Chapter 825: Chapter 822: The World’s Last Cooling

The Reaper is dead–yes, Duncan certainly knew that. Not just the Reaper, but the Storm Goddess, the Eternal Flame, the God of Wisdom, and even including each ancient god and Evil God, whether they left their names in history or not, every one of the ancient kings, they all perished.

On the very day of the Great Eradication, in the instant when countless worlds suddenly turned to this scorching and chaotic ash, all gods died, only leaving behind their continuously decaying corpses, merely the “inertia” of the old world.

But the moment this tall gatekeeper uttered “The Reaper is dead,” Duncan realized that the other was referring to something else–not the “death of all gods” he knew, but something that just transpired.

Not just Duncan, Agatha, who stood by his side, quickly came to this realization as well. Her facial expression swiftly changed from confusion to astonishment: “What happened?”

The tall gatekeeper silently turned around and took steps towards the distant wasteland again. Several seconds later, his low voice finally came through: “To buy time.”

…

The world is cooling down, and it’s not just the flames that are cooling–it’s something intrinsic, something eroding from the cornerstone of the mortal realm, as if the last breath of warmth irrevocably escapes from the throat of the dying.

Now, the Undead have begun wandering the streets, the cold flames unable to dispel the frigidness of the mortal world. The ocean has long been still, and memories of bygone times are disappearing from everyone’s minds, or becoming grotesque, fragmented, yet imperceptible pieces.

From the remote Pharlon to the prosperous Prand, from Frost to Light Breeze Harbor, from Moco to those fragmented islands in the eastern sea, in every known place, “cooling” and “weirdness” spread like an unstoppable frost, gradually covering every beacon of civilization.

Tirian arrived at the tallest lighthouse southeast of Frost, gazing at the pitch-black sea outside the City-State from the lookout tower. He saw a large fleet that drew sunlight slowly docking, the cargo ships loaded with fat, cloth, and food anchoring at the port, and heavy loading machinery moving back and forth in the dark, unloading materials from the ship’s hold.

The deceased were bustling about on the docks, the Undead sailors of the Mist Fleet now accompanied by many more of their “kind,” the dead who are unaware of their own death operating tireless machinery, following the orders from city hall to maintain the city’s functionality as always.

In the direction of another city district, one could see tall chimneys and the brightest-lit factory platforms–the power plant was running as usual, the steam hub emitted a deep roar, and large pipes extended from the factory, branching out like blood vessels into the whole city, providing power and safety to those living in it.

Yet, in those factories, the massive steam cores have already cooled, and inserting more Boiling Gold Catalyst couldn’t reheat the flames inside the Reactor Vessel–nevertheless, the icy Reactor Vessels still hissed, steam continued unabated, and power surged through the pipes.

The “breath” and “blood” needed for the city’s operation were still rushing through the pipeline network, unceasingly.

In this way, the gas lamps in the city remained bright, the factories shone with light, machinery continuously operated, the guardians patrolled every alley dutifully, vigilant against all Transcendent phenomena that defied “natural laws”, and the law enforcers maintained the city’s order in the night, helping those citizens in distress, handling the increasing number of public safety incidents due to pressure.

Yes, order is still functioning, the lights of civilization have not yet extinguished, however Tirian could still smell that scent spreading more and more in the air… that cold, faintly putrid scent, as if emanating from the depths of the city, from the bottom of the endless sea, with every breeze, every inch of sky, and even every grain of dust.

Something is gradually collapsing; the world’s decline is passing a “threshold”. His mind still harbored many impressions of past times. He could sense that something about the whole world was very wrong, and it was getting worse.

His father had mentioned that this world would try to “correct” the errors that had occurred during its operation, but there was a limit to this correction, and now… it was fast approaching that limit.

A sudden ripple surged in his heart, and Tirian felt a familiar presence drawing near, his gaze immediately returning from afar.

“Father,” he turned around, looking at the towering figure wrapped in bandages and clad in a pitch-black coat, “Why are you here?”

“The graveyard no longer needs guarding, and this avatar of mine now has a lot of spare time,” Duncan said as he strolled to Tirian’s side, his gaze passing over the night and looking in the direction Tirian had been observing, “Any thoughts?”

“The time is near, isn’t it?” Tirian looked at the night with a complex gaze, “The ‘time’ you warned about… I thought we would have to wait a while longer.”

The father was silent for a few seconds, then suddenly said: “…The Reaper is dead.”

Tirian was somewhat stunned for a moment, apparently not yet grasping the meaning of these words.

“The world is collapsing faster than we imagined, and its self-correction cannot ensure that all Shelter inhabitants remain in a ‘surviving state’, or in other words, ‘living people’… are a high-load unit because the conditions necessary to sustain ‘life’ are complex and precise, and the Shelters can hardly provide such living conditions anymore.”

Duncan’s voice was low as he spoke, looking into the distance but seemingly focused on a farther place, watching somewhere at the end of the world.

“This is the true cause behind the recent ‘resurrection of the deceased’ in the City-States and the cessation of newborns coming into the world–Bartok has prematurely ended the world’s death mechanism.”

“His original decaying process hadn’t actually reached this stage yet.

“Now, the Shelter no longer needs extra support to keep the living running.

“At the same time, the halt of the death mechanism also ensures that most people in this world can ‘persist’ as much as possible during the gradual collapse of the Shelter — even if it’s in a twisted and bizarre form, as the Undead, even if it’s temporary — they can persist.

“This is the time Bartok fought for this world.”

Tirian listened with his mouth agape, seemingly wanting to say something but unable to find the words amidst the chaos and shock.

His father’s deep, hoarse voice came again–

“But I’m afraid this is also the last time the Four Gods can fight for time for this Shelter.”

Tirian finally spoke subconsciously: “Why?”

“Because the halt of the death mechanism itself is a heavy blow to the Shelter, after which the countdown will officially enter its final phase, all order will accelerate into distortion, and the world’s ‘correction mechanism’ will cease to function —- it is for this reason that more and more people will begin to notice those distortions and aberrations that were originally hidden from cognition.”

Duncan turned his head, his eyes deeply fixed on Tirian.

Standing there, Tirian was overwhelmed by the sheer amount of information, waves of astonishment surged in the heart of this “Iron Marshal”, and some ‘details’ that he had subconsciously forgotten or ignored rose up like the shadows in a nightmare!

He struggled to think, to understand the startling intelligence his father had just imparted, to grasp the current state of the world. It was only after an indeterminate amount of time that the tearing dizziness in his mind gradually faded, and reason reemerged at the bottom of his heart.

“So…” He opened his mouth, hesitating, “Ordinary people will soon…”

“You have been influenced by me, and you can perceive many things ahead of time. As time passes, as the world’s distortions and aberrations intensify, and as the Shelter’s correction mechanism completely fails, more and more people will, like you, notice the anomalies in this world — not everyone, it depends on the strength of one’s mental fortitude, the height of inspiration, and some… ‘luck’.

“For those who cannot wake up, they will continue to maintain their daily lives amidst the darkness and distortion, even if that life gradually turns into a bizarre and terrifying state, they won’t feel that the world has changed.

“But for those who have woken up… things will become very bad.

“Tirian, you must be prepared — and other City-States must also be prepared.

“The last and greatest chaos of the old world is about to come.”

…

Duncan and Agatha had trekked this “path” for a long time, and at some point, the black and white strange wild grasses that surrounded them gradually disappeared, replaced by an endless expanse of pale or pitch-black pebbles, and the occasional sparse and withered plants amid the stones.

The twilight-like glow that pervaded the entire wilderness was also fading, and the quiet night once again dominated the wasteland.

Agatha told Duncan in a low voice that this was the next stage of the “Path of No Return”, the posture deep within the Wilderness of Death — after crossing the twilight that symbolizes the “afterglow of life”, the tranquil night welcomes the arrival of the deceased, and the endless pebble wasteland erases the dead’s last trace of attachment to the mortal world. Only after passing through here will one reach the place where that “Great Gate” is located.

But now all these symbols and programs related to the “death mechanism” have lost their meaning.

Duncan looked up into the distance, and there seemed to be something very large lurking in the deepest night, standing at the center of the wilderness.

And in the corner of his eye, he finally saw other figures.

They were the “Gatekeepers” clad in black robes, as if still basked in the twilight’s glow and shrouded in faint light.

One after another, the Gatekeepers silently walked across this boundless wasteland, heading in a common direction, moving forward in utter silence, rushing to attend a funeral.