Chapter 32 Farewell

After a morning of searching, Sirian found no other survivors. Pushing open doors one by one and opening cellars, all he found inside were groups of corrupted demons. Before they could even attack Sirian, the brilliant sunlight burned them to ashes.

Ashes, everywhere were ashes.

It was impossible to imagine how many people had turned into demons, and how many demons had been incinerated by the sunlight. Their self-immolation set some houses on fire. Sirian tried to put out the flames, but the fire grew larger and larger, forcing him to give up and witness it all unfold.

The fire stopped when it spread near the Town Hall. Under the charred black debris, more ashes drifted down.

Sirian looked at the sky full of Ashwhite. They landed on his skin, bringing waves of scorching warmth, and hung on buildings, covering them in a thick layer like snow.

Perhaps due to extreme sorrow, Sirian’s heart was completely numb, feeling nothing towards the wreckage all around him.

Returning to the Armory, the survivors, after a night of turmoil, had reached their mental limits. They lay on the ground, deeply asleep, with only Tim remaining conscious, busy with various tasks.

“There are no more survivors outside.”

Sirian said bluntly, “I collected some food and water, as well as the soul marrow that the teacher previously distributed to the townspeople for emergencies.”

Picking up a heavy bag, Sirian continued, “The amount of soul marrow isn’t much, but it’s enough to get us through a few nights.”

“The Beacon Lighthouse collapsed, many buildings burned down, and the townspeople died…”

Sirian spoke a lot in one breath, concluding, “Right now, White Cliff Town is no longer suitable for us to live in. To survive, we must leave.”

Without waiting for Tim to respond, Sirian rushed to the round table and spread out a map.

The crisis had just ended, but a new one was already on its way. To ensure no one else died, Sirian had to seize every opportunity and every minute.

“None of us have ever left White Cliff Town, let alone traveled a long distance to Heer City, but the situation is critical, and we must leave immediately.”

Sirian planned the route, “With the soul marrow I collected, and what’s stored in the Armory, we can theoretically survive at least seven days in the wilderness.”

“Of course, this is assuming no accidents happen… So, according to the most extreme plan, we need to walk to Heer City within seven days.”

At this, Sirian cursed under his breath, “Damn it, my motorcycle is fixed, but it can only carry a few people at most.”

“Sirian, listen to me…”

Tim tried to say something, but Sirian abruptly cut him off.

“Maybe… maybe we could build a simple trailer?”

A flicker of inspiration crossed Sirian’s eyes, but it quickly dimmed, and his hands fell limply.

“No, the roads in the wilderness are complex, a trailer would easily fall apart and slow us down. What… what are we going to do…”

His voice grew softer and softer, eventually becoming almost a murmur.

“Sirian!”

Tim raised his voice a few decibels, which finally pulled Sirian out of his anxious reverie.

Sirian’s eyes were bloodshot, and he stared blankly at Tim, full of confusion and bewilderment.

“What’s wrong? Tim, it’s almost afternoon, and then it will be dark. We must save time…”

“Sirian, calm down first!”

Tim grabbed Sirian’s shoulders, forcing him to stop his frantic thoughts.

“Listen to me.”

Tim tried to speak in a gentle tone, but his slightly trembling voice still betrayed his inner sorrow.

“I know these facts will be hard to accept, but… but you’re not a child anymore. You have to be strong, you have to endure all of this.”

Sirian’s eyes were fixed, and he said nothing.

Tim led Sirian to the survivors and carefully used his sword to push aside their clothes. Their exposed skin was covered in blue scars and hard scales that had crystallized from beneath their pores.

“We tried our best to protect everyone, but during last night’s terrifying chaotic tide, they still suffered varying degrees of chaotic contamination.”

Tim lowered his voice, “I’ve confirmed it. Everyone’s bodies show signs of corruption.”

“It’s daytime now, and sunlight can suppress the chaotic power to some extent, but once night falls…”

Tim’s words caught in his throat, unable to make a sound.

Sirian finished his sentence, without a trace of emotion, “Once night falls, they will all turn into demons, right?”

Tim nodded with difficulty.

Sirian felt a strong wave of dizziness, as if struck by a heavy hammer. He had to lean on the round table, his fingers gripping the edge tightly, knuckles white, almost crushing the table.

It took him a long time to accept this fact, his voice hollow, as if from another world.

“Then… what was the teacher’s sacrifice for?”

Nun burned himself, yet failed to protect the survivors, merely extending their lives by a few hours.

“The teacher’s sacrifice should not be measured solely by the outcome!”

Tim emphasized, “He sacrificed himself to fulfill his duty. This is his courage and glory!”

His tone suddenly became despondent, “Even if the outcome wasn’t as desired, the meaning of the sacrifice still exists…”

Sirian slowly knelt, his upper body slumped on the round table, his face pale and bloodless.

“What about Ava?” Sirian whispered, “Was Ava also contaminated?”

Tim did not respond.

His silence made Sirian feel despair.

The Armory was quiet, with only the painful moans of the survivors rising and falling.

It took Sirian a long time to regain his spirits. His mind was blank, devoid of any emotion. He felt like a puppet from whom the soul had been extracted, leaving only an empty shell.

“This… this is truly insane, Tim.”

Sirian’s words stumbled, a thorn seemingly caught in his throat, “Before yesterday, we were celebrating, looking forward to the future of White Cliff Town.”

“White Cliff Town would connect with Heer City, we The Sofrova Brothers would become Torchbearers, the teacher wouldn’t have to be so tired anymore, Ava would wear a new dress, and the townspeople would live better lives…”

“It was a beautiful vision, but in one night, it all burned to ashes.”

It was as if someone had choked Sirian’s throat, suffocating him.

“Is this fate?”

Tim shook his head, denying, “This is not fate, this is life.”

“It’s okay, Sirian,” Tim comforted, “We will leave here and see the world outside… It’s okay…”

After a long silence, Sirian finally spoke.

“I want to see Ava.”

Tim released Sirian and said softly, “She’s in the room, in the spot where you slept when you returned from the wilderness.”

Sirian carefully pushed open the door, his steps light and slow, as if treading on cotton.

Ava lay in the spot where Sirian had previously rested, covered by a thick blanket. Her face was somewhat pale, like snowflakes in winter. It was unclear if this was due to not yet recovering from fright, or caused by chaotic contamination.

“Ava.”

Sirian called out softly.

Ava’s delicate, porcelain-like face gradually furrowed, and it took her great effort to awaken from her deep slumber.

“Sirian…”

Ava’s voice was very weak, but she still stubbornly smiled.

What would she say next?

A confession to him while dancing, or vengeance against enemies, or some words of unwillingness, or even hysteria at the approach of her fate?

Sirian’s heart was filled with anticipation and fear, as if awaiting an unknown judgment.

What a beautiful girl she was… “Sirian…”

She called out again, “Come closer to me.”

Sirian leaned down and embraced the dirty doll.

“I feel so cold and tired,” Ava asked, “Am I injured?”

“No, you’re just overly frightened and sick,” Sirian lied, “You’ll recover after some rest.”

“Where are the others?”

“Everyone is here. Tim and I are planning our next move. We will leave White Cliff Town and journey to Heer City. Don’t worry about problems on the way, I’ve found enough supplies to get everyone through.”

Ava tilted her head, a smile on her face, “Sirian, you’re not very good at lying.”

“Did I make it too obvious?”

“It’s not that the lie itself was obvious, but your eyes and expression.”

Ava reached out and wiped away the tears from the corner of Sirian’s eye, “You look so sad, as if I’m going to die…”

“Will I die?”

Sirian remained silent.

He didn’t know how to answer Ava’s question. She was in the prime of her youth, with an infinitely beautiful future. How could Ava accept that everything ended abruptly before it even began?

Sirian’s gaze shifted to the side. Tim stood at the doorway, his head bowed, his expression unclear.

Tim was just as sad as Sirian. He loved this fragile girl and had fantasized countless times about a future with her. Even if she was devoted to his brother, Tim still sincerely wished her well.

Ava suddenly smiled and said,

“I like you, Sirian.”

Sirian was startled for a moment, then said jokingly, “I thought you’d say you loved me.”

“Love?”

Ava shook her head like a wise person.

“Our feelings are still too nascent; to describe them as love would be too heavy… It would only bind you.”

She paused, then continued.

“But I do love you, Sirian, I love every one of the The Sofrova Brothers, and I love the peaceful life we spent together, every minute and every second.”

Ava used her last bit of strength to embrace Sirian.

She whispered in Sirian’s ear, as if sharing a shocking secret.

“Sirian, what wonderful days these were; just the memory alone is enough to fill you with courage.”

Ava kissed Sirian’s forehead, and in the soft, cold touch, he heard:

“Don’t forget us.”

Sirian watched Ava silently as she slowly retreated back into the blanket, gently closing her eyes, as if taking an afternoon nap, and peacefully fell asleep, her breath faint.

“Let’s go, Sirian.”

Tim patted his shoulder; Sirian was slow to react for a long moment before stiffly nodding.

The two left without a word, reaching the Armory door, where the afternoon sun was blazing, making one want to hide.

“Teacher had prepared some euthanasia poisons before,” Tim said calmly, taking a deep breath. “To die painlessly in a beautiful dream is the last thing we can do for them.”

“Mm.”

Sirian stood in the sunlight, saying without turning his head, “After we’ve done all this, let’s leave. The motorcycle can carry both of us, and we have plenty of supplies now.”

Tim did not respond for a long time.

Sirian turned his head in confusion, only to see Tim standing in the shadow of the eaves, his relieved expression tinged with sadness and helplessness.

Tim unbuttoned his shirt.

Beside unhealed scars were large patches of newly grown scales, piercing into the wounds, creating a bloody mess.

“Everyone has been corrupted, and that naturally includes me.”

Tim’s voice paused, then he spoke with a more cheerful tone.

“I think life is a strange thing; just a small twist can mess us up completely.”

Sirian suppressed his emotions, remaining silent.

“I’ve read those novels you collect, and I really like some of the love stories in them, like a young man falling in love with a graceful noblewoman, not needing to work or strive, just spending every day carousing with the noblewoman until one day he dies in bed from excessive indulgence.”

Tim said with a wry smile, “Compared to the lives in those stories, our lives are a bit dark and crazy, always swinging swords, without a moment’s rest…”

“But… Sirian, if you think about it, we didn’t get to live that indulgent life, but at least we didn’t die in bed.”

Tim joked, “Dying in bed would be too pathetic.”

Sirian took a deep breath, “You’re more like setting up an absurd life for yourself and then feeling fortunate that you didn’t live it…”

“Oh, it’s just self-mockery and teasing.”

Tim showed a helpless smile. Then, he remembered something and asked curiously.

“So, Sirian, what exactly were you thinking when you personally killed Bell?”

Sirian said coyly, “Do you really want to know?”

“Of course.”

Tim spoke of the past, “Didn’t we always discuss these things late at night?”

“The first time I killed someone, I was terrified and plagued by nightmares. Mick just cried in fear and wet the bed for several nights.

We all shared our experiences, but only you always avoided this topic with various excuses.”

At that time, Sirian didn’t want to talk, so Tim and Mick tacitly stopped bringing it up, until now, Tim’s curiosity broke through that understanding.

Tim looked at Sirian expectantly, “What kind of feelings did you have when you killed Bell?”

Sirian took a deep breath and gave an unexpected answer.

“Joy.”

“Joy?”

“Yes, unlike your unease and Mick’s fear, the moment I personally killed Bell, what I felt was a tremendous joy… No, it was ecstasy.”

Sirian finally spoke of the terrible thing that had spread in his heart.

“Ecstasy that penetrated to my soul marrow and made me tremble.”

He sighed in relief.

“I was confused for a long time, wondering if I was a born psychopath, some latent morbid killer, just like the villains in novels.

I fell into a long period of unease and confusion because of being such an existence, until tonight… I finally saw myself clearly.”

Sirian recalled the moment his Blessing · Incubation of Myriad Aspects condensed into its true form.

Previously, Sirian had thought it was the countless killings he had experienced that transformed Blessing · Incubation of Myriad Aspects into Blessing: Hateful Devouring Evil.

Now it seemed, this was not an external influence, but rather it revealed Sirian’s true heart.

“I think I really am a born killer.”

Sirian affirmed.

“But what I enjoy is not the sadistic killing of the weak or innocent, but rather the eradication of chaotic enemies, cutting those scoundrels who betray human glory into pieces.”

As he said this, a morbid smile appeared on Sirian’s face.

“I’m not joking, Tim, I truly enjoy the process of killing these hideous things; it gives me a very subtle sense of pleasure and value.

It’s like… it’s like…”

Sirian grasped that wisp of thought and articulated it.

“Upholding a kind of morbid, dark justice.”

This self-perception was not based on objective evaluation or external feedback, but rather stemmed from an unshakeable intuition and belief deep within Sirian’s heart.

Sirian had once fallen into unease and confusion due to self-doubt, but this brief bewilderment did not shake his ultimate self-identification.

Tim gazed into Sirian’s eyes for a long time, seeing only sincerity and purity, like a child innocently speaking terrible words.

A great sadness engulfed Tim.

“Oh my god, Sirian…”

Tim’s voice trembled as he hugged his brother tightly, burying his head in his shoulder.

He knew.

With the downfall of White Cliff Town, the last warmth in Sirian’s heart would also perish.

In the foreseeable future, Sirian’s prejudiced and narrow justice would lead him further and further down the path of slaughter, without ever doubting his own righteousness.

Sirian would become cold-hearted and ruthless.

Unbound.

And invincible.

Tim did not want his brother to become this way, but he was powerless to stop it. At the same time, under this pity, Tim actually felt a trace of… relief, which caused him pain and guilt.

He was relieved that his brother was such a madman, and also relieved that this madman would avenge everyone.

Blood for blood.

“No…”

Tim felt disgusted by his base thoughts, yet his private desires rejoiced, and complex human nature tormented his weary heart.

In the end, Tim could only release Sirian, his gaze filled with reluctance and pity.

But Tim still mustered his courage and said goodbye.

“You should go, Sirian. I am the elder brother; this most difficult task should be completed by me.”

Sirian remained silent for a considerable time, slowly raising his head, letting the sunlight dry his expression.

Tim had lied. He had promised to leave with him, to go to the outside world, where they would ascend to higher ranks and wield extraordinary power.

They would seek revenge against Chaos, like the protagonists in a story, proclaiming justice and righteousness, vowing to make their enemies pay for the tragedy of White Cliff Town.

They were the The Sofrova Brothers; they were destined to become famous… but it was all a lie.

From the beginning, only Sirian could leave.

Tim reached out and stroked that hard, cold face, blessing him.

“Don’t be too sad, Sirian.”

“Sad? How could I be?”

The warmth in Sirian’s heart collapsed into a black hole, and he spoke pale words.

“I’m too happy to be sad. Don’t forget, I’m a heartless scoundrel.”

Sirian turned his head to look at the vast world, trying to keep his voice calm.

“What’s more, I’m finally leaving this cursed place, saying goodbye to everything that bound me, moving forward without any worries… How could I be sad?”

“Then I’m relieved… Goodbye, brother.”

Sirian said without looking back.

“Goodbye, brother.”

Tim took a step back and closed the Armory door.

He pushed open door after door, returning to the sleeping beauty. She squinted, as if on the edge of reality and a dream.

Tim wiped the tears from the corners of his eyes and straightened his clothes.

He knelt down and extended his hand to Ava.

“May I invite you for a dance?”

Seeing Tim’s sad yet serious demeanor, a smile appeared on Ava’s face. She painstakingly extended her hand and placed it in his.

Her bell-like voice said,

“Just as long as you don’t swing me around like a toy.”