Chapter 548

A divine pillar of fire bursts forth.

The pillar of fire slowly spins in a spiral, mesmerising the people.

What has been shaped there possesses an appearance enough to captivate anyone.

It is a mysterious sight, creating sculptures from flame.

Just like a baby reaching out in wonder upon seeing fire for the first time, one is irresistibly drawn closer to it…

However, unlike back then when the realization of the heat only came after getting burned, the line exists in being entranced and knowing the danger of fire yet still stepping closer. People didn’t recognize the searing heat clinging to their bodies, nor the scorching pain enveloping them, only feeling warmth and comfort as they finally threw themselves into the fire, becoming one with the angel.

Yes.

Becoming one.

Those approaching that pillar of fire now are wood and another fire.

The pillar of fire grows larger.

Sacrificing people.

Burning people like firewood.

Thus, the flames grow fierce, and the entity masquerading as an angel gradually expands.

It utilizes the entire floor, transformed into a sea of fire, as if it were its own body, making the whole layer like its belly.

Ah, those not entranced must realize.

They must know that this layer has become the belly of that flame.

“The fire brightens the world with its light. It illuminates the night, banishing darkness. Thus, it gives warmth to humanity, dispelling fear; the wandering lamb may take me as a torch to drive away darkness and as a lantern to light its way. Therefore, take the pillar of fire as a sign, walk, and walk until you arrive there.”

Yet do not fear.

This is a natural phenomenon.

The blazing fire incinerates everything to ash, and the flames call forth other flames.

This unfolds under the solemn laws of God.

Why should one fear this?

Everything occurs as an event in accordance with the will of God.

Do not fear.

This is not mysterious, nor is it contrary to the laws.

[Crackle—do not gaze long—-beware of the illusion—crackle—]

The sound echoes from the walkie-talkie.

A noise filled with static.

A voice more incomprehensible than the mumbled drunken chatter of an old man from the rural America, with all his teeth gone.

But still, the man focused intently on the sound coming from the walkie-talkie, concentrating and deciphering it, pounding it into his head.

Why, you ask?

Because that was the only way to escape this damned situation!

“O mighty Metatron, receive me…!”

“The pillar leading to God opens; O God, allow me to ascend there…!”

The moment he shifted his focus away from the walkie-talkie, sounds came pouring in.

Gone was the scene where he fired recklessly; now, under some sort of intoxicating effect, the voices of those approaching the pillar of fire murmured blissfully.

Flame.

If it ended there, it would be a relief.

But after that ecstatic sound rang out, a particular sound always followed.

Like throwing firewood into a high-burning campfire.

The sound made when foreign substances entered the flame.

The sound made when the flames rushed more violently, fueled by something.

The sound generated when the flames waved, swayed by the swirling wind.

That sound keeps on coming.

Continuously… continuously.

And with every time that sound rang out, a person died.

Entering the flames of their own accord, igniting themselves, they perish.

What a damned situation.

Of course, the man had no intention of leaving those people alive.

He thought about breaking every bone in their bodies, twisting their necks 360 degrees, or even obliterating their heads completely. Surely, he wasn’t just pondering; he would have carried it out. Unlike those fools who merely fired their guns, he had more than enough skill!

But that didn’t mean he wished for those fools to die so pathetically.

It wasn’t a noble death in battle; they died throwing themselves into flames like firewood.

How could that be seen as a human death?

Even livestock wouldn’t die like that.

Dying like mere firewood or a moth rushing towards the flames!

He had once been a boy scout when he was young.

In the dead of night, they had lit a campfire, and seeing that light, swarms of insects flew from the forest.

Those bugs, stupidly drawn in, met their end in the flames, and the boys expressed their disgust yet hesitated to mock the bugs.

“What a bunch of idiots.”

“It’s obvious that rushing into this hot fire would lead to death. How foolish!”

And they had roasted marshmallows or made s’mores over that fire…

Ah.

The fanatical devotees now resembled just that.

Like insects.

Like firewood.

They perish like that.

And, without leaving even a trace of having existed in this world, they turn to ash.

Is it possible to be so hollow?

If they’re going to die like that, why the hell have they lived up until now?

No, if they’re going to die like that, shouldn’t they at least throw a tantrum?

Not interfere with him while he was firing his gun!

What a way to make death an awkward affair!

[…Crackle—get a grip!!! Tango golfer!!! You jackass! You’ve been enchanted—!!!]

*

Flames.

The flames dance.

Like seaweed undulating underwater.

Like seaweed rooted to the bottom, hair reaching up as it sways.

Oh, they sway and sway.

Embracing the swirling mirage, swaying, swaying.

From left to right.

From right to left.

Swaying and swaying.

The corpse settled at the bottom sways with the waves, its hair floating.

The blown-up hand, relinquishing to the waves, seems to linger stubbornly, unable to let go.

The hand sways.

The flames, the hand sway.

Sway.

Swaying and swaying.

The rising flames cast shadows.

Shadows revealed by light, breaking, merging, and shaking.

That swaying is enough to hypnotize people.

The shadows dance.

As if a water sprite danced on the dark ocean floor.

The shadow sways and breaks apart, forming the shape of a person, then transforming into the form of a ghost or an animal. What shape is this? The form of the shadow seems truly bizarre, swaying and shredding in all directions; what could it be? Oh passerby, can you enlighten me? I think I know the name of that seaweed. What can you see in the rolling waves? Please dip your head in the water and have a look. Answer me, please; how does the shadow swaying and dancing appear to you?

The shadow dances.

The flames dance.

When the light moves, the shadows rip apart.

When the shadow moves, the flames shred and sway.

Is this the sea or the land?

I utterly cannot discern.

Ah, I can barely breathe.

I cannot breathe…

I want to breathe, but I cannot surface; what is this?

I can’t breathe out bubbles, so it’s not the sea.

I find it hard to breathe, which makes me feel it’s not the land either.

Where on earth am I?

Is this the living world or the afterlife? Let’s ask…

“Let’s ask….”

I can’t breathe, so someone ought to help me.

Ah, seeing this darkness spreading, I can tell it must be a pitch-black night, so I should reach out for assistance and would appreciate it if someone would hold my hand. Care to grab this hand of mine? As the flickering flames sway like a dance, I should be able to see where my hand reaches, so come on, reach out, grab my hand, and guide me so I can breathe and repay your grace in whatever way I can.

I would be infinitely grateful, enough to carve your name into my bone.

Ah, the grace engraved upon my bones will endure even if burned in flames or devoured and scattered by fish in the water; it will remain intact, and I’ll record it. Is this not extraordinary?

Such chances to receive grace aren’t often available.

Just hold my hand.

Come on…

“Hand….”

The hand.

A hand is visible.

A person’s hand.

The hand, illuminated by the flames, casting shadows that fade and disappear.

A hand reaches out as if asking for a handshake.

[Crackle—dammit! Pacemaker—crackle—just turn it off and on—!! What? If you do that now, you’ll die—crackle—What does that matter! You’ve been enchanted! If you leave it as is, you’ll definitely die—crackle—! Got it—! Three, two–! Crackle-! Zero!]

Zap!

“Ugh!”

At that very moment when he tried to grasp that hand,

A sound burst from the walkie-talkie, and his heart briefly stopped before racing again.

And at that very instant, his narrowed field of vision returned to normal—

“Fuck!”

Thud!

He mustered all his strength and sent the head of the man reaching out for a handshake flying off.

---