Chapter 919 Decay <TOC> Chapter 921 Guina
Translator: SumTLMan
Suddenly appearing in the cellar was Vonman, the one long yearned for by Aniga and Guina.
However, his arrival was one step too late. His dearest younger brother and his best friend had withered away before him.
Rushing to Aniga’s side and staring at the slowly cooling corpses, Vonman was on the brink of collapse.
Although Guina still didn’t know what had happened, an inexplicable sense of panic began to well up in her, causing her eyes to moisten. She struggled anxiously in her crib, continuously voicing in a strange language, “What happened? What on earth happened? Chira? Aniga? Please answer me…”
“Vonman, I hear your voice. You’re back, aren’t you? That’s wonderful. Please tell me, what happened to Chira and Aniga? Why aren’t they talking?” Guina seemed to understand something in her heart, but she didn’t dare to contemplate it further, nor did she want to.
Vonman knelt next to Aniga’s corpse in silence.
It wasn’t until Guina softly asked, “Are they asleep? Is that why they’re not answering me?”
That Vonman replied in a lost voice, “Yes, they are sleeping.”
“Then let them continue to sleep for a while. They must be tired.” Guina’s voice trembled, “I want to sleep too, but I can’t…”
The cellar fell silent, only the conversation between Guina and Vonman audible.
When their voices gradually quieted, leaving only soft sobbing, the knight, whose throat was somewhat dry, suddenly didn’t know what to say.
“You…” The knight began to speak, only to find his voice somewhat hoarse. He swallowed before looking at the weeping Vonman on the ground, “Who are you?”
Pausing for a moment, the knight looked in another direction, “And who are you?”
With the knight’s questions, everyone’s gaze shifted to the second visitor.
At the entrance of the cellar, a young man dressed in extremely exquisite and formal noble attire stood at the junction of light and shadow.
In the interplay of light and shadow, his features were as refined and graceful as if sculpted by the deft hand of a master sculptor. Even in his silent repose, the innate allure that radiated from within him inevitably made others feel as though they were of a lesser class.
This was the mark of nobility.
Equally, this was not a person who would be found in a refugee area.
That much was a conclusion everyone present could ascertain at a glance.
“Who are you?” The knight approached, scrutinizing the newcomer from head to toe, his eyes skeptical as he took in the intricate gentleman’s attire. “This style… doesn’t seem to be of Sea Wave’s fashion? It appears somewhat like…”
The sartorial style of the Goldfinch Empire?
Swallowing his saliva, the knight dismissed this idea as one he himself found hard to believe. If this were a noble from the Goldfinch Empire, they would surely not be found deep within the territory of Sea Wave at this time.
The knight awaited a reply, but before the young nobleman could answer, a young man named Vonman suddenly seemed to have a revelation. Rushing forward, he bowed down before the noble youth.
“My lord, you must have a way, right? You surely must… Please, I beg of you, save them.” Vonman gestured towards two bodies lying in a pool of blood nearby, his head bowing incessantly.
The knight was puzzled. This child named Vonman was asking this noble to save lives? Could it be that this nobleman was actually a physician?
The knight chuckled at the thought.
Even if he were a physician, what of it? The death of the two children was beyond doubt. Unless the Grim Reaper himself decided to retract his scythe, there would be no hope of reviving them.
“Their spiritual lights have faded, their soul fragments shattered. There’s nothing that can be done. They’re already dead.”
The words, spoken in the common language of the continent but with a foreign accent, flowed from the lips of the young nobleman. The knight was taken aback. He had the nagging sensation that he’d heard this accent somewhere before.
“There must be some other way, right? I heard from the summoner that there are methods to revive the dead,” Vonman couldn’t help but ask again.
“Resurrection is a taboo. Even if they were truly revived, they wouldn’t be the same anymore,” was the nobleman’s solemn reply.
The gentlemanly youth’s rhetoric shattered Vonman’s lingering hope, as if a knife had sundered a delicate spider’s web. Stumbling back to the lifeless forms, he murmured the names “Aniga, Chira” as if they were a despairing mantra, his demeanor reflecting a loss that had rendered him both absent-minded and helpless.
A moment later, Vonman suddenly jerked his head up, a frantic question seeping from his lips as he scanned the surroundings, “Who? Who led them to their doom?”
Rising to his feet, he pointed accusingly at the knight standing next to him. From his grimy hand, several pale spiders crawled, their eerie white bodies stark against the grime. “Was it you? Did you drive them to their end?”
The knight offered no reply, prompting Vonman to turn his desperate gaze towards two other figures in the scene – a beggar and a seemingly unhinged elderly woman. “Was it you?” he demanded, his voice resounding with palpable accusation.
Met with silence once more, Vonman swayed unsteadily. A manic laughter exploded from him, echoing around the area. “If you all remain mute, then perish! Perish, all of you!”
With his chilling declaration, more of the little arachnids began to crawl out from his sleeves, a sight so bone-chilling that even the knight couldn’t hide a shudder.
Just as the spiders were about to be unleashed by Vonman, an eerie sound emerged from the cradle. “Vonman, pick me up. I want to see Aniga and Chira,” came Guina’s voice, mysteriously low.
Vonman paused, before slowly turning to address her. “Guina, they’re sleeping. Let’s not disturb them…” His voice trailed off, unease flickering in his eyes.
“Pick me up. I’ll tell you what happened.”
After a moment of silence, Vonman grunted in acknowledgment, a low sound that came more from his nose than his mouth.
Lifting Guina, her terrifying visage was unveiled to everyone present. Undeterred by the fear of the beggar or the madness of the bakery owner, Guina lowered her head to gaze at the lifeless bodies on the ground.
Tears began to flow from her eyes, dropping one after another like a mournful rainfall. After a long pause, she spoke, “Indeed, they’re sleeping. Such a peaceful slumber…”
“Guina, what happened? Tell me.” Vonman’s question was insistent, echoing with the stubborn tenacity of a man refusing to let go of a lifeline.
Regaining her composure, Guina began to recount the events of the day. As her narrative unfolded, a hush settled over the gathering, each individual steeped in solemn silence.
Upon hearing the tale, the noble youth furrowed his brows. What had transpired was a trifling matter, one devoid of clear right and wrong, yet it had escalated into a full-blown crisis.
The noble youth accompanying Vonman was none other than Angel.
Just a day earlier, Angel had pondered over a letter from Aaron, contemplating whether he should pay the child a visit. While he wasn’t particularly fond of the boy’s ruthless nature, he had already secured Jon’s approval back in Initial Heart City. It was likely he’d return to the Savage Grottoes soon to locate Sanders, and Drew was bound to accompany him.
His Guide Mission was still one talent short of completion, and finding a suitable candidate was proving challenging. The boy, Vonman, was an unmistakable talent. After much deliberation, Angel decided to meet him.
Upon reaching Sea Moon City, Angel finally met Vonman.
Vonman had sought out Angel, hoping that he could help him save a person named Guina. At first, Angel had no intention of helping Vonman. However, as Vonman narrated his story, Angel discerned that Guina seemed to possess a talent as well. Initially, Vonman had followed a summoner, while Guina had been handed over to a woman named Kusha.
Eventually, the summoner was slain by Angel, and Vonman managed to escape. When he returned to Sea Wave, he discovered that Guina had been tormented by Kusha to the point of losing all her limbs. Even her mouth was sewn shut. Aniga, who had gone to find Guina, had his tongue cut off.
Guina’s bleeding had been stopped, but her condition remained critical.
After a long period of mental struggle, Vonman eventually decided to return to Sea Moon City to seek Angel’s help in rescuing Guina.
That was the complete account of events.
Angel figured that if Guina truly was a talent, it wouldn’t hurt to add another member to his team. Thus, he accompanied Vonman.
However, he did not expect to witness such a scene…
…
Once Guina finished recounting the entire ordeal, Vonman’s gaze gradually frosted over. He turned his head to glare at the guide, the self-proclaimed arbitrator knight, and finally locked his gaze on the bakery aunt, who had slowly quieted down from her earlier hysteria.
“Indeed, it was you who forced their demise,” Vonman intoned each word like drops of ice, “None of you will escape.”
No sooner had Vonman’s words echoed than the bakery aunt raised her head, bursting into laughter.
“Why do you laugh?” Vonman’s voice was as cold as the Arctic wind.
The aunt, however, paid no heed to Vonman’s inquiry, her gaze landing instead on Guina in his arms.
“Guina, I remember you.” Her eyes, complex tapestries of compassion, nostalgia, and repulsion, studied Guina, “Once upon a time, my Nini was your friend, always returning home with stories about your goodness…”
Her face softened, seeming to lose herself in some bygone tableau. Suddenly, her expression morphed, “My Nini, so pure and kind, saw beyond your status as a refugee and befriended you! Yet, in the end, she met her demise at the hands of your friend. Don’t you feel any guilt?”
Enveloped in Vonman’s arms, Guina met the aunt’s gaze unflinchingly, “Truthfully, I thought of killing her initially to seize the bread in her hand. I won’t deny she was endearing, but she was also naive. But her naivety saved her. When she offered me her bread willingly, I abandoned the thought of murdering her.”
“So, I have never felt guilty. Because, in my eyes, she wasn’t as important as a morsel of food.”
The aunt was taken aback, a deranged laughter escaping her lips, “My precious Nini… In your eyes, she was worth less than a bite to eat. You truly are a demon…”
“I am not a demon, I am just a being desiring survival,” Guina murmured.
The aunt paid no heed to Guina’s words, instead fixating her gaze upon the two corpses on the ground. Her laughter crescendoed, the demise of the two responsible for Nini’s death—Aniga and Chira—removed any lingering regrets.
The aunt’s eyes held a spark of determination as she staggered to her feet. “Nini, mama is coming to you,” she cried out and propelled herself into the wall…
Three corpses now occupied the petite cellar.
Counting the rotting corpse tucked in the stairwell’s corner, the total was four.
Looking at the field of bodies, each, from their own perspective, had some degree of righteousness and wrongdoing. Yet, Angel had no desire to arbitrate between right and wrong. His feelings towards this group of people were a paradox of pity and resentment, a mix of sympathy and disdain.
Without a doubt, Angel harbored no fondness for Vonman, the man’s malevolence was simply too overwhelming.
Similarly, Angel found Guina distasteful, her rhetoric drenched in self-interest and cold-heartedness.
As for Chira, Angel considered him to be the architect of his own downfall. The only one who might be considered a smidge innocent was Aniga.
Yet, despite his disdain for these individuals, Angel understood the harsh realities of their existence. As Guina had pointedly put it, they yearned for nothing more than to keep the flame of life burning.
For mankind, the most fundamental craving is the sustenance of life.
Others can indulge in the pursuit of loftier desires, in self-restraint and moralities.
But not for this crowd, the ones dwelling at society’s bottom rung. They might be chaotic, wicked, or adorned with a plethora of unspeakable stains and shortcomings, but they’re merely satisfying their most basic, singular need.
If even this most elementary need cannot be met, Angel wouldn’t be able to measure their actions’ merit or flaw through the lens of his own standards.
This absurd drama had reached its finale, leaving Angel steeped in a myriad of contemplations.
Once, he stumbled upon a poignant line in the literary records of a holographic tablet: “We cannot see all the snow that falls upon a person’s life. Each of us endures our own solitary winter in our lifetimes.”
Reality echoed this sentiment. Each individual navigated their own life, each life fraught with its own frigid winters. Most others were fleeting passersby, incapable of truly thawing your winter’s frost.
Some lives were perpetually entrenched in the chill of winter.
For them, mere survival demanded every ounce of their vitality.