Night Journey

Chapter 34 Departure
Cillian did not leave, but sat quietly on the steps outside the armory.

Alone.

The thoughts that had been screaming incessantly in Cillian's mind vanished at this moment, leaving only a pure blank.

He had no thoughts, only emptiness, as if Ciri had become a soulless shell, existing only like a sculpture.

Many years later, Cillian still couldn't remember how he got through that desperate afternoon.

He only remembered that he remained like this for a long time until night fell, a thick gray fog appeared out of nowhere, and the Ouroboros Seal sent waves of burning pain through him, which finally roused him from this extreme numbness.

Countless hideous and terrifying figures emerged from the gray mist, surrounding Ciri and emitting bloodthirsty whispers.

Cillian remained seated, seemingly crushed by overwhelming despair, having lost all will to live.

The demons sensed the deathly aura surrounding Ciri and stopped probing. They roared and pounced, but just as their claws tore Ciri to pieces, a cold glint flashed.

Ciri suddenly stood up, swung the Boiling Sword he was holding in his arms, and slashed out a huge semicircle, leaving a trail of blood.

There were no angry growls, nor hateful curses.

Only the dull thud of a blade piercing flesh, like the countdown to death, relentlessly pounded against every inch of space.

The moment he swung his first sword, Cillian fell into complete silence, as if isolated from this mad world, transforming into a cold, hard block of ice, or a rough, heavy block of iron, standing unmoved amidst the waves of demons.

He was like a silent grim reaper, wielding his sharp blade and bringing the swordsmanship that Nunn had taught him to its fullest potential.

The demons swarmed in like moths to a flame, only to fall to Cillian's sword, turning into pools of bloody, mangled remains.

Severed limbs flew through the air, bits of flesh flew everywhere, internal organs were scattered all over the ground like broken sacks, and filthy blood gathered into rivers, flowing wantonly.

Countless corpses piled up at Ciri's feet, forming a shocking little mountain. This mountain of corpses, like a throne, held Ciri high above this sea of ​​blood and carnage.

This frenzied slaughter continued all night until the first hint of dawn appeared on the horizon, at which point Cillian stopped his killing spree, staring blankly in the direction of the rising sun.

As the warm sun set, the mountains of corpses, like dry tinder that had been ignited, spontaneously combusted, forming an even more desolate mountain of ashes in the raging flames.

Ciri stood quietly before the Ash Mountain, her body slowly kneeling down.

Even a born killer's heart is made of flesh and blood, not real iron and stone.

At this moment, Cillian could no longer suppress the pain in his heart; the repression and despair in his heart surged out like a flood bursting its banks.

He burst into tears.

After an unknown amount of time, Cillian staggered toward the long-closed armory.

The room was quiet, filled with a refreshing medicinal fragrance.

On the ground, the survivors lay quietly, their eyes closed, their faces serene, lost in a beautiful dream from which they would never awaken.

They may still bear the marks of their injuries, but at this moment, their calm expressions make one almost forget the suffering they have endured.

Cillian's gaze swept over everyone before he gently pushed open another door.

Behind the door, Ava was still curled up in the blanket, with Tim sitting beside her.

Both of them wore faint smiles, as if they were still chatting about interesting topics in the final moments of their lives.

Cillian embraced their cold corpses.

Cillian was busy for the rest of the day.

He carried the bodies of everyone to the hillside outside Baiya Town, and dug pits one by one with a shovel to bury them.

Before nightfall, Cillian returned to the armory and opened the long-sealed iron chest.

This contains Nun's most precious possession, which the Soflowa brothers have always been curious about, but now only Cillian has witnessed it.

Ciri carefully took out the contents of the iron box; it was a tattered, bloodstained flag.

This flag has seen countless battles, and it has been repaired and torn again. It bears a symbol that looks somewhat familiar to Cirion.

With that thought, Cillian picked up the Boiling Sword.

Boiling Sword... Cillian didn't know why this blade was called the Boiling Sword.

It may have a mysterious past, just like Nunn, but with Nunn's death, Cirion is unsure if he will ever have the chance to learn the truth.

In the very center of the sword hilt was a burning sunflower emblem, a symbol that Cirien recognized as the emblem of the Sunflower Clan.

But on the other side of the sword hilt is an equilateral triangle symbol, which, upon closer inspection, is exactly the same as the symbol on the flag.

The symbol is formed by multiple overlapping kneeling human figures.

At the very bottom, you can see a clear human figure kneeling on one knee, with the other leg bent and raised, his body slightly leaning forward, and his hands hanging down naturally or as if supporting something.

From the bottom up, new kneeling figures are added one after another.

These figures are similar in size and outline, but they are not arranged in a completely neat manner. Instead, they overlap and intersect with each other. Some figures are partially covered by the figures above, revealing only a partial outline, while others are fully revealed through the gaps.

It's like a group of people with a common goal, closely connected one after another, eventually forming a stable equilateral triangle.

Cillian was unaware of the symbol's meaning or the flag's origin, but considering it was part of Nunn's collection and its connection to the Boiling Sword, he carefully folded the flag and placed it in his pack.

Cillian thoroughly searched the armory again, taking away all usable supplies, including ammunition, daggers, and soul essence.

Afterwards, Cillian returned to the second-floor cabin. Instead of opening Tim and Mick's room, he locked the door, sealing the memories away forever.

After arriving at his room, Cillian quickly tidied it up, neatly stuffing books and documents into the bookshelf.

Cillian took out a notebook, opened it to a page with two scribbles on it.

The first design is a black raven with outstretched wings, which comes from Nunn's description of the clan's past.

The Death Clan, the mortal enemy of the Yangkui Clan, has returned once again, a clan that should have been destroyed.

Ciri understood that Nunn's final blessing was less about living the life he wanted and more about warning Ciri not to inherit the clan's hatred.

How could Cirion tolerate the existence of his enemy?

The second design is based on Tania's severed arm, a black claw made of messy lines.

Cillian was not the only survivor of this dark night. The woman named Tania disappeared into the gray fog under the so-called evil power.

These beings known as evil creatures seem to be engaged in some kind of conflict... Cillian doesn't care about their grudges; he only wants to kill all those involved in the tragedy in White Cliff Town.

As Cillian scribbled in his notebook, he spoke in a low, hoarse voice.

"Did you escape back to Hel, Tania?"

Turning to the next page, an image of an ouroboros comes into view.

The Seal of Ouroboros.

This tattoo mark is not only closely related to Cirion's origins, but it also grants Cirion a powerful blessing as an aid.

For a while at first, Cillian both loved and feared the mark, suspecting that it was because of it that he had "traveled through time".

As for now...

Cillian no longer cared where this power came from or what its purpose was.

Whoever you are... I wish us a pleasant collaboration.

Cillian picked up a black-and-white group photo and tucked it into his notebook.

After checking the condition of the motorcycle, Cillian went to the living room.

The former liveliness is gone, replaced by only desolation and oppression.

On the dining table, there was a leftover syrup muffin.

As usual, Cillian sat in his seat, but this time Tim and Mick were not by his side, nor was Ava chatting with him about interesting things.

Cillian cut off pieces of the hardened muffin and solidified syrup, stuffing them into his mouth in large chunks.

The cloying sweetness did nothing to wash away the bitterness in Ciri's throat.

He ate very slowly, and swallowed even more slowly, as if a bunch of nails were stuck in his throat.

I thought that morning was the last time I would cry, but now, my eyes still can't help but well up with tears.

"It's so delicious..."

Ciri was filled with regret, wondering why she hadn't let Tim and Mick have a taste sooner.

One piece after another... until Cillian ate the last piece.

Looking at the empty plate, Cillian belatedly realized that he would never be able to eat Ava's breakfast again.

He sat there blankly for a long time, until one moment he suddenly stood up, swiftly mounted his motorcycle, and took one last look at Baiya Town, where he had lived for many years.

"Don't worry, everyone."

Cillian said without turning his head.

"Someone will have to pay the price for the blood debt here."

The motorcycle roared as it carried Cillian away from White Cliff Town, leaving the pursuing darkness far behind.

In the raging wind, Cirion roared in fury.

……

In the year 434 of the city-state calendar, Ciri left White Cliff Town, where he had lived for nearly ten years, and set off for the confluence city of Hel.

His hatred was like a rusty nail, driven into the veins of time, causing memories to fester and ooze pus.

　Happy birthday to the chipmunk who strives to chase the light! My heart is full of gratitude.

　　
　
(End of this chapter)