Chapter 1630 Disappearance Case in the Abandoned District <TOC> Chapter 1632 Rain Pattern Stone
Translator: SumTLMan
This scene unfolds in a basement located in the suburbs, enveloped in an eerie cloak of darkness and silence. Only at the farthest end of the basement flickers a dim, yellowish flame.
What captures the eye is an unpretentious altar, densely populated with candlesticks. The candles burn serenely, filling the air with the acrid scent produced by the burning of low-quality wax.
In front of the altar, a middle-aged woman with a plain headscarf kneels, deeply engrossed in silent prayer. Directly before her, at the center of the altar, rests a circular stone featuring an engraved pattern. She directs her soft murmurs toward this engraving, her words largely comprised of supplications for miracles and murmured devotions of faith.
Upon completing her litany, she bows her torso until her forehead almost touches the floor, extending her arms forward as if crawling. She then abruptly rises to a kneeling position and lets out an utterance in a strange, cryptic tone.
As her words hang in the air, an inexplicable breeze swirls into the sealed basement, causing the flames on the candlesticks to flicker uncontrollably.
After a few seconds of stillness in the transient wind, the woman sits on the ground and lets out a soft sigh. “It’s a pity. After the bishop ascended to the divine realm, the latter part of the liturgy lost its significance. Otherwise, how could it have elicited only this faint breeze?”
She stands up, filled with a sense of lament, “I remember the bishop once said, ‘Only the power of death can nurture the emergence of The Bud.’ Now, without a complete liturgy, perhaps the God of the Bud will only notice me, a humble devotee, when I’m at death’s door.”
With a wistful shake of her head, the woman adds, “Ah, if it weren’t for fulfilling the bishop’s wishes, I would have already left this world.”
The woman stands up with a staggering gait and begins to step into the surrounding darkness.
In a brief moment, sounds of doors opening and closing resonated in the darkness, and the woman’s footsteps grew increasingly distant. Evidently, she had left the underground chamber.
Not long after her departure, the candlelight on the altar flickered once more.
Amidst the sporadic sparks of the flame, a young man dressed in a black suit gradually materialized.
Glancing towards the direction of the chamber’s entrance, he softly murmured, “God of the Bud, do you actually believe it’s a true deity?”
A flash of mockery crossed his eyes as he then turned his gaze to the statue on the altar — a round stone intricately carved with an image of a young bud breaking through the soil.
Upon examining this delicate sprout carving, the young man’s eyes took on a solemn hue: “It is indeed the one.”
A gust of wind blew in, snuffing out the candlelight on the altar. As the darkness seeped in, the young man’s silhouette gradually vanished.
Paradova, the entrance to Desolate City.
Desolate City and the New City are separated by a river. The middle-aged woman who had previously prayed in the underground chamber walked, masked, through the smog-shrouded New City to reach the riverbank.
Due to the New City’s construction requiring a vast amount of metal materials, the processed wastewater was dumped into the river. Once clear, the river had been transformed; now it exhibited a revolting blend of various colors. Amidst the unknown waste and thick foam floating on the surface, a nauseating stench filled the air.
As the middle-aged woman crossed the bridge, her eyes flashed with anger at the river’s sickening hues.
“God of the Bud, swiftly lead your devout followers to the divine realm,” she implored. “This world has been polluted by metallic monstrosities; there is no longer a sanctuary for the faithful.”
Her heart heavy with sorrow, she stood at the head of the bridge and cried out loudly. Around her, there were hardly any people — only a few homeless vagrants who, hearing her anguished yells, didn’t even bother to lift their heads.
This dramatic display had been a recurring act for five years. Every time she crossed the bridge, she would stage this spectacle. Those who had seen and heard it before were so jaded that they didn’t even want to grace her with a glance.
She’s just a fanatic devoted to a heretical cult.
The middle-aged woman crossed the bridge, her eyes slightly less tormented. However, as she looked at the derelict buildings, she couldn’t help but shake her head. These structures were once so beautiful, part of the tapestry of her childhood memories — a symphony of elegance under blue skies and white clouds. Now, they were overrun with weeds and littered with holes. These holes were created by homeless people who had torn away the stonework to sell it for cash.
All that was good and beautiful had vanished. Perhaps only the advent of the God of the Bud could save this sullied world?
She approached the church district, her heart imbued with a mournful heaviness.
The district was the most dilapidated area within this Desolate City. This was because the king of the country held religious institutions in disdain; following his lead, places of worship suffered the most destruction across various cities.
Even before it fell into disrepair, the church district had faced calamity. Although buildings in other parts of the city had their share of damage, at least a few stood intact. But here, almost every structure was in ruins.
If they weren’t missing roofs, they were half-collapsed.
The only exception was a secluded little chapel, which still managed to maintain some semblance of its original state. This chapel had been constructed just seven years ago. However, a major incident had occurred there five years prior — over twenty congregants had mysteriously disappeared, leading to the chapel’s abandonment.
The middle-aged woman laboriously made her way through the rubble, her destination being that small chapel.
Upon pushing open the massive doors of the chapel, accompanied by a creaking sound, the dim light filtered in to reveal an interior that was hauntingly empty.
After entering the church, she naturally made her way to the courtyard adjacent to the side door. She drew a bucket of water from the well within the yard and proceeded inside the sanctuary. With a cloth of purest white, she began to gently wipe down the circular stone situated on the church’s main altar.
The stone was similar to the one she had honored in the basement; both were engraved with the symbol representing “Bud.”
Her care in cleaning was meticulous, ensuring that no part was left untouched.
As the clear water saturated the stone, entrancing patterns began to emerge on its surface.
A sense of satisfaction flickered in her eyes as she looked at the intricate design on the stone.
This was a piece of Rain Pattern Stone, known for revealing a kaleidoscope of colors upon contact with water. Though not considered a precious stone, it was much loved, especially by children.
She had originally opposed the bishop’s decision to engrave the symbol of the God of the Bud onto this relatively inexpensive Rain Pattern Stone. However, the bishop had insisted that the stone was a divine gift from the God of the Bud himself. She hadn’t believed it at the time, but upon seeing how perfectly the water-induced patterns harmonized with the carved symbol of “Bud,” she began to think that perhaps the bishop had been right all along.
The bishop, who was summoned by the God of the Bud to the divine realm five years ago, had admonished her to regularly tend to this Rain Pattern Stone before his departure.
It was this directive from the bishop that had kept her here, instead of journeying to the divine realm. Upon reflection, she still harbored some regrets about that choice.
After completing the cleaning of the stone, she rubbed her slightly aching lower back. Today’s task was done; by the measure of cleanliness, she would only need to return for another cleaning in a week’s time.
With these thoughts, she offered one last prayer to the God of the Bud and prepared to turn around and leave.
However, as she turned, she discovered that someone had mysteriously appeared not far behind her, a presence unbeknownst to her until that very moment.
The individual before her was a young man, dressed with the air of a noble.
He wore a black suit tailored to gentlemanly perfection, complemented by a hat. Positioned with his back to the entrance, the light behind him obscured his features. Despite this, one could discern the deep blue of his eyes, as expansive and mysterious as the ocean itself.
The middle-aged woman was startled, clutching her chest as she queried, “Who… are you? When did you come in?”
The young man gracefully removed his hat, unveiling a mane of luminous golden hair. The strands were soft, swaying subtly with the hat’s removal and the caress of a gentle breeze.
Cradling the hat against his chest, he began his self-introduction: “My name is Angel, and I apologize for the intrusion. May I inquire about a matter with you, ma’am?”
Chapter 1630 Disappearance Case in the Abandoned District <TOC> Chapter 1632 Rain Pattern Stone