Chapter 129: Eilene, Do Not Look Back - I Forged Them in Darkness, and They Buried Me in It

### Chapter 129: Eilene, Do Not Look Back The man's breathing grew weaker and weaker. Eilene stared at him, her lips moving unconsciously without making a sound. She reached out tentatively. With surprising ease, she pulled the man into her embrace. This once strong and formidable figure now seemed like a flickering candle in the wind, on the verge of being extinguished at any moment. His life force was slowly ebbing away, and a thick, metallic scent of blood filled Eilene's nostrils. She felt a tickle on her face and extended her tongue to taste it. It was a tangy sweetness. It must have been the blood that had burst from the man's heart, now smeared across her face. She could feel a sudden surge of strength within her body. Becoming a deity—how exhilarating it was to even think about. What a magnificent thing that would be... And yet, why couldn't she feel any joy? Eilene collapsed onto the ground, her black dress soaked with blood, like an elegant and mysterious black lotus in full bloom. She held Lucius tightly in her arms. Their cheeks touched, and she could feel his warm skin. Lucius didn't hold on for long. His life force faded quickly, and his body, already burdened by the forbidden spell, soon crumbled. He tried to maintain a smile, though it appeared somewhat ridiculous in his weakened state. Eilene gazed into his eyes. Those eyes were always so clear, the most beautiful she had ever seen. Tonight, for the first time, Eilene realized that grief could leave one expressionless, breathless, and dazed. Slowly, she seemed to snap back to reality, her face revealing intense panic and bewilderment. Her body began to tremble uncontrollably, and her voice came out as a whisper. Over and over, she repeated. “No…” “Please, no…” Her expression was fraught with panic, her hands rigidly cradling the man's face, murmuring unintelligible words even she couldn't hear. “Lord Lucius… you're a priest, you can't die…” “Waa…” “You promised you wouldn't make me sad…” Her low sobs were dry and garbled. Nothing like her usual voice at all. Lucius watched her silently, faintly seeing again that perpetually aloof little girl. With arms crossed and a face full of disdain, she used to mutter words like “pervert” and “disgusting” under her breath. Near death—this was not Lucius's first time. He felt no sadness or pain at the thought of dying. But seeing the girl in such a state of collapse, he couldn't help but feel a little sorrowful. “Eilene, do you remember our conversation that night?” He asked softly. Startled, she first instinctively nodded, then quickly shook her head. A vast black fog emanated from her being. Mysterious patterns on her calves began to glow with an unprecedented brightness. She tried to channel the power and blessings of the deity into the man. She didn't want to be a deity; she just wanted her priest to live. Tears rolled down her face, unnoticed. Silent as they were, she mumbled. “Lord Lucius, I don’t remember. I don’t remember anything…” Her voice, tender as could be, was hoarse and unpleasant. “Don’t die. Talk to me slowly. I really don’t remember. Tell it to me again, okay?” Lucius’s reply was feeble, a soft “mmm.” “...Alright.” “Eilene, I’ll speak slowly.” He was always like this, no matter how unreasonable or tumultuous her requests were. He would always quietly agree, then do his best. Just like now, his voice faded, growing softer and softer, barely audible without close attention. Incoherently, little by little, he spoke. She listened quietly, nodding occasionally in response. “Eilene, I said I wanted to give you true freedom.” “Isn't that good?” The girl shook her head wildly, repeatedly declaring. “No, it's not good at all!” “Don't…” Above them, the vast, dark night sky spread out. Slowly, the thick clouds parted, allowing a faint moonlight to cascade down. From afar, the moonlight was pristine, revealing an indescribable ethereal beauty. “The moonlight is beautiful.” The man couldn't help but sigh. Two years ago, on a similar night, he had also said this to her. But back then, the girl was much more temperamental, a stark contrast to her current docile demeanor. Bathed in the moonlight, the girl seemed like a lifeless corpse, unmoving. Unnoticed, tears flowed unrestrainedly, drenching her fair face. In the midst of this, she heard the man's final whisper. “Eilene, the distance is far.” “Do not look back.” It was both a reminder and a warning. The power of a deity was grand and unparalleled. Even resurrecting the dead, theoretically, was not beyond a deity. Yet this particular man was Lucius. The key element in the entire god-making ritual. The ritual was fulfilled, the divine status established. As a consequence, Lucius had to die. The night grew ever more silent. The world's sole deity sat desolately on a battlefield rife with devastation. Her heart clenched sharply, as if pierced by a thousand needles every passing moment, inflicting unbearable pain. Pain. Such immense pain. It was as if she was trapped within a wall constructed of despair and agony. Solid and unyielding, sealing her completely. This pain didn't spring from any physical torment, yet far exceeded any worldly suffering. The girl's eyes turned once more to a hollow void. In that void lay a hint of hopeless desolation. An endless black fog began to spread fervently outward. Like a beast starved for millennia, it bared its bloodthirsty fangs. The black fog engulfed another girl's form, sweeping her back to the deity's side with gentle force. A deity is selfless. And so, the girl's body slowly disintegrated, transforming into deeper black mist, surging into the deity's arms. Subsequently, the black mist coalesced behind her. Wings, one by one, twelve in total, vast and inky black as a clouded sky, unfurled with a thunderous presence. From this moment, the deity shared all her power with the girl. In the darkness, they became one. Indistinguishable from each other. … The black fog first consumed the silver torrent that circled the surroundings. Its speed was such that there was barely time to react as the entire legion of the Judgment Army was instantly enveloped. The fog forcibly extracted their souls, scattering them into the air, eliciting cries of extreme agony and screams. Next, even their intact flesh began to slowly strip away. When the exceedingly revered Pope arrived, accompanied by his priests and cardinals. The scene before them resembled a hell on earth.