Chapter 1 Death of a God

Death was dead – yes, Duncan certainly knew, not just Death, but also the Storm Goddess, the Ever-Burning Pyre, the God of Wisdom, and even every ancient god and evil god who had left their names in history or had not, every ancient king, they were all dead.

As early as the day the Great Annihilation occurred, the moment when thousands of worlds suddenly turned into this scorching and chaotic ash, all the gods had died, leaving behind only their constantly rotting corpses, only the "inertia" of the old world.

But when the tall gatekeeper uttered the words "Death is dead," Duncan realized that the other party was referring to something else – not the "gods are dead" that he knew, but something that had just happened.

Not only Duncan, but Agatha also quickly realized this. The expression on her face quickly changed from confusion to astonishment: "What happened?"

The tall gatekeeper silently turned around and took another step towards the distant wasteland. After a few seconds, his voice came slowly: "To buy time."

…

The world is cooling down, but what's cooling down is not just the flames—but something intrinsic, something from the foundation of the world, is dissipating, like the last warm breath irrevocably leaving the throat of the dying.

Now, the undead have begun to walk around the streets, the cold flames can no longer dispel the chill in the world, the sea has long been still, and memories of the past are dissipating from everyone's minds, or twisting into grotesque, fragmented but imperceptible pieces.

From remote Faelun to prosperous Pland, from Frost to Lightwind Harbor, from Mocha to the broken and continuous islands of the Eastern Sea, in every known place, "cooling" and "strangeness" are spreading like an unstoppable frost, gradually covering every light of civilization.

Tirion came to the highest lighthouse in the southeast of Frost, and looked out over the dark sea outside the city-state from the observation deck. He saw the large fleet carrying the sunlight slowly docking. The freighters full of oil, cloth, and grain were docked at the pier, and heavy loading machinery was operating back and forth in the darkness, unloading supplies from the cabins.

The dead were busy at the pier. The undead sailors of the Sea Mist Fleet were now surrounded by many "like" people. The corpses who died without knowing it operated tireless machines, maintaining the city's functions as always, according to the orders issued by the city hall.

In the direction of the other side of the city, you can see towering chimneys and the most brightly lit factory platforms—the power plant is operating as usual, the steam hub is making a low rumble, and huge pipes extend from the factory, branching out like blood vessels and spreading into the entire city, providing power and security for the people living in this city.

In those factories, the huge steam core has actually cooled down. Even if more boiling gold catalyst is inserted, the flame in the container cannot be warmed up again—but the cold reactor is still hissing, the steam is constantly flowing, and the power in the pipeline is surging.

The "breath" and "blood" required for the city's operation are still surging in the pipeline network, non-stop.

In this way, the gas lamps in the city are still bright, the factories are still brightly lit, the machinery is running non-stop, the guards are still conscientiously patrolling every street, guarding against all extraordinary phenomena that do not conform to the "laws of nature," and the sheriffs are maintaining the order of the city in the night, helping those citizens who are in trouble, and dealing with the increasing number of security cases due to pressure.

Yes, order is still in operation, and the lights of civilization have not been extinguished, but Tirion can still smell the kind of smell that is constantly permeating the air... that cold, slightly rancid smell, as if it is permeating from the depths of this city, from the bottom of the endless sea, from every wisp of breeze, every inch of sky, and even every speck of dust.

Something is gradually collapsing. The sinking of this world is crossing a "critical point." Many impressions of the past still remain in his mind. He can perceive that the whole world is very wrong now, and it is getting more and more wrong.

His father mentioned that this world would try to "correct" the mistakes that have been made in its operation, but this correction has a limit, and now... it is probably approaching this limit quickly.

A ripple suddenly appeared in his heart. Tirion felt a familiar aura approaching and immediately withdrew his gaze from the distance.

"Father," he turned around, looking at the burly figure wrapped in bandages and wearing a black coat, "Why are you here?"

"The cemetery no longer needs guards. This avatar of mine now has a lot of free time," Duncan said, walking slowly to Tirion's side. His eyes crossed the night and looked in the direction Tirion had just been looking at, "Any thoughts?"

"The time is near, isn't it?" Tirion looked at the night with a complicated expression, "The 'time' you reminded me of... I originally thought I would have to wait a while longer."

His father was silent for a few seconds, then suddenly said, "...Death is dead."

Tirion was stunned for a moment, as if he hadn't reacted to the meaning of this sentence.

"The world is collapsing faster than we thought, and its self-correction cannot guarantee that all residents of the shelter are in a 'living state,' or in other words, 'living people'... are a high-load unit, because the conditions required to maintain 'life' are complex and precise, and the current shelter is difficult to fully provide these survival conditions."

Duncan said in a low voice, looking into the distance, but his eyes seemed to be focused on another more distant place, watching somewhere at the end of the world.

"This is the truth behind the 'resurrection of the dead' and the absence of newborns in the cities in recent times—Bartok ended the death mechanism of this world ahead of schedule.

"His original decay process hadn't reached this point yet.

"Now, the shelter does not need to additionally support the operation of living people.

"At the same time, the shutdown of the death mechanism also ensures that most people in this world can 'survive' as much as possible in the process of the shelter gradually collapsing, even in a twisted and grotesque posture, in the form of the undead, even if it is temporary—they can survive.

"This is the time Bartok bought for this world."

Tirion listened in stunned silence. He seemed to want to say something, but in the midst of confusion and astonishment, he couldn't think of how to speak.

His father's low and hoarse voice came again—

"But this is probably the last time the four gods can buy time for this shelter."

Tirion finally asked subconsciously, "Why?"

"Because the shutdown of the death mechanism itself is also a severe blow to the shelter. After it, the countdown will officially enter the final stage, all order will enter an accelerated distortion stage, and the world's 'correction mechanism' will no longer function—it is also because of this that more and more people will begin to notice the distortions and malformations that were originally hidden outside of cognition."

Duncan turned his head and stared at Tirion with deep eyes.

Tirion stood there blankly, the huge amount of information washing over the mind of this "Iron General." A storm was raging in his heart, and some "details" that he had subconsciously forgotten or ignored surged up like shadows appearing in a nightmare!

He thought hard, understood the amazing information his father suddenly told him, understood the current situation of this world, and it took a long time before he felt the tearing dizziness in his head gradually subside, and reason reappeared in his heart.

"So..." He opened his mouth, hesitating, "Ordinary people will soon..."

"You are affected by me and can detect many things in advance. As time goes by, as the distortion and malformation of the world increase and the shelter's correction mechanism completely fails, more and more people will notice the anomalies of this world like you—not all of them, it depends on the strength of their minds, the level of their inspiration, and some...'luck'.

"For those who cannot wake up, they will continue to maintain their daily lives in darkness and distortion, even if that life gradually becomes grotesque and terrifying, they will not feel that the world has changed.

"But for those who have awakened... things will become very bad.

"Tirion, you must be prepared—other city-states must also be prepared.

"The last and greatest chaos of the old world is coming."

…

Duncan and Agatha had been trekking on this "path" for a long time, and since some unknown time, the strange black and white weeds around them had gradually disappeared, replaced by an endless expanse of pale or black gravel, and sparse and withered plants occasionally visible in the gravel beach.

The twilight-like glow that permeated the entire wilderness had also gradually faded, and the tranquil 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 appearance of the depths of the Death Wasteland—after crossing the twilight representing the "remaining light of life," the tranquil night would welcome the arrival of the dead, and the endless wasteland covered with gravel would erase the last trace of attachment of the dead to the mortal world. As long as they successfully passed through here, it would be the place where the "gate" was located.

But now these symbols and procedures related to the "death mechanism" are no longer meaningful.

Duncan looked up into the distance. In the deepest part of the night, something very large seemed to be looming in the center of the wasteland.

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

They were the "gatekeepers" wearing black robes, as if they were still illuminated by the twilight and shrouded in a faint light.

One gatekeeper after another, silently walking on this boundless wasteland, heading in a common direction, moving forward in silence, going to attend the funeral.

(End of this chapter)