Willows Planted by Chance Become Flowers (Continued)

Sword.

She wasn't used to holding an unfamiliar sword for more than five seconds.

She didn't care whether it was a bow, a gun, or a club, but she always felt that she shouldn't hold a weapon with a blade for too long.

—My sword belongs only to me.

—I belong only to my own sword.

That's what she thought. So she continued walking forward. From morning till night, from day to night.

On the morning of the fourth day, as the sun rose, she finally arrived at the main gate of the city.

--middle Middle Ages.

When she saw the city, she formed an opinion in her mind. Although there were many towers, the buildings were mostly made of wood or stone.

The streets were bustling with traffic and people.

Vendors hawked their wares in the market, while soldiers patrolled lazily outside the streets.

Wheels rolled by, and the magnificent robes of the noblemen trailed on the ground. Bells rang out, and beggars and flower girls made way for each other on either side of the road.

She entered the city and saw a colossal guardian statue, hundreds of meters tall, standing in the central square. The statue looked somewhat familiar, yet inexplicably filled her with a sense of disgust.

—Somewhat like me.

The girl thought to herself, and subconsciously pulled her cloak down a little. Because she saw that the statue had sharp horns, long red hair, and crimson eyes—but its hands were empty.

—But that's not me.

—Because it has no sword.

She thought of it and tried hard not to listen to the worshippers' prayers. She heard many people in the city praying to a deity called 'Surtr,' believing this deity could protect them and keep them safe.

--ridiculous.

—What's so great about worshipping gods? They're all dead, isn't that a good thing for you humans?

The girl grew increasingly agitated. She tried to ignore the prayers and focused on finding her sword.

Sword.

Where is the sword?

The girl searched diligently, from the slums to the city lord's palace, concealing her tracks and leaving no stone unturned, not overlooking even the smallest possibility.

But she couldn't find it.

She was certain the sword was here. But she couldn't find it.

So she continued her search.

While she was searching, the city gradually became less and less populated.

It wasn't because of her, but because of something else. She saw more and more people praying at the feet of the idol. But fewer and fewer people were dressed in finery or fully armed.

Catastrophe is coming. A messenger has brought this terrible news.

The powerful and wealthy obtained the evidence and fled the Catastrophe, taking their soldiers and rich with them. The poor and infirm in the city were left behind—without pack animals or protection, it was better to stay in the city than to venture into the wilderness to escape Catastrophe and man-made calamities, where they might still be able to find a way to survive by clinging to the walls of houses and cellars.

"Please protect us from Catastrophe, Surtr, please give us food."

"Surtr, protect us from suffering, grant us authority."

She saw those people bowing down to the idol, refusing to eat or drink, and banging their foreheads until they bled.

She felt the sword was still in the city, but she couldn't find it anywhere.

She was very agitated. So agitated that she couldn't sleep at all.

The tedious prayers only fueled her frustration. She even considered smashing the statue to pieces to quiet these guys down.

Finally, one day...

"You shouldn't worship gods; you should rely on yourselves." She removed the cloak that covered her face, revealing her true appearance to this group of people who only knew how to pray to stones. "Come with me, I will take you away from here. I know where there is water in the wilderness, and I know where you can rebuild everything."

She said.

She thought she could at least persuade some people, so that she could gradually work on the others as well.

However.

The people worshipping the statue didn't even glance at her; instead, they worshipped the pile of stones with even greater fervor and devotion.

"Please protect us from Catastrophe, Surtr, please give us food."

"Surtr, protect us from suffering, grant us authority."

They became even more fervent; some even banged their heads, suffered intracranial hemorrhage, and died. They were still prostrating themselves before they died.

They're all useless.

The girl realized she didn't know why she was angry.

But since others looked down on her, she wouldn't presume to be sentimental—in the end, she only did one thing.

She dug a cellar behind the city, by hand, deep enough, sturdy enough, and wide enough to hold everyone in the city who hadn't left yet three times over with room to spare. Then she showed the way to the cellar to every living person in the city who could still move.

But no one was grateful to her. Because people simply worshipped their gods even more devoutly, worshipped the clay and wooden sculptures, worshipped the useless and incompetent Surtr.

—Hopeless.

Her anger turned into disappointment, but she still didn't know why she was disappointed.

So she waited for the day the Catastrophe would strike.

She thought there would at least be some consolation prize, such as someone leaving her some food, the little flower girl giving her a flower, or even a word of thanks or a courtesy... She thought there would at least be some kind of reward.

But no.

There was nothing there.

The Catastrophe storm arrived as promised, sweeping across the land, leveling majestic buildings, and tearing apart and obliterating towering statues. And she gained nothing.

No one died, and no one thanked her.

Amidst the storm of Catastrophe, she sat down beside the statue.