A cremation. The blazing glory of the sun descended along the staff, igniting both the vampires and the corpses of the bitten. The chanting priest in red and white robes stood in front of the intense flames and loudly praised the majesty of Lady Vanitya. The setting sun from six years ago passed through the veil of memories and fell on Bertram. He stood under the red maple tree and watched the cremation ceremony from afar. The townspeople gathered around and were bustling.
"How do you feel?" He asked, turning his head.
The twelve-year-old girl standing beside him was as serene as a white-gold sculpture. Only her pair of lightly blinking sea-blue eyes still held a glimmer of life. Just by standing there, she naturally exuded an air of coldness that made it hard to approach.
"Are you asking me, godfather?" Grevya held the staff in her arms with both hands. Her gaze was still fixed on the burning flame without shifting.
"Of course. You defeated those vampires single-handedly. Many
townspeople were thus rescued." Bertram smiled kindly. "In these six years, you have grown a lot and are completely different from the past."
"It's no different, godfather." Grevya said softly. "I couldn't save everyone. Now they are also in the fire, together with those blood eaters."
"The disguises of vampires are flawless. No one can be on guard in advance. Anyone could be a vampire. Before they show their fangs, no one can identify them." Bertram shook his head.
"You may think I'm feeling guilty and remorseful, but in fact, it's not so. I'm just stating the facts." The young saint's voice was terrifyingly calm. She still looked at the flame in the distance with indifferent eyes. "I know this is an inevitable thing. Just like when you saved me at the beginning. Even you couldn't save everyone."
The pope was silent for a long time. He looked up at the clouds. The crimson sunset glow was like burning flames.
"Tired?" After a while, he suddenly asked.
Grevya was stunned for a moment. She withdrew her gaze and gently looked up at Bertram beside her. "Do you mean?"
"Obviously your heart is completely empty, but you still always have to guess other people's thoughts. Isn't it very tiring?" Bertram asked again.
The young saint lowered her head and her eyelids drooped slightly. "I don't know."
"I only know that I have thus gained many opportunities to observe others. Observing different people's different reactions to the same thing is still somewhat interesting." After a moment, she said again.
"So, have you seen through me?" Bertram raised his eyebrows.
"If everyone is a book, then what you show seems as uninteresting as just a single sheet of paper. But I know this is not the real you." Grevya shook her head.
"They say you don't understand people's hearts. I think on the contrary, you just understand it too thoroughly." Bertram said faintly.
Grevya watched as the pope turned around gently. "Are you leaving, godfather?"
"I found a little girl named Adith in the slums. She is one year younger than you. She may have the talent to see through the disguises of vampires.
Tomorrow we will leave here. Before leaving, I have decided to take her back to Salenz first." Bertram didn't look back. He just paused for a moment.
"What about the cremation ceremony?"
"You will be the vice-captain of those Templar Knights in the future. Start trying to command them now. This cremation ceremony is entrusted to you."
The wind blew gently from afar. The red maple leaves were like dancing flames under the glow of the sunset. Grevya held the gently fluttering platinum hair by her cheeks. In her eyes was the back of the person she respected.
Just like on that night of redemption, there has never been any difference.
"Be careful on the road. May the radiance of Lady Watita always shine on you, my godfather." She closed her eyelids and then prayed softly.
...
It's really strange. Why are all my dreams memories with her?
But Grevya was actually not wrong.
Whether it is Pope Bertram or the roles played by other avatars around the world are not the real her. Daphne just chooses a stereotypical image that fits the role impression and tries her best to imitate it.
In fact, becoming a girl is not completely unacceptable. Many of her avatars show themselves in female forms. Naturally, she also has to learn the behavior and speaking habits of women.
Now that the max-level character "Bertram" is blocked, all the avatars have disappeared without a trace. Daphne and those future legendary lords she had previously invested in and cultivated have temporarily lost contact.
The world-saving plan has suffered a huge blow. She has even started considering giving up.
But it's still too early to think about these things. Let's open our eyes first.
So dark.
For a moment, Daphne thought her eyelids hadn't opened. After blinking several times in succession, she was sure that the place she was in was really lacking in light.
And it was also very narrow.
She was forced to assume the burial posture of pressing her right shoulder with her left hand and pressing her left shoulder with her right hand. The necklace in her left palm was hard, cold and uncomfortable.
What the heck did MOD Dad bring her here? Could this really be in a coffin?
Directly lock her up and suffocate her to death in one step. Even saving the process of burial and the money for buying a coffin. Truly considerate.
Daphne was definitely not willing to wait for death. So she started trying to kick and bump.
"Eek!——!"
After several thuds, the half-vampire girl let out a shrill wail.
By the time the coffin lid was automatically triggered and opened because it seemed to have hit some mechanism, the half-vampire girl lying inside had already rolled her eyes back and lost consciousness temporarily.
It took almost half a minute for Daphne to come to her senses again. She laboriously sat up from the stone coffin. A gust of icy wind made her shiver all over. "Hiss, so cold!"
It seemed to be in a stone tomb mausoleum. Only the walls and the ground were covered with frost and ice crystals. Reaching out and touching the edge of the coffin, her finger was covered with glittering snow foam.
The surface of the opened coffin lid was a relief. A crowned skeleton held a long sword in its embrace. Winding branches and drooping crystal orchids surrounded this relief in the center.
There were a total of six stone coffins arranged in this small secret room. Three on this side and three on the other side. In the middle was a wide aisle. The surface of each coffin lid was the same skeleton relief.
Daphne recognized this place.
There was no mistake.
This was indeed the interior of a mausoleum.
Sleeping here was a great and fearsome king, but he was not the king of the living.
In the frozen soil belonging to the night and winter, he was the true master of the land of the dead, Klorgitia. The supreme being to whom the great lich Brumfield pledged allegiance for life. All liches and necromancers were willing to regard him as the god of the dead.
Even though it was the great lich Brumfield who temporarily ruled Klorgitia as regent, no one would question the absolute power and prestige of the king in the tomb. When he rose again from the frosty frozen soil, the great lich would surely return the crown of gold and diamonds as it was.
Arthuga is immortal. His soul is with this land forever.
The king of the dead will be resurrected countless times from the ice tomb. Be crowned countless times by numerous undead in Klorgitia. Cross the snow-covered mountains countless times.
At dusk, night and winter will spread throughout the world under his sword.