Chapter 60: Light of the Last Rites

It was a sudden illness that killed him.

The ship’s doctor didn’t enter the berth.

He stood in the cabin aisle, one hand lifting his robe, the other pulling back the curtain.

He glanced at the merchant’s body from a distance, prodding it with his staff.

Seeing no wounds or blood, he made a cursory judgment.

This hasty conclusion stirred murmurs among the onlookers:

“No way…”

“I saw him fine on the deck yesterday.”

“He drank nearly a gallon. Should’ve died in a barrel, I say.”

“Ahem—enough chatter. You’re acting like you’ve never seen a corpse. It’ll breed disease. Someone help drag this poor soul to the hold! We’ll deal with it ashore.”

The disposal seemed sloppy, but at sea, a ship was like an isolated island.

This was likely the only option.

The doctor shouted, waving for two sailors.

One grabbed the head, the other the feet, hoisting the merchant’s body.

“Tch, too heavy!”

The bloated corpse, wrapped in wool, was cold and stiff, heavy as seabed stone.

The straining sailors grumbled.

“Make way, make way, clear out!”

The dead man’s berth was right next to Kritiya and Nolan’s.

As the sailors shuffled back, the corpse’s head came first, then neck and shoulders, until the whole body appeared before the girl.

Nolan stood protectively in front, but Kritiya still glimpsed the ashen face.

My attention wasn’t on the corpse.

My gaze darted past, toward the opposite berth.

A curtain parted slightly, revealing a single crimson eye.

It was Gareth—

Nolan’s face clouded with sudden panic.

A man had just died, yet the sailors and doctor handled it like it was routine, as if the dead were a rat, a stray dog, or some revolting thing.

When the corpse appeared, they only wanted it gone, lest it taint their eyes.

‘Is death at sea so common?’ I wondered.

Kritiya seemed to sense something, looking up.

She met Gareth’s unwavering crimson gaze through the curtain’s gap.

He vanished into the shadows the moment he noticed her watching.

It was an ordinary act, but knowing he hid his true face, I grew suspicious again.

The merchant’s death jolted my nerves.

With my past-life medical knowledge, his obese frame screamed health risks.

Dying from overindulgence wasn’t odd, but recent troubles kept me from optimism.

I hoped it could end simply, just an unpleasant travel hiccup.

Yet a mocking voice in my head sneered:

‘After pacting with an evil god, crossing a black mage, and getting tangled in so many messes, you still cling to such naive hopes?’

“Tiya—it’s fine, probably no big deal,” Nolan said, turning to comfort me.

Kritiya shook her head, signaling she wasn’t shaken, then tugged open a pack, revealing dry rations:

“Want breakfast?”

“What? Tiya, how can you say that? After seeing that, how could I eat?”

Nolan couldn’t be so blasé.

His mind replayed the corpse’s cyanotic face.

His voice caught, like a bone stuck in his throat.

“What’s so special about it?”

No matter the chaos outside, Kritiya stayed nonchalant.

Only life’s small routines seemed to make her smile.

She lowered her head, one hand holding the water skin, the other rummaging through the rations.

Nolan watched, puzzled, at a loss for words.

‘Thinking back,’ I reflected, ‘since escaping the ruins after that fall, Kritiya’s been like this.’

It wasn’t a good sign.

I’d tried leaving notes to reach her, but she stayed silent, ignoring them.

I had no other way for now.

“Wait, hold on, please!”

As we stood there, a raspy yet gentle voice cut in.

Kritiya didn’t move.

Nolan turned, seeing a man in priestly garb push through.

He was about forty, I recalled.

On the first day aboard, I’d seen this man in a dark Radiant Church robe, sitting primly, chanting obscure scriptures.

His devout air left a strong impression.

“Don’t block the way… can’t you see we’re busy?”

The doctor tapped his staff, annoyed.

But the priest spoke:

“I, a humble servant of the Radiance, see this brother dead far from home. I fear his soul won’t rest. Please, let me perform a requiem.”

He opened a thick scripture book to prove his Radiant Church status.

The worn leather tome, bound with thin iron chains, didn’t look like a standard church text.

“You…”

The doctor raised a brow, eyeing the old book.

“By imperial burial customs, this request is fair. A priest’s voluntary rite leaves no room for refusal.”

He waved, signaling the sailors to lower the body.

The priest stepped forward, kneeling halfway, pressing the book to the corpse’s chest:

“May eternal light shine upon you.”

“You’ve walked your earthly path, called now by the Lord’s grace.”

“Your soul shall find rest, guided to the eternal homeland.”

The soul shall return to peace, led to the eternal home.

Solemn, cadenced prayers flowed from the priest’s lips.

A meaningless, ignored death suddenly gained weight through this simple rite.

I saw Nolan’s body straighten unconsciously, his face taking on a solemn hue.

Even the impatient doctor, the grumbling sailors, and the cold onlookers quieted, touched by the ritual, watching in mournful silence.

The cabin filled with the priest’s chants, as if we’d stepped into a holy assembly.

The simple requiem unfolded just outside our berth.

Kritiya followed Nolan’s gaze, understanding the scene.

She blinked, turned away, set the water skin on the bed, and tied the pack shut.

After finishing, she stood slowly, mimicking others’ respectful gaze.

Life and death were both trivial and monumental.

Having tasted death myself, I couldn’t help but reflect.

What did Kritiya think?

I pondered.

After her fall in the ruins, she’d “died” once too.

Did she have some profound insight?

She should, I thought, trying to parse her feelings as before, to uncover her thoughts.

But I found she seemed to think nothing, merely following the crowd.

“On that day, in eternity,”

“We shall meet again in the Radiance.”

“Under the supreme light’s witness—”

The priest’s prayer neared its end.

Kritiya stood behind Nolan, quietly waiting.

As the final syllable fell, a pure, flawless white light burst from the chained scripture—