Silver City, the mortuary hall.
Derrick stood before the steps, his eyes red as he looked ahead at his parents lying separately in two coffins.
On the stone slab before him was inserted a simple silver straight sword, swaying slightly in the thunder that occasionally shook the house.
The
"Derrick, do it!" An old man in a black robe, leaning on a hard cane, looked at the boy whose face was almost twisted and said solemnly.
"No, no, no!" Derrick with brown-yellow hair shook his head repeatedly, stepping back with each word, and finally let out a scream that seemed to tear his heart and split his lungs.
Thump!
The old man struck his cane and said: "Do you want the whole city to be buried alive with your parents?"
"You should know very well that we are the dark people abandoned by the gods, living only in this cursed place, where all dead will become terrifying evil spirits, and no matter what method is used, it is hard to reverse, except, except for those of the same blood to end their lives with their own hands!"
"Why? Why?" Derrick asked in bewilderment and despair, shaking his head, "Why are we, the people of Silver City, destined to kill our fathers and mothers as soon as we are born…"
The old man closed his eyes, as if recalling past experiences: "…This is our fate, this is the curse we bear, this is the will of the gods…"
"Pull out your sword, Derrick. This is respect for your parents."
"Afterwards, when you calm down, you can try to become a Divine Blood Warrior."
Berg in the coffin wanted to speak, but after his chest rose and fell a few times, he could only make a sound like, "He he he."
Derrick stepped forward with difficulty, returned to the side of the silver straight sword, and stretched out his right hand trembling.
The cold touch entered his brain, making him suddenly think of the blood ice his father brought back from hunting, a piece just the size of a palm could cool the room for days.
Before his eyes flashed the stern father teaching swordsmanship, the kind father patting dust off his back, the gentle mother mending clothes, the scene of the family gathered together, sharing food by flickering candlelight…
Woo… a sound suppressed to the extreme, low to the extreme, came from his throat, and he suddenly exerted force with his right hand, pulling out the straight sword.
Stomp stomp stomp!
He lowered his head, rushed forward, raised the straight sword high, and stabbed down heavily.
Ah! In a painful scream, blood splattered, splattering onto Derrick's face, into his eyes.
His vision was completely red, he pulled out the straight sword and stabbed it into the other coffin.
The sharp metal pierced flesh, Derrick let go, stood up unsteadily.
He didn't look at the situation inside the two coffins, stumbling out of the mortuary hall as if chased by evil spirits, his hands clenched tightly, his teeth gritted hard, the bloody red on his face washed into faint traces.
"Ah…" the old man watching all this sighed.
On the streets of Silver City stood stone pillars, on which hung lanterns, and inside the lanterns were unlit candles.
The sky here had no sun, no moon, no stars, only unchanging darkness and lightning that tore everything apart.
Relying on the light of the lightning, the people of Silver City moved about on the dim roads, and the few hours each day when the lightning calmed were considered by them as the true night of legend, when candles were needed to light the city, dispel the darkness, and ward off monsters.
Derrick walked through the streets with a blank stare, not even thinking about where he was going, but as he walked, he found himself back at his doorstep.
He took out the key, unlocked the padlock, pushed open the door, and saw everything familiar, but didn't hear his mother's caring voice or encounter his father's scolding for running around; the house was empty and cold.
Derrick gritted his teeth again, quickly returned to his room, and once again found the crystal ball that his father said was used by a long-destroyed city-state to worship the gods.
He knelt down, facing the crystal ball, and prayed without much hope, prayed in pain: "Great spirits, please turn your gaze back to this place abandoned by you."
"Great spirits, please let us dark people be free from the curse of fate."
"I am willing to dedicate my life to you, to please you with my blood."
…
Again and again, just as he was completely despairing and about to stand, he saw a burst of deep red light from within the pure crystal ball.
This light was like flowing water, instantly drowning Derrick.
When he initially regained consciousness, he found himself standing in a majestic palace supported by huge stone pillars, in front of an ancient and mottled bronze long table, and on the other side of the table sat a figure shrouded in thick gray mist.
Besides that, the surroundings were empty, ethereal, and hollow, and at the bottom spread boundless gray-white mist and unreal deep red light spots.