Chapter 758: Crossing the Border
Chapter 756 – Crossing the Border
It was a glorious “light explosion”.
The “light arc” equivalent to about a quarter of the sun’s rune ring band disintegrated in the sky, and then transformed into a dozen or so larger luminous structures, and in the initial disintegration of a short period of time, they were still climbing up and moving towards the sky according to the normal operation trajectory of Vision 001, as if each of the luminous structures still had residual power and navigation functions. power and navigational functions, but after only a few moments, their movement showed clear signs of being out of control.
The glowing structures began to fragment, large and small bodies of light like fleets of ships broken up in a storm, tracing a bright line across the sky that gradually moved away from them, and between those larger bodies of light splintered many smaller sources of light – as inconspicuous as fireflies compared to the larger fragments, and accompanied by a flickering and a series of tiny explosions falling from the sky.
Light rained down from the clouds, from the eastern border to the Western Isles, and the explosions lit up the night, flooding the entire ocean with an intense and eerie golden sunlight.
On the other hand, those large-scale fragments fell at a relatively slow speed, and while continuously pouring down glowing debris, they followed their own trajectories to the entire world, with most of the falling objects falling in the southwestern sea, and a few smaller fragments falling towards the center and the north, respectively.
It was now the eighteenth hour after “nightfall”, and the infinite sea was briefly illuminated by another major disintegration of the sun, and due to the low altitude of the falling objects, only a quarter of the runic arcs were enough to light up the sky, and so this “meteor shower”, which represented the approaching end of the world, brought a new meaning to the world instead. Instead, this “meteor shower” brought the world a “daytime” that lasted for nearly an hour – and in this short period of daytime, the entire world was plunged into silence.
Duncan stood at the window of the second floor of the antique store, he opened the narrow window at the end of the corridor, letting all the wind and sound into the house – the neighborhood was silent, both the sound of cars and horses and the sound of people seemed to have disappeared from the city, but in fact there were a lot of people out there now.
Men, women, and children stepped out of their houses or peeked out of their windows and stared at the glittering light that slipped through the sky, and groups of people gathered in the streets, including even squads of sheriffs and guardsmen who had assembled in an emergency.
All of them, as if clutched by the neck, kept their heads tilted in the same position, all standing still in the falling sunlight.
The only sounds left in heaven and earth were the roar and whistling of those luminous bodies as they cut through the clouds, and the sound of bells from the distant church.
The silence in the neighborhood was suddenly broken by the sound of a whistle, and the crowd gathered in the streets awoke at the sound of the whistle and began to return to their homes in an orderly fashion.
The black-robed cleric left with the tablet of remembrance, and only the splintering fire-pit accompanied the tall, silent figure of Frem in the sanctuary.
Under the light, the figure of this fire-bearer pope was like a stone statue standing between the light and shadow, and his rock-like face could not see the slightest fluctuation of emotion, as if his whole heart and soul had already been poured into the “tablet of remembrance” in his hand.
The teachings of the Holy Scriptures could not help but come to his mind…
Inside the sanctuary, a fire pit was burning, and a cleric wearing black robes stood beside the fire pit, reporting the latest situation to the Pope: “…… Patrol fleet located in the southwestern sea has noticed the direction of the fall of several major luminous bodies, and is sending high-speed ships to search for them! ……
Frem withdrew his gaze from looking out the window and continued to carve the last few symbols into the ceremonial stone slab with a very smooth hand.
“There has been a Phantom Demon attack in Mussala Harbor, and for the time being, it is impossible to determine whether this is a demonic invasion caused by the night, or whether there are remnants of the Annihilationists who are taking advantage of the chaos ……”
Even if the world ends, it should be recorded carefully until the last moment, and the last breath of civilization should end with the knife and pen of the carver of history.
Before closing the window, Duncan heard a few other sounds – children asking their parents what was going on, asking why they couldn’t continue with school, why they couldn’t go out and look for their friends, some cursing in whispers, some sighing, some crying in whispers.
“Let’s just say that the mental state is like a living thing, it’s far from a ‘recovery’,” Helena’s voice trembled in the flames and seemed a little distorted as it reached Frem’s ears, “but staying in bed and recuperating right now is obviously not a realistic thing to do.”
And the last thing that came out of the window was the sound of sirens and church bells in the direction of the docks – it seemed that a warship had been ordered to make preparations to leave the harbor.
Night had fallen anew, and Prand returned to the night once more.
“There have been no reports of falling objects falling directly near the city-state, and it looks like all of the sun debris this time has fallen at sea …… There have also been no reports of ships at sea encountering falling objects for the time being.
The black-robed cleric bowed and received the tablet, seeing that the years and months were written on it in deep engravings, as well as the records about the falling sun fragments.
“The Creation of the World has reappeared in the sky …… In the past eighteen hours, three city-states have reported a significant increase in transcendent encroachments within their cities …… They do not require reinforcements for the time being, but hope that the nearest fleet will close in on them ……
Listening to one of the cleric’s reports, Frem nodded gently, and then handed over the gray stone slab he had just finished carving, “I’ve noted it all down – send this to the archives.”
The entire world returned to the night once more.
After an unknown amount of time, as if suddenly sensing something, this Sanguine Pope twisted his head to look at the firepit, “Helena, have you regained your status?”
And then, after an unknown amount of time, the sky began to darken – and the last of the luminaries crossed the highest point between the clouds, which had lingered briefly in the sky, seemingly still trying hard to carry out the primal command to illuminate the world, but soon lost power and crashed down into the sea like the rest of the debris, and faded away in a brilliant trailing flame.
“I have heard from Loon,” said Frem, “of the very …… amazing development.”
“Do you mean the Goddess descending upon me, or the ‘Captain’s’ plan?”
“…… Both,” said Frem slowly, after a slight hesitation, “the latter, of course, is more astounding.” The voices in the firepit were quiet for a few seconds.
“Frem.”
“I’m listening.”
“…… Are you still recording history?”
“Still, I’ve been leaving records about history as required by the Holy Scriptures.”
“If the world ends and we don’t survive, will those tablets you carved be picked up and read by new beings sometime in the future?”
“…… If that day does come, it will mean that the Captain’s plan has failed, and the Gods have failed, and even the Age of Fire,” Frem gazed silently at the flames leaping from the firepit, “will not be left to understand those histories, for on that day, even the very concept of ‘history’ had died out.”
“…… But you still continue to leave records and guard the totems that pass the fire.”
“For it is inherently meaningful to record history, and even if there are no later generations, ‘history’ itself at least proves that we ourselves remained civilized until our demise – as the mad poet Putman describes in his final verses :
“The years give me life, I give the years memories.”
“…… I didn’t realize you knew poetry.”
“Poetry is part of history.”
“…… Is that so?” There was a slight pause in the voice coming from the firepit, then continued, “Now then, please record one thing for me – and carve it into the tablet the next time you pray to the Eternal Flame Salary.”
Immediately, Frem took a piece of parchment from the side and held out a pen, “Speak.”
“…… On January 21, 1902 of the New City-State Calendar, the ‘Sea Song’ was crossing the six nautical mile critical line at the end of the Eternal Curtain, and they were the vanguard of the civilized world.”
“The Sea Song, January 21, 1902 …… OK, I’ve got it down.”
……
The mists seemed to have transformed into some strange entity, no longer flowing, gentle currents, and the steamer struggled on through the fog that seemed to fill the whole world, each step seeming to rest against a thick wall, entangled, crushed, and bound by invisible forces.
And in this fog like some kind of dense mass, the boundaries of all things in the world have disappeared unconsciously – the sea near the ship’s side did not know when to become some kind of gray illusory things, the sky above can no longer be seen in the tangible clouds, the muddy light of the sky shrouds everything, only in very occasional times, lookout can only see the sea water surging in the gap of the fog. Only very occasionally, the lookout can see in the fog gap there are seawater surging.
Those seawater distant unreal like a mirage.
The white Pioneer Exploration Ship flying the flag of the Church of the Deep floated in the mist, and although the steam core was constantly roaring, due to the lack of any point of reference, the mist itself was always in a state of flux, so that the occupants of the ship could not be sure whether the ship was really still moving forward – or had already been caught up in this strange “sea”. The “sea” is confined to the same place.
“We have lost all contact with the Church Ark, and can only faintly sense the signal from the temporary lighthouse,” a Church sailor in a dark blue smock came to the bridge and reported to the captain of the Sea Song, “the steam core is running at full power, and we are still maintaining course. ”
“Uh-huh.”
The captain of the Sea Song nodded gently, she was a cold-faced lady who didn’t look like she was smiling, after listening to the sailor’s report, she then turned her gaze to the cleric on the side, “Can you hear a little better in this direction?”
The object of the captain’s inquiry was an elderly priest in a loose-fitting smock, his face already furrowed with wrinkles, his eye sockets deeply sunken, and his back hunched over, he looked completely unfit for such an oceanic voyage from age to health, yet he sat closest to the captain, holding an elaborate incense burner crafted from brass in one hand, while the other clutched an amulet carved from the wood of the Sea Breath.
The old priest listened with his ear to the side, as if listening for some signal beyond human perception, and all around him fell silent, as if afraid of disturbing the old man in his task.
After a long time, the old priest finally raised his head slowly.
He heard the sound, it was the echo of dying, he smelled the odor, it was the stench of decay – and he felt the guidance, it was the whispering of the Goddess.
“Over here,” the old priest raised his hand and pointed in a certain direction in the fog, “He is here.”
(End of chapter)