Author: 年终 / Nian Zhong

Translator: Kinky || https://kinkytranslations.com/

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Chapter 42: Resurrection

Myss’s mind instantly flashed through the contract terms.

They had to share all information related to “body-swapping,” had to ensure each other’s safety, and had to stay by each other’s side.

…If Salaar truly wanted to keep him trapped here, that wouldn’t actually violate the contract.

“Salaar” kept speaking, his voice growing ever more coaxing. “Don’t hesitate. I am you. I have all your memories.”

“You know very well that you’re not the Chaos Archdemon’s match at all. Even when you sealed Him back then, your goal was only to ‘buy time for humanity,’ not to ‘bring an end to the Night Scourge’ once and for all.”

“This is a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity. Mr. Myss’s power is far from restored. As long as you trap the Archdemon’s consciousness here, you can buy humanity more time—an eternity of time.”

“As for Abroma Fruit, V.O.R., or the nascent god here… Yes, they are dangerous. But ask yourself honestly: are they truly more dangerous than the Night Scourge?”

“Of course not. They don’t hold a candle to the Night Scourge,” Myss answered at once.

This thing wasn’t Salaar. The feeling was completely wrong. Even though the voice and expressions were very similar, it was more like some kind of rigid “reproduction.”

“Salaar”: “……”

“You’ve got the wrong idea, impostor.”

Myss bared his teeth and casually pressed a hand over snake-Salaar at his chest. “I only agreed to play that ‘contract game’ with the Great Hero because the investigation requires it.”

“I need the investigation to stay simple and efficient. Wanton destruction would only bring trouble. But if you’re trying to keep me trapped here, then take a guess—will I still care about that pestering ‘trouble’?”

He took two steps forward and stopped right in front of “Salaar.” “Besides, if that so-called god were truly strong enough, it should’ve dealt with me the same way it dealt with you. But it didn’t.”

As he spoke, Myss grabbed “Salaar” by the throat, his tone turning colder and colder.

“…So I’m very curious. If that thing and I both bet our lives all the way to the end, who would be the one left standing?”

Black threads spread out from Myss like a spiderweb in an instant.

The beautifully decorated studio trembled slightly. Paint peeled off the walls at high speed, the flowers withered in a blink, and rough wooden boards were exposed beneath the floor. Everything was annihilated as though they had been burnt.

Amid the falling ash, “Salaar” narrowed those amber eyes. “I suppose so. Now that you possess emotions, those emotions will breed madness.”

“Call it whatever you want.”

Myss’s face remained expressionless. “I’m only reminding you of one thing. Whether it was the past three hundred years or now—you’re alive only because I permit it.”

With that, he sat back down in the model’s chair, as though it were some sort of throne carved out of darkness.

“Now you should shut up and keep painting.”

“Salaar” said nothing more, nor did he show any emotion. Wearing a Salaar-like smile, he picked up the brush again and continued sketching in silence.

“Wow, how cool,” snake-Salaar remarked with a hiss.

“Is that so? Because if you want to become that disgusting thing—” Myss began threateningly.

“I wasn’t praising that thing. I was praising you.”

Snake-Salaar shifted slightly against his chest. “Everything it said was nonsense. Rather than kneeling under the feet of some unknown god and begging to survive, I’d rather die standing.”

Myss’s anger immediately turned into curiosity. “Even if the fate of the human world were at stake?”

“The fate of the human world belongs to everyone. It shouldn’t be decided by a mere individual like me.”

Snake-Salaar’s tone held not a single shred of doubt. “If the human world were to end just because I refuse to obey a monster, then believe me, humanity would be far too fragile.”

Good. This was the Salaar he knew.

The knot of foul irritation in Myss’s chest loosened somewhat. He grumbled in satisfaction, and his body relaxed a little.

…By evening, servants came in as usual to clean. They let out cries of alarm at the annihilated wreckage inside.

Those cries drew quite a crowd. People crowded the doorway to look, their whispering growing louder and louder. Truman was squeezed in at the back of the crowd, shivering as he watched.

Myss walked toward the group as if it were nothing, intending to leave the studio first.

Salaar’s body had chosen to cooperate with the “god,” which meant the god of this place wouldn’t do anything to that body for the time being.

Myss had no desire to remain in the same room as that impostor. After all, the real Salaar was tucked against his chest. According to the contract, that didn’t count as being separated from Salaar.

But the crowd at the door didn’t make way for him.

Their gazes came from all directions, pinning themselves into him.

“He actually ruined such a beautiful studio. What a low-class lout…”

“His clothes have no taste either. He doesn’t even have the most basic jewelry coordination. He probably thinks he’s special…”

“He only has one single work to his name, and on the very first day he dares to be late. I really don’t want to work with someone like that.”

“Someone saw him talking to Mr. Iver at noon, and he even picked a secluded corner. How filthy… And his name doesn’t even sound noble. Who knows how he latched onto the Karns family…”

Their volume was perfectly calibrated—loud enough for Myss to hear, low enough that it was hard to tell exactly who was speaking.

Unfortunately for them, this sort of sneering had no offensive power whatsoever against Myss. Irritated, he waved a hand. “All of you, get out of my way.”

“I—I know him!” Truman suddenly raised his voice.

Instantly, every gaze turned toward him, including Myss’s somewhat surprised one. Truman licked his lips and avoided Myss’s eyes.

“We rode in the same carriage to Semper. The whole way, he was sleeping with Karns. Back then he was dressed like some shabby ranger, definitely not a noble. I couldn’t even stand the sight of the way he fawned over Karns!”

“Sleeping with him and fawning over him—how is that different from a male whore?”

“Maybe that’s exactly what he is. That Karns has a terrible reputation and not much money left. How could he possibly have a respectable lover?”

“This is testimony from a member of the Manning family! The lead figure of ‘The End of the World’ is actually a male whore? Oh dear…”

People’s voices rose slightly, and their eyes slid toward the other lead figure—the “Karns” at the easel.

“Salaar” said nothing at all. He merely continued sketching quietly. The sketch showed Myss sitting in the model’s chair. At a glance, there was nothing remarkable about it, and people quickly lost interest in him again.

Truman, on the other hand, gained several looks of amused interest and faint approval. He puffed out his chest, and a little color returned to his pale face.

“I should’ve punched him back then.”

Snake-Salaar muttered unhappily. The Great Hero seemed genuinely annoyed, wriggling irritably in place. “Rather than being trapped together in this infuriating place, I’d rather go back into your darkness for another three hundred years.”

Myss couldn’t be bothered to answer.

He genuinely didn’t care about the slander from these insects. To him, this level of attack was as absurd as calling a human “a rotten soybean.” He wasn’t a soybean, and he had no interest in understanding a soybean’s emotional life.

But the fact that this ridiculous accusation had infuriated the Great Hero Salaar was interesting. It meant that if someone was a person at all—even one with very little humanity left—they would still be affected by the current atmosphere.

Myss’s dark red eyes swept back and forth, his attention focused entirely on the blood amber ornaments.

Amid the buzzing voices, he vaguely sensed something. Some sort of presence flowed ceaselessly among the beautiful blood amber objects, weaving an invisible net.

Along with the whispering, that indistinct web drifted around him, but failed to stick to him. Myss shook his head, trying to see it more clearly, but the net was hidden too skillfully. He simply couldn’t make it out properly.

Still, he did catch one interesting little weakness.

Truman was new here. He wore only one blood amber badge, and the connection point on him was clear and weak. Myss strode over and grabbed Truman by the collar.

Truman bit his tongue in fright. “Y-you—what are you trying to do? Hurting people is strictly forbidden inside the Red Amber!”

Then his eyes darted left and right, and he raised his voice even louder. “Even if you threaten me, it won’t erase all those filthy things you’ve done!”

“A-and besides, no-no matter what, my mistake was an internal matter among nobles. Trash like you have no right to provoke me, got it?!”

By the time he finished, he actually sounded aggrieved, his eyes glistening with tears, as if he were some brave champion of justice.

Myss ignored him entirely. His eyes were fixed on Truman’s Magibase—a possum curled up tightly.

The possum’s state was strange. It looked as though it were being strangled by invisible cords, unable to struggle, able only to pant desperately, its blood-red eyes bulging outward.

Myss couldn’t find the cords, and in front of so many people it wasn’t exactly ideal to use Truman for practice.

So he tilted his shoulder and nudged snake-Salaar with his cheek. “Hey. Use your magic to seal off that blood amber.”

Snake-Salaar lightly bit his skin, then stretched his body taut as though trying to wring every last bit of magic from himself.

A faint golden glow spread across Truman’s badge. Snake-Salaar’s magic was pitifully weak, but fortunately the blood amber piece was small, and the protective spell neatly sealed it.

At the same time, the possum seemed to have been released. Its breathing calmed, and Truman’s eyes turned blank and confused. He stopped shouting, his expression slipping into bewilderment.

“Myss, is that enough? I’m done for.” Snake-Salaar was stretched as rigid as a branch, and he sounded as if he had truly reached his limit.

“My, before this, you’d never have admitted in front of me that you couldn’t do something.”

This was far too amusing. Myss pressed his lips together, holding back a smile. “Well, these are special circumstances. I’ll let it slide, just this once.”

“I’m only providing necessary information!” Snake-Salaar jabbed his chest with the tip of his tail.

“And I’m only objectively repeating facts,” Myss hummed cheerfully. “Take it down, Great Hero.”

The next instant, the fragile shield shattered apart. The possum Magibase was almost immediately caught again and left hanging inside Truman once more.

Truman shuddered and let out a soft “oh.” His eyes darted about wildly. The confusion was gone, leaving only fear and hostility—as if the surrounding crowd had to select a living sacrifice, and that sacrifice would either be Myss or him.

Invisible threads of divine power had woven themselves into an invisible net. As for those people covered all over in blood amber, whether their Magibase was even capable of moving freely was questionable.

Compared with Mina, who fished one victim at a time, this giant net was vastly crueler. The only question was where all the fish ensnared in it would eventually be taken.

Myss gave Truman a radiant smile and let go of his collar.

Truman let out a huge sigh of relief, puffed out his chest, and wore an expression that said at least you know your place. And then—

He took a flying kick straight to the face from Myss.

The strength of the Archdemon was no joke. Truman went flying like a ball and crashed straight into the gossiping crowd. The people there were knocked over on the spot by the human projectile, all toppling sideways to the floor.

Salaar: “…”

Salaar: “Sigh…”

“Don’t like it? Then take your body back sooner.”

Myss swaggered out of the room, tossing the annoying commotion behind him.

It was all the Great Hero’s fault for being so useless. Myss had ended up doing far too much work today again. Really, if they turned Tass into a lantern, who knew how much trouble they could save.

……

Tass held his breath and hid inside an emerald.

The warm, smooth gemstone was like cool ointment, temporarily soothing his pain. But the faint ache hadn’t disappeared. It felt as if his entire body had been soaked in acid; every second was agony.

Luckily, as an assassin, Tass was good at enduring things. He was currently carrying out a brand-new task: tailing Mr. Anti.

This wasn’t an easy assignment. Mr. Anti’s workshop was extremely plain, with very few gemstone decorations. Fortunately, he had prepared a jar of gemstone eyeballs in all colors, and that gave Tass a place to hide.

Antis… no, the Red Amber employee Mr. Anti, was in the middle of turning Danton into a specimen.

After meticulously measuring Danton’s body, he picked up a specially made dissection knife and began stripping the skin.

The knife had no sharpened edge, but a pale bluish-white magical glow clung to its blade. Anti’s movements were steady and precise, the knife gliding lightly along the corpse’s skin without leaving the slightest cut. Not a drop of blood was spilled. At first glance, it looked less like butchery than a physician gently giving a massage.

After carefully scraping over every inch of Danton’s body, Anti set down the knife and activated the huge magic array beneath the table.

In the blink of an eye, Danton’s corpse collapsed inward.

The muscles he had worked so hard to train, the internal organs he had carefully maintained, the eyes once kissed by countless painters’ brushes—all of it turned into a reddish murky fluid.

The liquid poured out from the wound in the corpse’s neck, followed the blood grooves in the metal table, and drained into the outlet prepared below. The once-famous model, having lived in glory, now mixed with household waste water and slowly flowed into the sewers of Semper.

The only things left on the metal table were a perfect skin, a still mostly intact head, and the faintly protruding frame of the skeleton beneath the skin.

Once the sticky murk had been cleaned away, Anti took a brief rest. He stared at some point in empty air. More than daydreaming, the state looked like a machine that had stopped running.

Five minutes later, he stood up and walked directly toward Tass.

Fear slowly wrapped itself around Tass’s throat.

In an instant, countless thoughts flooded his head. Was he in too poor a state and had let his presence leak? Or had he simply stared at Anti too long without hiding it, allowing himself to be noticed?

Had he been too rash, and should he have recovered more before acting? No, if he had known this would happen, he should have brought a cat with him and had it draw Anti’s attention instead… Damn it, why had he not thought of that sooner?

This was amateurish… He should never have made a mistake like this…

Mr. Anti drew closer and closer.

Thoughts of regret spun wildly, tormenting Tass’s nerves. To his horror, that pain and anxiety began to turn tangible, corroding his skin with a faint hissing sound. Compared with a moment ago, his state deteriorated drastically.

Click.

Just as Tass stood on the verge of collapse, Anti picked up the jar of eyeballs beside him. He calmly took out a pair of human artificial eyes, then returned to the metal table.

Inside the gem, Tass went limp, and the damage to his skin immediately began to improve.

Grinding his teeth, he decided to keep watching.

Anti fitted the nearly lifelike gemstone eyes into Danton’s head, then took a strip of white silk and covered them.

Next he lowered his head and silently recited something. Tass strained to read his lips, barely piecing together the chant—

“May this one advance one step further, erasing flaws through immortal existence.”

“May this one advance one step further, adorning You with pure talent.”

“…Honor to the ‘Perfected Creation.’”

The magic array below the platform spun at high speed, erupting in brilliant red light. Before Tass’s terrified gaze, something fell down out of empty space, drop by drop pouring over the shriveled corpse.

It was like a rain of blood that had been made unnaturally narrow, or like blood tears being cast down from some supreme height.

Those scarlet drops soaked into the human skin and wrapped around the bones, and the corpse swelled full once more. The wound at Danton’s neck was glued shut by the liquid, growing finer and finer until at last it closed completely, leaving not the slightest trace.

As the red liquid filled him, color returned to Danton’s cheeks and lips. His appearance became exactly the same as it had been in life, as though he were merely resting on the metal table.

At last, the rain of tears came to a stop. Anti took out a beautiful wooden box and collected the scattered “teardrops” that hadn’t soaked in.

At that moment, Tass Ga recognized their sheen and texture with absolute certainty—they were blood amber, blood amber of exceptionally high quality.

…Myss and Salaar had been right. Blood amber truly was a huge problem.

Tass clenched his trembling fingers together and widened his eyes. He tried to memorize every last detail, terrified of overlooking even one.

Not far away, Mr. Anti quickly finished gathering the blood amber. The metal table was spotless again, leaving only a naked Danton lying there with silk over his eyes.

The next step should be dressing the specimen, Tass thought uneasily.

But Anti didn’t bring over a support frame or clothes. He merely removed the silk covering Danton’s eyes.

And then… then Danton blinked.

The corpse sat up on its own and rolled its neck. Its joints were supple, its movements natural, no different at all from those of a living person.

Danton touched his own face and smiled—a dashing, open smile that fit him perfectly

“Please get me a set of clothes, Mr. Anti,” Danton said with a grin, giving him an energetic wink. “The outfit I wear most often will do.”

Anti nodded and took down a basket from the cabinet, already filled with folded garments. He had even prepared boots, their toes spotless, as clean as if they had never been worn.

“And the girl who was working with me?”

Danton looked around.

“She will sleep forever in the embrace of God. Her influence was insufficient. She wasn’t fit to become one of God’s disciples,” Anti explained calmly. “Your state isn’t stable yet. For the next seven days, you must stay in the specimen display room.”

“When your body has fused completely, we will arrange for you to return to the work area. At that point, you will be free to enter and leave the Red Amber as you please. As one of the ‘Perfected,’ you have earned that qualification.”

Tass stared blankly at the resurrected dead man, clutching his mangled arms tightly.

In a certain sense, he had just learned the method for leaving this place… but the answer filled him with despair.

Suddenly, an even more desperate thought hit him.

Tass drew a shaky breath. After hesitating again and again, he finally raised a blood-smeared fingertip. Using magic, he created a grain-sized chip of gemstone, letting it quietly slip out of the jar and drift toward Mr. Anti.

It hovered trembling in the air for a few seconds, then tapped against Mr. Anti’s eyeball.

Tap.

A tiny, crisp sound of impact.

Like a grain of sand striking a piece of cold, hard stone.

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The author has something to say:

When Myss faces “Salaar,” he’s the Chaos Archdemon.

When Myss faces Salaar, he’s just Myss. [cat paw] (?

Oh Lord Archdemon! Such a two-faced character!

As for all those people trash talking him—a certain someone is keeping score of every grudge. [dog holding rose]

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