The black flame of Order flickered gently on Bernard's chest. It brought no light; instead, it made the cave even dimmer, reversing the effects of light and shadow.
Time slowly passed.
Throughout this time, Kallen said nothing. He simply sat there, neither deliberately looking at Bernard nor deliberately avoiding him, as though everything before him had nothing to do with him. He was merely waiting for the "firewood" to burn out.
Several times, Bernard wanted to speak, only to close his mouth again. Several emotions collided and intermingled in his eyes.
Someone who had died once often did not become more accepting of life and death, but more afraid of dying-or, more precisely, of the end.
On this point, Kallen had considerable authority to speak.
He knew Bernard must be suffering terribly now.
This had nothing to do with what sort of person he had been in life. The implications of death would strip him of everything at this moment. His inner self was now like a baby snake freshly hatched from its egg.
Besides, the Order Flames needed the spiritual power within his body as fuel. This pain was comparable to having his soul burned, because the very foundation of Bernard's current existence was the spiritual power remaining in his corpse.
Granted, there were those whose steadfast faith allowed them to take life and death lightly, but Bernard certainly was not among them.
"You're a devil, you're a devil, you're a devil!"
Kallen remained unmoved. Tears appeared at the corners of Bernard's eyes, and mucus seeped from his nose. He was not on the verge of breaking down. He had already broken down.
This was a little faster than Kallen had expected.
Because Bernard had died very "peacefully," a great deal of spiritual power remained inside him. In other