Secret: The years I served as a foreign aid for the Aurora Club

Chapter 254 Dark Morning Star
527
"Damn, what did you do!"

"I didn't do anything... I just wanted to know the answer to a question. Do you want me to help block the sun for you?"

"unnecessary!!"

……

The "memory of the disaster" still persists.

In the "Banquet of Betrayal", 99% of the population of the East Continent died during the war and the subsequent sun fall. The continent fell into silence and the death toll was in the millions. This was the largest collective death event that the Decayed King watched the entire process and found in the Extraordinary Era.

It was not a war caused by division of interests, nor was it a massacre to exclude a certain race. The reason for this death was extremely just and fair - to kill the resurrected original spirit and give birth to a normal "God" with the personality of the ancient sun god as the main body.

Ended with failure.

After the death of the ancient sun god, three new gods and the rest of the gods went to the northern and southern continents, announcing that the sun had fallen and that future humans must believe in them to be saved.

The war took place on the coast of the East Continent, forming the "God War Ruins" that enveloped the entire coast of the East Continent, completely isolating the communication between the continents.

The Decayed King witnessed the entire process and collected the "possibilities" that were all cut off in an instant due to the intervention of the gods as a record of the disaster.

"I have a question that I would like the Earth Spirit to answer."

"Adam can't answer. The Seven won't answer. You are the only Earth spirit I can reach."

The real creator who has lost his extraordinary powers in the illusion will not notice that there is actually someone following him. The only difference is that when he turns around, the person behind him also turns around. When he dies, the person behind him is watching from a distance, always in the blind spot of his vision.

Man holds in his hands an ancient and simple book, and turns the pages every time the True Creator dies.

In the book, the births and deaths of millions of people were lightly turned over.

Their life experiences are similar: "devout believers of the Creator", "believers of the eight angel kings", "peaceful, kind, living a normal life in a town in the East Continent", "merchants, farmers, craftsmen, housewives, students, teachers, wanderers"...

There was only one reason for their death: "Feast of Betrayal".

The earth in the distance has cracked, the sun has disappeared from the sky, and the blood-red moon has risen early, but its light cannot penetrate the blockade of shadows. The flashing lightning can only illuminate the world for a short moment, but countless monsters rush out from the darkness to plunder the flesh and blood of the living.

The grass and trees in the farm were withered. Under the influence of the occasional red light, the remaining crops and flowers turned into some kind of tightly entangled and twitching living creatures. They pushed open the roof, grew around the meteorites, picked up the corpses and living people one by one, and sucked them dry until they were reduced to thin human skins.

This time the real Creator did not die immediately, He lasted a little longer than before.

He was trapped in a burning house. The flames kept the deformed plants away and left him with nowhere to escape. He could only hide in the small stone house, feeling the scorching air gradually rushing into his mouth and nose. Every breath he took was like swallowing a fireball. The house was poorly ventilated, and even the scorching air was precious. But he soon couldn't stand it anymore, enduring the pain of burns on his skin and flesh. He gradually lost consciousness in the high temperature and lack of oxygen, and felt like a piece of meat on a chopping board being cooked bit by bit in this small house.

The True Creator watched the flames climb up his legs and arms, but he did not feel any pain.

There is only endless despair.

The true creator sighed, closed his eyes, and ended his dying struggle.

"It probably hurts."

Grasslands, God-forsaken lands. Towns, ruins.

Joy, pain, smile, prayer, despair. Red, black, white, constantly transforming into each other, and what remains in the vision is always the destruction of everything and the earth spread by fire, monsters rushing out from all directions, the sun is nowhere to be found, shadows and blood occupy the sky...

The silence after death was prolonged, and the True Creator closed his eyes and lay on the ground:

"They should hate me."

The voice of the Outer God floated over along with the book: "They don't hate you."

The book flipped pages: "People who died in an instant have no chance to hate you. People who live a little longer will pray for your salvation and repent of their sins. In short, no one will scold you at that time."

"That's because they died too quickly. They will definitely scold me when they recover." The True Creator said in a hoarse voice. The hot air hurt his throat. "Didn't you say that Klein might have someone from the God-Forsaken Land? He must be planning to convert after he recovers."

Since the divinity has now been suppressed to the lowest level, the language style of the True Creator has become very colloquial. As he spoke, the world became bright again, and the True Creator appeared in a mill, with the windmill outside slowly turning.

There were still piles of wheat that had not been ground into powder, but it didn't matter anymore. The True Creator picked up a hammer and a shovel from the corner, one in each hand, and was ready to fight the monster directly.

The Decaying King skips the name-calling argument: “Adam gives me an interesting point about the necessary sacrifice.”

"Considering that Adam is part of your divinity, I decided to ask you what you think of 'necessary sacrifice'."

"So you made me experience the memories of so many people who died during that time?"

The earth shook, the disaster began, and the true creator rushed out with a hammer and a shovel. Seeing that the wild dogs on the street showed signs of mutation, He hit them with the shovel on the spot, turning them into a wriggling pulp with blood splattered everywhere.

"Feeling the person's feelings may give you a better answer."

The True Creator stepped hard on the shovel twice, and the squirming flesh was squeezed out of a lot of turbid blood like a sponge, and soon it stopped moving. After solving this hidden danger, the True Creator suddenly felt a cold wind on the back of his neck. He swung the hammer behind him without hesitation, smashing the head of the mutated monster behind him to pieces.

"If you ask me - the past me, I can only say that I have no regrets."

The True Creator struck the fish monster, which was probably an elf, twice more, completely smashing its head and brain into mud, and his face was splattered with blood. He wiped the blood off his face with his sleeve so that he could open his eyes smoothly.

The loss of his extraordinary power and his death so many times instead aroused a bit of unwillingness and resentment in the True Creator's heart. Rather than waiting to die peacefully, he was willing to come out and fight for a while - even though he knew that these were tragedies that had ended thousands of years ago, and that layers of history and time had covered them up, and even the True Creator himself almost forgot about them.

No, it’s not that I forgot—it’s just that I took it for granted.

Because I took it for granted, it was consigned to the corner of my memory.

This time it was a little longer than the previous longest survival record, but the person in history is now dead, killed by a mutated wild dog with his upper body bitten to pieces. The Outer God thought about it and did not turn the page, but followed the footsteps of the real Creator and followed behind Him.

"I see, you don't regret it."

"Yeah...how can I regret it?"

In a world where death is possible at any time, and where he is almost no different from normal humans, it is inevitable that he will feel a little agitated.

“If I don’t do this, I will die, and another person’s will will replace me… If I don’t do this, the world and the embryonic form of civilization that I have worked so hard to build will be destroyed. The alien races may unite again, and the Primordial may break through the barrier, devour the Essence and Beyonder characteristics, and then quickly die due to the conflict of paths… They can still regenerate, but I, my angels, my believers, and my country will never come back!”

"How could I not do this? How could I possibly regret it!"

"but……"

A house on the street exploded, huge beams collapsed, smoke and burning wood flew everywhere, and the True Creator was caught off guard and hit by a piece of wood, losing his balance.

At that moment, a strange bird with five eyes swooped down and pierced His throat with its sharp beak.

While making strange cries, the strange bird tore off half of His neck, ripped open His trachea and throat, pulled out its beak and pecked at the flesh and blood of its prey. Not long after, He suffocated to death, coughing up blood.

This memory is over, or should have ended long ago.

Just as the Decayed King was about to turn the page, the True Creator suddenly sat up, covered the wriggling crack in his throat, and hoarsely said:
"Again!"

The Outer God leered at Him: "I don't provide a save function."

"That was the best time I had. I won't have many opportunities to find weapons again." The cut on the True Creator's neck was still there, and His voice was a little off and leaky. "Don't you want to hear me finish my words? If I leave here, I won't have such rich emotions."

The Decayed King thought for a few seconds and nodded reluctantly.

The surroundings lit up and they returned to the mill near the windmill.

The True Creator picked up His weapon again. Considering the exploded house, He also wanted to take an old wooden board in the room with him, but had to give up because of his limited load-bearing capacity.

"You should continue answering questions."

"question……"

The True Creator followed the process of the first act, killed the wild dog and knocked the mutant elf to death, then bypassed the exploded house and said while recalling:
"The reason I did that was simple. I didn't want to become someone else, and I didn't want everything I created to be destroyed."

"I am the only righteous god. Anyone who does not serve me as a subordinate god is an evil god. My choice is of course absolutely correct."

"…But do I actually want so many people to die? Of course not. If I don't care, then I'm not myself anymore. I'm no different from the original."

The Decayed King followed quietly behind, watching the True Creator knock away the out-of-control Beyonder, prop up a collapsed wall with a shovel, and discovered two children trapped underneath.

The two children were unwilling to come out, so the Real Creator had to put up more walls. Only then did he discover that the two children were being held in the arms of their parents, who had died with their spines broken by the collapsed walls, and their blood was still hot.

The True Creator paused for a moment, then ruthlessly pulled the two children out of their parents' arms, holding the children's collars with one hand and holding a hammer in the other.

"Where were we just now? Well, I certainly didn't want to kill so many people, but I still did it because at that time, my instinct for survival was above all else, and believers... As long as I'm alive, there will be more and more believers, and as long as I'm alive, the human race will continue to thrive... So I ignored them. I even felt that this was a helpless act. If I didn't want to sacrifice you, then I would have to die."

"If I die, it's all over."

The Outer Gods recorded quietly.

"In fact, even if I do die, everything is not over."

"Even the pillar doesn't necessarily have to be me, isn't there still a secret?"

The True Creator suddenly sneered: "The six gods divided up my faith, and they continued to survive with mankind... Only those who suffered because of me were left forever on the cursed and abandoned land. It was me who harmed them. I am the self-righteous one."

"Isn't the Feast of Betrayal a huge disaster?"

"Then they declared in the holy scriptures that the six gods protected mankind from disasters, and I have nothing to say."

On the burning street, the True Creator, covered in blood, dragged two crying children, holding a hammer in his hand, and limped towards the open space outside the city.

There was a carriage parked in the open space. The horse had been frightened to death by the huge disaster, and the mutated monsters were eating its flesh.

The True Creator cursed inwardly, and the monsters were startled by the child's crying. They abandoned their dead horses and rushed towards the living prey.

The child's crying stopped abruptly as he was taken away from her.

He fought hard, using up his last bit of strength, and even stabbed the cross on his clothes into the monster's eyes, but it was no use. The monster tore open his throat, bit off the flesh on his shoulder, and the world before his eyes fell into darkness in the pain.

"...Come again!"

The Decline King remained noncommittal: "Anything else you want to say?"

"I don't regret it, but I forgot one thing." The real creator fell on the ground with his face up, quickly adjusting his breathing.

"Since they sacrificed themselves for me and my purpose, I should not take their deaths for granted."

"I should be grateful to them and remember them..."

"… and will forever bear the sin that this sacrifice represents."

The Decayed King calmly recorded His speech, and the book in his hand glowed: "Thank you for your answer. I can almost understand the difference between you and Adam. Let's continue."

At the beginning of the third round, they appeared from the mill again, picked up weapons, and killed dogs and fish in one go. The real creator ran over to save the two children as soon as possible. This time their parents were not dead yet, but they were seriously injured, with ribs stuck in their lungs, and they would not live long.

"God...Father..."

The young couple who were still alive pushed the child who was about to die of crying out to the True Creator. Because the True Creator had a cross on his body, he was naturally regarded as a monk of the Lord.

"Save...the...children..."

The mother, who was less seriously injured due to her short stature, had blood bubbles coming out of her mouth. The father, who was holding on to his last breath, died with his eyes closed after seeing that his child still had a glimmer of hope.

The True Creator did not dare to delay and immediately dragged the two children out. Seeing that the children were temporarily safe, the mother smiled and forced herself to thank the True Creator:
"Thank you...Praise you...Praise the Lord..."

The True Creator sighed, feeling that the blood on the other's body and face was too glaring. Without saying a word, He led the crying children away from the collapsed wall and walked towards the open space on the outskirts of the city from another direction.

Along the way, they met other living people.

"Go forward," He said. "Go forward! No one will come to save you. If you still have the strength, leave here!"

Some people have begun to mutate irreversibly, but their mental state is still normal. They beg others in agony to kill them. Some have damaged limbs and cannot keep balance. They are waiting for death in a corner with blood all over their bodies, holding a wooden cross in their hands. Some are injured and cannot walk fast, so they beg the real creator who can't save himself to take them, or their families and children. The moment they are promised, their eyes brighten, as if hope and life have been continued.

"Stop praising the Creator..."

More and more living people gathered around, and the layers of prayers in his ears made the True Creator clench his fists.

Your Lord will not save you.

Your Lord has sacrificed you!

Sacrifice - in its original meaning, it simply refers to sacrifices such as cattle, sheep, and pigs.

Sacrifices are meant to die, just as humans are anchors and livestock in the eyes of the gods, so isn’t it natural to slaughter them?

That is a possession, it is an anchor, so it is normal to feel heartache, anger, and pity.

But why should we feel uneasy, why should we suffer because of it, why should we identify with the sacrifices, why should we lower ourselves, lower our heads, to be at the same level as the animals, to feel their despair and sadness when they are sacrificed?
"In this world..."

"People of the East Continent, you are the only ones who are qualified to betray the Creator and even curse Him."

These can all be reasons: the end of the world, justice, the life of the Creator, the survival of mankind, civilization, pillars...

No matter what the reason is, we must face the reality: these millions of people were actually sacrificed! !
In the memory of the dead, the blood of innocent people gathered together to create waves, sin and unwillingness flowed in the sea of ​​blood on the earth, and strange plants turned into fangs and claws under the reflection of the red moon and lightning. Meteorites and flames burned everything, and the fragments of people and buildings burned in the sea of ​​fire. Countless people who had lived were abandoned, and the remains of civilization and the tragedy itself were hidden in the fragments of history.

The record of disasters continues.

The third time, the small team was wiped out by a meteorite.

The fourth time, one of the team couldn’t stand the pressure and turned into a monster.

The fifth time, the sixth time, the seventh time...

The true Creator began to realize the advantages of the Outer Gods. Apart from being mean and cunning, He was quiet enough, so quiet that He himself was a part of history and records. He did not like to make comments, but was good at encouragement and observation, and did not feel that His current actions were in vain.

Until the twelfth time.

This small team of only nine people actually escaped from the burning town under the leadership of the true creator.

The sky would never light up again, the wilderness was empty, sin flowed in the shadows, and the true creator walked for a long time using a wooden stick as support, but he finally ran out of strength and fell on the stones by the roadside.

Others came to help, but He waved them off.

"Don't save me. I can only go this far."

He warned: "There are monsters hiding in the darkness. Do not let the torches go out. Do not go where there is no light."

Everyone looked at each other, and finally accepted the reality in silence. They took the wooden stick from the real Creator's hand, leaving Him with a broken oil lamp that was about to burn out, and then surrounded Him, silently praying to the Creator, holding a simple farewell and funeral.

The real Creator was overwhelmed: "No need to pray..."

No one paid any attention. In this world, praying for good people to go to heaven is the best wish people can think of.

The two children who were rescued first had stopped crying. They held the cross in their hands and chanted mournfully:
"Merciful Lord, Almighty God, You are the God who was and is and is to come."

They solemnly handed the cross to an older middle-aged man, as if passing on the hope of life.

"The day that the Lord gave us has passed in a flash. The night has come again, as the Lord commanded. We got up early and sang a morning song to the Lord. Now we will rest and sing praises again."

"Continents and oceans, famous cities and remote villages, when dawn arrives, another day has passed. We pay our respects to the Lord and wait for the earth to turn from darkness to light."

The girl who lost one hand took the cross:
“I know your deeds, your love, your faith, your courage, and your perseverance. I know that your last good deeds are greater than your first.”

“The Lord gives us tribulations, trials, and darkness, but He also gives us hope and the morning star.”

The blood-soaked young man's chanting followed closely behind:

“There will be no more death or mourning or crying or pain, for the old order of things has passed away.”

“For our Father in heaven, yours is the kingdom, the power, and the glory forever.”

The entire process used to take about an hour, but now it has been simplified to less than two minutes.

Everyone bid him farewell:

“The dust returns to the earth, and the spirit returns to Him who gave it.”

“All men must die once, and after that the judgment.”

"O righteous man, ascend into heaven, and be with the morning star..."

People put a small wooden cross into the hands of the True Creator and covered His head with an old white handkerchief as a veil for the dead. The True Creator listened to their farewells and blessings silently. The broken oil lamp emitted a grain-sized light beside His hand. He tilted his head and watched the people who escaped holding torches walk into the depths of darkness, farther and farther away, but always accompanied by the light of fire and hope.

After a long silence, the oil lamp went out.

"What did you rely on to reproduce these?"

The King of Decline emerges from behind Him like a shadow: "The big picture is the record of the disaster, and the details are your memory."

"Can you recreate these events in reality?"

The Outer God was silent for a moment: "I can't do that now."

"It seems that this is the authority of your other path. Curse, blessing, memory, maybe..." The True Creator sighed, "If your path is on Earth, it will definitely be as popular as 'Apprentice'."

"It's popular in the form of a sealed object." The Outer God's response was calm.

"How long have you kept me here, just to ask me this question?"

"Your Team 3 has just finished praying. Medici is fighting the Angel of Storm and has used up one restart. Dark Night is not taking any action. Eternal Sun has provided some long-range support to Storm. The situation is not bad."

The Decayed King said, "Your morality and human nature are very interesting subjects. I just want to get more information to study. You can leave now. - I have a gift for you."

He stretched out his hand, grabbed the air, and threw something to the True Creator.

It was the wooden cross, with the bloodstains and dents from being pinched still there, and it seemed as if it was still warm.

The True Creator took the wooden cross, put it in his pocket, stood up, dusted himself off, and looked at the Outer Gods: "Why don't you let me go?"

"That was a gift," said the Decayed King. "The gift is this."

The floating book in his hand flipped to the last page, and the lives of thousands of people were passed away. The past is gone, but the memory is always fresh. They have become them, frozen in the unknown history, and the forgotten people have become records in the hands of the gods. The turning of the pages at this moment seems to contain extremely profound mystical meanings, as if their suffering has finally come to an end, and the dark past has settled.

"God has passed through you, leaving behind blood and tears as a sacrifice."

He declared calmly and solemnly, and on the blank new page, a line of bloody words slowly emerged.

An illusory scepter appeared behind Him and tapped the ground lightly. The surroundings instantly transformed with this spiritually resonating sound - just like the process of ink spreading was reversed, and the darkness was driven away without a trace in an instant.

The True Creator stood in front of an altar, raised his head, and looked at the flames at the top, in which an inverted cross was burning.

"I'm giving you this opportunity. How much you can get depends on you."

Bloody words kept appearing on the book in the hands of the Decayed King, and then quickly disappeared after a brief appearance. He handed the book, which was too heavy to lift, to the True Creator, and the moment the latter's fingers touched it, extraordinary power appeared again.

Blood slowly seeped out of the book, and endless mourning and prayers rushed into the mind of the True Creator.

The Lord silently held up his sins.

And with this sin, he walked to the top of the altar which was as high as the mountain and as far as the sky.

Step by step, the stairs were like the bones of various tribes. When you walked up, you would leave a bloody footprint.

As He walked up the steps, dark shadows slithered up His body and cuffs like living snakes. Spirituality and darkness from all directions gathered around Him frantically, surrendered at His feet, and turned into dark patterns on His robes, extensions of His arms and fingers, His eyes, and His ears. But God's steps never faltered, and the flames and the reflection of the cross were reflected in His blood-red eyes.

The rooftop was within reach, and the book in his hand was getting heavier and heavier, and blood dripped and dyed half of his body red. The true creator tied it and his own hands together with the chain of shadow, unwilling to abandon this responsibility and escape reality again.

Then the vague spirits gradually ran out of the book. They were old men, young teenagers, naive children, and strong adults. They pushed Him with their hands, pushing Him up the steps one by one, while they themselves stayed before the ascension to heaven.

"Merciful Lord, Almighty God!"

The dead souls sang:
"Please do not forget us, your fallen people and compatriots."

Living memories whisper:
"Please don't abandon us, take our souls with you."

The True Creator also responded with the words from the Holy Scriptures:

"The dwelling place of God will be with men. I will live with them, and they will be my people. I will be with you and will be the God of men."

Compared to all the crazy moments that have been going on, the real Creator of this moment seems more like a god than ever before.

He has crossed the gap of madness, stepped through killing and blood, and carried sin and punishment. He is enough to look down on all living things again and climb to the top of the sky. He is the subject of the ceremony, the fallen and sinful god, and all his long-cherished wishes have been settled here.

When I stepped onto the last step, the whole world fell silent, and all the souls were silent.

He walked towards the blazing altar flame, towards the silent black cross in the flame. The world gradually lost its light, and only a morning star shone in the sky above his head.

The true creator looked back and gazed at the bones, blood, and tears he had shed along the way.

He pushed away the souls' hands, opened his arms toward them, and fell backwards into the flames of the altar.

His body instantly turned into fuel for the flames. His shadow entangled with the flames and climbed up the inverted cross. Chains and blurry figures slowly took shape.

Snapped!
The book fell to the ground, the flames dried the blood, and it opened spontaneously, flipping to the last page, with black words appearing on it:

"Lord God, the Almighty, your devotion is righteous and holy!!"

The souls were eagerly waiting. Above the huge black inverted cross, a huge halo was burning like a black sun, with golden light blooming at the edges. Wherever the light reached, endless shadows illuminated everything in the world.

The souls rejoiced and sang the hymn of salvation in unison:
"All belongs to the Almighty!"

“Holy!!”

TBC
------

Medici who was fighting with the Storm Pope: I am awesome.

Gad II who fought with Medici: I’m awesome.

*Obviously, this is a two-in-one update.

(End of this chapter)