Night Journey

Chapter 33 Farewell
After a morning of searching, Cillian found no other survivors. Pushing open the doors of rooms and cellars, he found only a group of corrupted demons, which were burned to ashes by the bright sunlight before they could even attack Cillian.

Ashes, ashes everywhere.

It's unimaginable how many people turned into demons, and how many demons burned to ashes in the sunlight. Their self-immolation set some houses ablaze. Cillian tried to put out the fire, but the flames grew larger and larger, so he had to give up and witness it all.

The fire stopped when it reached the vicinity of the town hall, and more ashes were scattered among the gray-black ruins.

Ciri looked at the gray-white snow falling from the sky. The snowflakes landed on his skin, leaving a lingering heat, and clung to the buildings, covering them with a thick layer of snow.

Perhaps overwhelmed by grief, Cillian's heart was completely numb, and he felt nothing for the wreckage scattered around him.

Back inside the armory, the survivors, exhausted from a night of turmoil, lay on the floor, fast asleep. Only Tim remained conscious, continuing his work.

"There are no survivors outside."

Cirien got straight to the point, saying, "I've gathered some food and water, as well as the soul essence that the teacher distributed to the townspeople for emergency use."

Picking up a heavy bag, Cillian continued, "The amount of soul essence isn't much, but it's enough for us to get through a few nights."

"The Lighthouse collapsed, numerous buildings burned down, and townspeople died..."

Cillian spoke at length, concluding, "Right now, White Cliff Town is no longer a suitable place for us to live. If we want to survive, we must leave."

Before Tim could respond, Cillian hurriedly went to the round table and spread out the map.

The crisis has just ended, but a new one is on its way. To ensure that no one else dies, Cillian must seize every opportunity and make the most of every minute.

“None of us have ever left White Cliff Town, let alone traveled all the way to Hel City, but the situation is critical and we must set off immediately.”

Cillian planned the route, "With the soul essence I've collected, and the soul essence stored in the armory, we can theoretically survive in the wilderness for at least seven days and nights."

"Of course, this is on the premise that no accidents happen... So according to the most extreme plan, we need to walk to Hull City within seven days."

At this point, Cillian cursed under his breath, "Damn it, my motorcycle is fixed, but it can only carry a few people at most."

“Cillian, listen to me…”

Tim was about to say something when Cillian abruptly interrupted him.

"Maybe...maybe we can build a simple trailer?"

A glimmer of light flashed in Cillian's eyes, but it quickly dimmed again, and his hands fell limply to his sides.

"No, the road conditions in the wilderness are complicated, the trailer could easily fall apart, and it would slow us down. What... what should we do..."

His voice grew softer and softer until it was almost a muttering to himself.

“Cillian!”

Tim raised his voice a few decibels, which finally snapped Cillian out of his anxious fantasies.

Cillian's eyes were bloodshot as he stared blankly at Tim, filled with doubt and confusion.

"What's wrong, Tim? It's almost afternoon, and then it'll be dark. We need to make the most of our time..."

"Cillian, calm down!"

Tim grabbed Cillian's shoulders with both hands, forcing him to stop his frantic thoughts.

"listen to me."

Tim tried to speak in a gentle tone, but his slightly trembling voice betrayed the sadness in his heart.

“I know these facts are hard to accept, but... but you are no longer a child. You have to be strong and you have to bear it all.”

Cillian stared blankly, saying nothing.

Tim pulled Cillian to the survivors' side and carefully used his sword to pry open their clothes, revealing skin covered with blue scars and hard scales emerging from their pores.

“We have tried our best to protect everyone, but in last night’s terrible chaotic upheaval, they were still contaminated by the chaos to varying degrees.”

Tim lowered his voice, "I've confirmed it, everyone's bodies are showing signs of decay."

"It's daytime now, and sunlight can suppress the chaotic power to some extent, but once night falls..."

Tim's voice choked, and he couldn't make a sound.

Cillian continued, his tone devoid of any emotion, "Once night falls, they all turn into demons, right?"

Tim nodded with difficulty.

Cillian felt a strong wave of dizziness wash over him, as if he had been struck by a heavy hammer. He had to hold onto the round table for support, his fingers gripping the edge so tightly that his knuckles turned white, as if he were about to crush the table.

It took him a long time to accept this fact, his voice hollow as if from another world.

"Then...what about the teacher's sacrifice?"

Nunn burned himself, but failed to protect the survivors, only prolonging their lives for a few more hours.

"A teacher's sacrifice should not be measured solely by the outcome!"

Tim emphasized, "He sacrificed himself to fulfill his duty; that is his courage and glory!"

His tone suddenly turned somber, "Even if the outcome is not as desired, the meaning of the sacrifice still exists..."

Cillian slowly knelt down, his upper body slumped on the round table, his face pale and bloodless.

"What about Ava?" Cillian whispered. "Was Ava also contaminated?"

Tim did not respond.

His silence filled Cillian with despair.

The armory was quiet, save for the groans of the survivors.

It took Cillian a long time to regain his composure; his mind was blank, devoid of any emotion. He felt like a puppet whose soul had been ripped out, leaving only an empty shell.

“That’s…that’s insane, Tim.”

Cillian's words became hesitant, as if a thorn was stuck in his throat, "Before yesterday, we were still celebrating and looking forward to the future of White Cliff Town."

"White Cliff Town will be integrated with Hel City, and our Soflova Brotherhood will be the torchbearers. Teachers will no longer be so exhausted, Ava will wear new dresses, and the townspeople will live better lives..."

"It was a beautiful idea, but it was burned to ashes overnight."

It was as if someone had grabbed Cillian by the throat, suffocating him so much he couldn't breathe.

"Is this fate?"

Tim shook his head and denied it, saying, "This isn't fate, this is life."

“It’s alright, Cillian,” Tim reassured him. “We’ll leave here and see the world… It’ll be alright…”

After a long silence, Cillian finally spoke.

"I want to see Ava."

Tim released Cillian and whispered, "She's in the house, in the spot where you slept when you came back from the wilderness."

Cillian carefully pushed open the door, his steps light and slow, as if he were walking on cotton.

Ava lay in the spot where Cillian had been lying, covered with a thick blanket. Her face was pale, like a snowflake in winter. It was unclear whether she hadn't recovered from the shock or if it was due to the pollution of chaos.

"Ava."

"Cillian called out softly."

Ava's porcelain-like face gradually furrowed, and it took a great deal of effort for her to wake up from her deep sleep.

“Cillian…”

Ava's voice was weak, but she still stubbornly smiled.

What will she say next?

Is it a confession to oneself while continuing to dance, a revenge against the enemy, or some words of resentment, or even a hysterical outburst about the fate that awaits?
Cillian's heart was filled with anticipation and fear, as if he were awaiting an unknown trial.

She was such a beautiful girl...

“Cillian…”

She cried out again, “Come closer to me.”

Cillian bent down and hugged the dirty doll.

“I feel so cold and tired,” Ava asked. “Am I hurt?”

“No, you’re just too frightened and sick,” Cillian lied. “You’ll recover after a rest.”

"What about the rest?"

“Everyone is here. Tim and I are planning our next move. We will leave White Cliff Town and head towards Hel City. Don’t worry about the road. I have found enough supplies to help everyone get through this.”

Ava tilted her head, a smile on her face. "Cillian, you're not very good at lying."

"Did I make this up too convincingly?"

"It's not that the story is fabricated, but rather your eyes and expression."

Ava reached out and wiped away Cillian's tears. "You look so sad, like I'm about to die..."

"Am I going to die?"

Cillian remained silent.

He didn't know how to answer Ava's question. She was in the prime of her youth, with an infinitely bright future ahead of her. How could Ava accept that everything had ended before it even began?
Cillian shifted his gaze to the side, where Tim was standing at the doorway, head down, his expression unreadable.

Tim was just as sad as Cillian. He loved this fragile girl and had dreamed countless times about their future together. Even though she was in love with her brother, Tim still sincerely wished her well.

Ava suddenly smiled.

"I like you, Cillian."

Cillian paused for a moment, then said jokingly, "I thought you were going to say you love me."

"like?"

Ava shook her head, like a wise man.

"Our feelings are still too naive; using the word 'love' to describe them is too heavy... it will only bind you."

She paused, then continued.

“But I do love you, Cillian, I love every one of the Soflowa brothers, I love the peaceful life we ​​spent together, every single moment.”

With her last bit of strength, Ava embraced Cillian.

She whispered in Cillian's ear, as if telling a shocking secret. "Cillian, what a beautiful time these were. Just remembering them is enough to fill you with courage."

Ava kissed Cillian's forehead, and in the soft, cold touch, he heard...

"Don't forget us."

Cillian watched Ava silently as she slowly shrank back into the blanket, closed her eyes, and drifted off to sleep as if taking an afternoon nap, her breath faint.

"Let's go, Cillian."

Tim patted him on the shoulder, and Cillian hesitated for a while before stiffly nodding.

The two left in silence. When they reached the door of the armory, the afternoon sun was blazing, making them want to hide.

“The teacher prepared some euthanasia poison beforehand,” Tim said calmly, taking a deep breath. “To die painlessly in their dreams is the last thing we can do for them.”

"Ah."

Standing in the sunlight, without turning his head, Cillian said, "After we've done all this, let's leave. The motorcycle can carry just the two of us, and we've got plenty of supplies."

Tim remained silent for a long time.

Cillian turned around in confusion and saw Tim standing in the shadow of the eaves, his expression a mixture of relief and sadness and helplessness.

Tim unbuttoned his shirt.

Beside the unhealed scars were large patches of newly grown scales, which pierced the wounds, leaving a bloody mess.

"Everyone has been contaminated, including me."

Tim paused for a moment, then spoke in a more cheerful tone.

"I think life is a strange thing. Even a small twist of fate can make a mess of things."

Cillian suppressed his emotions and remained silent.

"I've looked through the novels you've collected. I really like some of the love stories in them, like how a young man falls in love with a wealthy lady, doesn't need to work or strive, just spends his days indulging in pleasure with her, until one day he dies in bed from excessive indulgence."

Tim chuckled, "Compared to the lives depicted in stories, our lives are rather dark and insane. We're always wielding swords, never stopping for a moment..."

“But… Cillian, think about it carefully, we didn’t live that life of debauchery, but at least we didn’t die in bed.”

Tim joked, "It would be too pathetic to die in bed."

Cillian took a deep breath. "It's more like you've pre-planned an absurd life for yourself, and are glad you didn't end up living it..."

"Hey, it's just self-deprecation and teasing."

Tim gave a helpless smile, then, as if remembering something, he asked curiously.

"So, Cillian, what were you really thinking when you killed Bell with your own hands?"

Cillian feigned indifference, asking, "Do you really want to know?"

"of course."

Tim recounted the past, "Didn't we always talk about these things late at night?"

"When I killed someone for the first time, I was terrified and had nightmares. Mick, on the other hand, was so scared that he cried and wet the bed for several nights in a row."

We all shared our experiences, but you always found excuses to avoid this topic.

At that time, Cillian didn't want to talk about it, so Tim and Mick tacitly agreed not to bring it up again. Until now, Tim's curiosity broke through the tacit agreement.

Tim looked at Cillian expectantly, "What were you feeling when you killed Bell?"

Cillian took a deep breath and gave an unexpected answer.

"happy."

"happy?"

“Yes, unlike your unease and Mick’s fear, the moment I killed Bell with my own hands, I felt an immense joy… no, ecstasy.”

Cillian finally spoke out about the terrible things that had been spreading in his heart.

“A deep, bone-deep ecstasy that made me tremble.”

He breathed a sigh of relief.

"I was confused for a long time, wondering if I was a born antisocial personality, a potential psychopath, just like the villains in novels."

Because of who I am, I was trapped in unease and confusion for a long time, until tonight... I finally saw myself clearly.

Cillian recalled the moment when he bestowed his blessing and brought it to its true form.

Previously, Ciri had thought that it was the countless killings he had experienced that caused Blessing of All Things to evolve into Blessing of Anger and Evil.

In retrospect, this was not due to external influences, but rather it revealed Cillian's true nature.

"I think I really am a born killer."

Cillian affirmed.

"But what I enjoy is not the torture and killing of the weak and the innocent, but the cleansing of those chaotic enemies, and the bastards who have betrayed the glory of humanity to pieces."

At this point, a sickly smile appeared on Cillian's face.

“I’m not kidding, Tim. I really enjoy killing these monstrous things. It gives me a very subtle sense of pleasure and value.”

Just like... just like...

Cillian grasped that thread of thought and interpreted it.

"Upholding a kind of morbid, dark justice."

This self-awareness is not based on objective assessment or external feedback, but rather stems from an unshakable intuition and belief deep within Cillian's heart.

Cillian experienced periods of unease and confusion due to self-doubt, but this brief period of confusion did not shake his ultimate self-confidence.

Tim stared into Cillian's eyes for a long time, seeing only sincerity and purity, like a child innocently saying terrible things.

Tim was overwhelmed by immense grief.

"Oh my god, Cillian..."

Tim's voice trembled as he hugged his brother tightly, burying his head in his shoulder.

he knows.

With the destruction of White Cliff Town, the last warmth in Ciri's heart will also perish.

In the foreseeable future, Cillian's biased and narrow-minded sense of justice will lead him further and further down the path of killing, without ever doubting his own righteousness.

Cillian will become ruthless and heartless.

No more constraints.

No one could rival him.

Tim didn't want his brother to become like this, but he was powerless to stop it. At the same time, amidst this sorrow, Tim even felt a pang of pain and guilt... relief.

He was glad that his brother was such a madman, and he was also glad that this madman would avenge everyone.

eye for eye.

"Do not……"

Tim felt disgusted by his own despicable thoughts, yet also secretly delighted; the complexities of human nature tormented his weary heart.

In the end, Tim could only let go of Cillian, his eyes filled with reluctance and pity.

Tim mustered his courage and said goodbye.

“You should go now, Cillian. I am the elder brother, and I should be the one to do the most difficult thing.”

Cillian remained silent for a considerable period of time, then slowly raised his head, letting the sunlight dry his expression.

Tim lied. He had promised to leave with him and go to the outside world, where they would ascend to a higher level and wield extraordinary power.

They will seek revenge against Chaos, just like the main characters in the story, shouting about justice and righteousness, vowing to make their enemies pay for the tragedy in White Cliff Town.

They are the Soflow brothers, destined for fame...

It's all a lie.

From the very beginning, only Cillian was able to leave.

Tim reached out and stroked that hard, cold face, offering his blessing.

"Don't be too sad, Cillian."

"Sad? How could I be?"

The warmth in Cillian's heart collapsed into a black hole, leaving him with only pale words.

"I'm overjoyed, don't forget, I'm a heartless scoundrel."

Cillian turned to look at the vast world, trying to keep his voice calm.

"Besides, I'm finally leaving this hellish place, saying goodbye to everything that binds me, and moving forward without any more worries... How could I be sad?"

"Then I'm relieved... Goodbye, brother."

Cillian said without turning his head.

"Bye, brother."

Tim took a step back and closed the armory door.

He pushed open door after door and came to Sleeping Beauty again. She squinted, as if she were on the edge of reality and fantasy.

Tim wiped away the tears from the corners of his eyes and straightened his clothes.

He knelt down and reached out his hand to Ava.

May I invite you to dance?

Seeing Tim's sad yet serious expression, Ava smiled and reached out with difficulty to place her hand on his.

She spoke in a voice as clear as a silver bell.

"As long as you don't treat me like a toy and toss me around, that's fine."

(End of this chapter)