Cemetery District

The roads after the rain were a muddy mess. The Slums were always filled with rotten, muddy roads; one step would send mud and grime splashing everywhere. Occasionally, rainwater washed feces and garbage out from the corners of alleyways, and a foul stench forever lingered in the air. Amid the densely packed, low-roofed shacks, many numb-faced people could be seen working busily. They needed to repair their homes before rushing to the docks to find hard labor. Whenever the season of heavy rains came, many houses leaked, and occasional collapses brought tragedy.

Soren walked down the muddy, foul-smelling road with the old dog's already cold corpse in his arms. Vivian, her expression sorrowful, held his hand and silently followed behind him.

Heath was dead!

The old dog that had stayed by her side ever since she was born had finally reached the end of his life.

They were going to bury him, just as they would a human.

He deserved that much!

"Soren!..."

"That's Soren!... He's awake!..."

"This is going to be interesting."

The people in the Slums began whispering among themselves, their eyes carrying a trace of awe. The youth before them was a formidable Rogue who could easily beat three to five grown men. It was said that he had once pinned a flying fly with a Dagger. Two thugs named Balas and Canopo lived near this street. Ever since Soren had fallen unconscious, they had been eyeing Vivian. Rumor had it that they had even taken part of Sosia's deposit and had spent this time warning people not to meddle! The Slums were a land of crime.

No one was willing to stand up for the poor little girl. They feared those thugs and lacked the ability to fight them.

"Brother."

"Where are we going?"

Vivian wore a worn-out dress, a very cheap garment sewn from linen. Both its workmanship and fabric were of the lowest quality, something only people from the Slums would wear. Although Soren had once been an excellent Rogue, there had been an even more powerful Rogue leader above him. He had to hand over most of what he stole, and what remained was only enough to maintain their basic survival.

There were rules of survival for those on the fringes!

No matter how outstanding a newly initiated Rogue was, there was no possibility of challenging such rules.

"To the cemetery."

"Heath should be buried there."

As Soren looked at the familiar yet unfamiliar scene before him, fragments of memory overlapped in his mind. Amber City gave him a faint sense of familiarity, because he had heard that name in the game before. Yet by that time, the epic storyline had already begun. A terrifying force erupted within chaotic spacetime, causing the Gods to temporarily lose their Divine Power and forcing them to descend into the world as Avatars. It had been an exceptionally chaotic period. Every so often, a Deity returned to their realm, while mortals also succeeded in slaying Gods. Players were only one part of it, and not even a particularly notable part. In War of Gods, Players only had three lives.

Each time they revived after death, their Constitution attribute permanently decreased by three points. In the end, they had no choice but to return their souls to the underworld and reincarnate.

Many powerful Players rose during that time, only to fall soon afterward!

This stage belonged to everyone.

It was not until the turmoil ended and the Gods returned to the Pantheon that this Epic-tier catastrophe came to an end.

One-third of the Gods in the Pantheon had fallen!

Even powerful Deities such as the Goddess of Magic, the Lord of Order, the Lady of Night, the Lord of Shadows, and the Fear Lord had fallen amid that chaotic catastrophe.

Then an even more magnificent storyline began.

The Thrones of the Gods fell from Celestia, and the realms of countless Deities collapsed down into the mortal world, becoming special Planes.

Those were the realms of the Gods.

After enduring a long and bitter period, only the small number of Players who survived were qualified to enter and explore them.

As for the other experts who had already fallen, they had to start over. At the very least, they needed to raise their class level to the advanced tier before they were qualified to explore even the treasure vault of Gloshas, the weakest Kobold god, within his God's Realm.

Many scattered memories surfaced.

The somewhat familiar scenes before him told Soren just how chaotic this world would become in the future.

The Avatars of the Gods tore apart the earth, completely altering more than twelve continental shelf plates of the Lower Planes. Three Lower Planes were entirely reduced to seas of fire, ice, and the Land of Death. Projections of Hell Devils spread everywhere, beguiling people and stirring up massacres after massacres. Even Players were not immune to being ** by them. Abyssal Fiends tore open the sky and descended amid an endless sea of blood. On the very first day the Abyss awakened, twelve cities with populations exceeding one hundred thousand were slaughtered clean!

That was the Twilight era spoken of by Players.

It was the Twilight of the Gods, their Twilight, and the Twilight of everyone.

In the turmoil that swept across the Planes of the entire universe, everyone died at least once. Even Soren fell completely, and his soul had no choice but to reincarnate in the underworld.

No one could escape that catastrophe!

Even Players born with heroic class templates could be erased as easily as ants beneath someone's foot!

This was the age of Avatars.

It was also the age of the Gods!

And it was the final revelry of the Gods of Celestia!

When the catastrophe ended.

The age of mortals was about to begin. Countless realms of the Gods awaited their exploration, and the treasure vaults of the Gods contained everything they desired.

Whether it was great power, endless wealth, or the immortality everyone craved!

The cemetery was not in the Slums.

The Slums only had Potter's Field. Every so often, corpses were tossed there, then stripped clean by destitute scavengers as they waited for wild dogs to appear in the middle of the night. Some corpses also vanished without a trace, taken away by Evil Spellcasters. As for what they would eventually become, no one wanted to know anymore.

Heath could not be buried in Potter's Field.

Because Soren had already seen the greed in many people's eyes. What they saw was a pile of delicious dog meat.

He believed that if he buried Heath there, someone would dig him up that very night, skin and chop him, then turn him into a large pot of dog meat.

This was the Slums!

Most people living here stood on the brink of starvation.

They wanted meat.

If eating human flesh did not make one fall into the abyss of Hell, some starving vagrants would probably commit acts too horrifying to contemplate!

Soren still remembered when he first entered the game!

Back then, neither he nor the others could have imagined that the environment in the game would be so harsh and difficult.

There was no gleaming equipment, no breathtaking scenery, and no easy battles for release. There were only desperate struggles where life and death, victory and defeat, were decided in an instant. There were only filthy, chaotic Slums, garbage and feces everywhere, and crime and darkness lurking in every corner. To obtain even a decent meal or a common weapon, many people had to risk losing their heads.

Many who had just entered the game were deeply shaken by its darkness, crime, and corruption. For a time, many Paladins even appeared among the Players.

They swore grand vows to change this sinful, depraved game world!

But in the end.

They were the ones changed, because they lacked the power to challenge the rules of an entire world.

The world would not be changed so easily by you!

Every Player who entered War of Gods went through a period of difficult choices, because in that dark era beyond the imagination of modern civilization, they would see and experience many things they had never even dared to imagine!

They might be Evil and cruel, or sacred and great.

In this virtual world, everyone had to choose their own path, whether they wanted to or not.

And it was precisely because of this.

That War of Gods was, to many people, almost another realm in their lives.

Cemetery District.

This was a quiet and peaceful land.

Because the temple of the Daughter of Hades stood here, this was a place where the dead rested. Priests and Temple Guards protected it, ensuring that those resting souls would not be disturbed. Yet not everyone was qualified to rest here, because it required payment. The Goddess of Wealth had once said that everything in the world could be measured in money.

This was a sinful era ruled by material desire!

Soren silently stood before the temple with Heath's corpse in his arms. When an elderly priest appeared before him, he and Vivian slowly lowered their heads in respect. At first, he had suspected that he was still in the game world. But after seeing living people with independent consciousness and real lives, he knew that he had truly arrived in a world that genuinely existed.

Besides, Soren learned from Vivian that they had never known what attributes were!

Though he did not know why.

Soren inexplicably thought of the Magic array beneath the game pod, which had seemed like little more than decoration.

Because it looked somewhat eerie, many people removed it after purchasing their pods.

Soren had been rather bold, so he kept it. Later, however, the game company seemed to heed the Players' opinions. Aside from the first batch of game pods, that strange decoration was never added again.

"Are you sure you want it to enter the cemetery?"

The old priest had seen many nobles bring aged pets to the Cemetery District for rest, but he had never seen a pauper like Soren.

Their clothes and the mud on their feet proved without a doubt that they were merely the lowest of the poor.

Soren bowed slightly. "Yes."

"This is an offering to the temple for its burial."

He took out a Silver Daler and respectfully offered it over. As a born thief, the journey here had already been enough for him to earn his first income.

As long as no one noticed!

It was a gleaming Silver Daler, currency made by followers of the Goddess of Wealth. It could even circulate in Hell!

The old priest gave him a long look, then raised a hand and pointed at a box nearby. "Perhaps it was a loyal hunting dog."

"That is why you would do this."

"Child."

"Come with me. It will receive a place of rest."

Soren placed the Silver Daler into the box at the temple entrance, then carried Heath's corpse into the cemetery behind it.

A small, inconspicuous corner.

When the two dug a pit in the Cemetery District and buried Heath, Vivian, who had been silently staring blankly all along, shed tears once more.

"Heath!..."

The little girl squatted before the inconspicuous grave and softly said a few words. Then, with a strong expression, she stood and wrapped her little hand around one of Soren's fingers.

Heath was only an inconspicuous old dog.

He was not qualified to have a tombstone, so there was only a small grave.

In the farthest corner of the cemetery.

;