Chapter 741

Chapter 741: The Long Night Begins

Hurried footsteps broke the calm inside the sanctuary. A middle?aged priest in a deep blue robe stitched with gold hurried down a long corridor like a gust of wind. Under the silent gazes of the many sages painted on the walls, he came to the door of the prayer room—but before he could knock, a gentle female voice sounded from within: “Come in.”

The middle?aged priest pushed open the door and saw the figure standing before the statue of the Storm Goddess. Helena wore a simple priest’s gown. A string of sea?blue crystals coiled around her wrist, and it seemed she had been offering a devout benediction just a second ago. She did not turn when she heard the door open behind her. She only kept gazing quietly at the veiled face of the Goddess’s statue and spoke softly: “How are things outside?”

“dusk is still ongoing. The Sun is still in its previous position and keeps a ‘normal’ brightness and form,” the middle?aged priest lowered his head and reported at once. “Order in the city-state is still good. Since the situation is unclear, most citizens have gone back home to wait for further instructions. Everything on the ark is normal as well. There are no anomalies. Four teams of technical Fathers are already on standby near the steam boilers.”

Helena nodded slightly, as if thinking quietly. After a moment, she suddenly asked: “What about the other arks?”

“We just made contact a few minutes ago. Everything is normal on the other arks. The Academy Ark says their instruments have received a series of repeated signals from the direction of the Sun. The content of those signals is different from before. When converted into sound, they become sharp, short bursts of noise…”

Helena gave a soft “mm” and fell silent again. She went on staring at the statue of the Goddess, as if she had forgotten the priest still standing beside her, waiting for orders. Only after a few minutes did she speak again, as if to herself: “A long dusk…”

Taran Ael frowned as he studied the data his apprentice had just brought him. Long paper strips fed from the machine were covered in complex lines and a mess of holes that would leave any ordinary person dizzy. Yet all this “gibberish” described the state of “Vision 001 – the Sun,” which had shone on and sheltered this world for so long.

After a long time, the elven scholar finally set the paper strip down and rubbed his temples, too tired to speak.

A calm voice sounded from the side: “Tell me what we are dealing with, Taran.”

Taran Ael lifted his head and saw Ted Riel, who stood beside a bookshelf. The Truth Keeper wore an academy robe, but underneath it Taran could see close?fitting mail and weapon fittings. He stood there with a calm look, yet his eyes were as sharp as a soldier about to step onto a battlefield.

“…the Sun is flickering,” Taran Ael said at last. “You can’t tell with the naked eye, but it is flickering. And it’s not any kind of regular ‘signal.’ It’s more like… an electric lamp in bad condition.” He pressed his dry lips together and pushed the data aside. “Also, the latest tracking records show that it is not fully fixed on the horizon. It is still moving, only… very, very slowly. So slow that no one can see it move.”

Ted Riel was silent for two or three seconds: “…How slow?”

“If its current speed does not change, it will drop below the horizon in about seventy?two hours,” Taran Ael said. He reached for his cup and almost knocked it over. He grabbed it in a rush and took two heavy gulps of cold tea. Only then did his face look a little better. “But the worst part is not the seventy?two hours of dusk coming next. It is what comes after dusk, Ted. You know what I mean.”

“…Night will last longer than dusk,” Ted Riel said, his expression turning serious at once. Of course he understood his friend’s meaning. “If it keeps moving at this speed, how long will the night last?”

Taran Ael did not answer. He only set the cup down and stared at the pages on his desk, as if he was trying to see the future of this world inside those sheets, as if he wanted to dig out some enemy’s secret from them. A long time later, he let out a bitter smile and spread his hands at Ted.

“…I will have the Knowledge Guards get ready,” Ted Riel said quietly after watching his friend for a while. He nodded lightly. “We have plans for long?term missions in case we suddenly fall into a lasting ‘After the Darkness’ again. The glowing fallen relic near Lightwind Harbor will also provide basic shelter during the veil of night. Things will not be too bad.”

“Yes. Lightwind Harbor will not be too bad—the other city?states might not be so lucky.” After a brief silence, Taran Ael sighed softly. “Unlike the previous times the Sun went out and each city-state simply ‘skipped over time,’ this time we are facing the Sun slowing down. Every city-state is going through this world?level Vision together… I don’t know how they will face the long veil of night to come.”

“Every city-state has survival plans for extreme cases, but how much they can really do is another matter… All we can do is hope, and pray that the Four Gods protect them.”

Ted Riel’s voice was low and heavy. Then he shook his head and picked up the thick book in his hand, which recorded many sacred miracles. He seemed ready to open a passage and leave, but suddenly hesitated. He put the book away again, sighed, and walked toward the door.

Taran watched the Truth Keeper’s back, just as if he were watching a warrior about to step onto the battlefield. Only after Ted’s figure disappeared beyond the door did he pull his gaze back and glance at the data he had just pushed aside.

At the bottom of one page, shaky handwriting had left a line of notes from the observers—

“…By current calculations… time until the end of sunset… seventy?two hours…”

Outside the tall window beside him, golden sunset light still blanketed the layered roofs of the city-state, splendid and grand.

Then he heard faint, unreal bells.

The ringing was urgent and repeated in a fixed pattern, as if calling to everyone who heard it, calling them to come and listen to this proclamation before the veil of night descended—

Deep inside the great Cathedral of Pland, Archbishop Valentine had been discussing how to handle the Sun’s anomaly with Governor Dante Wayne when he suddenly stopped and tilted his head, listening to the sudden bell.

Across from him, the governor raised his head at once: “Your Excellency Bishop? What happened?”

Valentine waved his hand lightly. After a short pause, he answered: “It is the Swift Bell.”

“The Swift Bell?” The color shifted slightly on Dante’s face. He was not clergy of the Church, but because of his connection to Vanna he knew many things about the Church and thus knew what the “Swift Bell” was. “So…”

But Valentine shook his head: “No. Let us continue, Governor.”

“…You are not going to answer the Swift Bell’s summons?”

“I will not,” Valentine said slowly. For a moment, he seemed to remember many things, but in the end he still shook his head. “That is an order.”

Do not answer that bell.
Do not answer the tomb of the Nameless King.
Do not answer the call of that Gravekeeper—

The bell kept ringing, again and again, in every city-state, every Cathedral, every ship, and in the minds of every cleric who believed in the Four Gods. The urgent, repeated peals echoed without end.

priests all over froze for a heartbeat the moment the bell rang in their minds. Yet after that brief pause, they all went back to their busy work—continuing to receive and comfort the faithful who came seeking help, continuing to tend Holy Relics and maintain the Cathedrals, continuing to prepare blessings for the warriors who might soon face a very long veil of night.

The bell’s sound was like wind at the ear and waves in the far distance. It echoed out there somewhere, yet no priest answered its call anymore…

In that remote, other dimension, in the ancient gathering ground shrouded in dark chaos, the last group of Penitent Ascetics stationed there stood in silence, gazing toward the center of the square.

Tall stone pillars ringed the gathering ground. Chaotic streams of light slid across the dim sky. An old, pale pyramid?tomb rose from the middle of the plaza, and from its front walked the Gravekeeper, his whole body wrapped in bandages, as if he existed forever on the border between life and death. He stepped out into the empty, abandoned meeting place.

But unlike the countless years before, there was no longer any Saint standing here. The Gravekeeper held pen and paper in his hands, yet no one came to hear news from the tomb.

The Penitent Ascetics stood far from the center, at a safe distance. Their bodies were covered in rune tattoos that marked the blessings of the Four Gods. Their eyes and ears were sealed by spells. They sensed the state of the tomb through God?granted sacred miracles, so they would not look directly at the Gravekeeper or hear his voice with their own senses.

The Gravekeeper walked a few steps out from the tomb. Vast shadows grew from behind him. Nameless limbs and twisted entities spread like thick, shifting sludge along his path. He came to stand before the ascetics and held out a sheet of parchment. On the parchment, trembling eyeballs kept surfacing and sinking. He opened his rotten, warped mouth and called out to the watchers.

His voice was like ten thousand curses of blasphemous corruption. Every vibration stabbed at the heart and tore at reason.

The Ascetic Watchers only stood there at the edge of the tomb’s range, statues in human form, silently “watching” over the tomb’s guard post.

They could not give any answer.
They could not speak with him.
But they also could not leave their station.

The formless, crawling shadows slowly calmed down. After a long face?off, the Gravekeeper lowered his head and stared at the parchment in his hands with his cloudy eyes. He stayed silent for a long time, then finally turned and walked back toward the tomb.

Low, layered whispers seeped out from within the tomb. The Gravekeeper’s muttering merged with the murmurs that came from inside.

He spoke in a low voice, repeating the same words again and again—

“dusk has come…”