Only God
Chapter 106 - 96: The Weeping Angel

Chapter 106: Chapter 96: The Weeping Angel

Elder Salas lay gravely ill in bed.

At first, it was thought to be just a minor cold, but for an elderly person, even a cold could be fatal.

Elder Salas had been fine on the day he caught the cold, but by the next day, he had fallen ill.

After running a high fever for two days and two nights, and when the fever finally subsided, Elder Salas was left in agonizing pain, barely clinging to life.

Elder Salas told his tribespeople that he was about to die.

The news of the Elder’s critical condition quickly spread through all the tribes of the Three-eyed Ape People, even reaching King Dovlo beyond the desert.

King Dovlo prepared to send an envoy to visit the Elder and was deciding on a candidate when an envoy from the Three-eyed Ape People arrived in the palace.

"Basel?"

King Dovlo said in surprise,

"Elder Salas wants only him to go?"

"Yes, your majesty, Logos King."

The Three-eyed Ape People’s envoy replied with utmost reverence.

After repeatedly confirming with the envoy of the Three-eyed Ape People, King Dovlo finally agreed.

Then, King Dovlo instructed his ministers to send Basel alone to the desert tribes of the Three-eyed Ape People on behalf of the Logos people to visit Elder Salas.

............

............

Basel’s wounds had not yet healed, and as he walked, his flesh still throbbed with pain; as a prostitute’s child, he had always been frail.

He became the envoy representing the Logos people to visit Elder Salas.

And he was the only one.

When King Dovlo’s ministers announced this news in the Pattern Garden, nearly every priest looked at Basel with astonished eyes.

That astonishment was not one of admiration but one that beheld a misfit with disdain, it was an utter contempt.

Among the crowd, Bandi clenched his fists in secret.

When Basel heard the news, his face was filled with astonishment.

He was to represent the King to visit Elder Salas...

The great honor had unexpectedly fallen upon him, leaving Basel in a panic,

Before he set out, he wanted to make more preparations but had no idea what he should prepare.

When Basel left the Kingdom, only a few Nobles came to symbolically see him off, their words of blessing extremely superficial, and as for the priests of Pattern Garden, not one was present.

For many, Basel was not a person worth befriending.

The desolate Poet saw this scene with mixed emotions. He stuttered and was not good at expressing himself, so he kept these thoughts to himself.

Basel stepped into the vast desert and, after spending most of the day traveling, finally saw the grand open-air Temple again, arriving at the tribes of the Three-eyed Ape People.

The Oasis was bustling with Three-eyed Ape People from various tribes, young and old, all here to see Elder Salas one last time; sparse birds flew over the sky while mournful poems were chanted in every corner of the Oasis.

Elder Salas was dying.

Everyone knew he would soon be gone forever.

Basel felt an unexplained sadness in his heart. Without a word, he lowered his head and squeezed into the crowd.

To the Three-eyed Ape People, a Logos person stood out remarkably; it wasn’t long before the priests of the tribe noticed him.

"Basel, is that you called Basel?"

One of the priests of the Three-eyed Ape People approached and asked.

"Yes, it’s me."

Basel nodded.

The priest of the Three-eyed Ape People wiped away tears from the corner of his eyes and said,

"The Elder has been waiting for you."

"Waiting for me?"

"Yes, yesterday the Elder met with people from many other tribes, then he told us that today he would meet no one else but his friend, Basel."

Basel looked surprised; he suddenly felt his eyes becoming sour.

It was the feeling of being valued.

Such a feeling was all too strange for a down-and-out Poet.

Basel followed the priest of the Three-eyed Ape People, passing the open-air Temple to enter a small, mud-built house.

"I feel so dizzy... water, bring me some water..."

A groggy voice echoed from inside the room as the priests busily tended to the faint Elder.

"...It’s burning up again, my head hurts, my head hurts."

Through the door, Basel could hear the Elder’s voice.

Elder Salas murmured his suffering, he had another fever, and the man, over seventy years old, laid in agony, delirious and disgraced by illness.

"Wait, just wait a moment."

Basel said, quivering.

After a while, Elder Salas seemed to be in less pain, his voice grew calmer and his breathing slowly steadied.

The priest opened the door and led Basel in.

Basel saw Elder Salas, this once wise man, now thin and frail, looking shrunken and weak.

The drowsy Elder Salas saw Basel and slowly propped himself up from the straw bed, signaling the priests to leave.

After glancing at Elder Salas, the priests hesitated before leaving, giving Elder Salas and Basel some privacy.

Without a word, Basel drew closer to Elder Salas and then knelt down in the room.

"You’ve come,"

"Basel, my friend."

Elder Salas extended his hand, and Basel gently held it.

"Elder Salas..."

Basel said softly, gripping his hand—the hand was old, the fur nearly gone, the flesh barely covering the bones.

The Poet caressed Elder Salas’s forehead, which was burning hot; Basel’s eyes became sore,

He knew what he was about to lose.

"We all must die, Basel."

Elder Salas’s aged eyes reflected Basel’s face.

"I know, I know, I know..."

Basel whispered softly.

At that moment, Elder Salas’s chest heaved as he raised his frail body and began coughing violently.

Basel quickly supported Elder Salas, preventing him from collapsing.

Soon after, Elder Salas slowly regained composure and weakly leaned back on the straw pile.

Basel watched Elder Salas, the destitute Poet knowing this was their final goodbye, but as he looked at the feeble old man, he found himself unable to utter a word.

Elder Salas also gazed at him, squeezing out a faint smile.

"Basel... We’ve discussed so much before, about the question of life."

After a while, Elder Salas spoke.

Basel nodded vigorously.

"You said... in your Logos people’s stories... where do people go when they die?"

Elder Salas’s voice was husky, the dying old man tenderly looked at Basel.

That gaze was searching for an answer.

The civilization of the Three-eyed Ape People was not advanced, and compared to the Logos people, they were but a newborn infant, so... they did not know, where do people go after death?

They had sought answers from the Prophetic God Kagawus through sacrifices but never received a reply.

Confronted with this sudden question, Basel stammered:

"God, God, God’s side... Prophet Al, when he left, it was... back, back, back to God’s side, side..."

Elder Salas’s voice was exceptionally weak, his eye sockets sunken,

"I am not a Logos person..."

"Basel, can I go there too?"

The scratchy voice was not asking but pleading, pleading for a direction after death.

The Prophetic God Kagawus created them,

but never revealed the direction after death to them.

The short lifespan made the Three-eyed Ape People aware that everyone would die...

But,

to die... could not be the merely end.

"Can I go there too? To God’s side, as you said."

From the corners of Elder Salas’s eyes, tears emerged, the sorrow of death assailing his heart.

Basel looked at Elder Salas, and after a long time, the poet took hold of Elder Salas’s hand, a firm grip.

This old man was so kind; among so many people, only he would listen to his voice, no matter how stuttered, no matter how annoying.

"You can, you can. I, we, we can... like the Prophet."

The stuttering poet peered at the old man’s face, tears trailing down the crevasses of the old man’s grieving face.

The poet also cried.

"Elder, as long as, as long as..."

Basel’s trembling voice reached deep into the old man’s heart,

"Just love, just praise, just walk with God."

In Elder Salas’s tear-filled, weak eyes, the reflection of Basel’s face appeared.

The poet before him was like a child, like an angel foretold in prophecy.

Elder Salas’s frail body felt warmth, a sensation never felt before; he gently caressed Basel’s face, only to find scars adorning it.

Basel felt the sting, silently sobbing, continuing to weep.

Elder Salas wished to embrace the poet, but he had lost the strength to embrace anyone.

"How kind you are, like an angel,"

"Just like an angel, oh angel."

Elder Salas’s speech was slurred under the torture of illness.

Light and shadow spilled in from outside the house, and his third eye saw the battered poet, appearing to grow wings on his back.

It was like a hallucination at the brink of death.

Elder Salas wiped away the poet’s tears.

His hand trembling slightly, he asked with a quiver in his voice:

"Oh angel,"

"Who wounded you so deeply?"

"Why is your soul filled with scars?"

Basel reached out and embraced Elder Salas, the poet crying, trembling fiercely as if he was the one about to leave.

Until this moment, Elder Salas still patiently listened to his weeping.

"It hurts so much, Elder, I... it hurts so much..."

Basel wept uncontrollably, these words repeating now embodied all the past tribulations he had endured.

"It’s okay, Basel, it’s okay."

Elder Salas’s life force gradually slipped away, quickly losing the strength to speak,

"When I stand before... God,"

"God will know,"

"Your heart’s anxieties, deeply wounded."

With that, Elder Salas closed his eyes.

He felt,

a kind-hearted soul with wings was embracing a dying old man.

Elder Salas’s consciousness blurred,

Death was finally arriving, about to snatch this life from the hands of the angel.

Regret for the parting assailed Elder Salas’s spirit.

The old man desperately wanted to cling to this world, but all was in vain.

With his last breath, he whispered softly:

"Don’t leave me, my friend."

Basel watched him, wanting to say something...

However, Elder Salas’s hand dropped,

and the old man passed away.

The bereft poet had lost his only friend.

Basel cried out in grief,

his heart full of words, but due to his stutter, not one could he vocalize.

All the poet could do was embrace Elder Salas’s body tightly,

and in his heart, Basel wept, saying:

We burnt frankincense together,

Before it turns to ashes,

I won’t leave you, my friend.

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