Ashes Of Deep Sea
Chapter 556 - Chapter 556 Chapter 557 Trekking towards the Doomsday

Chapter 556: Chapter 557: Trekking towards the Doomsday Chapter 556: Chapter 557: Trekking towards the Doomsday (Trudging towards the apocalypse.

The Ranger, born from the Evergreen Mountains, often said this while setting up camp before each sunset, gazing at the deep red slash across the horizon with such sighs, describing in his own words as a “quite romantic notion” — it was the greatest courage and the utmost romance in the world as the apocalypse approached.

However, neither courage nor romance could halt the steps of death. The Ranger fell at the last kilometer before the crossroad, a malevolent arrow piercing his chest, an ironic death — the master of the bow died by the bow.

The Necromancer dealt with the ambushing assailants, two ragged corpses; they had lain in wait on the road, launching a sinister attack as the team approached. The undead “Trait” of having no breath or heartbeat had eluded the Ranger’s scouting, and the wind had masked the stench they emitted, creating yet another tragic mishap, just like every farewell along the way.

The armored Warrior came to the edge of the campsite, seated himself on a dry tree stump, and quietly gazed at the dusk.

That unsettling deep red streaked across the sky like a bloodstain about to tear the world apart, where it seemed as if blood surged, and countless spectral phantasms beyond mortal minds were brewing, coldly watching this world swiftly succumbing to ruin.

Footsteps approached; the Necromancer sat down beside him, silently gazing with the Warrior at the bloody streak in the twilight.

After a moment of silence, a deep voice emanated from the Warrior’s helmet, “The two assailants during the day…”

“They were the hunter siblings, the first to die,” responded the Necromancer, his voice emanating from his black hood, as somber as a voice from the grave. “They caught up to us; the dead need no rest, hence they are faster.”

“We personally buried them in the forest outside the kingdom’s gate, and you conducted the soul soothing ritual–why would the dead you pacified still rise?”

“Along this journey, many have risen. See that deep red in the horizon? The direction where the red light first fell… It has expanded to double the size foretold by the Prophet. It’s a wound that has severed our world; the soil under our feet and the sky above our heads are decaying because of this wound, and rotting… faster and faster.

“The process of transition between life and death is starting to deviate from what I understood.” The Necromancer stated quietly, his tone lacking emotion as usual, only a cold sadness in stating “the facts.”

Not everyone can accept his way of speaking; had the Shield Knight still been here, he would undoubtedly have begun a long lecture of exhortation by now.

However, the Warrior looked back, only to see the lone figure of the Paladin by the campfire, with the Flame Warlock’s frail and thin silhouette curled up in the shadows of the fire. Other than them, there was no one else in the camp. The Shield Knight, who always had sharp exchanges with the Necromancer and liked to preach to his teammates, was no more–he had fallen in the wilds outside Sandstone Fortress, the cause of death still unknown.

“Afterwards, others might ‘catch up,'” the Necromancer added seemingly uncomfortable with the quiet, shifting the topic awkwardly after a few seconds of silence. “Most likely will be people from our former squad.”

“Why? Just because the hunter siblings caught up today?”

“Because they still remember the mission to trudge toward the apocalypse–but no longer remember us,” the Necromancer whispered, “before the influence of that red light expanded, we didn’t deal with their bodies properly.”

The Warrior went silent for a while: “… How should we properly deal with them?”

“Incinerate, burn them completely with the Fire of Malevolent Spirits, then shatter all the larger bone fragments. If possible, soak the skulls in acid and bury them deep.”

“Alright, I understand.”

The next day, the Necromancer was dead.

He was found at the edge of the campsite, his heart stolen by some dark force in the night, leaving just a horrifying hollow in his chest. However, eerily, he had a strange smile on his face just before he died, as if… he felt fortunate to be rid of this burdensome mission early.

The Warrior, Paladin, and Flame Warlock held a “funeral” for the Necromancer–they completely incinerated his body with the Fire of Malevolent Spirits, smashed all the remaining bone fragments they could find, and soaked the fragments of his skull in a clay pot filled with acid, burying it at the camping spot.

Now, only three remained.

As the black smoke from the burning bones ascended, the Warrior once again gazed at the distant deep red that seemed to be slicing through the entire world. After a long silence, the diminutive woman finally asked the question no one else dared to voice.

“Shall we continue moving forward?”

The Warrior turned, looking at the red-haired Groska woman.

He remembered how she looked when they first started–she was brimming with confidence, her eyes sparkled with vitality, her words carried pride, chosen by the kingdom, designated by the Prophet as the “Chosen One of Destiny,” she believed in her strength and predetermined great destiny more than anyone else.