Chapter 822: Chapter 819 The Stagnant Land of the Dead

In the boundless Wilderness of Death, a chaotic and cold wind blew ceaselessly across the land, rolling waves of grass, where black and white bizarre plants swayed their lifeless limbs in the wind. Small glimmers of light occasionally rose from the bushes, floating above the wasteland like lost souls, drifting in this forgotten domain of the dead.

The entire kingdom was shrouded under a nearly nocturnal dimness of Sky Light, where the sky was free of thick fog and clouds, only swirling with murky whirls of color, ceaselessly spiraling.

The Homeloss and the Brilliant Starship glided silently through the endless wilderness, an inexplicable scene–under Lucresia’s command, two metallic men left the ship to inspect the “land” outside, confirming that beneath the rolling waves of grass there was indeed solid ground. Yet both ships continued to sail across this land, with their hulls below the waterline submerging into the earth as if sailing in water, as if the concepts of “ocean” and “wilderness” bizarrely melded here.

Under Duncan’s command, both ships slowed their speed, navigating cautiously under the eternal night canopy. Sherry climbed to the top of the mast to the lookout, but after scouting the distance, saw nothing–around them was wilderness upon wilderness, with only mildly undulating ground visible and no buildings or conspicuous landmarks, not even a slightly higher hillock.

After a period of unfruitful navigation, the two ships finally came to a gradual halt–as if “stranded” in this endless expanse of wilderness.

Duncan gathered his followers on the deck.

“Given the bizarre incident we encountered on Ashen Isle earlier, we need to proceed with caution,” Duncan said with a serious expression, looking at the crew gathered before him. “No one should recklessly leave the ship, our utmost priority is to figure out what the ‘rules’ of this ‘Wilderness of Death’ are.”

“We should consult an expert,” Morris immediately said, “Lady Agatha should have some knowledge about the realm of the god of death…”

No sooner had the old scholar spoken than a dim shadow appeared on the deck, and Agatha’s voice came from the shadow, sounding strange and ethereal, “I am trying to work it out–but the situation may be somewhat complicated right now.”

She paused, organizing the knowledge in her memory while patiently explaining, “According to the holy scriptures, Outsiders arriving in the Wilderness of Death tread upon a ‘Path of No Return’ that passes through the wilderness. This path has no end and can only be traveled in one direction. The deceased walk this path, gradually forgetting their worldly memories, and then they encounter the guide, also known as the ‘Gatekeeper’ at the side of the realm of the dead.”

“The Gatekeeper leads the deceased through an invisible junction on the path, in an instant crossing the entire wilderness, and arriving at the center of the realm of the dead–there stands a huge gate, where the deceased see Bartok’s shadow, and under its gaze, they shed all the filth accumulated in the earthly world, and with a pure stance, enter through the gate, welcoming eternal rest…”

Agatha recounted the doctrine of the Death Church–unlike Duncan’s familiar concept of “reincarnation,” the endpoint of death was clearly eternal rest, not a return to the world in any form.

Upon hearing this, Sherry became genuinely curious, “So does everyone who dies finally go to sleep behind that door? What happens if it gets too full? The dead always keep increasing, right?”

As Sherry’s words fell, Alice, who just stepped down from the helm, also muttered, “That’d be really crowded… Are they all stacked up sleeping…?”

“I think most of them probably sleep vertically, like skewers in a cage,” Sherry whispered to Alice, “They fill up vertically then start stacking a layer horizontally on top, and after it’s covered, they sleep vertically again, one layer horizontally and one vertically, just stacking up like that…”

“By the way, wouldn’t those sleeping below feel very heavy?”

“No, I’ve heard that dead people don’t have any weight…”

The two with the least knowledge on the ship spontaneously opened this bizarre door to conversation on a strange topic, making the surrounding atmosphere increasingly odd. Finally, Duncan could not hold back anymore: “Cough cough… You can discuss this topic privately.”

Sherry quickly shrank her neck, nodding repeatedly, “Oh oh…”

Duncan then turned his gaze back to Agatha, “You just mentioned the situation is a bit complicated… What do you mean by that?”

Agatha nodded, “Simply put, if the records in the scriptures are correct, Outsiders need a ‘passage’ and ‘guidance’ to see the Master of Death, but now… the guidance mechanism may have already ceased.”

Duncan frowned, rapidly coming to a realization.

Lucresia and Morris also quickly caught on, Morris clenched his pipe, his brow furrowed, “The death mechanism of this world has disappeared…”

“Yes, the death mechanism has disappeared–thus the corresponding ‘Gatekeeper’ who guides Outsiders in the Wilderness of Death is also missing,” Agatha said gravely, raising her head, her gaze directed towards the endless wasteland beyond the ship’s side, “Without new deceased, neither the ‘Path of No Return’ nor the ‘Gatekeeper’ will appear, all we can see is the wilderness itself… Although theoretically, that great gate and the Master of Death should be at the heart of this wilderness, it’s a place one can never ‘reach’ without the correct method.”

Nina listened with wide eyes, looking up at Duncan and then at Agatha, finally unable to resist speaking, “Must there be such ‘conditions’ like passages and guidance? Isn’t there another alternative? Some kind of ritual…”

“I’m afraid there’s no other way,” Agatha slowly shook her head, “‘Symbolism’ is an extremely important aspect in the realms related to deities, and its nature is essentially ‘to replicate specific events through strict procedures’. Moreover, since the domain controlled by the Master of Death is quite unique, the ‘rules’ here can only be stricter than elsewhere… because the boundary between the living and the dead must be clear.”

She suddenly stopped at this point, her expression turning complex as she added, “At least… until the death mechanisms of this world disappear.”

Fenna, who had been silent all this while, suddenly broke the silence, “Does that mean, if there’s a ‘dead person,’ it might restart the guiding mechanism here and open the path to that door leading to Bartok?”

“…That’s how I understand it,” Agatha said cautiously, “At least, that’s what the sacred scriptures indicate, but it might not be that simple, after all… everything in the scriptures corresponds to the days when the world was still ‘normal’, and now many things have changed, even the gods themselves… they are twisted into forms even they find difficult to comprehend.”

“This is at least a direction,” Fenna said earnestly, “Better than aimlessly wandering in the wilderness.”

“But that raises a problem,” Morris said, holding his pipe, “Where do we find a dead person now–when there are no more ‘dead people’ in the entire world.”

As the old scholar finished speaking, many eyes on the deck began to look around at each other, and the atmosphere quickly became somewhat eerie.

Several gazes landed on Agatha, and the “gatekeeper” lady immediately spread her hands: “Don’t look at me, strictly speaking, I shouldn’t count as a ‘dead person’. I am just a nearly dissipated shadow; considering my birth process, I had never ‘lived’, hence never ‘died’ either.”

Then, the focus shifted to Fenna. The Judge quickly waved her hands, “I shouldn’t count, right? I had died before, but I came back to life, and now my survival is even ‘cemented’ by the captain, so I definitely cannot be considered a dead person…”

She hesitated, then added uncertainly, “At least not completely, right?”

“I can’t be considered either–I am now a Profound Demon, the kind that’s reborn,” Sherry noticed the gaze shifting toward her and hurriedly waved her hands, “Even if I really died once, Bartok’s ‘gatekeeper’ cannot reach me now…”

Duncan looked around and suddenly touched his chin with a somewhat peculiar expression, “Now that I think about it, it feels like there’s not even a single normal living person on this ship? Nor a normal dead person…”

As he spoke, he subconsciously glanced at Morris, but saw the old man holding an unlit pipe, with one hand holding a screwdriver, clicking and adjusting a screw near the back of his own head…

Noticing the captain’s gaze, the old man put away the screwdriver, his chest plates vibrating, “Sorry, there was some noise inside my skull, a screw got loose.”

Everyone on the deck looked at each other and collectively fell silent.

Only Alice, after being lost in thought for a while, suddenly snapped back to reality and leaned over to whisper to Sherry, “…Is it possible to be hanging while sleeping? Like the ‘sailor’ does…”

Sherry, greatly surprised, exclaimed, “You’re still thinking about this?! The topic has already changed eight hundred…”

She suddenly stopped short.

“Who did you just say?”

“The sailor– he sleeps while hanging, although he’s always just pretending.”

Sherry blinked, and after coming to a realization slowly turned her head towards the captain, “Right… where’s that mummy? Why didn’t he come here?”

“He should be on the lower deck right now, probably slacking off again,” Duncan also caught on, slightly furrowing his brow, “But then again… could Anomaly 077 be considered a normal ‘dead person’? I somehow feel his ‘death’ is even less ‘authentic’ than you guys.”

His gaze swept over Agatha, Fenna, and Sherry.”

Sherry couldn’t help but mutter, “Captain, that way of describing is somewhat peculiar…”

Duncan glared, “Isn’t the whole topic peculiar enough?”