An unparalleled force squeezed through Al's entire body, and he stood up, his whole body shaking.
The wind howled fiercely, and constant collapsing snow could be seen on the mountain.
Al's eyes widened, staring intently at the blizzard outside the cave, like a starved wolf, desperate to snatch back hope for survival from the cold.
The brink of death had brought about Al's desperation, yet the sage's last cries before dying had shaken the last chord in his spirit.
"I want an answer, I want an answer,"
Al murmured, his lips cracked and dry from the cold.
The sage had gained the truth he sought before dying, and now, Al too sought an answer.
Al sought his own answer.
He believed that death was not an illusion; the sage had died right before his eyes, and that was no illusion.
But he also firmly believed that at the very heart of death, something was still alive, something was not forgotten, something wanted to come back to life.
Al stared relentlessly at the blizzard, his eyes bloodshot, standing motionless on the spot.
After who knows how long...
The blizzard temporarily ceased, and the winds surrounding him were no longer as wildly restless.
Everything slowly took on a calm demeanor.
Taking a deep breath, Al walked out of the cave.
The land was blanketed in white, and Al couldn't see the contours of the mountain's peak, but he could see a distant glimmer of light.
Al gritted his teeth, limping through the snow with every step causing tearing pain in his right leg, which he suppressed in his throat, not making a sound.
The cave's silhouette gradually receded, Al pushing his body to its limits, fiercely heading towards the mountain's peak.
Several times he almost slipped and fell, but each time he pulled himself back up; time slipped by slowly, and unbeknownst to him, he had walked an entire morning, with the profile of the mountain's peak becoming clearer and clearer.
Al dragged his body along with great difficulty, one step, another step, and yet another, the excruciating pain only making him more resolute in his stubborn resistance.
Huff!
Huff!
Al's complexion suddenly changed.
A gust of cold wind howled from the depths of the valley.
The blizzard, it was back!
In an instant, the sky descended into chaos, and the wind and snow violently swept across the entire mountain. Al fought against it, suppressing the panic at the bottom of his heart.
Dark clouds stretched across the sky, the recent calmness seeming like a well-crafted trap set by death outside the cave.
Just waiting for the prey to enter, to exhaust all life.
Al clenched his teeth.
Death was tracking his footsteps, seeking to destroy him, waiting for the right moment to deliver a fatal blow!
Al dragged his maimed right leg, pressing forward for dear life. He did not care whether he was experiencing a last flicker of vitality, whether he was in a dying struggle.
He didn't care,
because he had to have an answer! All people of Logos needed an answer!
Al hunched over, not letting the successive gusts of wind blow him away, enduring the pain in his right leg until gradually it was numbed by the freezing cold.
The snow under his feet grew thicker, the swirling hailstones more numerous; half of Al's body was buried in the snow, the blizzard trying its utmost to keep him there, to surrender him to death.
Al pushed on desperately, falling down and using his hands to prop himself up, driven to rise again. His skin cut open by hailstones, he let the blood flow until it froze and dried.
He couldn't stay here.
Death was like a meticulously calculating Hunter, sharpening its scythe, waiting for this person to be felled by the wind and frost, ready to strike with a fatal blow at the most impeccable moment.
But this person had not yet been felled,
This person was still resisting death!
He had to overcome death, to seek an answer for an entire civilization!
Al strained forward, the path becoming steeper as he went, so much so that there was no road leading to the mountain's summit, only a sheer cliff face in front.
His hands trembled yet were steady as he placed them upon the cliff, biting his lips until they bled, using pain to stimulate his will.
His face was covered in frostbitten scars and dust.
Al climbed the rocks, his thin arms supporting the weight of his body as he ascended, little by little.
Gales whipped up sand and stone, hammering against his frail frame, everything in this world frenzied and restless, as if preventing the people of Logos from obtaining the answer.
Al's face twisted in pain, but the spirit beneath his flesh remained unshakable.
He knew that the wise had died.
Yet, the serenity of the wise, their urgent cries before death... Scenes resonated in Al's mind.
Al didn't know what he was thinking; he just felt that within the death of the body, something was coming back to life.
That feeling became stronger and dominant over his entire being.
The storm raged on, the sky overcast with dark clouds, dimness as far as the eye could see.
Al climbed the cliff, dragging his body upward bit by bit.
He looked at the dark clouds, within which something seemed to flicker in and out of sight. Al's eyes widened as weak light spilled out from the cracks in the clouds, with a dark current swirling behind them.
Al's body was so small, upon the cliff face, as if the wild wind could blow him off at any moment, leaving him dead and dismembered, yet he continued to climb upward.
Finally, he mounted the cliff; the mountain's summit lay ahead.
Al's body was taut, fearing that any slackening would bring death, so he had to remain tense.
Dragging his right leg, the blizzard did not cease because he had climbed the cliff; on the contrary, it assaulted him with gales tenfold, a hundredfold stronger.
His face covered in wounds and dust, Al's will remained indomitable, but as he lifted his left leg, he suddenly felt a lack of strength.
His body was tired.
Eyes bloodshot, Al bit his lip until it bled, struggling to make every inch of muscle work.
But it was still futile; his body continued to waver.
Staring at the mountaintop, Al realized death was like a shadow, ready at any moment to decide and harvest life.
Death was coming.
The summit so close, frustration welled up in Al's heart, filling every inch of his skin.
He dragged his body until he fell to the ground.
Al pressed his hands against the ground, tensed his muscles, and forced half his body to rise.
He was no longer afraid of death.
For he knew...
Within death, something was coming back to life,
Something was coming back to life…
That was the very meaning of death.
He wanted a confirmed answer, he wanted a thunderbolt from heaven to completely tear through the storm's calm... He wanted a light, a light that was not just a dark current but one that truly broke through the clouds!
Facing the mountaintop, he issued a thunderous question against the wind:
"Why must we die?!"
Surely, something in this mortal world had to answer this question, he needed an answer.
They could not accept a lack of answers; the entire civilization of Logos needed one!
He demanded an answer to death; they could no longer wait.
At that moment, the firmament shone brilliantly, the clouds suddenly rent apart,
"Because the body has died, the death of the body is possible, yet reason cannot die..."
God appeared,
"For the deceitful body has died,"
"So that the true spirit may henceforth come to life!"