With this thought, Birch’s "descent" quickened.
However, just as Birch felt he was about to reach the bottom, a warm support came from behind.
"It’s not time to die yet; go back."
It was a woman’s voice.
This thought flashed through Birch’s mind, and simultaneously, he felt as though his "sinking self" could move. He turned his head, hoping to see who was speaking to him.
But he saw no one, only endless darkness below him—death’s deep pit, the soul’s end.
And the warmth, that support, came from a coiled chain, faintly glowing with white light.
The chain was very long, extending not downward, but hanging down from above.
Birch looked up, yet still couldn’t see where the chain originated.
As Birch pondered in confusion, the chain slithered like a snake, wrapping around his body and pulling him up fiercely.
Soul and consciousness, dragged back from the void of the death’s path, poured back into his body floating on the water.
Sensation of pain returned, searing agony overwhelming, so intense it drew tears from Birch’s eyes.
Through blurred tears, Birch vaguely saw a graceful figure rising from the waters below.
Delicate hands touched Birch’s sunken chest, a faint white glow enveloped it.
Warmth washed over him again; even the pain in his chest began to slowly diminish.
When it subsided to a certain extent, a gentle female voice spoke, "There is only so much I can do. Hold on, death doesn’t mean the end; it could just be another cycle of suffering. Living, that’s what matters."
Compared to the white light from his chest, Birch felt that the female voice echoing in his ear had even more power.
It was the true source that supported his soul from falling into despair.
Birch wanted to open his eyes to see who was speaking, but in his blurry vision, he saw only a shadow flit past, obscured by a veil.
...
After Birch was struck by the bone club and fell into the lake, the little flea collapsed, kneeling on the ground in utter despair.
In the distance, Baro, who was grabbing onto the old man’s leg, also seemed to lose strength, releasing his grip and lying down at the old man’s feet. Blood and tears mixed together, flowing down.
Birch was dead, Renko also had virtually no chance of survival, and he himself would follow soon.
Everything stemmed from curiosity.
Everything also stemmed from admiration for Mr. Asbel.
Baro didn’t regret saving Asbel; he regretted his recklessness. The moment he saw Asbel, a rush of blood went to his head, and he recklessly took her away, which led to the current consequences.
In fact, he could have acted with more forethought, making everything more perfect.
However, now, nothing could change it.
Death was approaching.
Just as Baro was about to embrace death, the little flea was in despair, and the old man laughed wildly, a sigh suddenly echoed in everyone’s ears.
"What a long-missed sight."
Everyone looked towards the sound only to see a graceful woman in soft armor, walking on the water like a goddess of the lake, emitting a faint glow, heading towards the land.
"Mr. Asbel..." Baro murmured the name of the newcomer dumbfoundedly.
The old man and the little flea looked astonished. Wasn’t she the woman they took out from the pigsty? How could she stand on the water, and even her injuries had healed?
"Even on a lost deserted island, you can see pirates slaughter each other, such a nostalgic scene... and indeed, so detestable."
The lazy, hoarse voice coupled with her leisurely stroll between the lake and shore gave an air of calm composure.
"Who are you?" The woman, seemingly weak, gave the old man a feeling of facing a wild beast.
She slowly walked ashore, step by step, stopping ten meters away from the old man.
"Who am I? Wasn’t it this man... named Baro, who spoke my name?" she said casually, "However, whether you know it or not is meaningless now."
Although there was no strong aura, the old man unconsciously took a step back.
"Because what use is it for the dead to know?"
The moment her words fell, the old man’s face suddenly changed, for he saw the woman’s figure flicker slightly, as if a phantom swayed, and then a black hole like an abyss appeared on her chest, from which a dark chain extended.
"You, you are... you’re a w...witch..."
Before the old man could finish his words, the chain pierced through his chest.
Yet, no blood flowed from the old man, and there was no hole in his chest, but he felt an indescribable pain as though his soul was being torn apart... no, it was not as if.
The old man vaguely felt his soul genuinely shatter into two parts.
As his soul shattered, his body collapsed, and disbelief lingered in his eyes as he fell heavily to the ground.
When the old man was about to fall into endless darkness, he faintly heard a cold voice next to his ear.
"I can let you die knowing. I am called... Nausicaa."
The old man’s soul shattered, leaving him dead.