A different world game? A different world game!

Chapter 794 Ferryman

The clamor of battle gradually subsided, leaving only the rhythmic sound of waves lapping against the ship.

Of course, there are also the cries of seagulls, which are indispensable at sea.

If these seagulls, each as large as an eagle and exceptionally fierce, can still be considered seagulls.

After all, they were gathered here, pecking at the carcasses of sea creatures still floating on the surface of the sea.

These marine animal carcasses would normally be considered pollutants, but since they are so closely integrated with the surrounding environment, whether they are polluting or not is irrelevant.

Clearly, these seagulls were the kind who didn't care.

As the adventurers, weary yet excitedly celebrating their survival, discussed the changes to the Night Watch, some observant individuals noticed incongruous figures appearing on the edges of the decks and at the entrances to the lower gangways of several large ships.

They had never seen these figures before and didn't know where they had suddenly appeared from. However, many people didn't care much, since each transport ship was quite large. Although adventurers could go to most areas, there were still some areas where passage was not allowed.

These strangers were not wearing the Night's Watch's signature, utilitarian gray-black armor or uniforms.

Instead, they wore specially made clothing in a clear distinction between black and white.

It is not perfectly symmetrical, but rather a deliberate blend of these two extreme colors in a dignified cut—perhaps a pure black robe with a snow-white stand-up collar and cuffs trimmed with silver thread, or a white undergarment covered by a long, fitted vest with black rune trim.

The clothing material is also quite peculiar, with a strange texture that is neither leather nor cloth and has a faint metallic sheen when exposed to sunlight.

How should I put it? They look different from the usual Night Watchmen, quite different from them, almost as if they are a level above them.

Their mannerisms were also quite different.

Completely lacking the sharpness of combat personnel and the competence of logistics staff, it exudes an indescribable, almost rigid solemnity and reverence.

It has a strange, eccentric feel to it that appears inexplicably in an orderly society.

Each person's face was covered by a mask that was plain black or white, without any decoration, revealing only their eyes and making it impossible to see their expressions.

They moved silently, their steps as steady as if they were stepping on an altar rather than a steel deck.

It's hard to ignore such a presence, but most adventurers didn't speak or disturb it, simply watching silently.

This group of people—about seven or eight in a row—was scattered throughout the fleet.

When they appeared, the previously relaxed chatter on the deck unconsciously subsided considerably.

It wasn't the Night's Watch that gave the order, but rather a strange, instinctive silence.

A forest elf mage who was analyzing the details of the battle with his companion suddenly froze, his pale golden pupils contracting sharply.

She instinctively tightened her grip on her staff, and her previously relaxed pointed ears perked up alertly, rotating slightly backward as if trying to detect some invisible fluctuation.

“Master Liya? What’s wrong?” asked the dwarf warrior Durek beside her.

Leah did not answer immediately, but stared intently at the "black and white people" who had just walked to a place where the remains of several Night Watch warriors who had been torn apart by sea monsters were piled up.

Her voice carried a rare, almost suppressed solemnity.

"I feel very uncomfortable. Don't go over... don't disturb them. The aura emanating from those people... is ominous."

"But it was also... heavy. It was the smell of someone who had been deeply immersed in the boundary between life and death, someone who had dealt directly with the dead and the underworld... It was very ancient, very profound, and certainly not a benevolent one."

Her words immediately caught the attention of several adventurers nearby.

A half-elf wanderer with faint elven blood frowned and whispered, "I feel it too... It's very cold, very... hollow? Like standing next to an old graveyard after it has just rained."

However, only mages or other creatures or professions that can keenly sense magical fluctuations can perceive them.

The other mercenaries couldn't tell at all; they only knew from their appearance that these people were not to be trifled with. The mage's words were mysterious and cryptic, and they couldn't really refute them.

After all, mages are the elite of all professions and the most knowledgeable. Under normal circumstances, if you don't have the ability and knowledge, it's best not to speak carelessly to avoid being ridiculed.

At this moment, the group of ferrymen dressed in black and white had already begun their work.

They were like precise machines, with a clear division of labor, and their movements were completely silent.

Faced with those pale-skinned, even mutilated, remains, they showed not a trace of fear, disgust, or sadness.

One of them silently opened a rectangular box made of the same black and white material with a smooth surface, and took out a roll of cloth that emitted a faint energy fluctuation.

This cloth is extremely peculiar—one side is as black as the deepest night, and the other side is as white as freshly fallen snow.

The black side seemed to absorb the surrounding light, while the white side seemed to emit a faint, cold glow. With exceptional gentleness and precision, as if handling the most precious and fragile works of art, they carefully wrapped the remains of each fallen soldier with this strange cloth.

Even when wrapping up mutilated limbs, their movements carried an almost religious solemnity.

As the black and white cloth wrapped around her, a chilling phenomenon occurred.

Those hideous and terrifying wounds, the flowing filthy blood, and even the subtle smell of decay that was beginning to rise seemed to be isolated by an invisible barrier.

The black and white colors on the cloth seemed to form a peculiar balance, forcibly freezing everything that belonged to the decay of life and the erosion of death at that moment!
After the package was finished, another "ferryman" stepped forward.

He was holding something very small, shaped like a very short and thin black metal rod.

Above the wrapped remains, he slowly moved the short stick several times, as if drawing invisible runes—the movements were extremely simple, consisting of only a few basic actions such as lifting, pausing, pressing down, and circling, with each pause containing a certain rhythm.

Just as the black short rod moved, a faint, fleeting glimmer of light enveloped the wrapped remains.

After the light faded, the wrapped body seemed to become more "stable," as even the slightest fluctuation in the air could not disturb the cloth.

Then, the two ferrymen gently lifted the wrapped "cloth bag," their movements synchronized as if they were one person.

They left the deck silently and walked deeper into the cabin.

Leah's gaze followed the entrance to the cabin until it disappeared before she slowly exhaled, her tense body relaxing. Durik asked in a low voice, "Master, what's going on? Some kind of funeral ceremony, but is it really necessary to be in such a hurry?"

Lia shook her head, her eyes still filled with confusion and a hint of shock: "That wasn't any necromancy or requiem ritual we knew... That power... was pure protection, isolation, and sealing."

"They're not comforting the departed spirits to leave, but protecting the bodies themselves? This..."

I can't understand it anyway.

They had absolutely no idea what the Night's Watch was up to.

Several months ago, the Night's Watch invited a large number of forces, almost all of them in the world, to attend the ceremony.

It demonstrated the Night's Watch's power to resurrect.

The problem is that these forces' diplomatic groups all have their own demands, which prevented the news from spreading. Even if some inaccurate information did spread, people wouldn't believe it because some of it was too fantastical.

Even mages or elves, unless they reach a high position in their world, would not know this information.

The Night's Watch refrained from rashly announcing this, as it would be disadvantageous. Moreover, recklessly resurrecting all those blessed throughout the world before the Void descended was not a rational act.

Even the Black and White Dragons couldn't do such a thing; storing too many souls could lead to irreversible accidents.

Therefore, the matter of resurrection remains within the Night's Watch and among certain powerful figures.

However, these adventurers are not entirely without this benefit. The Night Watch will also give preferential treatment to important adventurers and those who are willing to make sacrifices.

On the lower deck of the flagship, in an area that had been converted into a special compartment—the ship's largest morgue—the "Ferrymen" were working in an orderly manner.

The cabin was exceptionally spacious, with a constant, frigid temperature and soft, bright white light that offered no warmth whatsoever.

The most striking feature is the massive structure that extends along the four sides of the bulkhead—it looks like a highly sophisticated multi-layered honeycomb warehouse.

Countless rectangular units, each exactly the same size and about the length of a person, are densely packed and neatly arranged like the most precise honeycomb, stacked from the ground all the way to the top of the cabin.

Each unit is constructed with a sturdy metal frame that shimmers with an energy glow, and the unit's "door" is an operable light curtain resembling magical fluorescence.

now.

The ferrymen are carefully placing the bodies, which have been wrapped in special cloth and secured with a "ritual," into the empty units.

Their actions of lifting the body were as if they were offering it as a sacred object.

Before placement, a person will quickly operate a few times on an embedded crystal plate on the outside of the unit. The crystal plate lights up and displays a series of clear character and number numbers and some short rune labels.

The wrapped body was then gently pushed into the unit.

This looks like a real morgue, but clearly the Night Watchmen wouldn't go that far.

With a soft hum, the light curtain automatically activated, completely sealing off the interior of the unit.

Looking through the light screen, the black and white remains, encased in light, floated quietly inside the unit, surrounded by extremely faint but clearly visible energy flows—a continuation of the protective energy field left behind by their previous "ritual".

The entire cabin was filled with countless such quietly suspended luminous units, so orderly it was breathtaking, and so quiet it was as if time had stood still.

A "ferryman" dressed in what appears to be a leader's uniform with silver trim stands in front of the control panel.

On the huge light screen in front of me was a three-dimensional image of the entire honeycomb structure.

As each body is placed in its proper place, a stable blue dot lights up from the densely distributed blank spots on the light screen, with the unit number and the corresponding deceased's identification code precisely marked next to it.

His/her eyes, hidden behind a pure white mask, calmly swept across the screen, devoid of any emotional fluctuation, as if handling the most ordinary data entry work.

Guarding the bodies of the deceased, awaiting their final resting place, this is where the "code" of each sacrifice is recorded—this is the duty of the "ferryman".

They walked and operated silently in this space between life and death, guarding the last solemnity and dignity of order at the end of death.

But now that things have come to this point, it's crystal clear what their group does.

These are groups that assist in the resurrection and are responsible for maintaining and repairing the bodies of the resurrected.

After all, the soul is first taken back and protected through special channels, but the body cannot be protected in the same way and can only be properly preserved at the place of death.

At a specific time, these corpses will be brought back to life, and the Night's Watch will return to the world.

It wasn't just adventurers watching these ferrymen bustling about; Lurek was among them too.

It's important to know that Lurek had been busy with dwarf affairs for many years, cultivating good relations with the Silver Dwarves and also taking charge of liaising with the Orc Empire.

Lurek is in charge of understanding the situation across the entire continent, as he is responsible for most affairs on this continent.

This resulted in Lurek not participating in many of the Night's Watch's major battles afterward, as he, as a dwarven sage, spent most of his time working for the future of the dwarves.

Of course, they are also working hard for the Night's Watch, because if there is no future for the world, then the dwarves have no future either.

So when he learned that everyone could be resurrected, he was incredibly surprised.

He now knows, of course, that the "Ferrymen" are the department responsible for managing corpses.

Naturally, one would be curious.

"How exactly was this resurrection accomplished? Is the world really that enlightened? They actually agreed to let Kana do something like this."

Lurek racked his brains but couldn't figure out why.

Dwarves worship Mother Earth, and in some ways, Mother Earth is the will of the world; there is no difference between the two.

Therefore, he could not understand how such a thing could exist. Shouldn't such a thing be rejected and resisted by the world?
Although I've heard that Kana used a lot of clever tricks to achieve this goal, the essence remains the same.

The dwarf beside him glanced at Lurek upon hearing this and said quietly.

"Because that's Kana, that's our leader, that's the savior of the world."

Upon hearing this, Lurik glanced at him and remained silent.

I never expected to have a fanatic by my side.

However, he didn't think it was a big deal.

After all, this is a real fantasy world, a world where there are real gods, so fanaticism is perfectly normal.

Moreover, they believe in Kana.

At this moment, he couldn't help but recall the past.

He recalled the first time he met Kana, and their first battle against the evil god's followers at the outpost.

"It feels like it was just yesterday."

The dwarf next to him didn't understand what he was saying, so he didn't reply. You can't expect dwarfs to have any emotional intelligence.

Lurek sighed to himself.