The Emperor’s Angel of Death

　　 The door of the church is only for mortals to enter and exit, Soshyan must lower his head to enter.

　　 When he entered, the first thing he saw was a small prayer room.

　　 There are few furnishings in it, and it is even simpler than some private shrines.

　　 Two suitcases mounted on the wall form a closet. A pile of books is placed in the most conspicuous place. The windows and shutters are supported by a branch from the scar bark tree.

　　 Through the window, twilight passed over the bare metal and cast on the flat wooden wall.

　　 More light comes from a lumen box on an inverted crate next to the chanting table, and the original grease lamps on the other shelves.

　　The flickering light shone on the old circuit board and the broken reading data board, and other ornaments of little practical value were placed in some open boxes on the floor, most of which seemed to be of a certain age.

　　 The dusty emperor icon hung on the wall, losing its original luster.

　　 Soshyan took off his helmet and pinned it to his waist.

　　 step by step walked to the window at the end of the prayer room and pressed the control button to raise the blinds.

　　 It groaned and retracted into the groove of the window frame, letting the golden light pour in.

　　 Soshyan looked out the window, and found that behind the church was a cliff, from here you could overlook the boundless land outside Soms’ Nest.

　　He couldn't help drinking from the beautiful scenery.

　　 Suddenly, a few memories flashed through his mind, and he seemed to do this every morning.

　　From here, everything that was originally unfamiliar suddenly felt a little familiar.

　　 Soshyang turned around, and through the half-open cabinet door, he caught a glimpse of a small wooden toy horse standing on the top of the storage box.

　　 He seems to be able to hear the harmonica from afar and smell the freshly squeezed juice.

　　 On the bookshelf in the corner of the room, the medals of outstanding students of Soms Noble Academy sit in that beautiful little box, next to it is an old prayer box.

　　 Ten steps away by the window, a chessboard of Killing King is placed on a small table. Judging from the distribution of the pieces, the game can end in two or three moves.

　　Time seems to freeze.

Home?

　　 An inexplicable emotion surged in Soshyang's heart, as if a boulder was blocked in his chest, and he couldn't even breathe smoothly.

　　 At this time, he noticed a door, a door that was hidden on the side of the prayer room.

　　 He stepped forward, but hesitated the moment he opened the door.

　　 Then, Soshyang took off his hand armor, gently touched the rough hardwood door with his palm, and pushed it away little by little.

　　 This is a subconscious move.

　　 It is like many years ago, when he returned home too late, he became cautious because he was afraid of his mother's questioning.

　　 Then, he saw it.

　　 A shriveled body was lying on the bed, eyes closed, and his chest was faintly ups and downs in regular breathing.

　　 Her skin was gray, wrinkled, dull and lacklustre, and her hair was shaved. A row of walnut-shaped machines squeaked by the bed, covered with golden buttons and displays.

　　 Curly copper wires extended from the sockets on the sides of the machines and attached to her head, while the crackling **** groaned softly on the top of the machines.

　　 These equipments look very new and seem to have only been moved in recently.

　　 But it doesn't make any sense anymore.

　　 Soshyang stood at the door, he couldn't connect the dying person who shrank like a baby with the person in his mind.

　　 Suddenly, his aftermath swept to a photo frame on the bedside table.

　　 He walked over slowly, picked up the photo frame, and brushed off the thick layer of dust on it.

　　 A man and a woman, and a child who looks pretending to be mature.

　　 How ridiculous.

　　 Soshyang knelt on one knee and gently lifted up his shriveled hand by the bed. The contrast between the two is like an adult and a baby.

　　 He couldn't feel any weight, it seemed that he was just a feather in his hand, and he could hardly feel any existence except for the almost disappearing temperature.

　　 What can he do at this time?

　　 He prayed, praying that the emperor could deliver a miracle, even if it was only a moment, just a moment...

　　 At this time, he suddenly realized that this person, his mother, this kind of thing may have been repeated thousands of times after he left.

　　 Soshyang lowered his head deeply, hoping for a miracle.

　　 However, there is no miracle.

　　 There is nothing.

　　 Soshyang stayed quietly in the house for three days. During these three days, he hadn't moved a step or said a word.

　　 At the dawn of the fourth day, all the machines screamed neatly.

　　 There is no miracle, only redemption.

　　 The poor woman's chest remained static forever after the last ups and downs, and her hand rested on the palm of her son's.

　　 Soshyan carefully put his dry hand back into the blanket, then wrapped his shrunken mother in the blanket, hugged it in his arms, and walked towards the church door.

　　 She looks so peaceful, like a baby~www.readwn.com~ Soshyan doesn't know if she has ever lay in her arms in this manner.

　　 When he walked out of the gate, he saw that there were many people surrounded by the gate, many people he didn't know.

　　 "Cousin, aunt she—"

　　Nerio saw what was in Soshyang's arms, and immediately realized what had happened, and tears couldn't stop.

　　 Those other people, those with false expression masks that Soshyan didn't know, also uttered choked and regretful sighs.

　　 Soshyang did not pay even the slightest attention to them, but embraced his mother, strode out of the mansion and headed straight to the family cemetery.

The burial ceremony of 　　 is not complicated. Soshyan’s mother has already left her place next to her husband’s grave.

　　 After a simple clean up of the remains, the Archbishop of Soms presided over the funeral-by the standards of the most devout religious.

　　 The funeral lasted for six hours. In addition to her personal belongings, Soshyan also put the first medal he won after becoming a star warrior into the sarcophagus.

　　 But everyone didn’t know that after the funeral, Soshyan had another small funeral in secret, right next to his parents’ tomb.

　　The buried person is himself.

　　 He buried all his mortal objects in it and erected a tombstone.

　　 There is no epitaph on the tombstone, nor the name of the owner of the tomb, only a line of high Gothic.

　　 [A fool trapped in armor]

　　 After all this was over, Soshyan, exhausted physically and mentally, silently returned to the Spark, declined all visits and banquets, and locked himself in his private cabin.

　　 He feels tired like never before, he really wants to sleep, and go to sleep no matter what...