Death is dead - yes, Duncan certainly knew, not just Death, but also the Goddess of Storms, the Everburning Flame, the God of Wisdom, and even every ancient god and evil god who had left their names or no names in history, every ancient king, they were all dead.

As early as the day of the Great Annihilation, when thousands of worlds suddenly turned into this burning and chaotic ashes, all the gods died. What remained were only their rotting corpses, just the "inertia" of the old world.

But when the tall gatekeeper in front of him said the words "Death is dead", Duncan realized that the other party was referring to something else - not the "Gods are dead" as he knew, but to something that had just happened.

Not only Duncan, Agatha beside him also quickly thought of this. The expression on her face quickly changed from confusion to astonishment: "What happened?"

The tall gatekeeper turned around silently and took another step towards the distant wasteland. After a few seconds, his voice came slowly: "To buy time."

※※※

The world was cooling, but it was not just the fire that was cooling—something inherent, something from the earthly foundation, was dissipating, like the last warm breath leaving the throat of a dying person irrevocably.

Now, the undead have begun to walk around the streets, the cold fire can no longer dispel the chill in the world, the sea has long been stagnant, and the memory of the past is disappearing from everyone's mind, or distorted into grotesque, broken but imperceptible fragments.

From remote Phaeren to prosperous Plander, from Frost to Breeze Harbor, from Moko to the broken and continuous archipelagos in the eastern sea, in every known place, "cooling" and "weirdness" are spreading like an unstoppable frost, and gradually covering every light of civilization.

Tirian came to the highest lighthouse in the southeast of Frost, and looked out at the dark sea outside the city-state from the observation tower. He saw the large fleet pulling the sunlight slowly approaching the shore. Cargo ships loaded with oil, cloth and food were docked at the dock, and heavy loading machinery was running back and forth in the darkness, unloading supplies from the cabins.

The dead are busy at the dock. The undead sailors of the Sea Mist Fleet are now surrounded by many of their own kind. The corpses that died without knowing it are operating tireless machines, following the orders issued by the City Hall, and maintaining the functions of the city as usual.

On the other side, towards the urban area, you can see towering chimneys and the factory platforms with the brightest lights - the power plant is operating as usual, the steam hub emits a low roar, and huge pipes extend from the factory, branching out like blood vessels and spreading into the entire city, providing power and security for the people living in this city.

In those factories, the huge steam core has actually cooled down. Even if more boiling gold catalysts are inserted, the flame in the container cannot be heated up again - but the cold reactor still makes a hissing sound, the steam continues to flow, and the power in the pipeline is surging.

The "breathing" and "blood" needed for the city's operation are still flowing through the pipeline network without stopping for a moment.

Even so, the gas lamps in the city are still bright, the factories are still brightly lit, the machines are running non-stop, the guards are still patrolling every street and alley diligently, guarding against all extraordinary phenomena that do not conform to the "natural rules", and the sheriffs are maintaining order in the city in the night, helping those citizens who are in distress, and handling those public security cases that are gradually increasing due to pressure.

Yes, order was still functioning, the lights of civilization had not been extinguished, but Tirian could still smell the smell that was constantly permeating the air... the cold, slightly rancid smell, as if it came from the depths of this city, from the bottom of the endless sea, from every breeze, every inch of sky, and even every grain of dust.

Something is gradually collapsing, and the decline of this world is crossing a "critical point". Many impressions of the past are still lingering in his mind, and he can sense that the whole world is now wrong, and is becoming more and more wrong.

My father mentioned that the world will try to "correct" the mistakes that have already occurred during its operation, but there is a limit to this correction, and now... it is probably approaching this limit rapidly.

There was a sudden ripple in his heart. Tirian felt a familiar breath approaching and immediately withdrew his gaze from afar.

"Father," he turned around and looked at the burly figure wrapped in bandages and wearing a dark coat, "Why are you here?"

"The cemetery no longer needs guards, and my avatar now has a lot of free time," Duncan said, strolling over to Tirian. His eyes looked across the night sky in the direction Tirian had just looked. "Any ideas?"

"The time is near, isn't it?" Tirian looked at the night with complicated eyes. "The 'time' you reminded me of... I originally thought that we would have to wait for a while at least."

My father was silent for a few seconds, then suddenly spoke: "...Death is dead."

Tirian was stunned for a moment, and seemed not to have realized the meaning of this sentence.

"The world is collapsing faster than we thought, and its self-correction cannot guarantee that all residents of the shelter are in a 'survival state', or in other words, 'living people'... are a high-load unit, because the conditions required to maintain 'life' are complex and sophisticated, and the current shelters are already difficult to fully provide such living conditions."

Duncan spoke in a low voice, looking into the distance, but his eyes seemed to be focused on another even more distant place, staring at somewhere at the end of the world.

"This is the truth behind the 'resurrection of the dead' and the lack of new births in the city-states a while ago - Bartok ended the death mechanism of this world prematurely.

"His original decay process had not actually reached this stage.

“Now, the shelter doesn’t need to support additional living people to operate.

"At the same time, the suspension of the death mechanism also ensures that most people in this world can "survive" as much as possible during the gradual collapse of the shelter, even if it is in a twisted and grotesque posture, in the form of undead, even if it is only temporarily.

“This is the time Bartók bought for the world.”

Tirian listened in amazement. He seemed about to say something, but in his confusion and astonishment he could not think of how to begin.

My father's deep and hoarse voice came again -

"But this is probably the last time the Four Gods can buy time for this sanctuary."

Tirian finally spoke subconsciously: "Why?"

"Because the suspension of the death mechanism itself is also a heavy blow to the shelter. After it, the countdown will officially come to an end, and all order will enter a stage of accelerated distortion, and the world's 'correction mechanism' will no longer work - and therefore, more and more people will begin to perceive the distortions and aberrations that were originally hidden from cognition."

Duncan turned his head and looked at Tirian with deep eyes.

Tirian stood there in a daze. The huge amount of information washed over the mind of this "Iron Vice Admiral". His heart was filled with turbulent waves, and some "details" that had been forgotten or ignored by his subconscious mind surged up like shadows suddenly appearing in a nightmare!

He thought hard, trying to comprehend the shocking information his father had suddenly told him, as well as the current state of the world. After an unknown amount of time, he finally felt the tearing dizziness in his head gradually fade away, and rationality reappeared in his heart.

"So..." He opened his mouth and hesitated, "Ordinary people will soon..."

“You are influenced by me and can detect many things in advance. As time goes by, as the world becomes more distorted and deformed and the correction mechanism of the shelter completely fails, more and more people will be able to detect the abnormalities of this world like you—not all of them, it depends on the strength of the mind, the level of inspiration, and some... ‘luck’.

“For those who cannot wake up, they will continue to maintain their daily lives in darkness and distortion. Even if that life will gradually become bizarre and terrifying, they will not feel that the world has changed.

“But for those who are awakened… things are going to get bad.

"You must be ready, Tirian—and the other cities must be ready, too.

"The last and greatest chaos in the old world is about to come."

※※※

Duncan and Agatha had been trekking on this "trail" for a long time, and they didn't know when the strange black and white weeds around them gradually disappeared, replaced by endless pale or black gravel, and sparse and withered plants occasionally seen in the gravel beach.

The dusk-like glow that had permeated the entire wilderness gradually faded, and the quiet night once again dominated the wilderness.

Agatha whispered to Duncan that this was the next stage of the "Path of No Return", a state deep in the wilderness of death - after passing the dusk representing the "afterglow of life", the quiet night would welcome the arrival of the dead, and the endless wasteland covered with rubble would wipe out the last trace of the dead's attachment to the world. As long as they successfully walked through here, they would reach the place where the "gate" was.

But now all these symbols and procedures related to the "mechanics of death" have no meaning.

Duncan looked up into the distance. In the deepest part of the night, there seemed to be something huge standing in the center of the wilderness.

And in the corner of his eye, he finally saw other figures.

They were the "gatekeepers" dressed in black robes, shrouded in a dim light as if still illuminated by the dusk glow.

One gatekeeper after another walked silently in this endless wasteland, heading in a common direction, moving forward in silence, heading to the funeral.