Chapter 78: The City of Redemption (Thirteen) Birth
Gashir...
Wen Yin looked at the little boy with clear eyes in front of her, and instantly realized that it was that faint white light that brought her into Gasiel's deepest memories.
The confusion and shock on the black-robed Gasiel's face were particularly genuine, as if he had lost all disguise due to the impact of this sudden scene.
Wen Yin hesitated for only half a second before grabbing his cold wrist.
Gasiel's body trembled, but he did not struggle.
He let Wen Yin pull him, and under the little boy's enthusiastic gaze, he followed him towards the wooden house where smoke was rising from.
The little boy's home was simple but warm, and the wooden house was filled with the aroma of baked bread and herbs.
His parents are typical simple villagers. Their faces show the traces of years of hard work, but their eyes are warm and friendly.
They warmly invited them to sit down and brought them cool and sweet mint tea.
Tea has a natural freshness that makes people feel relaxed and happy.
The young man beside him just held the rough ceramic cup stiffly, his fingertips turning white from the force.
Seeing this, the simple woman asked softly with some hesitation.
"Sir... is the tea not to your taste?"
Her eyes fell on Gasiel's face, which was too perfect and out of place in this village, with a hint of awe and curiosity. Then she looked at her lively son, her tone full of love and expectation.
"Speaking of which, you are so handsome, you seem unnatural... If our little Gashield grows up to be even half as handsome as you, we'll be very happy."
There was an extremely slight crisp sound of "click".
The ceramic cup in Gasiel's hand was cracked by his unconsciously tightened fingers.
The tea seeped out and dripped onto his black robe, leaving dark stains.
He suddenly raised his head, and extremely complicated emotions surged in his pure black pupils.
There is pain, ridicule, and even a violent emotion that is about to be uncontrolled.
[I never thought that deep down in his heart...he still had such a pure and warm memory.]
028 A child's voice rang out, "I don't know what happened later, to turn a child who grew up in love into what he is now... a being torn between light and darkness."
Wen Yin did not answer, but reached out and gently stroked the soft golden hair of little Gasiel who was chattering about interesting things in the village.
The little boy felt the touch, raised his face, and gave her a smile as bright as the sun.
At the same time, Wen Yin only felt that the scenery in front of her eyes swayed gently like water waves.
Time seems to have lost its linearity here.
When I looked again, the Gashir in front of me seemed to have grown up a little, about ten years old, and the scene changed to a clear stream.
The summer sun was scorching. The young boy Gasiel rolled up his trouser legs and stood barefoot in the cool stream, staring intently at the fish swimming underwater.
His face was covered with water droplets, sparkling in the sunlight, brimming with free, wild, and happy energy.
The picture changes again.
This time, it seemed to be the evening of the Harvest Festival.
A bonfire was lit on the open ground, and countless simple villagers sat around it, sharing food and wine.
The young boy Gasiel was sitting next to a white-haired old musician, concentrating on learning to play an ancient lute.
His fingers plucked the strings clumsily but earnestly, producing a few discordant notes, which drew good-natured laughter from those around him.
The black-robed Gasiel stood silently beside Wen Yin, witnessing these moments that he had long lost.
His body became increasingly stiff, and the dark aura around him seemed to become somewhat unstable under the impact of these warm images.
The final scene takes place when Gasiel is about seventeen or eighteen years old.
He stood in front of the wooden house, tightly clutching a letter with a striking seal in his hand, his face filled with incredible joy and excitement.
His parents were hugging him tightly.
"Great! Child! The scholars of the temple have noticed your talent!"
My father's voice was choked with emotion. "I'm going to make an exception and recommend you to be an apprentice at the Great Library in the Holy City! This is a huge honor!"
Go to the Holy City! Enter the Temple of Knowledge!
For a young man from a remote village, this is undoubtedly the dawn of hope for changing his destiny.
Young Gasiel hugged his parents tightly with infinite longing and hope for the future.
The picture freezes on this scene full of hope and family affection.
Immediately, Wen Yin's vision suddenly went dark.
The warmth and sunshine, the greenery and the laughter receded as quickly as the tide.
The cold touch, the dark breath, and the unquestionable restraining force around the waist returned again.
She returned to the black and white, silent temple, still held tightly in the arms of the black-robed Gasiel, sitting on the cold black throne.
It seemed as if the long and warm journey of memories just now was just a momentary illusion.
But the fingertips seemed to still retain the warmth of sunlight, and the force around her waist was so tight that it almost broke her.
Wen Yin slowly raised her head and met Gasiel's pure black pupils.
What was surging there was no longer just desire and malice, but also a bone-chilling silence that pierced the heart after being peeped into.
He stared at Wen Yin quietly, and the black mist around him slowly shrank like a living thing.
Strands of it wrapped around her limbs and neck with a creepy patience.
"You...saw it?"
Gashir's voice was extremely low, carrying a cold questioning tone.
The black pupils were bottomless, reflecting no light, only locking onto Wen Yin's face.
"That... worthless past..."
He tilted his head slightly, his movements elegant yet eerie and inhuman, and his cold breath brushed against her ear.
"Does it look good?"
The black fog wrapped around Wen Yin slowly gathered, bringing an invisible sense of oppression.
The hand that was originally on Wen Yin's neck slowly withdrew and gently stroked Wen Yin's slender white fingers that were still on his chest.
The cold knuckles pried open Wen Yin's slightly clenched fingers and interlocked theirs.
This action, which should have been intimate, was now full of control and confinement, and was more frightening than any rough bondage.
He didn't roar, showed no signs of madness, and even had no excessive expression on his face. Only those pure black pupils stared at her with unfathomable depth.
Beneath the calm surface, the desire for destruction that intends to drag her into the abyss surges like an undercurrent.
"Okay."
He spoke softly, his tone as ambiguous as that of lovers in love.
"After seeing all the memories, just...stay."
As soon as she finished speaking, the black mist surrounding Gasiel suddenly expanded and submerged her in an instant.
Wen Yin’s eyes went dark and she fell into the cold darkness.
-
When she opened her eyes again, Wen Yin found herself back in the temple, floating above the temple with a strange God's perspective.
Below, several clergymen in white robes were talking in low voices.
Wen Yin had never seen these people before. Judging from their attire and background, they seemed slightly different from those she had seen before.
[Host, this is what 'Gasir' wants you to see, a scene from earlier.]
Wen Yin hummed lightly, and then a middle-aged bishop with a frown on his face spoke with an anxious tone:
"Your Excellency, Archbishop, please forgive my bluntness! If it weren't for the First Council's pursuit of so-called 'pure divinity' a hundred years ago, forcibly using that forbidden secret method to strip away the 'evil' in human nature..."
"How could such filth overflow from the temple, pollute the earth, and eventually form the 'gray fog' that even the Holy Light cannot completely purify! Why should we... why should we take such a risky action now!"
His words caused the expressions of several higher-ranking bishops present to change slightly.
A hint of displeasure flashed in the eyes of the white-haired and bearded archbishop who was leading the group.
"Bishop Knight, please be mindful of your words. The choices made by the first generation of sages were made to reach a closer divine realm, and for the purity of our faith."
"The slight... deviations in the process are not something that future generations like us can judge."
Another person chimed in, "Nate, now's not the time to dwell on the past! The most urgent task is to resolve the current disaster!"
"The gray fog spread, and the people panicked. If the bishop hadn't searched through ancient texts and found this 'Container' plan, we wouldn't have had a chance to recover!"
After saying that, the man stepped forward and lowered his voice, but he couldn't hide his excitement: "Let's put aside the right and wrong of the past. But now, we have found a solution!"
"That boy named Gashir, his soul is a perfect 'blank container'!"
"We must go through a ritual and inject the core of holy light into him. He will then become the hub of light transformation, dispelling the escaping 'evil thoughts,' or the gray fog! This is the only hope of saving the Holy City!"
The Archbishop took over, as if announcing a divine decree.
"To save thousands of believers from being swallowed by the gray fog, and to preserve the Holy Light, personal sacrifice is small but glorious."
"Gasir's selection is his greatest honor. He will become the Son of God, a shining symbol that dispels darkness. This is not destruction, but... sublimation."
The man called Bishop Knight opened his mouth as if he wanted to say something, but looking at the determined and even fanatical eyes of his colleagues around him, he finally sighed heavily and lowered his head.
So... the Temple's own fault caused the creation of the Gray Mist, and they chose to fill this hole with the life and soul of an innocent boy, calling it glory and salvation?
028 A childish voice came from my mind, filled with confusion and doubt.
Wen Yin floated in the air, feeling a slight chill in her heart. The light and shadow in front of her swayed like water waves, and the lively noise poured into her eardrums like a tidal wave.
She found herself still in that empty floating state, but her location had changed.
At your feet is a cold and tall white stone altar, carved with intricate religious patterns.
Below the altar was a sea of cheering people.
Countless people gathered in the square and shouted towards the platform.
"The Holy Light is eternal! Blessings to all people!"
"May the light dispel the fog! May our city be blessed forever!"
Amidst waves of noise that grew louder and louder, those equally fanatical gazes penetrated her body and landed behind her.
An ominous premonition gripped Wen Yin's heart.
She turned stiffly.
At the highest point of the altar, there was Gahir, tied to a metal frame twisted and tangled like thorns, with his arms stretched out, his posture like a suffering god...
The 17 or 18-year-old young man who was at home in Jila Town not long ago, happily bidding farewell to his parents and looking forward to the future.
At this moment, he was wearing a thin white linen robe, which was soaked with sweat and unknown liquid.
His light golden hair was wet and stuck to his forehead and cheeks. His handsome face was pale and his lips were bitten with deep marks from pain.
His body was twitching slightly, as if he was enduring unimaginable pain.
But the most heartbreaking thing was his eyes.
It was still the rare light gold color, but now it looked like broken glass, filled with extreme confusion and despair.
Amid the cheers of the crowd, the ceremony seemed to have entered a critical moment.
Wen Yin looked at several bishops in gorgeous white robes surrounding the metal frame, chanting ancient and obscure spells.
The holy weapons in their hands emitted a light that was increasingly intense, almost burning people's eyes.
And those lights, as if they had entities, rushed towards Gasiel who was bound on the platform.
The young man on the stage finally let out an uncontrollable scream.
That light seemed like the cruelest punishment, forcibly stripping away everything that belonged to "human" from the depths of his soul.
The young man's thin body trembled violently in the chains, and light streams were running wildly under his skin, sometimes bulging and sometimes concave, looking extremely terrifying.
Blood slowly seeped out from the corners of his eyes, mouth, and even between his nails, staining his white robe a glaring red.
This kind of sacrifice on the high platform lasted for thirteen days.
Wen Yin watched the time go by, unable to make any changes.
During the first three days, Gasiel could still scream and struggle slightly.
From the fourth to the seventh day, his throat had become hoarse and he could only make broken sounds, and his struggles became weak and intermittent.
His eyes began to blur, and confusion and numbness gradually eroded his initial intense emotions, as if his soul was being torn apart from his body.
From the eighth to the twelfth day, Gahir's body decayed at a terrifying rate.
His face was haggard and sunken, having lost all its color. Blood continued to seep out from his broken skin and orifices, staining his robe a terrifying dark red.
Under the extreme impact of the holy light, the body sometimes felt hot and sometimes cold.
His consciousness was clearly at its limit, and his only remaining reaction was unconscious twitching.
Thirteenth day, the final dusk.
As the setting sun cast an ominous dark red glow, the ceremony entered its final stage.
The holy vessels in the hands of the bishops burst out with an unprecedentedly dazzling light, like the final judgment, pouring into Gasiel's almost shattered body.
This final impact even awakened the last bit of instinct in the nearly dead body.
A moan so faint that it was almost inaudible came to Wen Yin's ears.
Wen Yin stood stiffly on the platform, seeing the young man's almost distracted gaze, and used the last bit of her strength to penetrate the fanatical crowd, and stopped at a corner below the altar that was blocked by the temple guards.
Wen Yin followed his gaze and saw his desperate parents in the corner.
The simple and kind couple in the town of Jila are trying desperately to break through the obstacles.
The woman's hair was disheveled and her face was covered with tears and dust. She stretched out her hands and cried heart-wrenchingly towards the altar, but was completely drowned out by the cheers around her.
The man was like an enraged trapped beast, his eyes red as he tried again and again to break through the guards' obstruction.
However, what responded to him was even more brutal suppression.
Two tall guards suddenly pinned him to the ground, and a foot in a metal boot stepped mercilessly on his back. The huge force pressed his cheek against the cold and rough stone floor, making it extremely difficult for him to breathe.
He struggled in vain, his nails digging deep into the cracks between the stones on the ground, but he couldn't move anything at all. He could only let out painful and unwilling whimpers from the depths of his throat.
Amidst the noise and the sea of light, Gahil's eyes met his parents' for a brief moment.
He saw his mother's trembling hand stretched out towards him, and saw his father being trampled on the ground, like a broken doll.
At that moment, a trace of heartbreaking attachment and endless guilt flashed in his broken eyes.
As if to say: "...I can't hold on any longer..."
The next second, the last bit of human brilliance in Gasiel's eyes was completely extinguished like a candle in the wind.
His head drooped weakly, his body stopped struggling, and all his vitality was completely drained at this moment.
The chain runes that bound him shone brightly, enveloping him in a cold and eternal halo.
The entire altar fell into dead silence.
A few seconds later, a pure and extremely cold light suddenly spread out in all directions like an explosion, with him as the center.
It instantly dispelled the lingering bloody smell on the altar, drowned out all traces of pain, and illuminated the entire altar as clear as crystal, yet icy cold.
Under the impact of this overwhelming light, even the bishops presiding over the ceremony subconsciously took a half step back, narrowed their eyes slightly, and revealed an expression of awe and satisfaction on their faces.
In the center of the light, Gasiel's drooping head slowly rose up again in a steady posture that was completely contrary to the laws of physics.
It was still stained with blood and sweat, and its messy light blond hair was still stuck to its forehead.
But the expression on that face had completely changed.
All the pain, confusion, fear, attachment... all the emotions that belong to "human" have disappeared without a trace.
His facial features were still perfect, but it was as if he was wearing a mask woven of light, without a trace of emotion.
Especially those eyes, which were originally like broken glass with pale golden pupils, now turned into two solidified golden lakes emitting faint light.
They are still beautiful, but no longer reflect anything outside, only a vast, inhuman peace and compassion.
It is a kind of compassion from God that is high above and inherently programmed for the tiny beings.
He was quietly tied to the metal frame, emitting a steady and cold holy light, as if he was born that way.
The light not only enveloped him, but also began to dispel the thin gray fog that filled the square in a gentle but irresistible way.
"The Son of God... has arrived!"
The Archbishop's voice was trembling with ecstasy as he shouted first.
"Glory lasts forever! Welcome the Holy Son!"
The next moment, even more fanatical cheers erupted from the crowd.
People looked at the perfect and sacred being reborn in the light, and watched the gray fog dissipate around them. All doubts and anxieties were thrown behind them, leaving only the ecstasy and awe of being saved.
The Holy Son, Gabriel, was officially born here, in this way.
"The Son of God has come! His glory will last forever!"
The cheers from under the altar reached their climax at this moment, and the sound waves almost overturned the sky.
People knelt down, their faces filled with ecstasy of having gotten what they wanted.
The sharpest contrast to the sound is the dead silence in the corner.
His mother looked at the cold light, her body softened, and she completely lost consciousness.
Under the heavy pressure, his father let out a howl like a dying beast.
This is... the birth of the "Son of God".
Forged at the cost of the most extreme pain and sacrifice, with the annihilation of humanity and family affection as its cornerstone... is a cold statue.
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