Chapter 91 The Dead City
As the sky turned from gray to black, Astara invited Enoch to the city lord's mansion. A banquet was prepared, and guards in armor, their gleaming halberds illuminating the path to the dining room.
This certainly didn't seem like the style of a queen's reign.
"The world's prejudice against women is too deep," Astara said nonchalantly, accompanying him into the hall.
"You're back..." The angel emerged carrying delicacies, his joyful smile freezing.
Golden candlesticks illuminated the monarch's path. Astara's eyes held a captivating charm as he looked at Enoch, who had washed away the dust of travel and donned royal robes.
A handsome man and a beautiful woman, a perfect match in every way, at least in Badley's eyes.
"Long time no see, Lord Badley."
Enoch greeted Badley, though inwardly quite surprised.
He hadn't expected to see Badley here again; his wife had never mentioned him in the decades since their marriage.
He had assumed angels, like humans, had a custom of visiting each other.
However, he soon understood why Edna no longer associated with Badley.
The meal was unpleasant.
The angel had changed drastically; it was clear he loved Astara and therefore viewed everyone who approached the Queen with hostility.
Enoch had to constantly raise his cup to avoid that piercing gaze, and soon his wine was empty.
Astara, seeing his fondness for wine, moved his own jug over, but Badley intercepted it halfway.
"Men and women should be separate; I don't think you should share a jug," he said, ordering a servant to fetch wine like a host, but the servant's clumsiness quickly angered him.
Enoch felt it wasn't the servant's actions that angered him, but rather Astara's cold gaze that stung him.
"I didn't want to treat him like this, but lately it's gotten increasingly out of hand."
"He's even learned how to bribe my ministers to get information from me."
While the angel was away fetching wine, Astara poured out her heart to Enoch. She said she was grateful for the angel's life-saving grace, but she didn't want to trade her happiness and future for something else.
"God knows why I've remained single. Whenever I get close to any man, I'm always afraid they won't see the next day's sun."
"I'm tired of human love. I have no love for him, no love for anyone." She said, distressed. "I don't know how to make him give up."
Enoch took a sip of fruit wine to calm himself. It was hard to describe how he felt when he heard Astara say that Badley had done this; he felt sorry for him.
But he didn't know whether to feel sorry for the angel who couldn't have him or for Astara, who refused to compromise.
The sound of shattering cups brought their attention back to the two, while the god, who had been observing from the sidelines, coldly stared at a golden toad that automatically sprayed water by the pool.
It proved that anything painted gold would look much better.
"No, you don't dislike them!" the angel cried out in despair, crushing the shards with his bare feet, golden blood staining the ground.
"You just don't like me."
Enoch was startled and tried to get up, but Astara stopped him.
The beautiful queen seemed unmoved, but this indifference made her even more captivating.
"Enough is enough, Badley."
"Crying, fighting, self-harm—aren't you tired of it all these years?"
"Why does Edna get the happiness she wants?" The angel picked up his shattered heart, looking at her sadly.
"I'd rather die like her, but you won't even give me that chance."
He stormed off, leaving behind a mess and an awkward silence.
"I'm sorry, he didn't mean it," Astair said, looking at Enoch, who sat there with a pale face.
"But you did it on purpose," Enoch said. He saw through her intention to use him to get rid of the angel, but he didn't want to get involved. Besides, he had come here mainly to ask Astair about something.
"Have you ever heard of a city called the City of the Dead?" he asked.
"Hmm, so that's why you came here. I've heard that the dead there are like the living," Astair said casually.
How can the dead be like the living!
"What do you mean?"
"If I were about to die, I might be interested in such legends, and then I could answer your question."
"…I'm not in the mood for jokes," Enoch frowned at her.
"Alright," Astara said, seeing his displeasure, she stopped teasing him.
"First, I need to confirm with you, you wouldn't want to do something so foolish, would you?" As a victim of the previous resurrection blood pack, Astara still felt lingering fear.
Enoch didn't say anything, only calmly meeting her gaze.
"Your eyes are a little frightening," she looked away, "but I know that even if I don't tell you, you can find the answer yourself."
"I haven't seen what that city looks like with my own eyes…"
It was a city built on a cemetery, where the people didn't easily interact with outsiders.
"They worship corpses, believing that 'they' haven't died, but are just waiting to be resurrected."
"You won't find that place by searching for the 'City of the Dead,' because they call it the Holy City."
After saying this, Astara suddenly felt a chill, but she didn't think much of it, assuming it was just the night wind, and pulled her cloak tighter before continuing.
"It's one thing for the locals to think that way, but what's even stranger are those who travel from afar."
"A few months ago, some of my townspeople did just that. They lost loved ones and began to harbor hopes."
"I know those people. They're not usually ignorant, but once they got there, they acted as if possessed. Some people saw them from afar, dressed in black mourning clothes, constantly ringing the 'death bell,' a symbol of the so-called afterlife, just like the locals." She looked earnestly at Enoch. "To be honest, I don't really want you to go there, because this time it's truly eerie."
"Who can resist the temptation of resurrection? If I hadn't already learned my lesson from death, I don't know what I might have done."
"My intuition tells me it's dangerous, so I forbade anyone to go near there."
"You did a good job," Enoch praised her.
"But the news still got to you. I know you love her, but you need to calm down."
"Our stingy gods won't let us get away with this," she said, sneezing unintentionally. She rubbed her nose and sighed, "It's so cold tonight. I feel like I might catch a cold if I stay any longer."
After a hearty meal, the weary humans bid each other farewell.
"I've prepared a gift for you, it's in your room," the Queen winked, her meaningful gaze leaving Enoch puzzled.
He went to the room specially prepared for him, intending to mark the locations along the route Astara had mentioned on the map, but unexpectedly found a nearly naked woman on the bed in the bedroom.
He was speechless, thinking of the 'gift' Astara had mentioned, and shook his head.
Astara always said that people were prejudiced against women, but how were her actions any different from those of the world?
He handed the woman a thick coat and asked her to leave. Then, at his desk, he picked up his pen and, by the candlelight, meticulously planned his future.
'To consider death holy, that is the mockery of hell.' God looked at the nearly frozen golden phallus. Its cold, moon-like form, already blurred in the candlelight, became clear again because of Enoch's resolute refusal of adultery.
The next day, at dawn, Enoch bid farewell to the noisy city lord's mansion.
He heard that the angels hadn't given up and had found new ways to woo him, but that was no longer relevant to him. He continued on his way in the direction Astara had indicated.
He knew he was heading towards the land of sin. He had encountered many demonic disturbances along the way, but since leaving Horma, for several days, he hadn't heard of any evil deeds occurring.
'I've heard that the eye of the storm is always the calmest; perhaps this is true.'
That day, the sky was overcast, the air pressure so low it seemed as if rain was imminent.
At first, he didn't realize he had arrived in the legendary city of the dead until he registered at an inn and was about to pay his lodgings.
"The lodging fee is one shekel."
Even for the only inn in the vicinity, one shekel was far too expensive. Enoch frowned, put down his pen, and looked up to see the eyeholes in the innkeeper's gaunt, fleshless face.
Morphins were even crawling out of them.
"By the way, we only accept gold," a rough, hoarse voice came from beside the mummified corpse.
Seeing that it wasn't a real dead person speaking, Enoch's held breathing slowly eased.
"Even with the most luxurious food, three full meals a day, one shekel is enough for three people for two days," he calmly told the real innkeeper.
"What a joke! Do you think I don't know how much money you have?" The innkeeper took a deep drag on his cigarette. "You've come all this way just for... you know..."
Enoch, noticing the two sharp horns peeking out from the innkeeper's satisfied cigarette, calmly pulled gold from his pocket.
"That's more like it," the demon disguised as a devil nodded in satisfaction. He pocketed the gold and tossed over a room number.
"I'm the only place around here that provides lodging."
"This is the Holy City?"
"Of course not," the demon tapped the table. "If you want to know more, you'll have to pay me more."
Enoch had spent a considerable amount of money to extract information from this money-grubbing demon, but in the end, he got it all back.
"So it wasn't going to rain after all," he said, looking at the increasingly gloomy sky as he emerged from the burning inn. He still couldn't understand why anyone would believe such a bizarre and terrifying scene.
He walked towards the direction of the temple the demon shopkeeper had described. This time, he encountered figures dressed in black robes, their waterproof cloaks making their expressions even more somber.
They moved silently among the rows of graves, like walking corpses, each step accompanied by the ringing of bells, a chilling sound.
The demon said they were waiting to reunite with their loved ones in the afterlife.
But to Enoch, they seemed shrouded in an aura of death, practically indistinguishable from the corpses themselves.
He composed himself and walked towards the palace surrounded by numerous graves.
It was a very dilapidated palace; the faded plaster had obscured its original appearance, and dust and cobwebs covered the corners of the exterior walls.
Enoch's gaze lingered for a moment on the two bronze statues of angels at the entrance. Their wings were outstretched, their faces turned towards each other, their expressions lifelike, yet their faces showed anguish.
Enoch was somewhat surprised to see angel statues here. He couldn't find anything unusual about the two statues and turned his attention to the palace interior.
Just as he stepped onto the rough stone slabs, a gust of cold wind suddenly swept past him, followed by blue flames lighting up the niches on either side, illuminating the path ahead.
He had expected only two bronze angel statues at the entrance, but unexpectedly, the path leading ahead was filled with them on both sides.
It was as if they were deliberately welcoming him into heaven, but the expressions on their faces were too horrified; he couldn't feel any joy or pleasure, instead feeling as if he were stepping into hell.
"You look different," a voice said from the void.
Enoch immediately stopped, cautiously searching for the source of the voice, but the other party made no attempt to conceal its intentions, easily appearing from the edge of the blue flames.
It was a leopard.
"Aren't you afraid?" the leopard asked in human language.
"Who are you?"
"Florace, I am here by command to await the destined one."
"By whose command?"
"By His Majesty's command," said the leopard, "He was the dawn of the world, dazzling and extraordinary."
The angel's image began to sang a lament, blood and snakes tightly intertwined.
As every bewitched person has ever seen, in the demon's narration, time seemed to flow backward, the image of the dilapidated and desolate city faded, and a bright and magnificent palace appeared before Enoch's eyes.
The demon named Florence told Enoch about the beginning of time and the fall of the angels.
Enoch then learned the fate of the villainous angels in Raziel's memories. He only knew of their rebellion, but not why they rebelled, nor their end.
Yet their fate was so poignant.
"This is the city of the dead, and also the city of the sacred."
Sensing the turmoil in his heart, the Lord of the Abyss descended from his throne, his steps covering vast distances, appearing before him in the blink of an eye from the otherworldly, magnificent palace.
He sighed deeply, like an old friend.
"You are the wisest person in the world."
"Your character even surpasses Adam's."
"I felt an instant liking for you upon first sight."
The Demon King's slender fingertips brushed across the man's face, his blood-red eyes fixed on those pure, gentle eyes.
"What use is faith?"
"He doesn't care about you."
"Won't you still be abandoned?"
"Follow me, abandon false piety, and walk towards truth."
Enoch snapped back to reality, realizing that it wasn't the other person who had stepped out of the painting, but rather that he himself had entered the palace.
This is why those people believe in resurrection, in the afterlife—because they have truly witnessed superhuman abilities.
"What is truth?" he asked.
"Desire to be seen directly, evil within reach."
"You agree with my thoughts?" The Demon King chuckled softly, surprisingly friendly. "Your people are utterly worthless."
"You genuinely believe they are dull, selfish, lazy, and greedy."
"Those aren't unique to humans," Enoch refuted the Demon King's cunning argument.
"I don't know the point of having Mr. Florence tell me the truth about the fallen angels," Enoch said calmly. "I only saw the evil you speak of in that war; the sin you speak of isn't unique to humans."
"If humans are as worthless as you say, then what about the angels who fell with you?"
"Such sharp words!" Lucifer grabbed Enoch's chin, forcing him to open his mouth, scrutinizing the still handsome face with its full beard.
"Enoch the Dedicated… I want you even more now."
Enoch struggled free from his grasp, taking a few steps back and summoning the Book of Heaven.
Lucifer, seeing his wary expression, couldn't help but laugh: "That thing is useless against me."
Enoch wasn't angered by his disdain. Enoch the Dedicated—he hadn't heard that title in a long time.
It wasn't a title bestowed upon him by the world, but an aura bestowed upon him by God.
Lucifer treated him this way only because of God.
"If a person has nothing, yet thinks he has it, he is deceiving himself," he suddenly spoke. "You are not perfect either."
Lucifer looked at him coldly, wanting to know what else he had to say.
"You, like everyone else, are mired in suffering."
"The suffering of unfulfilled desires—I can see it. The enormous hole in your heart, because of the insatiable greed."
Lucifer was enraged, and with a wave of his hand, easily bound him.
"You overestimate yourself! What makes you think you can speak to me like that?"
"You're angry because you agree with me," Enoch countered.
The Lord of Darkness then laughed even louder: "Then tell me, what do I lack?"
"God has abandoned you."
"Shut up!" he roared. "Only this,"
"You think I care about that old man's concern—"
It seemed quite precious.
But these words couldn't be shown, not even the slightest hint of it. Enoch felt the ropes binding him about to snap, along with his body...