Chapter 43 Chapter Fourteen: The End of the Dark Sword

The portal opens again, this time in the middle of the circle of saints. Saryon stepped out, holding the Dark Sword, clumsily and carefully, like a father holding a newborn child.The cardinal was horrified--that this man should have brought a wicked weapon to such a solemn ceremony--and he looked to the bishop, and demanded instructions. Bishop Fanya stood up and said sharply, "Sentencing Deacon Saryon to stand beside the executioner and raise the sword of darkness, so that the last thing that young man can see is the evil thing he created." The Cardinal bowed in salute.There was a whisper among the catalyst saints, which was suddenly interrupted by a frightening hiss from the priest.All were silent again, so still that only the whisper of the wind slid across the sand, clear enough for everyone to hear, but only Saryon understood its words, and could hear the wind's lament from years ago:

"The prince is the living dead..." The portal opens for the last time.The prisoner was held in the middle by two Du Kexis and walked onto the sandy ground.Joram bowed his head, his black hair hanging in front of him in a mess.He had to move forward slowly and carefully—the ring of fire still bound his arms and upper body.The ugly, bright red, startling welts were clearly visible on his body, and there was a quick murmur from the crowd that the young man was making one last foolish and violent struggle against fate. It seemed that he had learned his lesson, and now he seemed to be knocked unconscious by despair, neither caring nor caring about the things around him.Dukexis led his shambling steps to the spoked wheel mark in the sand, and made him stand in the center of it.He moved mechanically, his body no longer had his own will.The Bishop found himself unable not to look away from the young man to his mother's body.The two were surprisingly similar, and Van Ya hurriedly looked away, a shudder rolled from his fat back all the way to the back of his head.

The prisoner is now the executioner's.The hand of the gray-robed wizard moved slightly, and Duke Xisi, who was leading the way for the youth, was about to leave. "Joran!" came a broken cry from beyond the circle. "Joran! I—" The words were cut off by a choked sob. Joram looked up, saw who was calling his name, and glared at the executioner. "Take her away. Let them take her away!" he snapped quietly.His eyes glowed with a faint sullenness, the muscles in his arms twitched and he clenched his hands so that Duxis stood aside and did not move away. "Let me speak to him a few words," Saryon said.

"I don't hear a word from you, Catalyst Saint!" Joram roared. "I don't want anything myself!" He raised his voice, and his voice was tinged with darkness and madness.So Duke Xisi approached. "Take that lady away! She's not wrong! Take her away, or I swear on Emin's name, I'll cry out the truth until my mouth turns to stone—ahhh!" The young man cried out in pain, and the fire ring bound him tightly, burning his flesh and blood. "Please!" Saryon begged desperately. The executioner's head moved slightly.He gestured, and Duke Xisi backed away.Saryon placed the Dark Sword in the sand at the executioner's feet, and trudged across the sand to stand before Joram.The young man looked at him with intense hatred in his eyes.Joram spat on the saint's shoe as Saryon approached.Saryon flinched, as if he had been punched in the face.

"The next breath I take, I'm going to call the emperor 'Father'." Qiao Ran said through gritted teeth. "Tell them, traitor! Unless she can leave—" "Joran, don't you understand?" Saryon said softly. "That's why she's here! You are asked to remain silent. I've been asked to tell you that if you speak out, she will face the same fate as your mother—Anja. She will be kicked out of the house, out of this city." Saryon saw the fire burn in Joram's soul, and he thought for a moment that it had consumed the youth's goodness and nobility.

what can I say?The catalyst saint thought frantically.No cliché could save him now.Only the truth.But this will make him desperate, and finally drag her down together. "I warned you, my boy." Saryon looked into those eyes that kept smoldering with anger. "I warned you that all you could bring her, and all of us, was misfortune. You wouldn't listen. You've lived your life centered on your own pain and never felt anyone else's. Now Feel it, Joram. Feel this pain, and cherish it, for it will be the last thing you will feel in this world. This pain will be your salvation. I go to heaven—” Catalyst Saint hang your head. "Let that be my salvation too."

There was a silence broken only by the whisper of the wind blowing through the sand and Joram's harsh breathing.Then Saryon heard a sharp inhalation sound, and looked up hastily.The fire in those eyes still flickered, but was drowned and quenched by the welling up of tears.A sob made the whole body shrink, and the shoulders slumped.Joram fell to his knees in the sand. "Help me, Father!" His tears choked him. "I'm scared! I'm so scared!" "Get this out!" Saryon shouted at Dukes, pointing angrily at the three rings of fire.The wizard looked at the executioner hesitantly, and the executioner nodded immediately.Time is running fast.

The ring of fire disappeared. Saryon knelt beside Joram and hugged him.The muscular body froze for a moment, then relaxed.Joram buried his head on the shoulder of the catalyst saint, closed his eyes, and no longer looked at the gray-robed executioner, no longer looked at the guards lined up on the sand, and no longer looked at his mother's body, she just watched unconsciously. Seeing that his son of the living dead would be forced to accept eternal life.He can't take it.Fear tormented him in the long darkness of night, crushing him. Standing forever, eaten by the passing time year after year, always alert, always in a dream, never resting...

"help me!" "My child!" Saryon hugged his burned, tormented body, smoothing his long black hair. "You are my child! I gave you life," he whispered. "Now I'm going to give you another life!" The arms of the Catalyst Saints wrap around the young man. "Get ready!" Saryon whispered suddenly and firmly in Joram's ear. Two hands grabbed Saryon, and Dukes pulled him away, pushing him aside.The two dukes grabbed Joram and pulled him up to his feet again in the center of the circle.The sand where the spoked wheels had been painted was now a blur.Du Kexi stood on both sides of Qiao Lang, clasped his arms tightly, and prepared him to accept the punishment of transformation.

Joram blinked away his tears, and ignored the wizard.He looked at Saryon in amazement, and saw an unusual sense of firmness and relief on the saint's haggard face.Slowly, with what seemed disgust and reluctance, Saryon lifted the Dark Sword from the sand.He held it up to him, resting one hand under the hilt. Watching intently, Joram saw Saryon's hand jerk and let go of the sword.The young man glanced around quickly to see if anyone was paying attention.No one found out.All eyes were on the executioner.Joram made nervous preparations, but he still didn't know what Saryon's plan was.

The young man heard Gwendelyn weeping, heard the Catalyst Saints chanting prayers, drawing life from the world.They put their hands together and locked the target of the power transmission to be the executioner.Joram heard the executioner begin to chant the incantation, but all the words were filtered from his mind.He filtered out all sound, just as he had filtered out the entire world before his eyes.He stared at Saryon with all his heart and undivided attention.He knew that if he let go, fear would take hold of him again, take him for itself. Bishop Fanya once again stood up solemnly.Such a sonorous voice overwhelmed the chant of prayers and the whistling of the wind, which read accusations. "Joran. (He omits the identity of the prisoner's parents, and casts an uneasy sideways glance at the Emperor, who appears to be smiling only slightly.) You are the living dead walking among the living. You are accused of taking Simha What is even more unforgivable is that you were accused of being an accomplice of the demon craftsmen who mastered the dark crafts. During your life with them, you made evil weapons that the world despised. You were killed by the three catalyst saints A tribunal of gangsters found guilty. "Their sentence is to transform you into a stone statue, to stand on the borders of our lands, to forever warn those who seek to do like you. The last thing your eyes will see will be the demonic tool you forged. When it is all over, this A symbol of the filthy craft that seduced you shall be engraved upon your breast. May Emin grant that after all the ages you will repent of your sins and be forgiven in His sight. "May He have mercy on your soul. Executioner, execute." When Qiao Lang heard those words, he struggled in his heart for a moment, anger welled up in his heart, and he wanted to shout out the truth.He longed to erase the sanctimonious expressions on the faces around him, longed to see them sweating and pale.His gaze turned to the emperor, his father.A wild hope rose in Joram's chest.He will support me!The young man thought.He knows who I am, that's why he's here.He is here to rescue me! Joram looked away suddenly, as if he had been attracted by a sentence that only he understood.He stared into his mother's lifeless eyes again.The corpse sat motionless, its eyes fixed on a nearly transparent face.Joram understood, and sighed.He glanced at the emperor.His father didn't look at him, but walked past him, showing no sign of recognizing him.Only that eerie, sad smile that Vanya evoked when he skipped the customary family name at the verdict remained on the emperor's lips. you are my child!The words of the Catalyst Saint echoed.I gave you life. The executioner's chanting grew louder.The wizard threw up his hands. Saryon walked up to the sorcerer and stood to the executioner's left, just as saints would stand to their mage's left when in combat.Saryon slowly raised the Dark Sword, holding it under the hilt with both hands. Joram stared at the catalyst saint and saw that Saryon was holding up not a sword but a scabbard.His pulse quickened and his muscles tensed.He could only stand stiffly in the center of the spoke wheel, the pattern had almost been trampled beyond recognition by his feet.He kept staring at Saryon and the sword.Duke Xisi moved away from him, retreating to the edge of the circle of catalyst saints. Joram stood alone now. The executioner shouted loudly, asking for the power of life.Each Catalyst Saint bowed his head, trying to channel all the power he had absorbed into the Witcher.They opened the transmission channel, allowing life force to flow into the wizard's body.The combined power of all the saints is so strong that the magic is clearly visible - the blue flames hover over the saints and gather in their closed hands.Dazzling like blue lightning, it leaped from them and rushed into the executioner's body. Gathering his strength, the executioner turned both hands on Joram.One more word from him and the spell will be cast and the transformation will begin. The executioner took a breath.The hood of the gray robe kept trembling.He pronounced the first syllable of the first word, and at that moment Saryon leapt forward and stood between the executioner and Joram.Blue lightning shot from the wizard's hand, hitting Saryon.The priest took a painful breath and tried to move forward, but he couldn't move. His feet, down to his ankles, were white hard stones. "My boy!" cried Saryon, never taking his eyes off Joram. "Sword!" Even though the terrible cold numbness had climbed up to his knees, Saryon threw the sword with his last strength. The Dark Sword fell to Joram's feet.But the young man seemed turned to stone too, and could only stare dazedly at Saryon, terrified. "Joran, run away!" Saryon yelled in pain, writhing in pain, his feet stuck to the sand. The black shadow glimpsed out of the corner of his eye brought Joram back to his senses.Anger and grief urged him to act.He reached for his sword, drew it from its sheath, and turned to face his enemy. He remembered Jarod's teaching.He swung his sword in front of him, intending to stop Du Kexis first, and then step back to see his situation clearly.But he forgot to calculate the strength of the sword itself. The dark sword jumped into the air, immediately affecting the life force that the saints transmitted to the executioner.Desperate for that power, the Dark Sword began to absorb magic.The blue arc jumped, bursting into flames, freed from the executioner, and flew towards the sword.The saints yelled in horror, and many wanted to close the transmission canal.But it was too late.The Dark Sword is gaining strength every moment, it has forced open all transmission channels, absorbing life force from everything around it, from everyone. The wizards caught up to stop Joram, magic crackling at their fingertips, but they saw a blinding blue bolt of lightning shoot out of the darkness.A blast of pure energy hit them like a burst of stars, and the black-cloaked figure shattered in a blinding flash. The dark sword hummed triumphantly in Joram's hand.Blue electric fire shot from its blade, surrounding the young man's body like fiery vines.The violent explosion and the sudden disappearance of the enemy made Joe Lang suddenly feel dazed, and he stared at the sword in his hand in disbelief.Then, the feeling of knowing that he was holding invincible power rushed through him.With it, he can conquer the world!With it, he will win without a fight! Joram roared with ecstasy, and turned to face the executioner— —and saw Saryon. The spell has been cast.The power of the Dark Sword cannot change it, reverse it, or stop it. Saryon's feet, legs, and lower body turned into white stones, hard and solid, unable to move.A biting cold numbness surged up, and Joram watched helplessly as the spell coagulated the flesh and blood of the catalyst saint and slowly climbed along his abdomen to his waist. "No!" Joram shouted in a low voice, lowering his sword. That Dikonduke was yelling something.Bishop Vanya snarled like a wounded beast.Joram vaguely felt the teleportation corridor open, and black people poured out of it like ants.But to him, they were all bugs and nothing. Joram rushed forward and took Saryon's hand.The Catalyst Saints raised their hands in pleading grief. "Flee!" Saryon wanted to shout, but his diaphragm also froze, freezing his voice and swallowing the word. "Flee!" his eyes struggled in a shadow of pain and pleaded. Qiao Lang's heart surged with fury.He stepped across the sand step by step and stood in front of the executioner.The sword of darkness lit up with blue light, continuously absorbing the power of life from the world. The executioner couldn't hold it any longer, and knelt on the ground with one leg.The casting of the spell had used up quite a bit of mana, and the Dark Sword was still draining his power.But he still raised his head and stared at Joram with indifference and detachment. "Spell Reversal!" Joram shouted, raising his sword. "Otherwise I swear by Emin, I will cut off your head!" "Cut it!" said the wizard weakly. "Once a spell is cast, it cannot be withdrawn. Not even the dark power of this sword can be altered!" Tears blinded Joram's eyes, and he pressed the sword to the sorcerer's throat.The sorcerer waited, too drained of his strength to move, fearlessly facing his man who would kill him. Joram stopped, looking away from the enemy.Most of the Catalyst Saints fell to their knees exhausted, and some were unconscious, lying motionless on the sand.Dukexis hovered outside the circle of fallen saints, helpless.As soon as the sorcerers stepped out of the teleportation corridor, they found that their life force was disappearing every moment.As long as the sword had this formidable power, no one would dare come near Joram. Their fear was reflected in Bishop Vanya's pale face, and in Prince Xavier's fearful eyes.Joram saw it, and his slightly wry smile made his face even more gloomy.No one can stop him now, and they know it.The dark sword can cut through the portal, take him anywhere in this world, and they will lose him again. A voice came from behind him, barely audible in the dead silence that surrounded him.It was a sigh, the last breath escaping from the congealed lobes of his lungs. Suddenly Joram lowered his sword.He turned his back on the executioner, he saw a quick flash of bewildered relief in the executioner's eyes; he turned his back on Dukes, who were nervously preparing for action; he turned his back on them all, and walked slowly Over rolling sand.He walked up to the catalyst saint, and saw that the saint's body had turned into stone, and the only thing that was still flesh and blood was the neck and head.Joram reached out and touched the warm cheek, caressing the saint's face tenderly, feeling it grow cold under his fingertips. "I know what I should do now, Father," said Joram softly, picking up the scabbard lying in the sand at the foot of the saint's stone. He scabbard his sword, placing it softly and reverently in the outstretched hands of the Catalyst Saint. A tear rolled down Saryon's face, and then his eyes turned white and hardened.The spell is done.From head to toe, this warm, living flesh became cold and hard rock.But forever fixed on that stone face was an unearthly calm, lips parted slightly, chanting the last prayer of thanksgiving from the soul. Joram was relieved by this sight, and he rested his head on his stone chest. "Give me a share of your strength, Father," he prayed. Then he backed away from the living statue and looked contemptuously at the pale, terrified faces that turned to him. "You call me the living dead!" he yelled.His eyes fell on the Queen.The magic that had given the corpse its feigned vitality was withdrawn, and the woman's body collapsed at the feet of her husband, who never once looked down.He might as well have been turned into a corpse, with a lifeless face. Joram looked away, looking at the blue sky.The sun breaks free from the fog of death and shines on the world, calm and indifferent, only trapped in its own ecstasy.The young man sighed, like the echo of Saryon's last breath. "But you are the ones who died," he whispered mournfully. "It's the world that dies. You don't have to be afraid of me." He turned away from the stone statue, and walked slowly but firmly across the sand.He heard a sudden commotion behind him, like sorcerers scrambling for action, no longer worried about the dark and lifeless sword lying in the frozen hand of the Catalyst Saint.But Joram did not quicken his pace. He walked with Emin, and no mortal could touch him. "Stop him!" Bishop Fanya's voice was hoarse with fear, and he suddenly saw Joran's intentions clearly.That Dikonduke jumped up from the stands, his face contorted with rage. "Stop him with all your strength!" the sorcerer screamed, the red robe swirling around him like blood. The black-robed Duke Xisi hurriedly cast their spells, but many of them had already been weakened by the Dark Sword, or perhaps there was still part of the sword's power still surrounding the master.No magic could touch, or stop Joram.He didn't even look back, he just kept walking, his long black hair was blown by the cold wind, and it hugged his face.The shadow of the mist reached out to him, wrapping around his feet.He just keeps going. However, there was a voice that made him hesitate.It was a woman's voice, and there was no pleading or lamentation in that voice, only love. "Joram," she called. "etc!" Gwendelin's father was shocked and tried to hug his daughter back.But what he embraced was only a piece of emptiness.she is gone.Some of those present said that at that moment they caught a glimpse of the white dress and saw the sun shining on the blond hair before it was all swallowed up in mist. Joram kept walking.The mists of the afterlife gathered around him, and he disappeared from sight entirely.The mist boiled and rolled like pearl-gray waves crashing soundlessly on the sands at the edge of the world. The people standing on this beach suffered heavy injuries.Bishop Fanya uttered a choked cry, grabbed his throat, and fell forward, unconscious. The Dikonduke, seeing his prey flee, ran to the statue, trying to draw the dark sword away.But the stone statue of the saint held the sword tightly, maybe there was something special about the metal that was firmly attracted to his hand, or maybe it was just the scabbard, the runes on it lit up with a holy silver light.In any case, Prince Xavier hadn't been able to touch it one iota. Lord Samuels ran in panic along the embankment, calling for his daughter.He begged Duke Xis, implored them to help.Those black-robed figures just looked at him with indifference and pity, shook off his hands, walked into the teleportation corridor, and returned to their various positions in this world. Catalyst saints supported each other to stand up, the strong supported the weak, they walked across the sand, walked to the teleportation corridor, and returned to the home of the holy mountain.Everyone who saw the stone statue of Saryon quickly looked away. The executioner rose slowly to his feet and limped towards Dikonduke.The sorcerer still stared longingly at the dark sword clutched by the statue. "Shall I make him as tall as the other stone statues, my lord?" asked the executioner, turning his gaze to the other thirty-foot watchers. "No!" growled Prince Xavier, a gleam in his eye. "There must be some way to get that damn sword!" He stretched out his hand and flicked the sword. "What way..." he murmured. The teleportation corridor opened and closed rapidly.Zelda La came to bring the fainted bishop back to the holy mountain.The queen's body was wrapped in a white cloth and brought back to the palace.Surrounded by Dukexis and accompanied by the Executioner, Dikonduke returned to some dark secret place favored by his Order, and began to delve feverishly into the properties of the Dark Stone.Maddened with grief, Lord Samuels went home to report their terrible loss to his wife. Soon, the only person left on the sand was the Emperor.No one said a word to him, and he didn't even look down when they removed his wife from under his feet.He stood there as still as a stone, staring into the mist, that eerie, sad smile still on his lips. Joram entered the realm of the afterlife, and the wind blowing across the dunes whispered, "The prince is the living dead... The prince is the living dead."