The old man was sound asleep on his bed in the temple with a smile on his face.
The villagers spontaneously gathered in the temple. Nobody talked.
Some of the sentimental women were secretly wiping their tears.
They knew that Falken had been looking forward to this day. It was the wish of every pious believer to go to paradise.
But for the villagers, they had lost a revered family member and protector.
During the decades that Falken lived in Red Mountain Town, he had been treating the folk for free and negotiating with the mayor so that the lives of the ordinary people wouldnât be so hard.
Life was life when Falken was alive.
Now that he was gone, the villagers had to struggle to survive.
They were at a loss.
The mayor arrived. The villagers cleared a way for him.
Roland was here. The villagers cleared another way.
The mayor had a mustache and was a handsome middle-aged man. He stared at Falken on the bed sadly, holding his black crutch.
He did not turn around, but he seemed to have sensed Rolandâs arrival. He asked gloomily, âDid he say anything before he left?â
Roland stopped and shook his head.
The mayor sighed at the peaceful smile on Falkenâs face. He took out a wrinkled white flower from his pocket and put it on Falkenâs chest.
Many villagers had weird expressions on their faces when they saw the flower.
Roland did not notice their looks. He was rather sad. Falken had helped him a lot over the past two months as his guide in this world. He did not expect that he would never meet him again.
Dwelling on his sorrow, he did not notice the other peopleâs behavior.
Besides, Roland found it normal that the living dedicated a flower to the deceased.
He did not know that, according to the custom of Red Mountain Town, such flowers were only given by sons to their deceased fathers.
âBury him,â said the mayor casually.
Four young men walked forward and carefully moved Falken to a coffin that had long been prepared.
Falken had left the coffin next to his bed when he knew he was dying.
The coffin was closed and lifted. People cleared a way.
Several young men had already dug a pit in the backyard, a square tombstone before it.
The coffin was dragged into the pit. Some women tried to cover their mouths to prevent themselves from crying.
The mayor looked at the sky, his eyes dry. The best weather for a funeral was rain, or a cloudy day. Yet, it was a sunny day with a scorching sun.
The mayor was almost dazzled.
Roland did not join them. He stepped aside and watched the villagers fill up the templeâs backyard. Still more people stood in silence outside of the temple.
Maybe because it was the first time that Roland had attended a funeral, or perhaps because he was in a game, he somehow found it unreal. He was sad, but he felt like laughing for some reason.
Considering for a moment, he suddenly realized that his urge to laugh was because of Falkenâs smiling face. Falken was truly a funny old man who smiled so delightfully when he was dying.
He then thought it through. If the deceased did not consider death a horrible thing, he shouldnât feel sad for him. However, he was still a little bit bummed, because he wouldnât have the chance to talk to Falken again.
Heaving a long sigh, he was about to leave, when he saw a young man with brown hair and a white robe standing before him. The man was smiling gently and looked familiar, but Roland subconsciously stepped back.
It was because the young man was transparent. Through him, Roland could see the woods behind him.
Was he a ghost, or some sort of stealth skill?
The young man chuckled. âWhat, you canât recognize me anymore?â
His voice was warm and familiar⊠His eyes widening, Roland subconsciously looked at the backyard of the temple, where the coffin had been buried. He then looked back at the young man and asked uncertainly, âFalken?â
âThatâs me!â The young man nodded.
Roland looked around again, only to discover that nobody saw Falken. Even though someone glanced at him, they did not notice anything wrong.
âOrdinary people canât see me.â Young Falken smiled and said, âOnly those with enough spiritual power can communicate with me.â
âAre you dead or alive?â Roland subconsciously circled Falken and asked curiously, âYou are a soul, right?â
âItâs all about perspective! For ordinary people, Iâm dead, because they canât see me or talk to me. I canât show up before them, either. Falken will no longer exist in their lives.â Falken pointed at Rolandâs head and said, âBut for professionals like you, Iâm still alive, except that my life is now in a different form.â
Falken did make sense. Roland also felt that he was alive but had turned into a pure spirit. Seeing that his friend was not really gone, Roland was no longer depressed.
He asked, âWhatâs your plan? Wander in the village as a soul?â
âIâll go to paradise.â Falken smiled bitterly. âI told you before.â
âButâŠâ Roland looked around and asked, âHow?â
âThe envoys of the goddess will pick me up, and the gate to paradise will be opened. It will be soon.â
Roland nodded subconsciously. âOkay.â
As a matter of fact, he did not know what Falken was talking about at all.
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âBefore I go, there is something Iâd like to inform you.â Falken said with a teasing smile, âDid you have a hard time practicing magic?â
Roland nodded. Language Proficiency was truly a great headache.
âMages are different from Warlocks and Priests,â Falken explained. âYour spells are based on your understanding of the magic elements, so the requirement for you to cast a spell is much higher than that for us. Mages have to reach the elite level to use level-two spells. Youâre far from there, but youâve already learned a thing or two about level-two spells. Itâs already quite impressive.â
âWhat should I do then?â asked Roland.
âLearn more level-one spells and build up your foundation. You will be able to learn it when you are good enough.â Falken said slowly, âOr you can learn Meditation Specialization, which is a unique skill of the Mages that can significantly increase the activity of your mind. When you master Meditation Specialization, you will be able to use spells higher than your level.â