Author: 年终 / Nian Zhong

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

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Chapter 46: Return to Owner

…It was Antis’s voice.

Tass immediately held his breath.

“I see you, Tass Ga.” Mr. Anti walked toward him step by step. “I never expected you would cooperate with your assassination target to this extent.”

Tass remained silent. Only when Mr. Anti came all the way up to him and slowly stopped did he force out a voice through clenched teeth from the edge of the box where he had shrunk back. In the darkness, those reddish-brown eyes were both familiar and strange.

“I, too, never expected that you would still care about things like this either.”

Tass huddled tighter into the corner of the box. “I already know it. You aren’t the Antis I knew at all. A few days ago, why did you help me deceive Karns? You could have simply refused.”

He did his best to suppress the unease in his voice. Antis’s Magibase was still there. Maybe… Maybe his heart was still sleeping somewhere, just like Salaar’s.

Mr. Anti glanced at the open letter box. He lowered his eyes, still wearing that hateful smile.

“Because Antis Crosien would help you,” Mr. Anti said evenly.

He bent down as he spoke and raised his lantern, its dim light illuminating Tass’s face.

“In the same way, Antis Crosien is thoughtful. He knows the hiding methods you commonly use. So when he heard that Mr. Myss suddenly wanted to send a letter, he would come to confirm the situation.”

“Antis Crosien once held you in high esteem, and he also disliked gossip. Therefore, he wouldn’t divulge to anyone that you came here to spy.”

“Cut the act. The real Antis Crosien would help me leave this hellhole.”

Tass’s voice turned cold. “Or just make it simple and attack me. Don’t use that face to pretend sincerity. The last time you attacked Karns, weren’t you perfectly decisive?”

“That was the god’s power, not my own devising.” Mr. Anti said, “God dislikes violence. Crude behavior tends to create flaws. The facts prove that the attack couldn’t be called ‘perfect,’ and we are still making up for it.”

“Lord Tass, Dragon Fae constitutions are unusual. Very soon, you will willingly become one of the Perfected. When that time comes, we will be able to become friends again.”

In other words, this investigation of his had no value at all. He would soon die here and wasn’t even worth specifically dealing with.

Tass Ga was so furious he laughed instead. “You’ll regret this.”

“Regret and pain are both steps on the staircase to perfection.” Mr. Anti remained unmoved.

In the end, he pinched Tass by the wing and tossed the half-dead Dragon Fae out of the mail collection room, like throwing away a crumpled scrap of useless paper.

Tass crawled across the stone floor, using the cold marble to dull the pain.

There was no such thing as information with no value in this world. Even if “Flaw” Antis was no longer alive, even if everything had already been decided, he still had to get this information out.

…After all, it was the last message his friend Antis had left behind.

……

Myss couldn’t sleep.

Having lost the familiar body pillow was one thing. Since becoming human, it wasn’t as if he had slept pressed against Salaar every night. But with Salaar’s scent gone from the room, he truly couldn’t get used to it.

He had driven “Salaar” over to the chaise. The chaise wasn’t as large as the double bed, but it was still more comfortable than the single bed at the Hammer Tavern. “Salaar” hadn’t objected and had simply moved there to sleep.

Myss found it all rather dull. If the real Salaar had been here, there would definitely have been a whole battle of sharp tongues over it.

He tossed and turned in bed, while Fork curled up gloomily into a ball. The little snake lay alone on the pillow, flicking its tongue weakly again and again. It clearly had no intention of sleeping.

Forget it. Myss sat up and jumped off the bed in displeasure. He walked over to the chaise and looked down at the sleeping “Salaar.”

Moonlight like white gauze covered everything, making even the sharpest blade seem soft. Just as snake-Salaar had said, when those blood-amber eyes were closed, the sense of wrongness did weaken somewhat.

But Myss still thought something looked off no matter how he stared.

He unfocussed his pupils and glared viciously at the blood amber beneath those eyelids.

Just like the boundary of the Divine Realm, that pair of blood-amber eyes was only a tiny fragment of some enormous spell, and Myss couldn’t find a way to break it. But he didn’t give up. He kept staring stubbornly, as though through that body he might still somehow locate that heart.

Myss loathed this sense of powerlessness.

He could annihilate things that displeased him, yet he couldn’t piece an incomplete Salaar back together. He could see the “endpoint” of magic, but only on the condition that the magic wasn’t too vast, and that the caster wasn’t far stronger than he was.

With too much power concentrated in his eyes, a burst of soreness welled up in his sockets, and something warm spilled out. Myss rubbed it with the back of his hand and held it under his nose.

It was blood.

Damn it. If he kept using brute force this thoughtlessly, he would only injure his own eyes. Myss grabbed one corner of “Salaar’s” blanket and rubbed his face clean. He had to find a way. He couldn’t just go blind every time he ran into giant spells… He had to grasp the whole picture…

He turned his black magic into thin threads, then copied the Perfected Creation’s method, weaving them into a net. Myss closed his eyes and let them extend outward along the currents of magic, feeling every tiny shift in the flow.

If he couldn’t see the whole picture, then he would let his magic calculate for him.

The Archdemon’s first attempt was clumsy and chaotic. Splitting his focus in so many ways, the fine threads of his power couldn’t keep up with the complex, disorderly turbulence of magic. His magic resembled loose strands of thread scattered by a current; the black net sagged and collapsed time and again.

After several hours of work, he finally stitched together a crude version. The black net floated in midair along invisible magical currents. It was too small and uneven, barely able to hold its shape.

Still, even clumsy, rough calculations let him touch more of it… Hm?

A stray magical force suddenly disrupted the flow, sending a tremor through his net. It was extremely close to the room. Myss sprang to his feet at once and ran for the door.

At the bend in the corridor, he found the badly injured Tass Ga.

“What the hell, so it isn’t Salaar.”

Myss picked up the half-unconscious Dragon Fae and sighed.

For a moment, he had thought that bastard had somehow escaped.

Once back in the room, Myss locked himself inside the bathroom again. He threw Tass Ga into a pendant set with a large emerald, then eagerly connected the communicator shell fragment.

“What is it?” snake-Salaar’s sleepy voice came through.

“What else would it be? Obviously something important.” Myss said sternly. “I spent the whole night thinking about important matters, and you slept peacefully through it.”

“Isn’t that because I trust you?” Salaar hissed in reply. “Let me guess, Tass came back early?”

“Exactly.” Myss shook the pendant. “Come on, last meeting before the plan.”

The Dragon Fae had only been warming himself inside the gem for a few minutes before he impatiently came back out and described everything he had experienced in painstaking detail.

“V.O.R. most likely did reply. He doesn’t need to use the official channels to send replies, so it’s normal that there’s no record.”

Snake-Salaar cut straight to the point. “Antis’s pleas for help were sent over a concentrated period, and he didn’t ask you for help. Considering your areas of expertise… I suspect he was trying to save someone, and that person didn’t have much time left.”

Tass frowned. “Save someone? It could also be that he himself got sick and didn’t want me to know.”

“The last letter he sent you was full of hope. Then after that he shifted directly to requests for help. If it were he himself who needed treatment, he should have sought doctors, not gone straight to scholars.”

Salaar said, “Besides, in your eyes, is Antis the kind of person so afraid of death that he’d resort to anything?”

Tass was silent for a few seconds. “No.”

“He was in his prime, healthy, smart, capable, and didn’t have obsessions over wealth or status. If V.O.R. managed to mislead him, the most likely reason is that he was trying to save someone,” Salaar said.

“But he was turned into a living specimen, and there was no Abnormal Fruit on him. Otherwise I would have noticed long ago.” Myss interrupted, “There’s no point obsessing over his situation. Maybe V.O.R. gave the Abnormal Fruit to the person he was trying to save.”

But among the people who had dealings with Mr. Antis, the only one they had encountered was Iver, and Iver had no Abnormal Fruit scent either.

Myss hissed in frustration as though he had a toothache.

This was troublesome. He couldn’t exactly go around grabbing everyone and sniffing them one by one.

No wonder Mr. Anti had let the Dragon Fae come back. Even if they knew who “Flaw” was, this lead had already lost its usefulness.

Snake-Salaar also fell silent. Even through the shell fragment device, Myss could hear the tiny sounds of him thinking. Unfortunately, a snake brain was only so useful, and Salaar never spoke again in the end.

Sure enough, it was still better to snatch Salaar’s heart back first, Myss thought seriously.

“All right, go to sleep quickly. Tomorrow you absolutely cannot mess this up.” Myss ordered, “Once I rescue you, we’ll think of something else.”

After settling Tass, Myss slowly climbed back into bed. He glanced sideways at the sleeping “Salaar,” and suddenly came up with another idea.

“Hey, Dragon Fae.” Myss tapped the pendant. “I’ve got a new thought. Listen carefully…”

By the time Myss finished whispering out his orders, the sky outside had already started to brighten. Whether because the call had satisfied him or because weaving the black net had worn him out, Myss soon fell deeply asleep.

The next day was beautiful, the world beyond the tall windows washed in flawless blue.

As usual, “Salaar” had breakfast brought to the room, and it once again included raspberry cream pancakes, Myss’s favorite.

Myss turned his face away and refused to eat. Salaar’s scent was wrong, and because of that, even the pancakes he offered had changed flavor.

“If you want the old atmosphere, I can fight you over them too,” “Salaar” said.

Myss coolly peeled a boiled egg. “Boring. I’m not that childish.”

“Your hair has come loose again. I’ll braid it for you.”

“Salaar’s” gaze shifted to Myss’s lapis-lazuli ribbon. Myss’s hair was in a mess, and the ribbon had been tied on crookedly and badly.

“No. I can tie it myself.” It looked ugly, but it was tied on, wasn’t it? Myss leaned back to make sure “Salaar” couldn’t reach him.

“I told you, I am not being controlled by the Perfected Creation. There’s no need for you to be this wary.” “Salaar” said calmly, “My hostility and my thoughts are both parts of the ‘Salaar’ you know.”

“By your logic, shit used to be part of cake too. Yet I don’t see anyone eating shit for breakfast.”

Myss crumbled the egg yolk and fed it to the mewing cats.

“Salaar” froze for a few seconds, then let out a sigh. “If my heart were still here, I think I would laugh.”

“But it isn’t, and that’s exactly the problem.” Myss snorted. “By the way, your painting is boring too.”

That said, after breakfast, Myss obediently followed “Salaar” to the workroom.

The work area was quiet.

Perfect weather, perfect atmosphere, perfect employees all creating depictions of “perfect love.” After several days, everyone’s work had begun to take shape.

Some painted family members, friends, or pets. Others sketched history, myth, and even legend. On one canvas, Myss found Saint Salaar himself, of course in the original golden haired, blue-eyed version.

The most common theme was love.

First love between youths, beautiful lovers in their prime, happy families, every possible gender combination. One particularly bold painter was openly painting two unclothed lovers absorbed in intimacy.

Myss’s red eyes swept over it all quickly. It all felt the same, as dull as the portrait “Salaar” was painting. Compared to this, he was beginning to miss “The End of the World.”

But this boring everything would soon come to an end.

Out of the corner of his eye, Myss watched the clock on the wall. The tick-tick of the second hand kept time with his heartbeat as the hour hand slowly edged toward nine.

…Here it comes!

A scream suddenly rose from downstairs, followed by a great crash of overturned objects. Myss shoved the model’s chair aside and bolted out of the studio.

The cats had gone ahead to make contact, so this time none were in front of him. The employees, assuming he was about to have another outburst, all stood up and prepared to block his way back. However—

“Meow—!”

Miss Claws led hundreds of cats charging in, shrieking at the top of their lungs. Sharp claws tore straight through one canvas.

Its owner let out a scream as though the claws had ripped into his own skin. He rushed at his painting in a frenzy, his lips trembling and his face gray.

“This was—this was my most perfect draft.” He repeated it as though possessed. “What if I can never paint it again… my best work…”

The cats hardly cared.

The entrance to the work area seemed to have turned into a floodgate, with a furry torrent pouring through. The employees had no time to stop Myss anymore. They threw themselves desperately at their work.

Unfortunately, they could protect the canvases, but not their torn clothing or their raked hair. Countless cat paws stamped through the paint and trampled mercilessly over everything.

Miss Claws jumped onto Myss’s shoulder, while Cinnamon ran to his feet. “Meow meow—mew mew!”

“Their numbers are still intact for now. A dozen or so cats have been trapped by magic.”

Father Kalen’s voice came from the shell fragment as he translated. “As expected, with others watching, the Red Amber’s employees care about appearances and don’t dare kill. After all, cats aren’t dogs. It’s nearly impossible for them to inflict a fatal injury.”

“Looks like the Perfected Creation’s Divine Realm isn’t perfect after all.”

Myss leapt onto a low cabinet through the chaos and pulled a face at “Salaar.”

“…See? They didn’t prepare any defensive plan for ‘what if hundreds of cats charge in at once.’”

With that, he threw a black net straight at “Salaar’s” face, then ran off without looking back.

At that moment, the first through fourth floors were in utter turmoil. Fur and claws flew everywhere, and the sharp cries of cats rose and fell one after another. They were burrowing into every corner they could squeeze into and yowling at full volume.

“Meow—meow—mew mew mew! That’s the nearest sound to me.”

The shell fragment switched over to snake-Salaar’s communication, and Salaar imitated the cats’ cries in a tiny voice.

Miss Claws: “Meow meow mew!”

“The southeast corner of the fourth floor, higher up.”

The shell fragment switched back to Father Kalen’s connection. “Please send more cats to that area, Miss Claws.”

“Meow!”

Miss Claws dashed off. With Cinnamon, Myss sprinted toward the southeast corner of the fourth floor, followed by over a hundred cats.

The employees were rooted in place by emotional collapse. Myss ran unhindered all the way there. Whenever anyone still tried to block him, some cat would spring out and shred their hair or clothing.

People’s “perfection” burst apart like bubbles. The Archdemon ran over endless chaos and wailing, while the claw-marked corridor flew behind him.

In his eyes there was only the staircase ahead. He never looked back once.

At last, three hundred cats converged successfully, packing the southeast corner of the fourth floor so tightly that no one could move through.

It was daytime, and the residential area was already sparsely populated. The guards were all stationed at the fifth-floor entrance. Not many employees had come over to catch the cats.

Myss dove straight into the sea of fur. Amid the thunderous purring of the cats, he raised a hand toward the ceiling—

Fork opened its mouth wide and shot out a cannonball-like blast of black magic.

The Archdemon didn’t hold back. The attack punched through the stone floor between the fourth and fifth floors. Broken rock flew everywhere, exposing a small, bottomless hole.

A shrill magical alarm rang through the entire building.

Myss didn’t even look. He flicked a hand, sending Fork straight into the hole. Then he turned toward the enemies before him, his hair swinging through the harsh light.

In front of him stood a fully armed squad of guards, along with “Salaar,” only half a beat behind them.

Hundreds of cats crowded at Myss’s feet, hissing in unison at the opposing side.

“All of you fall back. Leave the rest to me.”

Myss licked his slightly dry lips. Miss Claws let out a mew.

Then Myss crooked a finger at the people opposite him. “I’m right here. I’m not going anywhere. Surely you’re not going to kill these innocent cats just because they were manipulated, are you?”

Looking at the rapidly withdrawing army of cats, the guards really did hesitate. Only “Salaar” kept his eyes fixed on Myss, the blood amber glimmering faintly within them.

Exactly. He was stalling for time, and he trusted that “Salaar” could guess that much.

But it was too late.

Myss split into a grin and cast a black net over “Salaar.” The other raised a shield instinctively. But Myss didn’t follow up the attack. Instead, he lifted a hand and caught the thing that dropped from the ceiling—

A little snake wrapped around a lump of blood amber.

Inside the amber, another little snake had carved out a sliver of space and was swimming desperately around.

“Salaar” narrowed his eyes.

“Look. Your heart.”

Myss’s tone was that of a victor. “Time for it to be returned to its rightful owner.”

As he spoke, Myss clenched the blood amber tightly. Annihilation magic wound around his fingers, and then he drove a fist into his own lower abdomen.

Blood burst out, a red even more vivid than the blood amber itself. Myss buried the blood amber deep inside his own flesh, hiding it among his organs.

Immediately after, a golden flash appeared. The wound in Myss’s abdomen vanished without a trace, leaving only blood-soaked fabric behind.

At that moment, Myss’s hair was a complete mess. More than half of his white shirt had been dyed red with blood, with an ugly hole ripped through it. Yet he stood there with chest lifted and head high, flaunting everything proudly as though he possessed an entire world.

“I excel at annihilation, and you excel at healing. That’s always been how it is between us.”

Myss licked the blood off his hand. He stood with the sunlight behind him, his eyes frighteningly bright.

“Yes. Your plan was more efficient than I anticipated. I’ll remember that.”

“Salaar’s” expression shifted. He seemed as though he wanted to smile in response but suddenly forgot how. In the end, only those blood-amber eyes clung tightly to Myss, as though evaluating him.

“But don’t forget, I excel at healing too. I could easily cut open your stomach and seize the heart again.”

By the time he finished saying that, only a few cats remained at Myss’s feet. The guards had recovered themselves and cornered him tightly, their encirclement closing in.

“And now, how exactly do you intend to finish this?” “Salaar” stood at the very front of the ring.

Myss felt something subtly strange—“Salaar” hadn’t done everything possible to stop him. Instead, he had been provoking him, almost as if he were curious whether Myss would flip the table and openly turn on the Perfected Creation.

How odd. Did “Salaar” truly intend to keep him trapped here? Or had he even used the Perfected Creation too, merely wanting to test his methods of escape…?

But no matter which goal “Salaar” had, neither one would be fulfilled.

“Who said I wanted to ‘finish’ anything?”

Myss sneered and yanked a jeweled pendant from his pocket.

“Go on, Tass—!”

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The author has something to say:

Returned to its rightful owner—but Myss thinks he’s the owner.

Salaar’s Rationality and Heart: “…?”

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