And deep within the entire [Ghostly Mire], a massive city built of countless gray tombstones the size of human heads, where nurous red-eyed death crows roost on its bastions, stands silently within the ever-present black fog.
"Dong——"
When the sun in the Realm of the Dead reaches the sky's zenith, that cold and deathly "sunlight" descends, slightly dispersing the dense fog in the mire, and a sharp, piercing bell sound like a brittle bell suddenly emanates from the center of [City of Regret].
"Is it ti?"
As if activated by the bell, the ghosts wandering aimlessly in the dark fog are all "awakened" by this piercing sound, turning their heads toward the deepest part of the Ghostly Mire.
"It is ti."
"It is ti!"
"It is ti!!!"
After shouting almost in unison, the ghosts, having reford their physical bodies, quickly wear expressions of human-like nervousness on their faces, then move desperately through the muddy white mire, rushing toward the gray giant city shrouded in black fog.
And at the end of the staggering figures of countless ghosts, the heavy gates of the gray giant city also slowly open, and a large number of bewildered, even faceless dead are spewed out by the gates.
Imdiately, the death crows perched on the city's battlents take flight, circling several tis over those dead who have fallen into the white mire, then lead so who rise bewilderedly to continue instinctively along the path, cawing as they fly toward the deeper reaches of the Realm of the Dead.
As these dead expelled by the City of Regret leave, the death crows hovering over the next batch will, as their predecessors did, fold their wings and settle on the city battlents after the respective dead stagger into the city gate, closing their blood-red eyes one after another.
These death crows, tasked with guiding the dead, upon their descent, seem like crow-shaped stone statues that cease to move, until the day those with unfulfilled desires, under the erosion of the City of Regret, completely forget all regrets and are expelled again, before reopening their eyes to head deeper into the Realm of the Dead...
In theory, it should be this way, but reality often does not proceed according to theory.
"Caw! Caw! Caw!"
Accompanied by confused crow calls, a new batch of death crows descends and is shocked to discover that the stone nests on the city battlents ant for their roosting are already "occupied" by other crows for so reason.
On one side are the diligent working crows whose designated houses have been occupied, and on the other, house-dwelling crows suddenly beset by uninvited guests. Both sides almost imdiately engage in intense fighting, with feathers flying amidst the flapping, pecking, and tearing.
Under the clamorous crow brawls, within the wide central square of the City of Regret, a colossal ship resembling a ginkgo leaf in shape, over eight hundred ters in length, slams into the ground at an angle, squeezing the originally spacious square to the brim, even demolishing several peripheral buildings.
And those death crows that, defeated in the fight, couldn't secure their nests, will howl as they fly into the city, circling above the giant ship, loudly berating in incomprehensible crow speech those dead below who disrupted the rules, leaving them holess.
Is this... another day gone by?
Hearing the noisy crow calls above, the "dead" within the Sea King ship startle awake, then look up at the circling death crows, faces showing genuine terror.
"I... I can't take it anymore!"
Hearing the approaching footsteps alongside the crow calls above, within the main deck pit of the ship sheltering the Cleaners, soone lets out an anguished wail close to breaking point. A tall, bearded burly man suddenly kneels, clutching his head and wailing:
"I really can't take it anymore! Let die!"
From the mont the crow calls sounded above, certain emotions have pervaded the crowd, as if inflad by the bearded man's cries, soon one tremulous voice after another erges from the crowd.
"I don't want to go on either... I really can't hold out any longer!"
"I beg you! Have rcy and release !"
"Death! Let die! I don't want to live anymore!"
In the midst of hysterical wails, the woman whose arms were wrapped in bloody bandages moved slightly and opened her bloodshot eyes while leaning against the corner of the deck asleep.
Emma glanced at the Cleaners who had gone ntally berserk under the tornt of these days, calling and screaming, her cracked lips moved slightly as if wanting to persuade sothing, but ultimately, she said nothing. Instead, she quietly adjusted the thorn-covered crown on her head and gripped the sword hilt tightly.
"Help ! Please help !"
Although Emma didn't speak, the sound of her waking up still attracted the attention of the Cleaners.
Upon realizing she had awakened, the bearded burly man was the first to break down. He trembled, then got up and staggered over, falling onto his knees with a thud at her feet on the deck, and began desperately banging his head as he hoarsely begged:
"You can kill ! You have the power to end ! I'm begging you, do it! Do it!"
"..."
Faced with the burly man's bizarre plea, Emma's lips couldn't help but tremble. After a mont of silence, she gently shook her head and then persuaded with a voice sounding sowhat hoarse, yet still gentle:
"Baflo, just hold on a bit longer. It's not truly desperate yet.
Even though we possess immortality-type anomalies, for the Overlords of the Dead Realm who grasp death itself, killing us would still be incredibly easy. Yet they haven't done it; instead, they've been endlessly torturing our spirits and bodies using various thods..."
"No, no! I don't want to hear it! I just want..."
"Baflo! Listen to !"
Emma raised her volu slightly, stopping the bearded man from continued wailing. With the footsteps from below growing closer, she leaned weakly against the side of the deck, doing her utmost to persuade:
"I don't believe the Overlords of the Dead Realm would be so bored as to deliberately target us with tornt. There's only one reason I can think of: they're wary of the bureau's stance and dare not kill us genuinely—at least they cannot act directly.
So the purpose of these deliberately arranged tornts is to push us to ntal collapse, so overwheld we seek death voluntarily. If we were to kill each other, they wouldn't need any explanation to the bureau."
At this point, Emma paused her speech slightly, then looked around at the Cleaners with diverse expressions, raising her voice slightly:
"I know these days have been hard, constantly facing life's greatest regrets and remorse, unbearable to anyone. But please, no more talk of not wanting to live.
The bureau won't abandon us carelessly, no matter how tough the tornts are; there must be an end. The more frequent and urgent the tornts from the Overlords of the Dead Realm beco, the closer we are to regaining freedom.
As long as we can hold on, not give up on ourselves first, wait for the bureau..."
"No one is coming..."
Suddenly a male Cleaner with eyes bloodshot interrupted Emma's reassurance.
He held his head with both hands, fiercely scratching the skin on his face with his nails, yelling out in pain:
"It's been over half a month! If they were coming, the bureau would have arrived long ago! Even if they couldn't co, they could send a ssage! But there's been no sign until now! We've been abandoned! Nobody will..."
"They will!"
Recalling the figure who, despite the sa painful mories, carried her along the No Return Path, crossed the Black and White Bridge, and returned from the Realm of the Dead with her on his back, Emma couldn't help but take a deep breath, then interrupted the male Cleaner's desperate yells through clenched teeth.
"Don't give up, soone will co!"
Listening to the footsteps already beneath the deck, Emma's face turned pale as paper, her blood draining away. She took rapid, bellows-like breaths as she struggled to open her lips, murmuring as if persuading others and reminding herself:
"I know him! Regardless of what others do, he will co...I mustn't let him find gone!"
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