Chapter 36: Love, Death, and the Widow
At the Tingen City cemetery, the setting sun stretched the shadows of the tombstones long and thin.
Old Neil stood with a hunched back before a cold stone tablet, which bore a name he had uttered for half his life—Salist.
"I failed again, Salist." His voice was hoarse, filled with endless exhaustion and despair. "I... failed once again."
The wind blew past, swirling a few withered leaves around his feet.
"They all say the dead cannot return to life. But I don't believe it. There must be a way, there must be... I'm just too foolish, I can't find it..."
"Give me a little more time, Salist, just a little more time..."
He muttered to himself, as if pouring his heart out to the deceased, and as if trying to convince himself.
This obsession of half a lifetime had long since become the sole pillar supporting his will to live.
If even this pillar were to collapse, he didn't know what would be left of him.
Just then, a soft voice, sounding as if carried by the wind from a distant memory, rang out behind him.
"Neil."
Old Neil's body stiffened abruptly, as if struck by lightning.
This voice... this form of address... how many years had it been since anyone had called him that? Even the Captain and the others would only politely refer to him as 'Old Neil' or 'Mr. Neil.'
Slowly, using every ounce of his strength, his neck making an overburdened 'creak' sound, he turned around bit by bit.
Then, he saw a figure.
It was a woman shrouded in the hazy twilight. Her specific features were unclear, but that silhouette, that posture, the way she stood swaying slightly in the wind, was like a long-buried key that instantly unlocked the door to the deepest recesses of his memory.
"Sa... list?"
Old Neil's lips trembled, his cloudy eyes filled with unbelievable ecstasy, followed by an even deeper Dread.
Was it a hallucination? Was it an illusion born of his excessive grief and obsession? Or was it some evil spirit, some bizarre entity, using his deepest desire to lure him?
"Neil."
The figure spoke again, her voice carrying a hint of a sigh, a hint of affection, and a hint of... unshakeable heartache.
"Salist" controlled her vocal cords perfectly.
With the enhancement of the Magician's abilities, she didn't even need to deliberately imitate the voice of the "Salist" in his memory.
She only needed to construct a Lie that it was perfectly reasonable for "Salist" to appear at this moment, and the world would automatically fill in all the details for him.
She also utilized a sliver of power from the "Lovers" Character Card, but this power wasn't for seduction; it was for "empathy," to allow her voice to more easily penetrate the other party's rational barriers and reach the soul directly.
"Look at yourself now."
"Is this really the Neil I once loved so deeply, the one who was full of curiosity about the world, with eyes that sparkled?"
These words stabbed ruthlessly into Old Neil's heart.
The ecstasy on his face froze instantly.
He subconsciously looked down at himself.
A faded, old jacket stained with indelible marks from years of contact with various materials; knuckles thickened by poverty and hard labor; and a lingering, strange smell of cheap tobacco mixed with occult potions.
Was this... the Neil she loved?
No, it wasn't.
The Neil she loved, though not wealthy, always kept himself neat and tidy, his shirt collar forever white.
He would save money to buy books, not these choking tobaccos.
His eyes always sparkled with the quest for knowledge and the future, rather than being left with nothing but obsession with the past and a cloudy aura of death like they were now.
"No... it's not... I..." He opened his mouth, wanting to argue, but couldn't say a single word.
"You commemorate me by punishing yourself."
The voice continued, without a hint of reproach, yet it brought him more pain than any harsh accusation.
"You use poverty, loneliness, and one dangerous attempt after another to tell yourself that you haven't forgotten me. You think this is love, don't you?"
"No... Neil, this isn't love."
The figure slowly approached him, each step feeling like it was treading on his heartbeat.
"This is an endless Judgement you have imposed upon yourself."
Boom!
Old Neil's mind went blank.
Judgement... Judgement!
These words were like a clap of thunder exploding in his chaotic mind, shattering the solid shell he had built with obsession and regret, which he had glossed over with "love."
Yes, he had been judging himself all along.
Judging the incompetent self who had failed to protect his wife.
Were all his efforts, all his persistence, truly to resurrect "Salist"?
Or... was it just to alleviate the sense of guilt in his heart that was enough to completely crush him? He just wanted to make himself feel a bit better, wanting to use that heart-wrenching pain after every failure to tell himself: Look, I'm still trying, I haven't given up, I haven't forgotten her.
Was this really love?
No, this was selfishness.
Extreme selfishness.
"I... I just wanted to see you one more time..."
All his defenses completely collapsed at this moment, and the dignity and strength he had maintained for a lifetime vanished. Cloudy tears gushed out uncontrollably; this old man, known for his stubbornness and erudition in the Nighthawks squad, was now crying like a lost child.
"I wanted to see you too, Neil."
"Salist's" voice became incomparably gentle.
She slowly approached and came to a stop in front of Old Neil. The twilight grew deeper, but Old Neil felt as if he could see her face clearly. That face was both blurry and distinct, the image most deeply etched in his memory, the countenance he had wanted to touch but was always separated from by a layer of mist in his countless midnight dreams.
"But," her voice carried a heartbreaking sadness, "I do not want to see a version of you who has personally buried his own life just to chase my shadow."
"My death was a tragedy. But you should not let this tragedy continue through your entire life."
Old Neil's crying stopped abruptly.
He looked at her blankly, as if he didn't understand the meaning of those words.
"Neil."
"Salist's" voice became ethereal and distant, carrying a hint of compassion that did not belong to the mortal world. "My love, I have not returned. I have merely... borrowed a little time to deliver a message."
With one sentence, she firmly suppressed Old Neil's emotions that were about to erupt again, forcing him to calm down from his grief and turning it into deep confusion and awe.
Borrowed time? Delivering a message?
What did this mean?
"A message?" he asked subconsciously.
"Yes." "Salist's" gaze seemed to penetrate his flesh, seeing every secret in the depths of his soul, including that bizarre eye that was quietly opening behind his back.
"The path you are walking... it is not a stairway leading to our reunion, but a chain leading to the Abyss."
Old Neil's heart jolted violently.
"They promised you 'resurrection,' but that is only a false phantom, an empty shell fashioned with filthy knowledge. It will drag your soul into eternal perdition and will also cause this remaining shadow of mine to completely dissipate."
"Salist's" voice carried a hint of heartache, each word like an invisible heavy hammer smashing ruthlessly against Old Neil's heart.
What he was pursuing would actually destroy his last shred of hope?
How could this be!
"No... it won't..." he muttered to himself, his face turning pale as paper in an instant. Those members of secret organizations who sold him knowledge had clearly spoken with such certainty.
"Look into my eyes, Neil."
"Salist's" voice suddenly became solemn and majestic.
Old Neil subconsciously raised his head and met those eyes that were gentle yet filled with divinity.
At this moment, "Salist" exerted the Magician's ability to weave Lies to the extreme.
She integrated her understanding of this world, her cognition of the gods, and her insights into the "Acting Method" into this most crucial Lie that was about to be uttered.
This Lie had to be "real" enough; it had to provide a brand-new "explanation" sufficient to replace Old Neil's original obsession.
"The reason I can meet you at this moment is due to the grace of a benevolent existence."
"He walks behind the curtain, presiding over change and possibility. He saw your devotion and also saw the trap you were about to step into."
A... benevolent existence?
Old Neil was completely stunned. He had never heard of such a hidden existence.
As a Nighthawk, he knew better than anyone that most gods in this world were indifferent, or even full of malice. A "benevolent existence" who would actively intervene with mortals to prevent their fall was something he had never heard of.
"He could not bear to see a loyal soul fall into evil ways. Therefore, He granted me a moment of 'reality,' allowing me to guide you onto the true path of 'atonement' and 'reunion.'"
"Salist's" voice, carrying a sacred and unquestionable power, echoed in the silent cemetery.
Old Neil stood there dazed, his brain having completely stopped thinking.
The Evernight Goddess he believed in had not responded to him, and the knowledge he prayed for had led him toward the Abyss; instead, an unknown existence had sent back his long-missed deceased wife to save him.
The irony and impact of this left Old Neil with mixed emotions for a moment, leaving only endless shame and daze in the end.
"The true... path of atonement and reunion?" he asked in a trembling voice.
"Yes," "Salist" said softly. "You used poverty, loneliness, and one dangerous attempt after another to tell yourself that you hadn't forgotten me. You thought this was love, didn't you?" She repeated her previous words, but now, there was an added layer of divine compassion in them.
"No... Neil, this isn't love. This is a never-ending Judgement of yourself. To have my lover bury his own life just to chase my shadow is definitely not what I wanted to see."
"My death was a tragedy. But you shouldn't let this tragedy consume your entire life."
"Neil."
"Hmm?" Old Neil's eyes were completely captivated by "Salist."
"Do you still remember the book I was reading when we first met?" "Salist" asked with a smile.
"Of course I remember," Old Neil replied without hesitation. "It was 'Path of the Storm,' a novel about the adventures of ancient Seafarers."
"Then... do you remember what the very last sentence of the book was?"
Old Neil was stunned for a moment.
He tried hard to recall, but the contents of that book were from so long ago that he could no longer remember clearly.
"I... I forgot," he said somewhat sheepishly.
"The last sentence of the book was—"
"Salist" looked into his eyes and said word by word:
"'When the ship reaches its destination, the Sailor should disembark.'"
Old Neil's pupils suddenly constricted.
He felt as if those words were a key, opening a certain box deep within his memory.
An inexplicable, ominous premonition surged in his heart.
"Salist, what... what do you mean?"
"I mean," the smile on her face gradually faded, replaced by a nearly cruel calm, "my voyage has reached its end."
"Neil, it's time for me to disembark."
"No... No! I won't allow it!"
Old Neil was like a cat whose tail had been stepped on, his fur bristling instantly.
He stood up abruptly, his hands gripping "Salist's" shoulders tightly, shouting emotionally:
"You just came back! We just met! I won't let you go! I won't let you leave me again!"
Bloodshot streaks reappeared in his eyes.
Those eerie eyes hidden behind him also became clearer, emitting an ominous, frenzied light.
His obsession with resurrecting his deceased wife, stimulated by the fear of imminent loss, was pushed to the extreme.
The spirituality within his body began to run wild out of control.
The surrounding air seemed to become viscous.
"Salist's" brow furrowed slightly.
The situation was worse than she had anticipated.
The degree of Old Neil's contamination was deeper than she had imagined.
Mere words would likely no longer be enough to pull him back from the brink of losing control.
She looked up, meeting Old Neil's eyes, which were filled with madness and paranoia.
Her gaze remained as calm as water.
"Neil, look at me."
Her voice wasn't loud, yet it carried an irresistible authority.
At the same time, she fully unleashed her various abilities, including the Lovers Character Card, the thousand faces Character Card, and the Chaos Theater itself.
At this moment, the eyes behind Old Neil became increasingly hideous, almost struggling to break free from his body.
A frenzied, chaotic power, filled with the desire for destruction, crashed wildly within him.
He was losing control.
Or rather, he was about to lose control completely.
At this critical moment, "Salist" extended a finger and lightly touched the center of Old Neil's brow.
A gentle and pure power, originating from the Chaos Theater, surged into Old Neil's body.
Countless distorted symbols and lines composed of light flowed within her, constructing a mysterious structure so complex it was incomprehensible.
Behind her, an entire theater seemed to unfold, with countless figures performing joys and sorrows within it, and she was the director of it all.
An ancient, chaotic aura that transcended the Sequence Status of deities descended with a boom.
Old Neil felt as if his brain had been struck hard by a giant hammer; his thoughts instantly stalled, his reason wailed in madness, and every cell in his body screamed to flee.
That was no god; it was something more ancient and more indescribable than any deity he knew.
That was... Chaos itself.
Just as he was about to collapse completely and be torn to pieces by this aura, that terrifying Dread receded like a tide.
The frenzied, chaotic contamination, as if meeting its bane, was instantly purified by this power and vanished without a trace.
The eyes behind Old Neil also let out an unwilling roar and slowly faded away.
His body went limp, and he collapsed into the chair, gasping for breath.
His eyes gradually regained clarity.
"Look at Klein, that young man. He has the shadow of your younger self, doesn't he? Full of passion, yet a bit reckless. He needs a guide."
"The knowledge you possess, the lessons you've learned from suffering, are priceless treasures to them."
"Salist's" voice carried an unspeakable power, every word dismantling Old Neil's final stubbornness.
"I... what should I do?"
He finally asked, distraught, like a lost Sailor who had sailed in the mist for decades and finally saw a lighthouse.
"Let the love for me continue."
"Salist" gave the answer.
"Go and teach those young people, go and protect those who might repeat our mistakes. Let the name 'Salist' no longer just represent a tragedy, but become the origin of protection and wisdom."
"This is the best way to remember me. This is the true way to let me 'come alive'."
"Come alive... let her, come alive..." Old Neil stood there blankly, chewing over these words repeatedly.
The "resurrection" he had always pursued was for her to have a body of flesh and blood again and return to his side.
But at this moment, he suddenly understood.
That kind of "resurrection" was merely a selfish act to satisfy his personal desire for possession.
And the "coming alive" she spoke of was to let her spirit and her love continue in this world through him, creating a more beautiful impact.
One was a small love, the other a grand love.
One was taking, the other was giving.
One led to the Abyss, the other... to redemption.
The cloudiness and deathly aura in his eyes were fading bit by bit, replaced by a faint but incomparably firm light.
He finally understood where he had gone wrong.
He was wrong to turn his love for her into a Judgement of self-punishment.
He was wrong to give up all the present and future he could grasp for the sake of an illusory past.
"Neil, you wouldn't want to make my heart ache... would you?"
This sentence was the last straw that broke the camel's back.
Old Neil's whole body shook violently. He looked up at the half-real, half-illusory figure before him, seeing the deep sorrow and heartache in her eyes.
He had always thought that everything he did was for her.
But he had never thought that everything he was doing was exactly what she least wanted to see.
For an ethereal "resurrection," he was personally destroying the "treasure" she once cherished most—that vivid, life-loving Neil.
He could no longer hold back, and old tears streamed down his face.
"I'm sorry... Salist... I'm sorry..."
He choked out, like a child who had made a mistake, finally receiving a long-overdue forgiveness.
"Salist" smiled and slowly reached out her hand, wanting to touch his cheek, but her figure began to turn transparent at that moment.
"Time's... up," she said softly, her voice carrying a hint of reluctance. "Remember my words, Neil. Live well, for me... and for yourself."
"No..." Old Neil instinctively tried to grab her, but only caught the cold air.
"Salist's" figure, like smoke scattered by the wind, slowly receded, finally merging into the deepening night.
"Come alive... let her, come alive..."
Old Neil stood blankly where he was, letting the evening breeze dry the tear stains on his face.
The "resurrection" he had always pursued actually had another form. One that was not about reversing life and death, but about letting love and memory be passed on in new life.
Is this... the path guided by that Merciful Existence?
He didn't go after the disappearing figure.
Because he knew it no longer mattered.
What mattered was that he had found it.
Found that path to the future that he had forgotten for too long.
He turned around, no longer looking at that cold tombstone, but walked back toward Tingen, one step at a time, with determination.
His back seemed to straighten a bit at that moment.