Chikala

"So heavy... Could you slice off your waist first?" On the tenth floor of the Silent Spiral, Harvey lay flat at the edge of the fissure, gripping the orc with his only right hand. By all rights, lacking any other limbs to anchor himself to the ground, he should have been dragged down by the orc. Behind Harvey, however, a dried corpse was hugging him tight. Although the mummy possessed little strength, their combined mass was at least greater than the orc's. The orc gave a bitter smile. "Even if I were willing, I don't have hands to cut off my own waist. Besides, Mentor, I'm afraid your inability to pull me up isn't a matter of weight." Chikala's condition was only marginally better than Harvey's: his left arm had regenerated down to the elbow, while his legs were still completely gone. The instant Chikala had been swept into the rift, Harvey had unfurled his void wings and flown over, seizing Chikala by the wrist in the nick of time. Yet not only were the void wings unable to lift them, Harvey was nearly dragged down after him instead. Fortunately, Harvey was still able to control Alice, and by linking the three of them into a chain, they barely managed to halt their plunge. Yet after three minutes, not only had Harvey failed to haul Chikala up, they had even slipped down a fraction. Though it was the genuine, original model, Harvey's current body was freshly manufactured after all, missing even its full complement of limbs. His muscles, blood vessels, and skin were far too tender—in simple terms, it couldn't take a beating. From three full minutes of exertion, Harvey's right arm was already growing weak and numb; he couldn't even lift his elbow. The necromancer pondered for a moment, and his arm suddenly turned an ashen black and withered, resembling the arm of a ghoul. "It's not a strength issue," Chikala said, shaking his head. "If strength worked, you would've pulled me up just now." Harvey did not answer, but the grayish black on his arm spread onto Chikala's hand. The orc froze, then quickly caught on to the necromancer's intention. "You want to turn me into a corpse to see if that breaks my abnormal state, then figure out a way to turn me back into a living person?" Yet as the corpse energy crept over nearly half of Chikala's body, the orc drew a sharp breath and began to shiver violently. "M-Mentor, stop! I... I can't take it... It's terrifying, it hurts so bad, I don't want to..." "So this whole time, Mentor, you've been enduring this kind of torment?" Chikala's teeth chattered, though it did nothing to curb his chatterbox nature. "The parts tainted by corpse energy feel like they've all been stuffed into a box the size of a finger. Can't move, can't turn, can't feel... The suffocation makes me want to slice them right off. "When you use cold flowing fire, Mentor, your whole body is soaked in corpse energy. Doesn't that mean..." "That is the feeling closest to death," Harvey said. "Trapped in a box, unable to think, unable to move, unable to do anything, confined forever and ever." Chikala couldn't help asking, "If that's the case, Mentor, shouldn't you be terrified of death?" "That is merely close to death, not true death," Harvey said. "According to the records of Haagen-Dazs, death holds no pleasure, no suffering, no motion, and no stillness. Death is nothingness, the ultimate end of all things. Death is not a sensation, but a state—just like growing up, or falling asleep. Thus, it is nothing to fear, nor is it something to long for. "When you first encounter corpse energy, you might feel fear and revulsion. But when you are exposed to it for a long time, you begin to pursue a 'deeper' death. For example, when I experience corpse energy after smoking tobacco candy, I feel as though I truly have died." Chikala forced a smile. "Mentor, your tastes are way too... high-end." The orc turned his head to look at the rain of people falling through the rift, then looked back at Harvey and murmured, "Mentor, why... haven't you fallen? "At first, I thought it was because of your great strength, but just now I thought I saw 'Forester' Qinri falling too. If even a Legendary Sorcerer cannot resist this catastrophe, then it shouldn't be a matter of power—especially since you're barely recovered from serious injuries, Mentor. "If it were about race, that doesn't add up either; most of the people falling are humans, whereas I'm an orc. Age? Gender? Sorcery faction? None of them seem to be the deciding factor." Harvey said, "There is only one difference between you and me." "Right," Chikala said. "I am a person of Senluo, and you are not, Mentor. "To put it simply, right now I feel like I'm caught in a torrential current, pulled by a downward momentum. Any struggle I make is completely neutralized by the current, so void wings are useless, sorcery spirits are useless, miracles are useless," the orc said. "If this catastrophe only affects the people of Senluo, then everyone in Senluo is probably being swept toward the Silent Spiral. Sorcerer or non-sorcerer alike, none will escape death. "When the time comes, only outsiders like you will survive. Every native of Senluo will die." Harvey watched Chikala in silence. Amidst the pattering rain of falling bodies, master and apprentice shared a rare moment of stillness. After a long silence, Chikala finally opened his mouth: "Fuck!" The orc trembled all over, clenching the necromancer's arm with all his might, gritting his teeth so hard they nearly shattered as he roared, "Why do all of us have to die?! While you get to survive just because you aren't from Senluo?! Why?! Why is that?! Why?! "I am a Sanctuary Sorcerer! A Sanctuary Sorcerer standing above ordinary mortals! How can I die like part of a herd, so insignificantly, so... pathetically!" Chikala wailed until tears and snot poured down his face, sobbing loudly like a child. This smooth, adaptable orc who could bend with the wind and make himself at home anywhere had only now revealed his truest self—free of any artifice, purely baring his soul. Such was the charm of death: before death, the ultimate equalizer, all living beings could lay bare their true hearts. "Sorry, Mentor," Chikala sniffled, squeezing his eyes tightly shut as if to wring out the last of his tears. "I've made a fool of myself." "Not a fool," Harvey said. "In the past, I could never tell orcs apart. But just now, I remembered you. Whoever it may be, in the moment they charge toward death, they reveal their truest beauty." Sniffling, the orc smiled wryly. "I really can't tell if you're mocking me... I wish I could greet death as serenely, even joyfully, as you do, Mentor, but I just can't. In truth, the vast majority of people in this world can't either, which is why the profession of end-of-life caregiver exists." "You won't die," Harvey said. "Be it an hour, a day, or a year, I will keep holding onto you. "I promised to train you into a qualified necromancer. At the very least, before teaching you the most fundamental knowledge, I will not let you die." Chikala asked, "What is the fundamental knowledge of a necromancer?" "How to become a qualified corpse," Harvey replied. "Teach me, hurry," the orc urged. "Actually, there isn't much to teach," Harvey said. "We cannot choose our birth, we cannot choose our circumstances, nor can we even choose our death. Therefore, the value of a corpse is reflected in whether one lived earnestly while alive. "Living earnestly does not mean being driven, achieving fame and success, or enjoying smooth sailing; it means whether there is hope in one's heart. As long as there is still a place one longs to reach, even someone sleeping under an overpass and eating garbage makes for a first-rate corpse. But if one lives without purpose, even a Legendary Sorcerer is inferior material." Chikala listened attentively, then suddenly burst into laughter. "What is it?" "I realized that I used to be inferior material, but just now, I became first-rate." Harvey was puzzled. "What do you mean?" "In both the Calamitous Fire Sanctuary and the Four Pillar Cult, I never really had a purpose. It wasn't until just now that the desire arose in me to study the necromancy faction—to become a great necromancer." Chikala smiled. "Am I qualified now?" "Qualified," Harvey nodded. "Both as a corpse and as a necromancer." "That's great." The orc breathed a sigh of relief, then shook his head. "Pity it's no use. "Then let me teach you how to do end-of-life care," Chikala said, lifting his chin. "Mentor, you really don't know how to talk to people. In the future, when you encounter someone on the verge of death, you should treat them a little better. After all, they're about to become your material." "Makes sense," Harvey nodded. "What should I do?" "It's actually quite complicated, with lots of tricks and taboos, but I don't have much time left. I'll teach you the elegy; from now on, you can just recite this poem to the dying." Chikala said, "I'll sing a line, and you sing a line after me. "When I perceive that all that grows holds perfection but a fleeting moment, "That upon the world stage naught remains, save flame guiding in secret; "I see that men, like plants, increase, endowed with rise and fall by the selfsame sky, "Flourishing in youth, declining at noon, all that is fair erased from memory! "And so the conceit of this fleeting stay sets your youthful face before my eyes, "While brutal Time debates with Decay to turn your youthful day to murky night; "For love of you, I shall wage war on Time, "And what it steals from you, I will rekindle anew." As the final line was sung, Chikala's body had already dissolved into clear liquid, trickling through Harvey's fingers. More than a dozen flame sorcery spirits crept up Harvey's withered arm, quietly joining the necromancer as they looked down upon the masses plunging into the rift. ...... ... *Crack!* The Grey Fox blade bit into the rock. Black Crow looked up, his gaze piercing through a dozen levels of the Silent Spiral straight to the sky of Senluo. People fell like rain, making Black Crow feel as if he too had become a raindrop. He tried to climb up, but his body remained completely motionless. All his strength struck empty air, as if what he held by the hand were not a person, but an entire hell. Even so, Black Crow showed no hint of unease, asking calmly, "Are you alright?" He looked down at the person he was holding. When the fissure had opened earlier, Black Crow had been unable to avoid it, falling straight into the massive rift. At the same time, someone had fallen from above. Almost purely on reflex, Black Crow had reached out to catch them, then immediately drawn the Grey Fox blade and driven it into the wall to arrest their descent. Immediately after came the horrifying downpour of falling bodies that made it impossible to look away. Coupled with the fact that the person he rescued hadn't spoken, Black Crow hadn't paid them any attention until now. Only now did he see that she was wearing cat-eared pajamas. Petite and sweet-looking, both of her hands clutched Black Crow's wrist tightly. In the palm of her right hand was a bloody hole that had been pierced not long ago. "I'm fine, Tamashi," she looked up and said calmly.