Author: 年终 / Nian Zhong
Translator: Kinky || https://kinkytranslations.com/
Chapter 59: The Talking Rabbit
No, there was no one ahead.
Salaar feigned curiosity and quickened his pace without drawing attention, moving to the very front. But the place Myss had indicated was completely empty. There was nothing there.
In theory, there couldn’t possibly be any living people nearby. There was only one straight path leading to the exit. If a survivor had made it this far, they should have escaped long ago.
Salaar turned his head and looked at Myss.
Myss frowned toward the end of the tunnel. In that instant just now, he had clearly sensed a magical fluctuation similar to that of a living person. But as soon as Salaar walked in that direction, the aura had fled at once.
“You’re sure it wasn’t your imagination?” Salaar asked softly.
“I’m sure,” Myss said with absolute certainty.
Salaar nodded gravely and didn’t argue further.
Myss noticed that the way Salaar held his serpent staff had changed. It was now in a stance that could turn into a drawn blade at any moment.
No one else, including Professor Gentry and Father Kalen, had noticed anything unusual.
“I’ve never seen murals like these before,” Kalen remarked in a hushed tone, slowing his pace.
Myss turned his head and raised his gaze.
Huge paintings hung along the tunnel walls, packed tightly on both sides as though they might come crashing down any second.
These paintings were nothing like the fine pieces in the Red Amber. Their brushwork was rough and stiff. They all depicted similar scenes: some giant dressed in splendid robes strode at the front, his cloak sweeping dramatically sideways to block the wind and snow in the darkness. Beneath the cloak walked a group of tiny commoners.
And yet, even those “tiny” commoners were about the same size in the picture as Myss himself.
The lighting devices illuminated one distorted face after another. The people wore rigid smiles, and their oil-painted eyes held dim gazes fixed on Myss outside the frame.
So ugly. Myss averted his eyes in distaste.
“A standard late-Night Scourge work. We call them ‘Hero Portraits,’” Beverly explained automatically. “In the later period of the Night Scourge, almost every decent city had a corresponding underground city. These paintings were meant to enhance prestige. The giant in the image was usually the city lord and his family.”
As she spoke, she moved closer to one of the paintings and examined it carefully in the light.
“This one belongs to the Hope family—a minor noble house from the Night Scourge era. See, here’s their family crest. The Hope family was infamous for their tyranny and was wiped out long ago. I never imagined that of all the families, this one had actually constructed an underground city too.”
“It’s my first time seeing Hero Portraits this well preserved.”
“It seems this place is even more dangerous than we thought,” Asp said gloomily.
Beverly sucked in a sharp breath, looking even more agitated.
“Why is it more dangerous?” Myss asked, unusually taking the initiative to speak. “Tell me more about the Night Scourge.”
Father Kalen stepped a little closer, and Tass came out of the pocket watch and stood on Myss’s shoulder. They all seemed curious enough that no one minded Myss’s commanding tone.
“I’ll explain,” Salaar cut in suddenly. “No need to drain Miss Beverly’s energy. I also want to check how much I’ve learned. Professor Gentry, the historical sources I’ve read are rather inconsistent, so if I say anything wrong, please correct me.”
Professor Gentry happily agreed.
Salaar withdrew his gaze from the Hero Portraits and focused intently on Myss.
“In the earliest records, the Night Scourge appeared only once every ten years, or even once a century. Each time it lasted only a few days. Back then, people treated it like a natural disaster such as an earthquake or tsunami…”
…But as time passed, the Night Scourge came with increasing frequency.
From a once-in-a-century occurrence, it became something that happened once or twice every decade. By the very end of the Night Scourge era, it came almost every year. At the same time, its duration lengthened. It usually lasted around a month, and at its longest, more than two months.
Worst of all, its arrival was unpredictable.
If it fell in midsummer, temperatures on the surface plunged, and crops would all freeze to death, bringing famine for the entire year.
If it overlapped with winter, the world above became a frozen hell. Deep snow made it hard to move livestock into the underground cities, and many people couldn’t even save their own lives.
While everyone else listened to this grim description, Myss carefully compared it to his own sense of timing.
Salaar’s description was mostly correct. At first, He—or rather, It—had been little different from dormancy. Later, as His true body grew larger, His magic became more active, and His “breathing” grew more frequent and more prolonged.
That made sense. In Myss’s memory, when He first arrived here, not even a single blade of grass existed on the surface.
Yet after so many years, the surface had seemed to grow mold, sprouting all sorts of living things with a heavyweight Salaar mixed in.
…So when He was little, His breathing hadn’t been strong enough, which was why strange things had started growing up top. Myss clicked his tongue in amusement inwardly.
“If that’s the case, people and livestock could still run underground, but wouldn’t wild animals all freeze to death?” Tass couldn’t help asking.
Dragon Fae were a species that only appeared after the Night Scourge, so to them, the Night Scourge was no different from myth.
“Indeed, quite a few species unique to hot regions really did go extinct,” Salaar answered patiently. “When the Night Scourge fell, the entire sky turned pitch-black. The temperature aboveground became colder than deep winter in the far north. It was nearly impossible for living things to survive outside.”
“One small mercy was that it didn’t completely block out light. Some light still filtered through the dark canopy. Otherwise, there’s no telling how low the temperature would have fallen.”
“The Night Scourge truly was terrifying,” Father Kalen recalled. “The elders in my village used to talk about the famines from that era. Even now, parents still scare children with horror stories set during the Night Scourge.”
“Haha, I’ve heard similar tales myself,” Professor Gentry joined in. “Speaking of which, until ‘Saint Salaar’ appeared, the debate over the origin of the Night Scourge never stopped. Mr. Salaar, which camp do you belong to?”
“The Natural Disaster camp? The Magical Interference camp? …Or the Chaos Archdemon camp?”
Obviously the Chaos Archdemon camp, Myss thought, puffing out his chest proudly.
“The Magical Interference camp,” Salaar said.
Myss: “…”
Myss: “…?!”
The Chaos Archdemon stared at Salaar in utter disbelief, trying to slap him in the head with his gaze alone.
“To be precise, I used to belong to the Magical Interference camp,” Salaar said. “It proposes that there exists a singular magical source which, when stimulated in some way, emits magic strong enough to distort the heavens at irregular intervals.”
“Actually, the ‘Chaos Archdemon’ theory was derived from that hypothesis.”
“You said you ‘used to,’” Professor Gentry repeated.
“Now I am a firm believer in the Chaos Archdemon camp.” Salaar winked at Myss. “If there must be such a magical source, it’s much more interesting if it’s alive.”
“What’s interesting about that? It’s a catastrophe!” Beverly couldn’t help blurting out.
“Precisely because it’s a catastrophe, it being alive is better,” Salaar said softly, never taking his eyes off Myss. “To erase a gust of wind, or to stop a person’s breathing—obviously the latter is simpler. And more thorough.”
His tone was too matter-of-fact. Beverly choked on her response and couldn’t think of anything to say.
But Myss knew exactly what to say.
“You’re off topic.” Myss’s tone was equally matter-of-fact. To him, Salaar’s killing intent was as commonplace and dull as a boiled egg for breakfast. “I wasn’t asking how cold the Night Scourge was. I asked why this underground city is more dangerous.”
Salaar smoothly steered them back. “Just as Miss Beverly said, by the late Night Scourge era, nearly every city had an accompanying underground refuge.”
“In large cities, the royal family kept things under strict supervision, and the city lords were attentive. Those underground cities were mainly built for shelter, with clear rules and order.”
“Remote small cities were far more troublesome. Some city lords were… mentally unsound. To put it simply, they treated underground cities as private prisons and toyed with the people trapped inside.”
Myss gave a short laugh and leaned close to Salaar’s ear. “After all that talk, you just mean a man-made ‘Divine Realm’.”
“You can think of it that way.”
“Then what about you, Salaar?” Myss leaned even closer, his low, light words sliding into Salaar’s ear. “What sort of ‘Divine Realm’ did you use to live in?”
“If we’re counting duration, I spent my whole life living inside your ‘Divine Realm’,” Salaar replied with a smile. “You were always watching me. Why ask something you already know?”
Clearly dissatisfied with that answer, Myss exhaled warm, damp breaths against Salaar’s chin again and again, clearly planning to launch a small-scale Night Scourge at his face.
Salaar lowered his head, looking at Myss who was so close he could count every detail. The magical light illuminated his face so clearly that even the blood vessels in his neck were visible.
Salaar parted his lips, about to say something, when Myss’s eyes suddenly shifted and he darted off—
“Myss?!”
Seeing Myss vanish into the darkness, Salaar’s scalp went numb. He no longer bothered maintaining appearances in front of the others and immediately chased after him.
Knife raised his head anxiously, his voice jostling with Salaar’s footsteps.
“What if this time the Abnormal Fruit is only targeting Myss?”
“What if the previous scent was just bait?”
“What if—”
“Shut up,” Salaar said through clenched teeth.
“I’m only making objective analyses!” Knife cried. “I’m saying, what if Myss—”
Salaar freed one hand and clamped it over the snake’s mouth. Luckily, just as he rounded the corner, he ran straight into Myss on his way back.
Lord Archdemon looked thoroughly pleased with himself, holding a snow-white rabbit by the ears.
The rabbit kicked frantically, its nose twitching with panic.
“That was the source of the aura just now, but it doesn’t carry any Abnormal Fruit scent,” Myss said with a snort. “So it wasn’t a person. Just a rabbit.”
Salaar breathed out a sigh of relief. “Don’t run off like that again. If you’re going to run, at least tell me first.”
“What kind of stupid thing are you saying? Think about it. That’d be impossible,” Myss wrinkled his nose. “By the time I finished notifying you, it would’ve already vanished.”
Knife: “That is a rather unreasonable demand, I admit. My apologies, Salaar isn’t being rational.”
Fork poked its head out from Myss’s sleeve. “What stupid thing are you saying? Salaar is always unreasonable. Anyway, enough nonsense. Let the priest talk to this furball.”
It pointed at the agitated rabbit with the tip of its tail.
The rabbit screamed, “Help! Gross! The snakes—they can talk?!”
Silence.
Both Myss and Salaar looked at the rabbit. The rabbit, meanwhile, stared in horror at the snake on Myss’s wrist, as if Fork was about to climb all over it.
…And then Fork excitedly did exactly that.
“AAAAAHHHHHHH!” the rabbit screamed. “Get it off me! Get that thing off me!”
Another stretch of silence.
Professor Gentry’s group happened to arrive just in time to witness the absurd scene.
“Let me go! Let me go!” the rabbit squirmed. “You damned humans, always bullying the weak!”
Professor Gentry spoke first. “…May I ask who you are?”
“I’m obviously a rabbit! Old man, are you blind?” the rabbit kindly shot back.
Gentry remained unfazed. “Just now you said ‘you damned humans’… So other than the few of us here, you’ve seen other humans before?”
“I have,” the rabbit said rapidly, its three-part mouth twitching nonstop. “They’re all down there. Every last one of them is stupid. They can’t even find their way out.”
“My god, they’re alive?!” Beverly immediately clapped a hand over her mouth.
“I wish I’d killed them,” the rabbit said.
“If you guide us there, we’ll take them out,” Beverly said, rushing over and clutching the rabbit tightly. “I promise—I promise we’ll get them out of here immediately. No human will ever bother you again.”
“It’s us!” the rabbit shouted. “Humans invaded our city. You owe us a formal apology!”
“No problem,” Beverly said urgently.
Myss: “…”
“Under normal circumstances, rabbits aren’t supposed to talk, right?” he asked, handing the rabbit over to Beverly and freeing his hands to pinch his own cheek to make sure he wasn’t dreaming.
“Rabbits aren’t supposed to talk,” Salaar confirmed.
He also secretly pinched his own thigh, making sure Myss didn’t notice.
“It could also be an alchemical creature, like your snakes,” Professor Gentry said slowly. “This is a Night Scourge ruin. Finding alchemical life here wouldn’t be strange.”
“Yes, it could be a pet that’s undergone alchemical modification,” Beverly said, hugging the still-furious rabbit. “We’ve found headless cattle before too. Supposedly they were designed specifically to provide meat.”
Salaar’s eyebrow twitched.
People now forgot this too easily: in the Night Scourge era, magic had been a power wielded by only a small minority. Alchemical magic was enjoyed by royalty and high nobility. Headless cattle were absolutely the sort of commission only royalty could afford.
A pet that could talk?
That was extravagantly luxurious. It had no business appearing in a small ruin.
Still, he didn’t object. Just like Professor Gentry, he recognized what mattered most here. Right now, this rabbit was their most valuable clue.
“You’ve done something important, Myss,” Salaar said, raising his voice.
“Yeah. Without me, what would you do?” Myss said smugly. “I knew it. There was no way my senses could be wrong—”
“Thank you, Mr. Myss.” Beverly finally seemed to calm down a little. Realizing Salaar was looking at her, she suddenly came to herself and hastily thanked Myss.
Myss glanced at her without much interest and gave a vague grunt.
Only then did Salaar look away from her and back at Myss. “I’d like to revise my requirements.”
“—Request.”
“Fine, I’d like to revise my request,” Salaar said readily. “Even if you did render an important service this time, you still can’t go running off at random.”
“…If you really have to run, at least drag me along with you.”
The author has something to say:
Narrator: Salaar is full of killing intent toward you.
Myss: Mm-hmm. So he wants to kill me the most, right?
Narrator: Yes.
Myss: YEAHHHHHHH I WON! [fireworks]
…That’s just how the Chaos Archdemon is. (?
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