"I’ve done so much, but it’s not just for fun," said God.
"Veldor, I’m glad it’s you, I’m glad it’s only you who ca here, I’m glad it’s only you who discovered the truth of it all."
Veldor, collapsed on the stairs, listened to Slaier’s arrogant voice. He was in a bewildered state, knowing nothing, understanding nothing. The cold wind howled incessantly, the false steps wobbled in the wind, creaking aloud. All he knew was that everything was fake.
Facing the God of lies and deceit, Veldor felt scared, fear flowing backward to the top of his head, his hands turning ice cold.
He involuntarily began to recite the scriptures from the "Second Prophet Book," trying to dispel his fear.
But fear still pursued him relentlessly.
"You don’t understand, do you? You don’t know, do you!
No matter, many people don’t know, many people don’t understand. Sotis, it always takes so ti to discover my greatness."
Slaier laughed unrestrainedly, the cold wind whisking through his clothing as he hovered in mid-air.
After a while, Veldor finally caught his breath. He looked at Slaier and said in a trembling voice,
"What’s the aning of all this... Why did you... confiscate death?"
Hearing this, Slaier burst into an even more arrogant laughter.
"Yes, what is all this for?
Veldor, I appear before you just to wait for you to ask in shock, ’Why?’
Sorry, but I am a Divine with a strong desire to express, often feeling lonely because no one can share my grand plan.
Oh, how lonely it is on top!
Luckily, today, fate has brought you here."
The God of lies and deceit seed sowhat overjoyed, like a boastful mortal, droning on about himself.
Amid his boasts, Veldor slowly regained so calmness, taking deep breaths.
"So... what is it all for?"
Veldor asked again.
His deanor seed to greatly please Slaier, who nodded and said leisurely,
"It’s all quite obvious, isn’t it?
Veldor, before I answer your question, I must ask you one first—what exactly... is death?"
What exactly... is death?
Veldor was stunned, isn’t the answer obvious?
Death is death.
Besides death, what else can death be!
Veldor couldn’t wrap his mind around it. He touched his forehead, opened his mouth but didn’t know how to explain.
At that mont, Slaier began clapping his hands and said,
"Look, look, exactly as I expected.
It seems like you know the answer, yet you can’t express it. Why is that?
Because in your mind, there isn’t an accurate concept of death; for you, death is just death, as self-evident as my father, your God."
At that point, Slaier spoke rapidly, and for a mont, Veldor felt as if he was seeing that outspoken philosopher again.
And Slaier’s words hit their mark like arrows.
He thought carefully and realized he indeed didn’t have a clear concept of death.
Death... is just death...
"Death is when the soul leaves the body, and then... then... it goes to the afterlife where it’s supposed to go..."
In front of the God of lies and deceit, Veldor tried to explain what death was.
After making an attempt, he raised his eyes only to see the increasing mockery on Slaier’s face.
Could it be... he was wrong?
In his hurry, Veldor’s explanation beca more and more muddled, until he finally gave up, falling silent, shivering in the cold wind.
"Veldor, you are mistaken, and profoundly so,"
Slaier said without mincing words,
"Only a very few among this vast earth and the stars above have co to understand what death truly is.
Death is the ti of rest, a mont of tranquility,
when the last cup of wine has been drunk, it is ti to close your eyes and bid farewell to everything."
Veldor listened, perplexed. Slaier made a lot of sense, but Veldor couldn’t fathom where Slaier’s answer differed from his own.
The god of lies and deceit cast a pitiful glance at Veldor.
"In this world, many more people are just like you, not having co to recognize death.
And that is to be expected.
After all, death does not exist."
That last sentence struck Veldor’s ears like thunder.
He didn’t understand what it ant, but it jolted him all the sa.
"Death does not exist... What does that an?"
Veldor asked blankly.
"Veldor, think about it, does a real farewell exist in this world?"
Slaier advised gently, like a midwife to knowledge.
Real farewell...
Veldor couldn’t help but ponder the question.
After death, one becos a soul—compared to the perishable body, the soul is eternal.
Because man’s soul is bestowed by the Divine Spirit.
It’s like the sa water being poured from one cup into another.
In the True Religion, upon death, one either goes to Heaven or falls into Hell, and even if one ends up in Hell, after suffering punishnt and atoning for sins, one can then step through the gates of Heaven.
At this mont, Veldor suddenly had an epiphany.
"In this world... there is no farewell... no matter what, in the end, we will all et again!"
Slaier laughed wildly, slowly adding:
"Therefore, death does not exist!"
The god of lies and deceit then began to laugh heartily, and afterward pointed to the sky, speaking with the tone of a devout Believer:
"I said I would confiscate death, but that was just a lie.
I am rely Slaier, the master of lies and deceit, how could I confiscate death?"
Slaier then swayed slightly, like a Philosopher slowly unveiling the curtain of truth, letting out a terrifying scream that nearly ripped the heart apart:
"Veldor,
the one who truly confiscated death is not , but God!"
"God has given us,
souls!"
Veldor froze, stiff as a board, as if he had turned into a real corpse, growing cold, as cold as ice water, blood ceasing to flow, motionless, like a scholar suddenly struck by a massive wave of knowledge.
Everything was as Slaier said...
There is no real goodbye in this world; even the Netherworld will eventually collapse one day.
Everything will return to the Heavenly City, for true death does not exist.
"Death" had died a long ti ago.
Only the soul is Eternal Life.
The howling winds grew fiercer around, the false firmant tore apart with large gaps, a buzzing wind blew through, and the stairway trembled, seemingly ready to toss Veldor down any mont, as the growing tempest ruled over the pretense of the "Netherworld" landscape.
Everything is false, even death itself is false.
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