People feared losing the Old Believer, as they had already lost the Sect’s Priest and couldn’t afford to lose another pillar of support.
"No!"
The Old Believer croaked hoarsely, roaring,
"There’s one more, there’s still one more...
I cannot stop now,"
"That’s Veldor, that’s my child!"
That roar was enough to intimidate the soul.
Everyone watched as his figure dashed forward again, as if he couldn’t afford to lose sothing, desperately struggling in this world.
At that mont, everyone seed to understand,
he hadn’t stopped,
he was still fighting against death!
Another aftershock arrived, more terrifying and massive than the last.
The ground cracked open with fierce cracks, as if issuing a final warning to the overconfident old man.
All around, everything was charred and devastated.
Looking up, the sky turned dark, and a sudden downpour struck the marred earth, beating down on the aged body.
Thunders roared, and violent winds ravaged, as if the world was about to fall apart.
The Old Believer’s heart trembled, thudding against his chest.
There’s still ti, there’s still ti...
Everything before him seed like a reenactnt of the past, and his heart was filled with yesterday’s sorrows.
When the great fire erupted, everything was taken away.
Happiness ceased to exist from that mont, his life seemingly paused at that instant.
"God,
what do you want to do?"
The ground beneath him shook, the whole world seed to be against him, hindering his steps.
Even though he stumbled and looked wretched, he still sprinted,
For years, he had practiced penance, atoned for his sins, and chewed over the sorrows of the past.
He was such a good child, yet perished in that accident, a re misstep taking him away forever.
Thus,
he had sworn to God not to let such an incident repeat...
Thus,
he had prayed all his life...
A pebble made him fall to the ground, sending excruciating pain through him, the old man frantically crawled up, trembling as he cried out,
"God,
give one more chance!"
............
In the pitch-dark cave, Veldor heard the relentless rumbling around him.
He was in his twenties, with a bright future ahead, yet dood to end in this pitch-black place.
Disaster was indeed rciless.
Initially, Veldor had shouted, tearing his throat, calling for help outside, and when his hands regained so strength after a while, he took out a whistle and blew sharp, piercing notes.
But no matter what he did, there was no response.
All that awaited him was the roaring earth.
The ground seed to be boiling, continuously emitting mournful cries in its shaking.
Veldor couldn’t leave this place.
Even a slight movent of his back resulted in crackling bone sounds and intense, piercing pain; he had fallen into this hellish place with nurous broken ribs.
His right leg was crippled, with only his sowhat intact hands insufficient to aid his escape.
"I’m a walking dead."
Veldor murmured absentmindedly.
Having promised to reach the Holy Land with the Old Believer, he now felt powerless, letting death approach step by step.
"Who else would co to rescue ?"
"God... why do you just watch all this..."
Veldor whispered.
As he spoke, he rembered a story from the Scripture.
It ca from the "Book of Thousand-Year-Old Prophets," where it was told that Solamus once traveled to an ancient country nad Libog, whose King sought Eternal Life.
In the end, the King, who failed to attain eternal life, realized his own limits and penned an admonition for future generations:
Do not question why we cannot escape death,
Understand,
We are rely humans.
"We are rely humans..."
Veldor murmured absentmindedly, his mind echoing with this sentence.
Querying God why, what purpose did it serve?
We are tiny, we are fragile, we are often confused, we are ignorant, and often, aside from praying, we find no possibility of redemption.
"Yes... yes,
We... are rely humans."
The imminent threat of death enlightened him as though he suddenly saw everything clearly.
Whether converting to a True Believer or continuing as a Wanderer, drifting aimlessly through his life, none could change his nature as a mortal.
Once, Veldor occasionally felt fortunate for his conversion, but now he regretted it.
Clutching the whistle in his hand, he let out a painful, helpless wail.
The sound resembled that of a severely injured wild beast.
If not for the conversion, if not for embarking on this pilgrimage, he definitely wouldn’t have encountered all this.
Veldor reflected on his past self who harbored deep hatred.
There were so many people full of hatred in the world, and he was one of them.
After all, nothing would change, so what if he continued as a Wanderer?
Perhaps, he would be far happier than his current self.
No, not perhaps, definitely.
"God... look what you’ve put through?"
Unknowingly, rage surged up in Veldor’s chest.
Since he couldn’t question God why...
Why not vent his anger, as it’s all the sa, isn’t it?
"You are tornting , your throne high above, yet you tornt , making suffer so deeply!"
"Subdue , subdue then! You’ve already done it!"
"Are you satisfied with my submission, as I submit like others, calling you the King of Kings!"
Veldor roared, his chest in stabbing pain, his expression fierce.
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