Chapter 83 Parting the Clouds
The Black Gate Mountain peak rises nine thousand feet, its summit perpetually covered in snow.
Holding his breath, Enoch waited for the monsters to grope their way away. Behind the snow-covered rocks, he breathed a sigh of relief; his judgment seemed correct.
These vampires are acutely aware of humans because of the warmth of human blood. They hide in the snow-covered mountains, using the cold to seal their blood energy, making them difficult for the vampires to find.
"Have they left?" Akliman asked with difficulty.
"Yes, but a storm is brewing outside. Let's rest here for a while," Enoch helped her up, letting her lean against a rock. Akliman leaned back, lifting her head, her eyes red and swollen, tears streaming down her face.
This was snow blindness. As she spoke, Akliman felt the stinging in her eyes lessen, but she still couldn't see.
"Enoch, I'm afraid I can't escape," she said. "Don't worry about me, let's go."
"You're just blinded by the snow," Enoch comforted her. "When I was little, my father told me that cow's milk could cure it."
"Where are we going to find cows in this vast snow-covered mountain?" Akliman smiled bitterly.
After Edna was captured by Cain in that forest, they fought the vampires, but suffered heavy losses. They didn't know what Cain had done; the vampires were getting stronger and stronger. Seeing their companions being captured one by one, and then Badley suddenly disappearing…
She and Enoch became the vampires' targets. They fled north, finally finding some respite in these snow-covered mountains.
"Even angels… we can't count on them," she sighed.
"That's how it was then. He disappeared as soon as we reached the labyrinth," Enoch said. "Although he told you he was there to explain the situation in the city, I think he sensed danger and fled."
"Let's not talk about him," Akliman said, feeling hopeless and disheartened, no longer wanting to argue. But Enoch was still young, and she didn't want to be a burden.
"I'm only talking about you. Rather than being a burden to me, listen to me and go to Adam City to find my father," she said, but then Enoch suddenly spoke.
"There seems to be a cow ahead?"
A white, long-haired yak appeared in the snowstorm, its hooves clattering as it galloped towards them, seemingly filled with anger.
Indeed.
How could a cow willingly be suddenly moved from a pasture to a snow-covered mountain?
But the one that had brought it over didn't care about such things, simply standing indifferently beside the humans, its silver robe seemingly blending into the snow.
Enoch rushed to lead the cow away, comforting it while examining it closely, and was overjoyed.
"It's a cow that has just given birth!"
How could such a coincidence happen?
Even as fresh milk dripped into her eyes, Akliman still couldn't quite believe it.
Enoch combed the yak's warm fur collar, thought for a moment, and said, "This cow must have a spirit."
The cow mooed, as if in response.
"It must have come to save us at God's command," Akliman said, unable to hide her excitement. "You truly are God's chosen one!"
"You always say that," Enoch said.
"Who?"
"Edna, Badley, you, and my father..." Enoch said, then made a snow bowl and milked some for Akliman to fill her stomach.
"I thank fate for its gift, but in my opinion, anyone could receive such an honor. Why is it that only I am chosen, and not all of you?"
"There are only you and me here, and right now only your eyes are blinded by the snow. Compared to me, this white ox seems more like it came to save you."
"No, you don't understand. This is a miracle, something that hasn't happened in many years." Akliman put down the ice bowl, rubbing her hands, which were red from the cold. She had a terrible perception of her own luck, for she didn't know what she had been through.
"Do you know how many life-or-death situations I've faced? What hardships I've encountered? If it were only me here, there wouldn't be a single hair on the white ox, let alone one."
"That only proves God's favor upon you. You're still alive and kicking." Enoch shook his head and began grooming the yak, puzzled as to why everyone he met called him 'God's chosen one.'
"What, don't you want to be chosen?" Akliman asked curiously, noticing the melancholy in his voice.
"No, if only I were truly chosen by God." Enoch's stroking of the yak slowed, and the yak turned to look at him with its clear golden eyes, as if urging him to continue.
He was a shepherd by trade, skilled at sensing animal emotions. He sensed the yak's improved mood and finally relaxed.
He wondered where the yak had come from; it had been so angry just moments before. If not for his experience, it probably would have turned the place upside down.
"Kades is engulfed in war. Today this city begs for help, tomorrow that city begs for help. With each aid sent, the flames of war rage on, and before we even reached the eastern city, they were already showing signs of expansion."
"Since you've already realized the seriousness of the situation…" Akliman frowned, but Enoch interrupted her.
"Blessed by angels, I once thought I was truly extraordinary."
But what about now?
"I can do nothing. I can't save them, nor can I awaken them."
"As you said, only the Ancestor of Man can stop them. He is the chosen one of God, and I am but a powerless man."
Acreman's vision gradually returned. She looked at Enoch, and although she spoke dejectedly, her eyes remained resolute.
"It seems you don't need my comfort," she said hesitantly.
"The Ancestor of Man has his mission, and so do we. Doing the right thing at the right time—that is the right thing to do," Enoch paused, then continued.
"If it is correct, why do I need your comforting words?"
"You are quite cunning, pinning the 'greatness' on others," Akliman scoffed. "I find your words terrifyingly rational, yet your actions are the complete opposite—madness."
"It's truly incomprehensible what's going on in your head. Between the big and the small, others think about how to solve the big problems, but you only claim incompetence when it comes to matters of life and death concerning tens of thousands. If you are incompetent and cowardly, why did you insist on following me to that city in the east, sharing your name, regardless of your own life—"
"If the progenitor of mankind were capable, he would have already heard of the war in Kadesh, and he would surely have stopped it," Enoch said.
From the moment he was driven out by the lord of Hormar, he knew he couldn't solve this problem.
Power and prestige—war originated from this, and can only end here. He revered the greatness and prestige of the progenitor of mankind, and believed that the progenitor could resolve these matters.
But the girls in the East Side and Edna didn't receive such timely rescue; compared to the war, they were too insignificant.
"These are all excuses. If you wanted to, you would have tried everything to stop it. You just think those people aren't as important as Edna," Ackerman bluntly stated the essence.
Enoch was silent for a moment, rationally considering all possibilities. Choosing what he loved within his power was a fact.
He didn't regret it, and he had nothing to say about Ackerman's accusations.
"I don't know how you see me; perhaps you'll be disappointed that I'm not as benevolent as you imagine."
"Why should I be disappointed? What does all of humanity have to do with me?" Akliman stood up and stretched, feeling her energy returning. "You think too highly of me, just as I once thought too highly of you—"
"It seems we're both fools," she said, then suddenly chuckled. "For me, love is more important than anything else in the world."
"I don't care what you thought before. Now that you've witnessed the horrors of vampires, you still decide to come with me?"
Enoch didn't answer, but Akliman saw the answer in his eyes.
The vampires' abilities grew stronger with each passing year; going back would mean certain death.
For Abel, for the hunters who had risked their lives alongside her, she couldn't refuse such a fate.
But Enoch was different. If he listened to her and sought Adam's help now, with her guarantee and his own abilities and wisdom, he would surely shine in the process of quelling the war.
"Do only the right thing," even if it doesn't align with universal righteousness, it's unlikely to earn a good reputation, or even result in nothing.
She thought he was foolish, clearly seeing everything clearly yet still doing it.
"Abandoning great love for personal feelings, in that sense, you really don't seem like someone God would choose."
"I didn't think that much," Enoch whispered.
It had nothing to do with the war, nothing to do with all of humanity. The fifteen-year-old boy, though intelligent, lacked the awareness to bear such responsibilities.
"I only knew I had to save her."
The angels risked their lives because of him. If he had obeyed and hadn't gone east, Edna wouldn't have come looking for him, and she wouldn't have been captured.
Righteousness, great love, sacrifice—the halo imposed on him by a casual remark from God was stripped away by him.
But God wasn't disappointed; instead, He saw hope for humanity in Enoch.
Edna was trapped in the tower.
To prevent her escape, Cain shackled her hands and feet, making her like a cat with a bell, jingling wherever she went.
The man professed his love for her upon first meeting, yet his actions treated her like a pet without dignity.
The angel had never suffered such humiliation.
She looked down. A tight security cordon was in place around the tower, with three shifts of guards passing by every quarter of an hour.
In addition, a maidservant, practically her personal stalker, followed her constantly.
"Miss Edna, I'm back."
"Here's the fabric you requested."
"It's from the best fabric shop in town; even outsiders couldn't find it."
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The maidservant chattered as she hung the brightly colored fabrics on the rack. Edna watched her, but then heard shouts coming from the square below the tower, and turned back to look.
A group of people were being jostled past the tower.
"What are you looking at?" The maid, curious, leaned closer to look, then suddenly realized, "Oh! Those are vicious bandits. Lord Cain will hang them in a few days."
Cain was kind to his subjects; the people of the city worshipped and revered him, believing him to be omnipotent. He maintained a facade of propriety before them, yet vented his malice and bloodshed on all humanity outside the city.
The maid's hatred for his enemies matched her admiration for Cain. She was bright and innocent-looking, but when she spoke of the prisoners, she wished she could personally beat them with a club.
Edna didn't answer. The prisoners were disheveled and filthy. She recognized a few familiar faces.
They were all hunters.
She looked around, but didn't see the figures she expected. A sigh of relief rose within her, but a restless anxiety rose within her—an anxiety of not being able to grasp reality.
"Where will they be taken?"
"To the prison," the maid replied, pointing out a spot that showed interest.
"Right there."
Edna looked in the direction she pointed, then suddenly paused.
Near the prison, shrouded in black mist, lay a chaotic place.
It was a gray expanse, and she couldn't make out anything with her eyesight.
"What is that place?" she asked the maid.
"It's a sacred place."
"My god hasn't permitted it; how dare you call it a sacred place?"
"What god?" the maid looked at her curiously. "I've never heard of any god. It's Lord Cain's sacred place."
"Without Lord Cain's permission, anyone who enters this place will get lost and never come out," the maid said proudly, puffing out her chest.
Edna fell into deep thought at her words. She had heard Enoch mention a labyrinth in the city; when they first came to investigate the missing girls, they were trapped inside, losing most of their men—only three escaped.
Could that be it?
Thinking this, she ordered her maid to fetch more cloth, though she was treated like a caged bird. However, because of Cain's affection for her, the maid dared not disobey and reluctantly left.
After the maid left, Edna immediately tore the cloth she had brought back into strips.
Over the past few days, she had basically figured out Cain's pattern of activity. He usually only came here in the morning.
Edna didn't know what he was thinking. They couldn't see eye to eye; why did they have to stand here, mutually loathing each other? But no matter how coldly she ignored him, that damned vampire would always sit here for a full hour.
In the afternoon, he would handle matters in the nearby palace, and at night he would disappear.
Nighttime might be dangerous and uncertain, with increased patrols, but the darkness also offered her cover.
Once she escaped, she could deal with him later once she was freed from the chains.
Thinking this, she patiently waited for sunset.
Darkness fell quickly as she anticipated. She wrapped the neatly arranged strips of cloth around the chains, silencing them, then swiftly knocked unconscious the unsuspecting maid and ran down the tower.
The whole process was swift and silent, just as she had planned, until she reached the bottom of the tower after seven stories—just as she was about to burst out—she saw Cain emerging from the basement.
Her heart nearly leaped out of her chest.
She pressed herself against the wall, using the protruding section to conceal herself.
Cain drew closer, standing about ten paces away. She was hidden in the candlelight's shadow, and Cain hadn't yet noticed her.
Cain stared at the stairs above, seemingly caught in some profound struggle. Edna saw his toes twitch slightly. For a moment, she held her breath. If she went up and saw the unconscious maid, she knew she wouldn't be able to escape.
But thankfully, he didn't go up the tower. Someone called to him.
"Lord Cain, something seems to have happened at the labyrinth."
"What is it?"
She remained motionless, listening to the person whisper something to Cain. It was very soft, but she still heard the word "angel." After hearing what the person said, Cain left without lingering, heading towards the Chaos Land.
'What angel?'
Was it Prince Raziel? She peeked out, but before she could even step out from behind the wall, she saw a figure flash through the darkness and disappear into the basement.
'Badley?'
Edna was startled. She hadn't encountered anything up there except the maid; she hadn't expected such a commotion down below the tower.
She assumed the Archangel had come to rescue her and followed. Her angelic power was sealed, preventing her from communicating telepathically or shouting. She could only cautiously descend the stairs.
The place looked ancient; the air was thick with the smell of grave dust, as if she were walking through a tomb. The deeper she went, the more pronounced the chilling atmosphere became, a stark contrast to the tower above, adding to the aura of legendary hell.
She quickly reached the bottom and found many doors. She pushed one open and found several girls inside.
Their hands were bound behind their backs, their expressions blank as they stared at her.
"You are…" She realized who these people were—the captured human girls.
"Edna." Badley emerged from the darkness, leading someone out of another room—it was Astara.
"I thought you were here to rescue me," she said, a half-smile playing on her lips as she looked at Badley.
"You're not in danger. That vampire just wants you to be his wife."
"He's dreaming!" Edna shouted angrily, then calmed down. "Why? How do you know?"
"You look exactly like the former wife of the city lord," Badley said. "Her body lies in the largest dark room here. These girls were captured to be resurrected."