Night Journey

Chapter 30 The Crow of Death
The world was swallowed by an impenetrable darkness. A fierce wind, carrying a sharp whistle and a pungent smell of blood, swept wildly through every inch of space, stinging the skin as if countless tiny needles were pricking it.

Cillian led his men forward, cleaving a bloody path filled with severed limbs and remains with his flaming sword.

The surviving townspeople followed nervously behind Cirion. Even though they tried not to look at the things in the darkness and to forget the screech in their ears, fear still grew endlessly in their hearts as they stepped over the deformed bodies burning with flames.

"God..."

"Is this hell?"

The whispers continued, but Cirion remained oblivious.

He had no time to care about the townspeople's feelings, and he couldn't even find out if anyone had fallen behind.

Ciri could only press forward relentlessly.

In a daze, Cillian thought of the expedition that Nunn had once described. Were the torchbearers of that time like himself?
Raising torches high and brandishing longswords, they charged headlong into the darkness of despair, cutting everything in their way in two.

It certainly sounds like a thrilling era, with countless torchbearers gathering together, their sparks transforming into a blazing sun, banishing the darkness.

Sadly, the era of expeditions has ended. There are no longer hordes of torchbearers here; only Cirion stands alone, striding forward in solitude.

Demons emerged one after another from the gray mist, this time seemingly endless. For every one that Cirion cut off, two more would crawl out.

The corpses were piled up in a thick layer, and the sticky, foul-smelling blood made the ground slippery and muddy.

Mike stayed close to Cillian, sharing the burden with him. His movements were nimble and swift, often delivering a fatal blow to the demon from tricky angles.

Komick is ultimately just a mortal; he gets tired and he gets hurt.

He was too exhausted, his nerves had been on edge for too long. In a moment of carelessness, the demon's claws swept across Mick's head. He tried his best to dodge, but his left ear was still sliced ​​off, and half of his face was soaked in blood.

"It's fine."

Mick covered his wound, still grinning, "You guys always say I'm too delicate, but now that I have a scar, I should look a bit more manly, right?"

This wasn't a good time to joke, but Cillian agreed anyway.

"Of course! You're as cool as a well-fed brown bear carrying a straight stick in its mouth!"

Cillian kicked over a demon's mangled body. "They can conjure up a wonderful story just by looking at your face."

Despite the strange metaphor, Cillian's eyes were filled with worry.

Ciri's blood will run dry, and the soul essence in the torch will burn out, the light will become weaker and weaker, and the area it can protect will become narrower and narrower.

One by one, townspeople fell behind the procession and disappeared into the darkness, their screams, wails, and roars mingling together to create a symphony of despair.

"God..."

In the group, Ava's expression was blank, and tears streamed down her face.

No matter how mature Ava became, she was still a child. Familiar faces were torn to shreds before her eyes, and her home was burned to the ground.

Her body trembled uncontrollably, and if Tim hadn't been holding her back, she might have fallen behind the group and disappeared into the darkness, just like the others.

“It’s alright, Ava,” Tim encouraged her. “We’re here. The Soflova brothers are experts at handling these kinds of things.”

Tim tried his best to comfort Ava, but in such a terrifying situation, he seemed so weak and powerless.

"No...no, no, I want to live!"

Suddenly, some townspeople screamed uncontrollably and frantically reached out their hands, trying to snatch the torch from Tim's hands.

A sharp, cold glint flashed, and Cirien cleaved a townsman in two with his sword. The townsman clutched the wound in his throat, struggling in agony until he stopped breathing.

Ciri's decisive sword strike stunned everyone. They stared at Ciri in disbelief, unable to understand why he had become so ruthless.

"He has been corrupted."

Cillian used his sword to cut open the dead man's clothes, revealing a patch of fine scales growing on his exposed skin.

The disaster came too suddenly. In the chaos, someone must have accidentally come into contact with the gray fog and become tainted by the power of chaos.

In order to survive, no one will admit this; they will only repeatedly affirm that they have always been hiding in the light.

Besides, even if we knew, what difference would it make?

This was only the beginning of a long night, and even Cillian couldn't be sure if he would ever see the sun rise again.

"Follow me!"

Cillian once again wielded his sword, leading his team through thorns and brambles.

Blood splattered everywhere like a fountain, turning the earth a glaring red.

Cillian had killed countless demons, but in the vast darkness, he could never see the end.

Having witnessed Cillian's imposing presence, no one dared to try and seize the torch anymore. Faced with the fading light, all they could do was pray.

"what you do!"

Someone screamed. He was still within the light, but was dragged up by someone behind him.

The man shoved him forcefully behind him, and several sharp claws emerged from the darkness.

In an instant, limbs flew off, arms were ripped off by the demon, still attached by wisps of flesh, heads were chopped off by sharp claws, and blood gushed from the neck like blooming crimson flowers. Internal organs were scattered all over the ground, intestines wrapped around the broken limbs, writhing in the pool of blood.

One person died just like that, while the other excitedly moved forward, taking up the empty space and putting himself back in the light.

Before he could even rejoice that his life could be extended for a while longer, a sharp dagger pierced his chest.

“Besides responsibility, our teacher taught us something else.” Mick sheathed his dagger expressionlessly. “Even when facing death, we should maintain our dignity and composure.”

The man clutched his chest, kneeling on the ground, unable to move, while the procession continued forward, the light fading into the distance.

He tried to plead for something, but Mick pierced his lung, and only strange whimpers came from his throat as blood gushed out.

Soon, darkness enveloped him, and after a brief hiss, his suffering ended.

The world was pitch black; the two moons had disappeared, and the darkness was so thick that one could not see their own hand in front of their face. Even the ever-standing second sun had vanished.

The only thing that could guide Cirion was the burning remains of the distant Lighthouse.

With his familiarity with the terrain of White Cliff Town, Xilian got closer and closer to the burning wreckage, until the blazing fire illuminated everyone's faces.

"saved……"

Seeing the blazing fire, a woman breathed a sigh of relief and burst into tears.

"No, it's not over yet."

Cillian's words plunged the woman's heart into despair once more.

The wreckage was indeed burning with intense flames, but its color was not the pure white of the soul essence; it was merely ordinary flames.

Logically, the Lighthouse should contain a large reserve of soul essence, so even if it were detonated and destroyed, the flames should ignite the remaining soul essence.

The result was that this flame was just a flame, lacking any power to resist chaos.

"Oh? You've arrived."

A sudden female voice rang out, and Tania appeared from the gray fog directly in front of Cillian.

Tania was in terrible condition. First, Cillian blinded one of her eyes, then he chopped off several of her fingers with his sword. In order to strengthen the Gray Zone and pollute the land, she even cut open her wrists and sacrificed a large amount of her blood.

Her breath was weak, and her bluish veins bulged out like twining vines.

“Tanya…”

Cillian obtained the woman's name from the Deathbird and tentatively inquired about it.

“You come from the city of Hel.”

Tania asked, slightly surprised, "Why do you think that?"

Cillian pieced together the truth: "The closest city-state to White Cliff Town is Hel City, and only Hel City can observe the lighthouse of White Cliff Town."

Tania countered, "So what?"

"Nothing."

Cillian shook his head. As soon as he finished speaking, the gray mist in all directions began to boil and churn, and countless shadows flashed out of the darkness with hysterical howls.

The demon horde posed no threat to Nun, but it was perfect for killing a Rank 1 Torchbearer like Cillian.

Exhausted and wounded, Cillian not only had to face the onslaught of demons, but also had to find a way to protect the survivors from the encirclement.

It was a dead end, but Cillian had no intention of giving up. He didn't even feel any despair; only a single emotion rose in his heart.

--hatred.

For a long time, Cillian pondered who his true enemy was as a transcendent being.

Is it the chaotic power permeating reality, or the terrifying demons born from chaos?

Perhaps... power has no inherent good or evil; the true masters are those who wield it.

Cillian understood.

His enemies are Tania, the Deathbird, and the madmen who use these powers.

True evil.

Ciri gripped his longsword tightly and roared as he faced the countless ferocious faces.

"I will not compromise!"

The blade severed the head of one demon and pierced the heart of another. Thick bone plates embedded the blade, and then Cirien swung his fist, smashing the demon's eyeballs.

"I will continue to resist!"

Ciri's blood boiled, and his soul ignited.

He took the initiative to break out of the group and meet the swarming demons.

Only in this way can Cirion avoid his team being surrounded, and only by taking the initiative to move forward can he have a chance to kill Tania.

Like the last remaining soldier on the battlefield, Ciri charged alone towards the enemy's position, his countless sharp claws rising up like a spear array.

He knew he would be riddled with holes.

Even so, Ciri still resolutely raised his sword.

Therefore, following the trajectory of Cirion's sword strike, a blinding streak of fire emerged from the darkness, traversing the battlefield and cleaving through the demon horde.

Tania's defensive line collapsed, and Cirion arrived in an instant, his fire sword gleaming.

(End of this chapter)