-separated lord ahead, seemingly smiling, seemingly in tears, with no more hesitation.
"Your Majesty, as per the promise."
Ni Lin said, "I've come to kill you!"
"Take him—"
Shekri sneered, waving his hand, as figures on both sides of the steps sprouted beastly fur, with ferocious claws and fangs, pouncing forward.
Immediately after, corpses lay scattered on the ground, disintegrating!
Ni Lin roared, moving forward.
Recklessly.
The cracked long sword slashed down, carving a path of blood through the Wolf Pack once more.
Staggering, running wildly, falling, rising again, falling again, as the sword lamented and shattered, it was cast aside, revealing fangs and claws.
Mouth opening to tear wolf flesh, ripping out the hearts of kin, unable to stand, crawling forward, using both hands and feet, repeatedly suppressed, in the midst of roaring, struggling fiercely, and pouncing forward once again.
Falling once more.
Boom!
Beasts pressing on the broken body were ripped apart by the last remaining claw seam, but they were immediately pressed down again on the audience steps.
In the pool of blood, Ni Lin raised his hand with difficulty, still trying to tear apart the last barrier in front.
Shekri!
"Ha, you actually made it all the way here."
Shekri stared in shock, couldn't help but shake his head, full of admiration: "Truly beaten by you, to be so foolish to this extent!"
Boom!
Shekri casually pulled out a long spear and thrust it into his throat, nailing him to the steps, followed by the second, the third, wedging him into iron and stone!
Then, stepping on his face.
Disdainfully trampling.