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Although Erin believed that she wasn’t a very pious believer, she still took the occasion of the sacrament very seriously. After all, the Holy Spirits Church could be considered the foundation of the empire to a certain extent.

As for the Blackwater Province which was devoid of faith in the Holy Spirits, those new missionaries were proselytizing by distributing eggs and milk to the believers who attended worship?

She wondered what the Patriarch’s expression would be when he got the news.

The next piece of news was even more shocking.

The Viper Astral Lighthouse in Blacklight City collapsed, and the troops left behind by the Astral Council were missing. As the Resound spell hadn’t been activated, it was temporarily determined by the Senate as a defection.

For the first time in 800 years, an Astral Lighthouse collapsed.

If it hadn’t happened in the Blackwater Province, the Battle Mage Legion in the Astral Council’s hands would have been teleported there.

Upon reading this, although everything that happened above was extremely ridiculous, Erin felt that it was within her understanding.

However, the last piece of information short-circuited her thoughts.

There were some strange rumors about the south of the Grief Mountains.

“Wh— The mountains drowned by storms and a sea? Is that literal? Or is it some novel metaphor?”

…

Some tombs were built to be remembered, while others had the opposite purpose.

For example, in Dragon Breath Province, in a tomb deep in the Dragonspine Mountains.

In the past, Dragon Breath Province was the location of the Black Iron Kingdom. The kings there were used to building their tombs on high mountains because they believed that they could ascend to Heaven faster by being closer to the sky.

People who relied on tomb raiding for a living here undoubtedly had it the most difficult in the entire Vic Continent because not only did they have to deal with endless anti-theft mechanisms, but they also had to deal with the cliffs that would wreck their bodies if they weren’t careful.

Therefore, they also practiced the industry rule of ‘a thief doesn’t leave empty-handed.’ After risking their lives to crawl into a tomb, if they couldn’t find buried treasure, they would resort to carrying the bones of the corpses and selling them to the necromancers.

However, even the tomb raiders from Dragon Breath Province could only leave empty-handed after walking into this tomb.

There were no tombstones, statues, or even any recorded words. There was only a black iron coffin that had been cast once, and it was buried in a pile of gravel.

This coffin looked to be more than a thousand years old. Instead of calling it a coffin, it was more like a rusty black piece of iron.

However, on a certain day, or to be precise—the day the Kane Horn blew and the Holy Spirit statues on the continent trembled, the coffin trembled with it.

This trembling didn’t last long before it stopped abruptly, but a tiny mark cracked on the coffin’s black iron shell.

This tiny crack constantly widened and deepened over the next month until the day the storm in the Shattered Sea stopped—it completely cracked.

A humanoid formed by black fog rolled out of the coffin.

He lay on the ground for another day and night before regaining consciousness. It took another three days for him to get up again.

He stumbled to his feet and looked at the cracked black iron coffin.

He knew that there was only one reason why he was awakened again.

This meant that his mission was about to begin again.

“Presiding Judge, William Kane…” he said in a singing tone.

“This time, I will definitely let you rest in peace.”

…

Grief Mountains, Black Crow Gaze, Dawn Fortress.

Some tombs were built to be forgotten, while others had the opposite purpose.

William, Blake, and Cass stood in front of the excavated tomb, surrounded by an endless storm.

The crows circled in the sky and let out mournful hisses, like a funeral song to send someone off.

William rubbed the Judgment badge in his hand for a long time before throwing it into the tomb.

The soil on both sides of the tomb automatically filled the pit. William walked to the blank obsidian plaque and held a carving knife.

He first engraved the serial number 13 and Coles Jackdaw’s name before pondering for a moment.

Before this, he had thought about what epitaph he wanted to leave for Coles Jackdaw countless times.

However, none of them satisfied him.

William didn’t think highly of his choice, but he didn’t hate him.

However, 1,000 years of inertia brought Coles too far from turning back. Therefore, if William was given a chance to choose, he would have done the same.

He didn’t have any leeway to take care of both. He could only do what he needed to do.

William had the same attitude toward his choice.

He didn’t admire or hate it.

However, this made it difficult to write an epitaph.

It couldn’t be praise or sarcasm.

“Presiding Judge, if you think…”

Perhaps seeing William’s conflicted expression, Blake spoke.

William raised his hand.

He suddenly recalled a classic poem he had once read.

In that poem, there was a crow that only had one answer no matter what question it was asked.

William suddenly felt that this was probably the most suitable epitaph.

Therefore, he engraved the inscription: “Never the same again.”

Volume 2: End of the Crow Burial Song