Chapter 380: Chapter 379 Wizard’s Funeral

“Rustle!”

Richard, puzzled, heard Gro next to him standing up.

“What’s the matter, what happened?” Richard looked at Gro and asked.

Gro led the way outside with Richard, speaking as they walked, “Lord Richard, if you come out and see for yourself, all will be clear.”

“Uh, alright then.” Richard followed him out.

…

Outside the library.

It was nearing evening, and the sky was still filled with large chunks of leaden clouds. However, the world didn’t appear as a pitch-black mass because of the refraction involving air particulates and low clouds; instead, it adopted a bizarre yellowish hue.

Everything seemed to be submerged in a yellowed oil painting aged by the years.

Many students crowded around the library, lining both sides of the street; Richard looked up toward one end of the street and saw a large group of wizards divided into two teams walking toward him. They moved in silence.

In the center of the two wizard teams, coffins hovered mid-air, following closely behind the wizard procession, pulled by magic power.

One coffin, two coffins, three coffins…

A dense cluster of coffins…

The wizard procession stretched long, each wizard dressed in dark robes, silent. A suffocating atmosphere spread, and it was as if the air had solidified. The students watching on both sides of the road seemed to have their blood cease flowing, staring as the wizard procession moved constantly forward, passing by the library and heading into the distance.

“Boom!”

A muffled sound echoed, and a flash of lightning streaked across the clouds.

“Pitter-patter! Pitter-patter!”

Raindrops fell like broken beads, falling suddenly, striking the procession of wizards and the coffins.

Just as the raindrops seemed to hit, with a “whoosh,” an immense air shield appeared. Although thin and unable to withstand even the weakest First Circle Low-level Spell, it fiercely repelled the raindrops, scattering them in all directions.

Unaffected, the procession of wizards continued forward, stepping on the increasingly wet ground, moving farther and farther away…

…

The wizard procession eventually passed through the entirety of the White Stone Tower Academy and arrived at the core area of the White Stone Tower complex, stopping on a somewhat abrupt plot of vacant land.

The open ground had always been there, its purpose unknown to anyone until now.

The many wizards stopped, still maintaining their silence, extended their hands forward, cast spells, and the somewhat moist soil on the open ground transformed under the force of the spells.

“Sh-sh-sh…”

Loads of soil rose from the earth, rapidly accumulating on the ground. When the soil formed a small mound, a rectangular grave appeared.

Mound after mound, tomb after tomb.

Dozens of mounds, dozens of graves!

This was the cemetery of the White Stone Tower, where no wizard had ever been buried before. It wasn’t that no wizards had died; rather, the few who had died had decided their resting places before death–such as mountain summits, the ocean, or family tombs.

Now, with several dozen wizards dying in a short timeframe, the White Stone Tower could not fully honor their last wishes and had to open this cemetery for burial.

Once the graves were dug, the coffins, pushed forward by invisible forces, gently floated toward the prepared graves.

On the edge of the open ground, Richard, standing among the crowd, noticed that most of the coffins were black with one exception–a coffin that looked special, pure white and as though it was covered in snow.

Gro whispered beside him, “That’s Wizard Macbeth’s casket.”

“Hmm?” Richard raised an eyebrow, “Macbeth?”

“Yes, Macbeth,” Gro confirmed. “I heard that it was Wizard Macbeth’s specific request before he died. It didn’t matter where he was buried, but the coffin and the burial items had to be all white.”

“Uh…” Richard responded, affirming he hadn’t misheard. Gro did indeed mention Macbeth, and such a request was indeed something Macbeth would make.

Macbeth!

Richard silently repeated the name to himself, slightly raising his eyebrows and looking at the snow-white coffin, gently shaking his head.

He and Macbeth weren’t very close; their encounters brief. His deepest understanding of the other was merely that he liked marmalade. And the reason for this preference was due to a painful memory related to a deceased Wizard’s Female Attendant.

Beyond that, he knew little else about Macbeth.

That said, within the White Stone Tower Academy, Macbeth was one of the few wizards he recognized.

It was because the other party had initially provided him with the “Spartacus Heroic Potion” that he was able to develop “Divine Blood.” Therefore… the other party held certain significance for him.

He really hadn’t expected that the other would die so suddenly, in such an abrupt manner.

“Macbeth…” Richard murmured to himself, his mood already clouded by his inability to find the “Stockholm” books, now further obscured with a layer of dust.

He could guess that Macbeth had surely died in the struggle against the Mysterious Organization, backing Suo Men and Mu Konni. It might have been a large battle, a stealth attack, or an ambush, but the process would not have been much different–it would invariably involve fighting, being overwhelmed, and getting killed.

Given the Mysterious Organization’s endlessly emerging tactics and unfathomable depth, once given enough preparation time, anything they did would not be surprising.

Previously, Suo Men and Mu Konni were able to increase their whole Wizard Level within a short time–from a First-level Wizard to a Second-level Wizard. It wouldn’t be strange if other members of the Mysterious Organization could do the same, and perhaps even advance to higher levels.

In that case, unless one struck preemptively before the enemy was fully prepared, using the advantage of striking first to kill the opponent, they would easily overwhelm everything else.

Macbeth, though powerful and at the pinnacle among First-level Wizards, could not withstand the members of the Mysterious Organization.

Death was the only outcome.

Richard blinked.

In his view, the deaths of Macbeth and many other wizards were likely just the beginning. Afterwards, it was highly probable that the entire White Stone Tower would be unable to withstand the Mysterious Organization’s assaults and would be gradually devoured and eliminated by them.

Perhaps, for this reason, an oppressively tense atmosphere perpetually pervaded the entire White Stone Tower Academy.

Was the White Stone Tower holding a funeral to alleviate this atmosphere, or perhaps to boost morale? Or maybe, it was a resolution, preparing to give their all in a fight against the Mysterious Organization?

Richard speculated, uncertain of which possibility it might be, but he was sure that the future of White Stone City would be even more turbulent.

Perhaps he should really consider leaving–finding another place to proceed with his research.

Of course, before leaving, there were some minor matters to address, such as visiting Great Scholar Socrates with the last hope, asking him if he knew of a place called “Stockholm.”

Richard blinked his eyes.

The funeral continued.

“Pat pat pat…”

The raindrops fell faster, constantly landing on the empty ground, while at this moment, the Air Shield that had been raised had expanded into a massive transparent umbrella covering the entire area, repelling all falling raindrops.

Under the protection of the Air Shield, several dozen coffins floated unaffected, eventually drifting in order above their respective graves.

The venue was utterly silent, with only the sound of rain and wind.

It was a silent funeral, from beginning to end, with the wizards not uttering a word or making a sound–the dead wizards couldn’t speak, and the living ones did not wish to chatter in front of their fallen comrades.

In this profound silence, the funeral continued.

Wizards in the procession each stretched out a hand, targeting a coffin and pressing down lightly. With a “swish,” the coffins neatly fell into the graves, hitting the ground with a soft “thump.”

The wizards then each raised their hands, and the piled-up dirt began to return to its place, attempting to fill the graves and cover the coffins.

Eventually, the graves were leveled, the earth slightly mounding due to the buried coffins.

The wizards then stretched out their hands again, remotely clenching their fists.

“Crack crack!”

The excess soil quickly deformed, shrinking in volume and changing in texture and color from dirt-yellow to stone-gray, eventually forming a stone tombstone.

Engraved on the tombstone were the names of the fallen wizards: Lula, Mucki, Dors, Taylor, Macbeth…

Having done all this, the wizards collectively glanced at the graves, then turned around and left, continuing to maintain silence, not saying a word.

Because there was nothing to say–nothing could change the reality of death before them.

The dead were dead, gone like dogs, no matter if great or humble, brave or cowardly.

Whether through impassioned speeches, filled with indignation, or heavy mourning, nothing would alter the fact of death one bit.

So… it was best not to engage in meaningless acts. Let the dead rest, while the living must continue living and do what the living need to do.

This was the first collective funeral in the history of White Stone Tower, beginning in silence and ending in silence.

The wizards gradually departed, and with their support gone, the Air Shield in the sky shattered with a “splash,” raindrops “whooshing” down, beginning to madly whip against the leveled ground and erected tombstones.

“Pat pat pat!”

The world was a noisy, yet quiet, vast yet oppressive expanse of white.

…