Marching towards doomsday.
The ranger who was born in the Evergreen Mountains often said this. When setting up camp before sunset every day, he would always sigh at the deep red streak running across the horizon. In his own words, this was a "quite romantic way of saying it" - the greatest bravery and the most extreme romance in the world when the end is nigh.
However, neither bravery nor romance could stop the pace of death. The ranger fell in the last kilometer before the crossroads. A vicious arrow pierced his chest. It was the most ironic way to die - a master of archery died under the bow and arrow.
The necromancer dealt with the attackers, who were two already broken corpses. They were lying in ambush on the road and launched a sinister attack when the team approached. The undead characteristics of having no breathing and heartbeat allowed them to evade the rangers' detection, and the wind direction concealed the stench emanating from their bodies, causing another unfortunate accident, just like every farewell along the way.
The armored warrior came to the edge of the camp, sat down on a dry tree stump, raised his head and quietly looked at the dusk.
The disturbing crimson color crossed across the sky, falling in the direction where the sun was setting like a streak of blood that was about to tear the world apart. It seemed as if blood was flowing in the crimson color, and as if it was hiding and brewing countless ghostly phantoms beyond the minds of ordinary people, coldly watching this world that was rapidly heading towards destruction.
The sound of footsteps came from the side. The psychic sat down on the ground nearby and stared quietly at the bloodstain in the dusk with the warrior.
The silence lasted for a while, and then a deep voice came from the warrior's helmet: "The two attackers during the day..."
"It was the hunter brother and sister... who died first," the psychic's voice came from his black cloth hood, sounding as gloomy as death. "They caught up with us. The dead don't need to rest, so they are faster than us."
"We buried them ourselves in the forest outside Kingdom Gate, and you even performed a ritual to comfort their dead—why would the dead you comforted rise again?"
"Along the way, many things have climbed up. Do you see that deep red light on the horizon? The direction where the red light first fell... It has expanded by twice as much as when the prophet made the prophecy. It is a wound that has cut open our world. The land beneath our feet and the sky above our heads are decaying because of this wound, and... they are decaying faster and faster.
"The transition process between life and death is beginning to be different from what I understand."
The psychic spoke quietly, with the same lack of emotion as usual, and his words contained only the cold and sad "statement of facts".
Not everyone could accept his way of speaking. If the Shield Knight was still there, he would have certainly started a long speech of sermons and exhortations by now.
However, the warrior looked back and saw only the lonely figure of the Templar Knight sitting by the campfire, and the short and thin figure of the Fire Warlock curled up in the shadow of the firelight. There was no one else in the camp. The shield knight who always confronted the necromancer and loved to preach to his teammates was gone - he fell in the wilderness outside the sandstone fort, and the cause of death is still unknown.
"After that, there may be others who will 'catch up'," the psychic seemed to be uncomfortable with the silence at the moment. After a few seconds of silence, he changed the subject abruptly, "Among them, there is a high probability that they will be people from the previous team."
"Why? Because the hunter brother and sister caught up with us today?"
"Because they still remember their mission to march towards Doomsday—but they no longer remember us," the psychic whispered. "We did not properly dispose of their bodies before the influence of the red light expanded."
The soldier was silent for a while: "... How can we deal with it properly?"
"Burn it, burn it completely with ghast fire, then smash all the larger bones, and if possible, soak the skull in acid and bury it deep."
"okay, I get it."
The next day, the psychic died.
He was found lying on the edge of the camp, his heart stolen by some force in the darkness, leaving only a horrifying hole in his chest. However, strangely,
Before he died, he had a strange smile on his face, as if... ...he was glad to be able to get rid of this heavy mission ahead of time.
The warriors, together with the Templars and pyromancers, held a "funeral" for the necromancer - they burned the necromancer's body completely with the fire of the evil spirit, smashed all the remaining bones they could find, and then soaked his skull fragments in a clay jar filled with acid and buried them where they were camped.
Now, there are three people left.
As the black smoke from the burning bones rose, the warrior once again looked at the deep red in the distance that seemed to be cutting the entire world. The fire warlock came to his side, and after a long silence, the thin woman finally asked the question that no one dared to ask.
"Should we go forward?"
The warrior turned around and looked at the red-haired Groska woman.
He still remembered how she looked when she first set out - she was full of confidence at that time, with vitality in her eyes and pride in her words. As the "chosen one" chosen by the kingdom and designated by the prophet, she believed more than anyone else in her own strength and destined great destiny.
But now, she asked this question.
"Of course we have to move forward," the warrior said in a muffled voice. His expression was hidden by his thick mask, but his tone was still firm. "We have to save our kingdom and stop the spreading doomsday."
"Can we really stop the apocalypse by marching towards it? Is there really an enemy at the end of the crimson road waiting to be defeated by us? As long as we defeat it, the problem will be solved? Just like what the prophet said?"
"The Prophet made no mistake." The warrior said stubbornly.
After a moment of confrontation, the fire warlock nodded: "I understand." Three days later, when the team crossed an unnamed forest, the Groska woman fell in an open space by the river.
There were no enemies, no traps, she was burned by her own flames - uncontrolled magical energy suddenly surged out of her body, like countless living evil spirits, instantly tearing her apart and burning her to ashes. Her scream was short, and the pain lasted perhaps only a moment.
The good news was that the out-of-control fire burned her body thoroughly, and there was no need for any additional treatment - not even a bone fragment larger than a fingernail could be found among the ashes.
Now, there are only two people left in the team.
The Templar who was even more taciturn than the previously deceased magician, and became more and more silent as the journey continued, and the warrior himself who was always clad in heavy armor.
After completely entering the wilderness, they were still moving forward in a straight direction without worrying about getting lost, because the crimson light of doomsday was always guiding them in the direction they were heading.
How long will this journey last? Where will it end? And what will be there... waiting for those who journey towards the end to face their own destiny
In the eyes of the warriors who keep trudging on, the world illuminated by the red light becomes... a little weirder than before every day.
The time of sun rise and set has changed a lot, and it shifts a little in a certain direction every day. Now the sunset is no longer in the west, but shifted to the north at an angle visible to the naked eye.
The sky was gradually being dyed a strange purple-red color. Occasionally, strange lights and shadows could be seen emerging from deep in the clouds. Sometimes, it even seemed as if there were living creatures moving through those lights and shadows.
The mountains in the distance seemed to bend, their once straight cliffs now bending and wrinkling like damp wood, while the horizon beyond seemed to be rising, as if the whole land... was slightly deforming.
Or maybe there is something wrong with the observer's own eyes.
Along with these many strange phenomena visible to the naked eye, changes that are invisible to the naked eye are also taking place -
The magical energy between heaven and earth is undergoing strange changes. The magic that was once difficult to perceive is now as active as a rushing stream. Magicians once complained that it was difficult to gather arcane energy in the air outside the civilized world, but now, the morning wind seems to be filled with rich magic - this energy will be felt on metal armor.
The surface of the helmet is excited, producing tiny light and discharge, and when it accumulates to a certain level, there will be a "pop" sound.
The warriors felt that these changes might be a sign that the journey was about to reach its end - they were close enough to where the red light fell, and although it still seemed so far away, hope... seemed to be right in front of them.
However, the Knights Templar stopped in front of an unnamed river.
The tall, taciturn woman took off her helmet and said abruptly, "That's it."
The warrior looked at this last travel companion calmly: "Why?" "You are not surprised?"
"I just want to know why." The warrior said as always, in a somewhat stubborn tone.
The Templar was silent for a moment, took out a broken ruby from his arms and placed it on the grass beside him.
"The kingdom was destroyed," she said. "Fire and magma surged from the depths of the earth, covering the entire kingdom within an hour. The prophet's spirit held on until the last moment and confirmed the end of everything."
Hearing this terrible news, the warrior still stood quietly, looking calmly into the eyes of the Templar.
"This journey is meaningless," the Templar continued. "It has been meaningless from the beginning."
"The Prophet deceived us," the warrior said slowly.
"No, the prophet is deceiving the people who remain in the kingdom," the Templar said softly, "to make those who remain believe that the kingdom has sent out the most elite team to resolve this incident, just like a hundred years ago, we sealed Elips who awakened from the underground, just like seven hundred years ago, we ended the rule of the frost giants - the world will be saved by warriors. If one warrior is not enough, then use the warriors to form an army."
"... ..The Prophet does not make mistakes."
"Yes, as you said, the prophet does not make mistakes - so, he is the first to know how the end will come."
The Templar said, pointing to the ground beside him. "Sit down, we have been walking for a long time."
The soldier did not move.
The Templar didn't care. Her silence along the way finally ended. In this last quiet evening, she smiled softly: "You, and many of us, understand all this when we are halfway through the journey."
"Perhaps only the red-haired Groska woman truly believed in the great destiny—until death caught up with her, she began to understand a little."
"She might as well not understand," the Templar shook his head slightly, and then was surprised to see the warrior take another step forward. "Where are you going?"
"I'm going to keep going." "Why?"
"Aren't you curious? Why did I keep going after realizing that this expedition was meaningless? Don't you want to know the reason?"
The Templar just stared at him in silence.
"I want to... at least figure out what it is," the warrior said softly, looking at the crimson streak in the dusk. "The kingdom has been destroyed, and perhaps the entire civilized world has been destroyed, but I still want to go on... I want to know what is gradually killing the sky and the earth."
The Templar looked at her last companion quietly. She was silent for a long time and finally let out a long sigh.
"You can't go there."
The soldier turned around and asked: "What?"
"That red light did not fall on the ground."
Under the warrior's visor, an expression of surprise finally appeared on his face.
"When the prophet's soul left the earth, he persisted for a full hour. During this hour, he saw a broader scene from a very high place—our world is a sphere floating in the endless void, and that light... is larger than the earth under our feet and farther than the distant sky."
The Templar said as he raised his hand and picked up the broken ruby on the grass.
“He finally told me that the astrologers’ theories were correct and that the relationship between the stars and the earth was just as the scholars had described.
As described, they are all stars floating in the vast space... My friend, the deep red you are pursuing is not splitting the earth but "everything".
"The only thing that cannot be explained is why we who are on the earth can always see that light appear in a specific direction - even if the earth under our feet rotates like other stars, the light seems to be directly printed in front of our eyes, crossing the sky from east to west, so that we always think it is falling on the earth... ..
"This is the prophet's final confusion. Perhaps, it will also be the final confusion left to the world."
The warrior's body stilled, and for some reason, an inexplicable feeling of trembling was gradually spreading throughout his body.
And so, a long, long time ago, far, far away, in the last calm evening, a man finally understood the world beneath his feet. Before the end of the world.
"Take a break," the Templar's voice was very soft. Before the crimson that was spreading and expanding covered the sky, this woman who always gave people the impression of being too tough and cold spoke gently for the first time, "It's all over."
It's all over.
At the end of it all, something should be done.
The warrior was silent for a moment, then silently drew the sword from his waist.
He had planned to use this sword to defeat the powerful enemy where the red light fell, just like the great heroes in the legend.
But now it seems that this sword is too short to reach the stars, let alone destiny.
He and his civilization had not had time to prepare for their fate—the lights suddenly went out, and they didn't know where the wind came from.
He raised high the blade made of the best materials and the highest craftsmanship in the kingdom, and then threw it into the sky with all his strength.
At the last moment when the long sword fell from his hand, he seemed to hear a voice in the wind, not knowing whether it was an illusion or not—
"Who are you? Where are you from?"
The soldier didn't know where the voice came from, nor did he know if it had ever really appeared. In this brief yet eternal moment, what came to his mind was a sentence that a fellow traveler had often whispered in his ear:
"We are marching towards doomsday."