Night Journey

Chapter 168 Disaster
As Ciri was reeling from the shock, Dekar's voice pierced through the dense rain, carrying a condescending tone.

"You are a worthy opponent, Reverse Falcon."

He covered the wound on his waist with one hand and gripped the flail tightly with the other.

"Most of the enemies I've crushed crumbled the moment their minds touched my power, turning into soulless chunks of flesh for me to slaughter. But you are different..."

He paused, a dangerous glint in his eyes.

"If I hadn't made thorough preparations beforehand, I might really have died at your hands."

Dekar's words were like cold needles, piercing Cillian's last shred of hope. His unease instantly surged to its peak, turning into a chilling shiver that shot straight to his head.

retreat?

The thought was utterly crushed the moment it surfaced.

At this moment, where in the vast city of Hel is there any place of safety? The city itself is a sacrifice that Dekar has carefully prepared.

kill him!

Despite the excruciating pain in his leg and the dull ache in his chest and abdomen, Cillian unleashed his remaining strength, dragging his chainblade sword, and charged at Decal again like an arrow released from a bow.

However, a cruel smile of complete control appeared on Decal's face.

"It's too late, Reverse Falcon."

His voice rose, carrying a frenzied declaration, as he delivered the final judgment.

"I have spent years releasing, accumulating, and settling the power of tranquility bit by bit in every corner of this city, until this moment—the feast begins!"

As his last word exploded like thunder, the entire city of Hull seemed to come alive, groaning in pain.

The water in the distant river suddenly boiled and churned violently. This was not due to physical heating, but rather the complete awakening of countless rotting corpses that had been drowning in it by the accumulated power of quiescence.

Like ghosts returning from hell, they struggled, twisted, and crawled out of the murky water and mud, their bodies displaying a nauseating deathly pallor, covered with cracks and signs of decay.

What's most horrifying is that their eyes, mouths, and noses are all cruelly sewn and tightened with rusted wire, which is deeply embedded in their flesh.

As these horrific creatures took stiff, twisted steps onto the street, countless tiny, grayish-white spores gushed forth from their festering wounds and from the gaps between their tightly bound wires.

Large gushes of grayish-white spores, like viscous living clouds, continuously gushed out.

The spores, carried by the wind, spread out instantly, sweeping across the wet, deserted, and cold streets, weaving under the low, dilapidated eaves, passing over the silent, standing buildings, and slipping into the cracks in the broken windows.

It blends into the raging winds and rain, omnipresent and all-pervasive.

Each tiny spore carries a faint power of returning to stillness. Their power is not strong, but it is like a slow poison, silently permeating, attaching to, and eroding all living things it encounters.

It gradually and continuously "evaporates" the host's memories, erases cognition, strips away identity, and drags the vibrant soul into eternal confusion and nothingness.

Cillian's earlier bewilderment and disorientation stemmed from the countless drifting spores that had silently attached themselves to him and eroded his mind during his battle with Dekar.

Tens of thousands of zombies took to the streets, moving forward silently and slowly.

Citizens peered through the window frames, but before they could even let out their first scream, an invisible force of silence swept over them like a cold tide.

Their eyes instantly lost focus, horror froze on their faces, their bodies went limp and they fell into a deathly silence of unconsciousness.

Some people struggled particularly fiercely, as the power of returning to stillness instantly stripped them of their knowledge of everything around them—familiar houses, streets, and even their own identity all turned into strange and terrifying mysteries.

He let out a heart-wrenching cry filled with endless confusion and despair.

However, this conscious agony was only a brief, death struggle. The next second, he collapsed like a puppet with its strings cut, joining the ranks of those who were silently asleep.

In the silence, only the disco music above the city continued its incessant chatter.

"Passion ignites the wire! Passion fills the dance shoes!"

On the churning riverbanks, Bill and Veran witnessed countless corpses crawling out of the filthy riverbed.

Veran's face instantly drained of color, while Bill screamed in terror, his voice hoarse as he desperately shouted in Rolf's direction.

"Something terrible has happened! Chief of Staff! These monstrous things... they've all crawled out!"

Without Bill needing to remind him, Rolf had already realized it.

His face was ashen, and he suppressed the shock in his heart, asking in a stern voice as calmly as possible.

"how is the progress?"

A spirit craftsman immediately responded, his voice filled with anxiety, "Still far from it, Chief!"

Without hesitation, Rolf issued the order decisively, his voice piercing through the rain.

"Notify Watergate Fortress to operate at full power! Inform Lighthouse to prepare to ignite!"

In the brief instant that Rolf issued the command, the pervasive power of silence had already quietly encroached upon their surroundings.

In a panic, the craftsman pulled the trigger, shooting a zombie through its body.

Bill yelled, "Idiot! What are you doing!"

The zombie collapsed limply, releasing a large number of spores that incapacitated even more people.

Even though Bill managed to dodge it in time, he still got quite a bit of contamination.

The fear on his face vanished abruptly, his eyes became empty and vacant, and he forgot where he was, why he had come, and what heavy responsibility he bore.

Just before consciousness was about to completely succumb, an almost instinctive obsession erupted.

Bill grabbed Vilan's collar and, with the last of his conscious strength, shouted his instructions.

"Damn it! Don't forget! We're going to be promoted!" After shouting this, Bill seemed to have been drained of his last bit of energy. His eyes rolled back, and he collapsed to the ground.

The tense atmosphere was abruptly broken by his persistent insistence on getting his wages, and the tension eased for a moment.

In many movies and novels, characters always make a tragic last vow before leaving the stage, accompanied by slow motion and sad music, which is incredibly romantic.

But what about Bill?
This scene is exactly like that of a poor worker whose unscrupulous boss runs away with their money. Even when they are about to be buried in the ground, they still have to use their last breath to grab onto their coworker's trouser leg and shout, "Brother! Remember to help me get my wages!"

Rolf turned his face away in pain.

To be honest, he could already foresee the miserable future that would follow taking Bill on as an apprentice, leading to his disgrace and becoming a laughingstock among his colleagues.

Do you dare to refuse?
Given this kid's stubborn nature, he might just carry a banner that reads "Give me back my permanent position" and wail all the way to the foundry court.

Whether you round it up or down, it's a case of his reputation being ruined in his later years.

Stop staring at me.

Rolf promised Wieland, "After this incident, you will be my students."

Vilan hoisted Bill onto his shoulder, still staring at him.

"Chief, verbal agreements don't count."

……

Inside the ink room, warm yellow light flows over the wooden bar and dark leather chairs, and the air is filled with the gentle aroma of coffee and old books, creating a peaceful and tranquil atmosphere that feels secluded from the world.

Elton pushed open the door and entered, greeting everyone.

"Hello everyone!"

"Oh, Elton!"

Wenxi ran over excitedly, and somehow produced a flower wreath which she put around his neck. "Congratulations, you're the first one!"

"Haha."

Elton walked to the bar and carefully put down the box he was holding.

Paul asked curiously, "What is this?"

"Party gift!"

Elton rubbed his hands together, quickly took off his soaking wet raincoat, and grabbed a dry towel from the bar to dry his hair and face.

I'm not very good at picking gifts.

He wiped his face and said frankly, "Instead of making something flashy and impractical, let's do something substantial. Sweets always make people feel better, right?"

Wenxi opened the box, and inside was an exquisite cake decorated with buttercream frosting.

"It smells delicious, and it looks very tasty!"

"I'll try it later."

After Elton finished speaking, he looked at the open door and felt the slightly chilly wind and rain blowing in. He couldn't help but sigh.

"This rain is far too heavy."

Paul put down his cup and handed him a freshly poured cup of hot coffee. "Yeah, this rain just won't stop."

He sighed, a hint of disappointment in his voice.

"Seeing this weather, I thought today's party was going to be canceled."

Elton took the coffee, took a large, satisfied sip, exhaled a puff of hot air, and shrugged.

"In this awful weather, you can't even see the road. It's understandable if everyone really can't come."

Paul nodded in agreement, and was about to start talking about something else when the radio suddenly emitted a piercing electrical static, breaking the brief silence.

De Karl's voice rang out.

"Citizens of Hel..."

Wenxi approached like a cat that had caught the scent of its prey, her eyes sparkling with the curiosity and excitement typical of young people.

Paul and Elton immediately dropped their relaxed expressions and simultaneously held their breath, focusing their attention on the small radio.

The victory presentations began, and there was very little they could do besides listen quietly.

However, De Karl's voice was abruptly cut off by a sharp sound, replaced by an unusually clear bird call.

"Cuckoo..."

The sound not only came from the radio, but also rang out from all directions of the city, echoing in the wind and rain.

Paul's pupils suddenly contracted, the excited blush on Wenxi's face instantly faded, leaving only a shocked paleness, and even Elton's expression froze completely, his fingers holding the coffee cup tightened slightly, his knuckles turning white.

They had all heard that voice.

"That is……"

Wenxi's voice trembled with disbelief, and before he could finish speaking, a series of muffled yet extremely oppressive explosions suddenly erupted from the depths of the city without warning.

Through the still-open door of the Ink House, the three were horrified to see clusters of blinding flames rising among the dense buildings in the distance.

(End of this chapter)