F{h*F 5)- LjChapter 212: The End of the Crossroad
Every church fell within a short ti, as round after round of scorching “fireballs” rose from beneath the City-State, burning Prouland’s last anchors of reality to the ground. The sound of bells ceased, one after another, and in but a mont, all that remained of this oceanic gem were endless ruins and ashes.
Fenna rushed through the burning intersections and streets like a storm, heading for the cathedral that was now ablaze with a pillar of fire reaching to the sky. In her view, the cathedral had already changed rapidly—
The main building had collapsed, its thousand-year-old structural fra lting and crumbling like wax. The towering side arms were left as nothing more than twisted, glowing-hot skeletons, and above it all, a sun with a bright white edge but a dark, blood-red center hung silently in the air above the cathedral, resembling a horrific void leading to an endless abyss, while continually emitting devastating light and heat.
Droplets of bright liquid steadily dripped from the defiled sun’s edge—was it fiery lava, or the blood plasma of The Profaner?
What could rushing over there accomplish now? Kill the chief culprit? Reverse the overlapped history? Or was it to heroically yet futilely prove her faith and loyalty with her own power?
Fenna didn’t know; she was also clueless as to what else she could do, but she instinctively charged toward the church. However, at that mont, a twisted greenish light flickered in the corner of her eye, as if sothing flashed through the sea of flas. Then, an authoritative and deep voice resonated directly in her mind: “Go to the great bell tower.”
...
The voice ca so unexpectedly that Fenna stopped in her tracks subconsciously. She searched for the direction of the voice or any signs that the Ghost Ship captain was casting a gaze upon her—yet, she saw nothing but the raging inferno, with the molten lava dripping from the vile dark “sun” igniting every last inch of the land near the cathedral.
But then, another voice broke Fenna’s brief hesitation.
She heard a distant tolling of bells suddenly—coming from the ancient bell tower behind the cathedral.
The bell sounded as if it ant to envelop all of Prouland in its sonorous peal.
And that bell tower had already been thoroughly consud by flas, which should have rendered it incapable of making any sound.
At this mont, Fenna cast aside all hesitation and concern and bolted toward the direction of the bell tower.
She no longer cared about the intentions of the Ghost Ship captain, nor did she concern herself with the consequences of following his directions—at a ti when all the churches had fallen instantly, in the face of the complete destruction of the entire City-State, the only path left for her was the still-resounding bell tower.
She crossed the plaza in front of the church.
The defense forces that had once assembled there had been annihilated entirely, with only the twisted wreckage of steam walkers and steam tanks visible in the searing heat, the defensive line erected by the defenders and the City-State Guards reduced to layers of charred remains, overtaken by the sight of ghastly ashes.
She cut down countless ashen shadows that sward towards her, then passed through the church’s main building and sanctuary that had been burned to ruins, through the wide-open courtyard, and saw the bell tower standing tall at the end of her gaze.
Hot ash fell from the sky, and sparks flew like fireflies.
This reminded her of the scene she had seen on the “other side of the curtain” not long ago—the Prouland she had witnessed consud by a great fire in 1889.
False history had overlaid the true past; the things behind the curtain had replaced the reality of the world in front of it.
But the bell was still tolling.
The gates leading to the upper levels of the bell tower had collapsed, and the interior stairs had also broken and fallen. After confirming this, Fenna abandoned the idea of climbing the tower by normal ans. She reached the base of the bell tower’s outer wall, quickly assessed a route upward, and then directly reached out to grab the protrusions on the wall starting her climb.
The outer wall, after being baked by flas for a long ti, was as hot as a red-hot iron plate, but Fenna’s climbing speed was not affected in the slightest. She ascended like a gust of wind, and in no ti, she reached the upper part of the bell tower, passed the stationary chanical clock face, and arrived at the tower top equipped with a bonfire and the great bell.
This place was spacious, with a four-sided open spire structure for shelter. Beneath the spire, aside from the fire basin, was the bell chanism—a massive machine powered by gears and levers.
The great bell was positioned below this chanical device, hidden in a resonating chamber.
Fenna leaped onto the top of the tower and landed on the ground.
She turned to glance back at the way she had co, seeing the City-State below engulfed in flas, hot lava flowing through the streets, leaving behind shocking rivulets, surveying purgatory from atop the city, looking out on desolation.
Then, she turned her head back to face the bell chanism, which was inexplicably continuing to operate despite having lost its power.
A figure… or rather, a lump of char barely maintaining human contours, was clinging next to the lever of the ringing apparatus, pushing the heavy gears to continue turning by human force.
Fenna instinctively stepped forward, and the lump of char seed to sense her approach. It slowly raised its head and turned its face, revealing a pair of human eyes gazing at the young Judge who had appeared atop the tower.
“Hold the… clock tower…”
The voice of the charred figure rasped.
Then he fell to the ground with a thud, his thoroughly carbonized body breaking apart, leaving embers fading among the remnants of the red flas.
A storm emblem, symbolizing the Deep Sea Church, rolled out of the ashes and onto the ground.
The final chi of Prand’s clock tower finally stopped.
“Archbishop!”
Fenna recognized those eyes, and she rushed forward, hoping to salvage the pile of ashes or to restart the now-stilled bell chanism, but as soon as she took a step forward, a suddenly imposing force stopped her in her tracks.
Fenna ca to an abrupt halt, turning her head in the direction from which the oppressive force was emanating.
A tall, thin figure clad in ragged grey robes, his body withered and shriveled as if a hermit-like monk, was quietly standing at the edge of the high platform.
The “hermit-like figure” looked at Fenna with a pitying gaze, while behind him in the sky was a dark sun, continuously dripping with scorching magma and encircled by a glaring halo.
That figure had appeared there at so unknown ti, so silently that Fenna hadn’t noticed — as if he had been standing atop that tower all along, long before the fire started.
“You struggled hard, child, all of you did, even delaying far beyond the expected ti, but your delay and resistance are aningless… no one will co to your rescue, in this history anomaly that has already closed its loop, any reinforcents are destined to be unable to reach Prand before history corrects itself…” The gaunt shadow spoke slowly, lifting a hand slightly, his bony arm casting a shadow in the dark sun that seed to flutter with flas, “Now, embrace this new future, child reborn from the ashes… Your survival and return have changed nothing.”
Fenna said nothing, silently drawing the greatsword from her back.
“Oh, negotiations have broken down…” The Doomsday Preacher saw Fenna’s action but still wore a face of sympathy and composure, “Of course, you can easily kill , but it would be aningless… The offspring of the sun are already prepared for the coming, and as for , I am but a witness to the end of tis, I will witness this mont, and I will witness in days to co, and you… do you see that sun?”
Fenna raised her eyes slightly, her gaze moving past the Doomsday Preacher’s figure, finally noticing sothing throbbing slowly in the darkness at the heart of the profaned sun, like an embryo being nurtured, a heart gradually resurrecting.
An unusual palpitation suddenly surged.
She realized then that the sudden imposing force was not coming from the frail Doomsday Preacher in front of her — but from the dark sun behind him.
Sothing was waking in the depths of that sun!
“This plan has encountered many twists and turns, a force we could never see clearly has interfered with our correction of history ti and again,” the Doomsday Preacher said with that sa look of pity, his voice low as if to tempt, “The disturbances it caused allowed so eyes that should not have been opened to perceive the truth… You were actually very close to uncovering the whole truth, really just a little bit more — but such is fate.
“Child, fate is so unreasonable.”
He lanted with pity, slowly walking forward, coming face to face with the still resolute Fenna, declaring as if reading so truth: “But you are blessed, you who have died and been reborn, who will live and die again, you have received the highest blessing… and thus have the chance to embrace it all.”
Fenna clenched her sword hilt, for the first ti in her life, she felt the urge to kill, driven not by justice or duty but by intense hatred. However, just as she was about to raise her sword, her move was abruptly interrupted by a flow of fla that ignited out of nowhere on the edge of the high platform.
A door of green spectral flas suddenly appeared behind the Doomsday Preacher, and a tall and majestic figure enveloped in spectral flas stepped out from it.
The Doomsday Preacher seed completely oblivious to the portal that had appeared behind him, and he opened his arms to Fenna as if a prophet proclaiming to the world before final judgnt —
“Blessed child, do not resist, as you can see, the tis have changed…”
He suddenly stopped.
A naless fear abruptly invaded his chaotic mind, a discordant noise as if coming straight from Subspace mingled with the fierce burning of Prand, and he hastily tried to turn his head, but before he could, a hand was already lightly placed on his shoulder.
“Change back.”
A calm voice said so.
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