The sailor lay completely silent, motionless amongst the black and white tall grass, imagining himself to have already beco a real corpse.
The wind blew chaotically from all directions, stirring the wilderness grasses into swirling waves, among which faint sounds seed to gradually erge—sounding like distant murmurs, indistinct conversations, vague sighs, and ethereal lodies like music.
The sailor closed his eyes, allowing the calm of the dead to engulf him, subrging himself in this endless wilderness.
Agatha held her staff, slowly circling the sailor three tis. The runes on the ground lit up under her steps, and the pale flas gradually emitted a bright glow before she stopped again near the sailor’s head, inserting her staff into the ground and slowly spreading her arms.
The wind over the wilderness suddenly beca more chaotic and fierce, and the voices brought by the wind beca much clearer. However, just when Duncan thought the "Guardians" on this side had been awakened, the surrounding wind gradually died down, and all sounds vanished as well.
"...Hmm?" Agatha opened her eyes, puzzled, as her eyebrows gradually furrowed.
"What happened?" Duncan imdiately asked curiously.
The sailor lying on the ground couldn’t help but open his eyes too, realizing there was sothing wrong with the ritual, but rembering Agatha’s earlier instructions, he dared not speak or turn his head, and could only continue to tense up, desperately trying to convey his confusion through his eyes.
"...At the mont the ’passage’ was established, I thought I really sensed the presence of the ’Guardians’ from the realm of the dead," Agatha said, frowning, "but they did not respond and left directly."
"No response?" Duncan asked puzzledly, looking down at the pretending-to-be-corpse still lying on the ground sending desperate eye signals, "Was your ’fake’ seen through?"
"That’s not the reason... Whether or not it was seen through isn’t important. Our original aim was for the ’Guardians’ of this side to appear. Even if my faked deceased was recognized on the spot, they would have shown themselves," Agatha explained, shaking her head, "In fact, discovering a fake deceased would make them show up even faster—it’s a more severe ’malicious event’ than the appearance of a real dead body."
Duncan nodded thoughtfully but then realized sothing, "Ah? Does that an doing this would enrage those Guardians on ’this side’?"
Agatha nodded calmly, "Yes, if they discovered what I was doing—they would be very, very angry."
Duncan looked bewildered, "...You didn’t ntion that before."
"As long as it’s not discovered, we’re fine," shrugged Agatha, "If it really is discovered, there’s nothing I can do, I can’t fight them, but I can escape quickly through the mirror jump. By then, it wouldn’t be too big of an issue for you to negotiate with them—’Guardians’ on this side are rational and can communicate. Usually, they calm down after a fight."
Duncan felt sothing was off in the process, different from what he had initially imagined.
However, he didn’t dwell on this issue but quickly focused on the current anomaly: "But the Guardians didn’t pay attention to the ’deceased’ here."
Agatha furrowed her brows and nodded, then after a mont of deep thought, she suddenly lowered her head looking at the sailor and broke the silence, "I’ll try once more. After the ritual ends this ti, imdiately stand up and return to the boat at top speed—this process will tear the ’passage.’ Under no circumstances look back."
The sailor remained tense, his eyes continuing to dart around...
Agatha imdiately replied, "I can’t understand that. Just nod or shake your head slightly."
The sailor stiffened, initially hesitating as he moved his head as if to shake it, but then he stopped and finally gave a slight nod.
"Good, I’ll take it as you have no objections. Now keep still, I’m going to do it again."
Saying this, Agatha picked up the combat staff that materialized from her mory, once again igniting the pale flas on the ground, activating those mysterious and arcane runes.
The disorderly wind rose again, mixed with the muffled murmurs and whispers. Agatha’s "passage" was established once more, and Duncan sensed... their presence.
Agatha stopped again where the ritual was ending and then forcefully thrust the staff into the ground, "Now—rise!"
The sailor had been waiting for this mont, springing up abruptly like he was on springs, not hesitating as he leaped over the burning pale flas surrounding him, dashing towards the nearby origami boat!
And alongside the "deceased’s" sudden movent, the situation finally changed—the "passage" was forcibly torn apart, revealing a world that was previously hidden deeper, suddenly exposed in front of Duncan!
The pale flas on the ground blazed fiercely, releasing a dazzling strong light from the triangular rune array left by Agatha; then, a rapidly expanding crack appeared in the air above the triangle. The space there shattered silently like glass, with twilight-like brilliance leaking from the crack—almost in the blink of an eye, those soaring pale flas were also dyed with a twilight hue.
Through the rapidly expanding crack, Duncan saw an abnormally tall figure draped in a black robe, but contrary to what Agatha said about them being "angered," he rely silently observed this side of the crack. After a brief pause, he turned and slowly walked away.
Duncan imdiately looked puzzledly at Agatha, who seed even more surprised. She stared at the departing "Guardian," unable to hold back, "Wait! Didn’t you see soone violating the rules here? A forged dead body! And deliberate destruction of the guiding passage! Please, take charge!"
The tall phantom walked even further away, as if completely oblivious to the voices coming from behind. And as he left, the triangular rift in the sky also began to close slowly.
Agatha looked on in astonishnt at this scene, but just as she was about to forcibly hold open the passageway and lead the captain through it, a large, claw-like, withered hand suddenly appeared at the edge of the crack—this hand supported the slowly closing rift, followed by another hand.
Accompanied by the grating noise of gradually shattering glass, the rift was forcefully held open by those hands and began to expand once more.
Then, the owner of those hands appeared on the opposite side of the rift—a taller "Gatekeeper," dressed in a deep, night-like black robe. The hood of the robe completely enveloped his face, leaving only a pair of eyes emitting a dull yellow light, burning like fire under the shadow of the hood, he bowed, and a gloomy, hoarse voice as if rising from the grave intoned: "Co."
Accompanied by this brief and cold word, in the next second, the rift, like glass cracks, silently shattered.
What also shattered was the entire Wilderness of Death before Duncan’s eyes, including its "nightfall."
The eternal night that enveloped the realm of the dead fractured and dissipated, revealing the glow of twilight behind the curtain. The colorless naless wildgrass swayed in the twilight breeze, and a path appeared before Duncan and Agatha, heading endlessly straight into the depths of the wilderness, as if entering between the sky and the earth.
The unusually tall "Gatekeeper" then stood on the path, silently watching, like a silent tombstone.
Duncan instinctively turned to look back at Holoss and Brilliant Starship, but saw that the two ships had beco two frozen and semi-transparent shadows—they were static not far away, under the twilight glow on one side of the shadows, it seed that one could still see the wasteland cloaked in eternal night.
Duncan withdrew his gaze.
The quietly standing tall Gatekeeper almost simultaneously broke the silence: "Go."
As his voice dropped, he had already turned around and began walking towards the front of the path.
Duncan and Agatha exchanged glances and imdiately followed.
"Sothing’s not quite right," Agatha muttered quietly next to Duncan, "The Gatekeepers I’ve seen before... in my mory, don’t seem like this; their aura doesn’t quite match... neither do their actions or words."
"Wasn’t the previous Gatekeeper who turned and left even more off?" Duncan casually remarked, "At least this one is willing to show up and lead the way; that’s better than none—we have at least co to a ’deeper place.’
"That’s why it’s even more peculiar," Agatha frowned, "The Gatekeepers here should be able to tell at a glance that we are not ’the dead’; even if they were to lead the way, they should have questioned or negotiated with us... How did this one just start leading the way? It’s as if he was specifically waiting..."
Duncan found it reasonable: "Why don’t you ask?"
Agatha hesitated for a mont, then really raised her head and looked at the tall figure walking ahead who had slowed his pace: "Are you specifically here waiting for us?"
However, the tall figure did not respond, as if he hadn’t heard.
Agatha was not discouraged and after a while, she asked loudly again: "Do you know who we are? Have you noticed that we are not truly ’the deceased’?"
The tall Gatekeeper finally paused in his steps, but only uttered an ambiguous syllable: "Hmm."
"Captain, this Gatekeeper might be indifferent by nature," Agatha turned her head back and said sowhat helplessly to Duncan.
Duncan didn’t say anything, but just frowned and thought for a mont, then looked up at the Gatekeeper and started speaking: "We also summoned another Gatekeeper before, but he ignored us and left, and there were other Gatekeepers... Where have they all gone?"
Under Duncan and Agatha’s surprised gaze, the tall figure stopped walking.
"Funeral," he said in a deep voice, breaking the silence.
Duncan furrowed his brow: "Funeral? You an the other Gatekeepers went to a funeral?"
"Yes."
"Whose funeral?" Agatha asked instinctively.
"Death’s."
The tall Gatekeeper turned around, his dull yellow eyes quietly burning under the shadow of the hood.
"Death has died."
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