Chapter 52: Get Going

"Are all the people from Dehya Valley so ungrateful? He could have killed you just now," Talice sheathed her sword and put the crystal back in her pocket. She now realized that Asa had actually been trying to heal the old man earlier. But in that situation, if the power Asa had unleashed was not magical energy but fighting spirit, this old man would have been instantly torn to pieces.

"The one being ungrateful here is you, little girl. The Church's foolishness lies in its lack of judgment," Shante shot a glance at Asa. "He could have killed me, but he didn't dare. Even if he could, I guarantee neither of you would have walked out of here alive."

Shante sighed, his murky eyes fixing on Asa with a mix of surprise and disbelief. "Honestly, I didn't expect you to be so quick. You managed to control me so easily. Have you truly mastered the True Meditation? I've been practicing for years, and yet you, this young lad, have surpassed me."

"But as you said, I could control you, but I didn't dare to kill you," Asa replied.

Indeed, Asa could have killed Shante at any moment. No matter how powerful a magician was, if caught off guard at such a close distance, they would be as vulnerable as a chicken. However, Asa knew that if the old man were killed, all the human organs and corpses in the room—perhaps even the countless bodies buried outside—would likely explode simultaneously. Even if Asa could survive, Talice and Ayime would not stand a chance.

"This illness must have been caused by overexerting yourself with the True Meditation, right? Forced practice didn't kill you, it just left you half-dead. Your magical skill is truly on another level, Shante," Asa smiled as he looked at the old man. He had already learned from Grandma Ail that this old man's chronic ailment was nearly impossible to cure. But Asa, who also practiced the True Meditation and possessed the infinite life force of the World Tree in his body, was the only one who could heal this condition.

"Are you complimenting me or mocking me?" Shante sat up straight, sighing again. "This throat and lungs have tortured me for over thirty years. Many times, I've wished I could just rip them out and throw them away. I've almost forgotten what it feels like to speak properly. Even if you didn't have good intentions, I still have to thank you." He paused, then added, "I've forgotten what it feels like to thank someone. The last time I did that was probably forty or fifty years ago."

"Then, does that mean you agree to let us…" Ayime cautiously asked. The sight of the entire house's corpses coming to life had frightened her quite a bit.

Shante shook his head again without any hesitation. "No, this is a rule left by Akibard. This path can only be traversed by the acting guild leader, and it is the acting guild leader who has mastered the True Meditation. Even though you have mastered the True Meditation, you are not the acting guild leader, so I cannot let you pass. Even that girl, Agrenel, I didn't permit her passage. She took another route to enter."

"Then what do we have to do for you to let us pass? Set a condition," Talice said coldly.

"There are no conditions. I won't let you pass," Shante said, coughing lightly, as if returning to the initial stance. "Or, you can kill me, and then you can go."

Asa sighed deeply, remaining silent. He pulled out a small pouch that contained the hilt of the Pitch-Black Star sword.

Shante's murky eyes brightened slightly upon seeing the pouch, before quickly dimming again. He didn't say anything.

Asa untied the pouch and reached into the water from the Sun Well, pulling out the sword hilt. Although the energy had been suppressed by the ring, the entire room was immediately enveloped by the unique dark and oppressive aura that came with it.

It seemed like an illusion, but the limbs, organs, and corpses that had previously been lively under the influence of the energy regained some vitality again. Although they remained motionless, they emitted silent breaths and growls.

Talice felt a chill run down her spine, and Ayime, unable to bear the pressure, almost collapsed in her arms. Her constitution couldn't withstand the oppressive energy.

"I'm not the acting guild leader, but I have this. Can it allow me to pass?" Asa gripped the hilt of the Pitch-Black Star sword, his voice seeming to change.

Shante didn't respond. His eyes narrowed, filled with something akin to muddy water, flickering with strange waves. It was as if bubbles were rising from the depths of his memories, the murkiness stirring. He could clearly see that this person had no fighting spirit or magic in his hands; he was holding the hilt purely with his physical strength. And this was someone who had mastered the True Meditation.

After a long silence, Shante finally spoke, his voice slow and deliberate. "You've mastered the True Meditation, and you can wield the Pitch-Black Star sword hilt. Even though you are not the acting guild leader of Dehya Valley, you are beyond the acting guild leader."

"Akibard once said that anyone who masters the True Meditation and lifts the Pitch-Black Star will become the Necromancer King, and all necromancers will have to submit to him and change the world together. Though this is just the sword hilt, you are indeed the first person in five hundred years to meet this requirement. You are qualified to become the Necromancer King. The acting guild leader of Dehya Valley is merely a placeholder for someone destined to become the Necromancer King. I should be the one bowing to you," Shante said.

"I don't need you to bow, just clear the way," Asa replied, his voice now deep and distant. His eyes had completely darkened, devoid of any light, resembling the black mist emanating from the Pitch-Black Star itself.

He was desperately suppressing the murderous intent that surged within him, a thick and profound desire to kill. It wasn't directed at the old man in front of him but at everything—everything, including Talice and Ayime behind him.

It wasn't a hostile intent. He felt no animosity toward anyone or anything. It was simply a deathly will, or perhaps, the will of death itself.

"If he won't let you pass no matter what, just take the Pitch-Black Star sword hilt in front of him. That will be an authority that no necromancer can resist. But… unless there's no other choice, it's best not to do it," Grandma Ail had told Asa when she sent him here.

Asa couldn't act. He could sense that the old man before him was likely at the level of Sandru, if not higher. Even though he held the advantage at such close range, his odds of winning were no more than fifty percent. The key issue was Talice and Ayime. They couldn't withstand the fallout of a fight between the two of them. So, Asa had resorted to the last method Grandma Ail had suggested. He hadn't anticipated that fully gripping the hilt would result in this.

Unlike when he was with Grandma Ail, he hadn't just touched it this time. He had completely grasped the Pitch-Black Star. Endless energy from the hilt poured into his consciousness. In response, desires and impulses—desires to die, urges to end it all—rose from the deepest parts of his body and mind.

"Die. Just die. Life is just a prelude to death. All pursuits of life are merely pursuits of death. What is gained will eventually be lost. Growth will be destroyed. In the end, everything dies. Every form of life is just a collection of countless deaths—life is death. Death is peace, death is rest, death is calm, death is eternity, the eternal cradle from which all things are born. Death is the final destination, the ultimate goal of all paths. Death is inevitable. No need to resist. Resistance brings only pain, torment, and futility. Only acceptance is peace, the righteous path, the destined way..."

Thoughts of death, desires for death, filled his mind automatically. Every impulse, every cell in his body seemed to radiate a call to die. It was a sensation, the deepest core of his being, once hidden in the depths of his soul, now triggered by the aura of the Pitch-Black Star.

Shante walked down from the broken little wooden bed and slowly moved it aside. Beneath it was a huge stone slab. With a wave of his hand, he chanted a spell, and the stone slab moved by itself with a dull grinding sound, revealing a dark passage beneath it.

"The path is here. You can go." Shante seemed to have exerted too much force and coughed again.

Go where? To die? Asa didn't move. Only that thought lingered in his mind. Yes, where would it matter? It's all death anyway. I'm so tired, just go to die. Everyone should die…

I don't want to die. I don't want to die. I don't want to die… I don't want to die… This instinctive voice gradually drowned in the infinite death intent and thoughts of dying that surged from within.

Shante coughed twice, watching Asa stand still. He saw the deepening layer of black in his eyes and felt the aura of death beginning to emanate from him. He, too, had practiced True Meditation, and having spent decades with the dark artifact in the Dehya Valley, he recognized the signs. He could sense it and knew exactly what was happening. A bitter smile slowly appeared on his bat-like wrinkled face.

The dark energy was no longer emanating from the sword hilt. It had begun to emanate from Asa himself. And it seemed that because it passed through his body, the energy became even stronger, even more intense.

A faint, almost imperceptible restlessness stirred in the room, and even outside, it seemed to grow louder. Whether it was a collective hallucination, the corpses inside began to cheer, rejoicing in the spreading energy. This was their energy.

"What are you doing? Get going." Suddenly, a voice rang out, breaking the suffocating silence. The voice was high-pitched and full of energy and emotion, like a lightning bolt splitting the thick, death-like atmosphere and opening a gap in it.