Chapter 1383 Strange Silhouette <TOC> Chapter 1385 The Semi-Mechanical Being
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Translator: SumTLMan
Undoubtedly, from the chronicles, it’s clear that Sparrow Blossom chose to depart of her own volition. However, Sparrow Blossom’s precise reason for departure wasn’t distinctly documented.
But given the departure, especially from the sole comforting zone amidst lurking ghosts, there must have been an undeniable compulsion.
As Popoca articulated, within the diary, the sole plausible reason that might have prompted Sparrow Blossom’s departure is this enigmatic shadow of a person.
So, who could he be?
“There’s another thing that piques my curiosity: the words she penned on the last page,” Popoca, flipping to the end of the diary, mused over the meaning of the phrase, “I’ve seen much, but I must leave to see even more.”
“I can’t help but feel that this statement is laden with deeper implications,” Popoca remarked.
Angel had earlier taken note of this phrase. Yet, what struck him was the resonance of its sentiment, which evoked a sense of déjà vu.
“It somewhat echoes the tone of White Bear,” Angel murmured.
White Bear was a prophecy apprentice, and according to Popoca, Sparrow Blossom’s prophetic prowess was once unparalleled. Yet, this was during her lifetime. Could it be that even in death, she retained her prophetic aptitude?
Angel found this implausible.
However, with the present evidence at hand, deducing the truth proves elusive. One can only conjecture that Sparrow Blossom, due to certain pressing circumstances, was compelled to leave. And this impetus might very well be linked to that faceless silhouette.
“If we can’t unearth further clues and Sparrow Blossom is nowhere to be found, then perhaps it’s best we vacate this place for now,” Angel proposed.
Staying here is simply frittering away precious moments; it might be best to depart.
Originally, Angel had intended to send Popoca back into the bracelet. Yet, Popoca implored with pleading eyes, “Might I remain outside for a little longer? I wish to witness the world… the plane where my sister once resided.”
Angel gazed deeply into Popoca’s eyes, noting the earnestness therein. “This place is far from idyllic,” he responded, “but if your heart is set on it, so be it.”
Emerging from the illusionary realm, Popoca was immediately greeted by the bleak and parched surroundings and, faintly, the lamentations of restless ghosts.
His countenance shifted ever so subtly.
As they ventured forth, Angel remained silent. But as they distanced themselves from the illusionary realm, the oppressive stench of decay and the ever-present wails of the lost souls grew increasingly potent.
Upon leaving the depths of the well, Popoca lifted his gaze to the gloomy heavens, to the world teeming with wandering ghosts, to the vast graveyard littered with countless skeletal remains. The calm that once resided in his eyes was replaced with shadows of regret, guilt, and profound sorrow.
Although Angel had previously informed him of Sparrow Blossom’s soul residing deep within a graveyard well, Popoca’s mind had painted a picture that conveniently omitted the grim backdrop of the graveyard. Perhaps, because his sister was there, he had even romanticized the setting in his imagination.
But confronted with the actual sight of the graveyard and its endless sea of remains, he found it unfathomable that his beloved sister had existed amidst such desolation.
The illusion inside the well might have been confined, but compared to this, it felt like juxtaposing heaven and hell!
“My sister… did she really spend her days here?” As Popoca tried to voice his disbelief, his words caught in his throat, his mind grappling with an overwhelming void.
It might be more accurate to say this wasn’t so much Sparrow Blossom’s dwelling but rather her purgatory.
“Yes, this place might not be paradise, but Sparrow Blossom, even in such adversity, never complains. She remains untouched by the spectral aura, embodying innocence and kindness as she stands alone at the bottom of that well,” Angel whispered, his voice as soft as a moth’s flutter. “She might just be the lone ray of hope here.”
Surveying the ravaged landscape, gazing upon countless lifeless bodies, and observing the oppressive dark clouds, tears welled up in Popoca’s eyes and slowly began to trickle down.
His sister waited here in solitude, devoid of memories. Her wait was aimless, an endless lingering.
He could almost visualize it; before she met Angel, his sister must have curled up alone at the bottom of that well, consumed by fear and confusion. Yet, she never drifted with the tide, never let the spectral forces corrupt her.
It was only upon meeting Angel and Gloria that Sparrow Blossom glimpsed a shard of light amidst the encompassing darkness.
Her wait finally found purpose.
The countless mentions of “big brother” and “big sister” in her diary became the compass directing her journey’s end.
Previously, Popoca felt a twinge of jealousy, but understanding this heart-wrenching backstory evoked empathy for his sister. In such a bleak setting, how wondrous it was to have that lone beacon illuminating her shadowed life.
“Thank you.” Popoca uttered these words of gratitude more times than he could count. Unable to express his deep appreciation any other way, he repeatedly voiced his thanks, seeking solace for his heavy heart.
Watching the inconsolably weeping Popoca, Angel let out a soft sigh. Everyone’s journey is riddled with challenges and trials.
Popoca saw himself as the sole survivor of the Laudsourcian tribe, placing the weight of their revival solely upon his shoulders, which led to this series of regrettable outcomes.
He was pitiable, yet equally blameworthy.
Step, step, step——
Popoca, ensnared in the quagmire of his own emotions, was startled by approaching footsteps. Lifting his gaze, he found Angel standing before him.
Hovering beside Angel was a pale skeleton.
A diminutive skull, fragile frame, even its limbs were short. Evidently, this was the skeleton of a child.
“This skeleton is…” Popoca, pointing at the child’s remains, seemed to have a dawning realization.
“This skeleton belonged to Sparrow Blossom. The pendant I once gave you was found on this very skeleton,” Angel explained, handing it over to Popoca. “Its intact condition suggests that Sparrow Blossom didn’t endure immense pain before her demise.”
As Angel unveiled this truth, tears cascaded down Popoca’s face uncontrollably. One could scarcely believe that this very man, who once foiled the Frost Moon Alliance and thwarted Lord Mengke’s plans, could be reduced to such a pitiable, unreserved display of grief.
“Keep it safe and prepare to leave,” Angel murmured, “especially if you still wish to find your sister.”
Holding the skeleton, which felt as light as a feather, Popoca replied, “Thank you. I’ll enter the bracelet now. Earlier, I noticed an oddity with — a Softworm egg. I’ll document it immediately.” His voice was raspy and urgent. The best way he could repay Angel’s kindness was to diligently cultivate the Softworm while his body was still intact.
Angel nodded in understanding. While Popoca’s Softworm research could hasten his physical deterioration, it was a better fate than being a burden.
“… And, if you ever find any trace of Sparrow Blossom, you must let me know.”
After securing Popoca into the bracelet, Angel then turned his attention to Sanders.
Upon emerging from the depths of the well, rather than casting his attention on their immediate surroundings, Sanders’ gaze remained unwaveringly fixed on the ominous castle perched atop the distant ridge, eager to tap into any unusual mental energies and establish a connection with the inhabitants of the castle.
However, despite Sanders’ vigilant observation throughout the day, the castle exhibited the stillness of a tomb, devoid of any energetic fluctuations or emanations of mental power.
It was profoundly peculiar.
For anyone to claim that this place served as the headquarters for a witch organization would seem utterly unbelievable.
“Either there’s a shielding field within the castle blocking any signs of life, or… it’s entirely deserted,” Sanders surmised.
Angel furrowed his brow, pondering, “If it’s abandoned, does that imply the castle has willingly forsaken its stronghold? Such a drastic move wouldn’t just slip under the radar.”
Sizing up the situation, Sanders finally concluded, “Let’s investigate closer. If there are signs of life, great. If not, we can just venture inside.”
He shot a glance at Angel. Originally, Sanders intended for Angel to retreat to the Gravity Garden while he embarked on this risky endeavor alone. However, considering Angel’s impressive power, particularly his adeptness at self-preservation — which might surpass that of an average wizard — he reconsidered.
Angel wasn’t one to remain secluded in an ivory tower. His trail of escapades since entering the Wizarding World attested to that.
Ultimately, without uttering another word, Sanders pivoted on his heel and began heading towards the entrance of the cemetery.
The duo embarked on a journey following the path outside the graveyard, making their way toward the mountaintop.
In a haunting ambiance, A Rugged Path unfurled before them, leading through the eerily silent, frosty black forest. Along the way, spectral apparitions whispered mournfully, and in the distance, a castle loomed… dense and foreboding, reminiscent of a haven for departed souls. This winding ascent seemed to bear an uncanny resemblance to a gateway to the netherworld.
For the vast majority, even those with transcendent abilities, such a horde of specters would be overwhelmingly terrifying.
Yet, for Angel and Sanders, these phantoms were inconsequential.
In fact, even if Angel were to confront this legion of ghosts alone, fear wouldn’t grip him.
From his bracelet, Angel extracted the Prelude of Reincarnation, ready to respond should any ghosts take notice of their presence.
However, just as they were about to venture into a landscape dotted with bizarre rock formations, roughly halfway up the mountain ridge, Sanders halted abruptly.
“What’s the matter?” Angel inquired, shooting a puzzled look in his direction.
Raising an eyebrow, Sanders responded, “I believe I’ve picked up on some information.”
Information? As Angel regarded him with skepticism, Sanders, without hesitation, darted towards the forest, exclaiming, “This way, follow me.”
Chapter 1383 Strange Silhouette <TOC> Chapter 1385 The Semi-Mechanical Being