Chapter 40: Twilight Opens Its Eyes.

Chapter 40 Dusk Opens Its Eyes.

Outside the temple, a group of White Peacock tribe members waited anxiously, occasionally whispering among themselves:

"Will the High Priest's prayers receive an answer this time?"

"May the God bless us... I can feel it—the death-bearing twilight is drawing nearer to us again!"

"Twilight... Accursed twilight will eventually cover every land and swallow us all..."

Just then, a figure appeared behind two rows of towering stone pillars. Someone spotted it and cried out joyfully, "High Priest Kurt!"

Yet as the figure drew closer, the smiles on the tribe members' faces gradually froze—

The newcomer had the familiar broad wings draped behind, but its "walking" posture was uncanny. There was no natural sway or rhythm of alternating steps; instead, it resembled a silken ribbon floating on the breeze, leaving behind an elegant, winding trail.

Kurt's current appearance felt utterly alien to the tribe.

It held a silver cup etched with intricate patterns in its hands, within which faint traces of crimson liquid could be seen. Its legs had been replaced by a long, powerful serpent's tail as it slowly approached them.

The twilight had already gnawed at the distant lands, and an unusually massive sun hung low on the horizon like a scorching, blazing crucible meant to bury all things.

Against this backdrop of impending doom, Kurt stood with its back to the light, spreading its alabaster wings and offering the silver cup to the gathered tribe members.

Its voice overflowed with fervent devotion as it spoke:

"I have received the revelation and blessing of the great deity, offering the path to salvation before you."

"Shed these cumbersome limbs and join me in leaving this decaying world to serve in His domain!"

At these words, the tribe members shared troubled looks.

One among them stared at Kurt's face, alight with zealous fervor, and stumbled back half a step: "High Priest... Are you truly not bewitched by some unknown evil god? Will He really shelter and favor us?"

Kurt lowered its eyes calmly and met the doubter's gaze.

There was no anger or reproach in its eyes—only the indulgent patience a mother might show a wayward child.

Kurt spoke softly: "He is the master of all living fates. Every being will journey toward Him in their lifetimes. We are merely preceding the common herd."

"He is benevolent and gentle. I prayed before the altar countless times, and He alone listened patiently and bestowed His blessings—He will be the protector of our people, the great existence we shall serve forever."

"Look—"

Kurt pointed at the twilight behind it. "The twilight approaches. Soon, even the light here will fade to amber, eventually becoming our tomb. Only those who partake of the Sacred Blood and gain new life may escape."

"Under His shelter, we will never again be trapped on barren lands, nor will we need to fear the coming of twilight. We shall find peace and happiness in our eternal haven."

As it spoke, the expressions of many tribe members began to waver.

The instinct for survival drove them to desperately yearn for escape from the twilight. And if the price was merely partaking of the Sacred Blood bestowed by this unknown deity and serving Him for generations... that seemed acceptable.

After all, in their culture, nothing was more terrifying than the twilight.

Thus, the restless tribe members gradually quieted, listening to Kurt's calm voice, which now carried a siren's lure:

"Our people are the most resilient and courageous—otherwise, we would not have survived the twilight's assaults time and again."

"So, in this final hour, in the face of death, can you still summon the courage to stake all, follow Him, and accept the baptism of Sacred Blood?"

For a moment, all fell into silence.

Everyone understood their sands were dwindling, urging them to make a choice quickly.

After what felt like an eternity, one tribe member stepped forward nervously, approaching Kurt and asking for the Sacred Blood.

Then the crowd stirred—a second stepped forward, then a third...

One by one, the tribe members partook of the Sacred Blood. The divine energy swiftly transmuted their bodies—even their very lifeforms—granting them coiling serpentine tails and the instinct to navigate the void's currents.

The last to approach Kurt was the temple's keeper.

It was said to be the most ancient of their kind, having guarded the temple since the days when the High Priest was still active.

Back then, it had been a young apprentice in the temple. Now, it was the eldest keeper left.

The keeper leaned on a wooden staff, hobbling to a stop before Kurt. Its milk-blind eyes looked up: "The High Priest... will never return, will it?"

Kurt pressed its lips together and did not answer.

But sometimes, silence spoke volumes.

Sighing, the keeper muttered to itself in a rambling tone, "Before disappearing, the High Priest once said that on its path to becoming 'Fate,' it had encountered a dreaded and glorious rival—one that brought it an unprecedented sense of threat..."

"It seems now the High Priest has lost in the end."

Just as Kurt thought the old keeper might shed mournful tears, the elder suddenly smiled: "How wonderful. So the High Priest never abandoned us, nor broke its promise."

"It simply... was irrevocably lost."

Kurt watched it quietly, its faint smile laced with pathos. "Then, do you wish to partake of the Sacred Blood and bid farewell to the past?"

"No."

As expected, the keeper shook its head slowly. "You have found new salvation, and that is good—but the deity would never permit an unbeliever such as I, one who has long held faith in another, to enter His domain."

"This temple has spanned my long life. After you depart, I shall greet the twilight alongside it."

The keeper's sigh dissolved into the wind as it retreated haltingly into the shadows behind the temple, leaning against a towering stone pillar, unmoving.

It seemed to have succumbed to quietude—or perhaps it was simply waiting for death.

When the time came, all here would be shrouded and buried by the twilight. Only the roaming winds would remember:

Once, an avian-human kin struggled to survive here;

Once, a High Priest cloaked in plumage of winter-white opened a future-seeing gaze, seeking hope for its people.

The keeper breathed a last sigh, silently lamenting that an era was coming to an end—

Perhaps henceforth, a new deity would ascend, raising the sovereign scepter to carve out a brand-new age.

...

By the time Yi Fengchu reestablished contact with this world, Kurt had already led all the tribe members who had partaken of the Sacred Blood to kneel in silent vigil within the temple.

The temple was built from massive, neatly arranged white stones, exuding a rugged, primeval magnificence.

The inner stone walls were adorned with sacred iconography—once depicting white peacocks with plumed trains, as though adorned with myriad gleaming eyespots. But now, they had been repainted with the most precious gilded and argent hues, depicting pairs of mirrored serpents in embrace.

When Yi Fengchu arrived, the paint seemed not yet fully dry, casting a soft, ethereal glow under the flickering candlelight.

In truth, had there been enough time, these zealots reborn, blessed by the divine, would have even sought to build a new temple—they'd even drafted preliminary plans.

It would have been a pristine white tower, as white as their god-given scales. The exterior would be adorned with the most exquisite craftsmanship, carved into the form of a great serpent coiling around the tower.

Beginning at the base, the serpent would spiral upward to the pinnacle, pointing toward the heavens alongside the tower.

When the candles at the altar’s edge morphed again into serpentine shapes, Kurt and the others dropped to their knees in fervent worship. Finally, Kurt, as their representative, spoke reverently:

"O most exalted and mighty deity, we have drunk Your blessed sacred blood and completed the transformation of our lives."

"We humbly beg You to reveal to us Your true and new divine name—and grant us the honor to follow You, to serve You, to polish the crown upon Your brow, and to spread Your glory across all realms and lands..."

"You have done well."

Kurt heard only an approving sigh: "I grant it."

Then the flames suddenly leaped, floating in the air and weaving into lines of text—blocky, angular characters, unlike any script Kurt’s people had ever seen, yet they understood them perfectly.

Heart pounding with joy, Kurt took a deep breath and memorized the divine name formed by the flames:

"The Witness and Narrator wandering beyond life and death, the Samsara Ouroboros coiled at the boundaries of planes..."

"The King of Snakes..."

"O Master of Fate, grant us the honor to serve You eternally!"

The sinuous script reflected in the depths of their emerald eyes, spurring their unified chant.

As they spoke, the far-off twilight seemed to wake.

The dim, golden light spread like a vast net, sweeping toward them like a tide.

With Yi Fengchu’s permission, Kurt led his people in taking their leave of this shattered world, drifting beyond its borders and into the vast river of fate.

In the blink of an eye, twilight engulfed the temple grounds. The sturdy stonework and pillars abruptly turned to brittle husks, and the grand, sacred structure swiftly collapsed.

Rocks shattered and crashed to the ground. The brilliant culture and art accumulated over generations by Kurt’s people were gone in moments, leaving only ruins.

The last rays of light filtered through the wreckage, now utterly empty—save for a serpent of flame that coiled lazily from the remnants, as if curiously surveying its surroundings.

Through the serpent’s "eyes," Yi Fengchu gazed at the horizon, where a grotesquely swollen sunset hung oppressively close to the earth.

The molten twilight shifted slightly, a horizontal fissure splitting open within—revealing an eye, its crimson pupil coldly surveying the land.

—This must be the "Twilight Calamity," he thought, remembering stories of the decay god he had heard of in the amusement park instance.

Yet Yi Fengchu felt no fear at meeting the gaze of a god’s colossal eye—in fact, he remained perfectly calm.

After all, his true self wasn’t even in this world. What was there to fear?

Besides, so what if Twilight Calamity was a god? Judging by his current status, his standing might be equal...

After a moment of silent confrontation, Twilight Calamity spoke—though Yi Fengchu wasn’t sure if it could strictly be called "speech." A piercing, ear-ringing tone rang in his ears before the meaning formed directly in his thoughts.

*‘Fate…’* Twilight addressed him, seemingly puzzled. *‘Why have you intruded upon the board between me and Life?’*

Yi Fengchu suddenly understood. No wonder this land was riddled with countless fissures, neatly divided into small squares.

So this was their chessboard—where two deities played in their leisure!

The life and death, the suffering and displacement of countless beings, were meaningless to Them. They were but insignificant specks on the board, unworthy of notice.

This game had lasted centuries at least, and judging by the encroaching twilight, Twilight Calamity was clearly winning against the Tree of Life...

Yi Fengchu remained silent for a moment, prompting Twilight Calamity to slowly guess: *‘Ah… Fate, do you wish to join our game?’*

Er, no—he currently had no interest in Their pastime...

Fearing that further silence would drag him into Their "chess club," Yi Fengchu hissed in response: "No need. I merely came to claim my new followers."

With that, the fiery serpent dissolved, scattering like meteors across the ground before fading away.

*‘Hmm…’*

The colossal eye hovering at the horizon blinked slowly, as if mildly perplexed, then closed.

Twilight swallowed the chessboard whole—this round, decay had consumed life.

From then on, no life would be born or endure here. Only the desolate wind would sweep the land, day after day.