Author: 年终 / Nian Zhong
Translator: Kinky || https://kinkytranslations.com/
Chapter 72: Scarlet Blood Beads
No. Perhaps the thing he feared most had already come to pass long ago.
Of course Salaar could maintain his rationality. More than three centuries of darkness had polished him down. He was better at staying clear-headed than anyone else in this world.
But he couldn’t deceive his own quickening heartbeat, his scorching desire, or the gaze that he found himself unable to tear away from Myss.
This mutated feeling was like a terminal illness; it tainted every corner of his being. Salaar could only watch helplessly as it worsened, guessing which day it would bring its verdict.
Now, the verdict had arrived.
How awful. He could have grown old and died before it came.
However, unlike what Salaar had imagined, he didn’t recall the horrifying history of the Night Scourge, nor did he turn his thoughts towards the greater good or the solitude of his imprisonment within the seal.
…He suddenly remembered an utterly ordinary afternoon.
At that time, he was still a young man, his field of vision as clear as the afternoon sunlight.
Salaar sat atop a chair made of stacked books, both hands stained with ink. The parchment was filled densely with characters and numbers.
Back then, he was surrounded by countless records of the Night Scourge, wholeheartedly studying its pattern of influence.
That brief and ominous term had run through his entire life, just like a wingless bird chasing the stars, just like a stone sinking to the bottom of the deep sea, just like the countless predecessors who had thrown themselves into it.
People witnessed it, recorded it, resisted it, and left countless tiny scratch marks throughout history.
He was the same. He fell asleep thinking of the Night Scourge and woke up dreaming from it, never letting go for a single second.
The smell of ink and parchment wasn’t very pleasant, but Salaar didn’t notice at all.
Lunch was plain water mixed with honey and bread filled with candied fruit, and he hadn’t touched a single bite.
He focused on calculating the formulas before him, his pupils moving along with the tip of the quill. The room was very quiet, with only the brilliant golden sunlight and the rustling sound of the pen tip scratching across parchment.
Suddenly, Salaar’s elbow moved and knocked over the honey water at his side.
The water stain soaked his precious calculation paper. Salaar hurriedly went to wipe it, and the glass rolled along the edge of the desk, falling and shattering across the floor. He bent down again to clean up the shards, and the sharp glass pierced his finger. A bead of blood immediately emerged.
“Diffusion… biological signatures…”
Salaar studied the rapidly seeping blood and, heedless of everything, sat back in place. His calculation speed became a few points faster. Fresh blood flowed down the pen shaft and mixed into his pen tip, yet he still didn’t notice at all.
Only when he wrote down the word “life” did the tip of his pen pause.
Salaar knew full well that the “Natural Disaster Theory” was more widely accepted. A natural disaster meant people were powerless. Everyone only needed to consider how to survive. No one had any obligation to solve the source.
There had once been many organizations dedicated to researching the Night Scourge. However, as the long river of history flowed slowly onward, people decided to turn toward the more practical matter of “Night Scourge sheltering.”
The group he belonged to could be considered one of the last remaining holdouts.
His predecessors had crossed abandoned markets, traversed deserted canyons, and rushed toward the most desolate ends of the continent, all for the sake of chasing that deadly darkness.
They firmly believed in the “Magic Interference Theory,” left behind countless records, and swore to find the source of it all.
But what if the source of the Night Scourge was a living thing?
This guess made Salaar’s heart beat nonstop and his mouth go dry. He reached for the honey water, only then realizing that the cup had shattered and he was still bleeding.
He sucked the blood from his fingertip, and for a moment, a strange thought occurred to him.
If one day he truly discovered that enormous lifeform, what would he say to It?
[Everything is for the sake of ending the Night Scourge.] …Not suitable. That was something to say to himself. It wasn’t suitable as an opening line.
[For the sake of ending the Night Scourge, I must kill you.] …Not suitable. He couldn’t defeat such an existence beyond common sense. It would already be good if he could buy a little time.
[I am Salaar, and I represent humanity in negotiating with you.] …This one wasn’t suitable either. Perhaps the other party was a completely different form of life and wouldn’t care about his name at all.
A new problem. Salaar had found himself uncharacteristically captivated, hesitating for a long while before resuming his calculations.
He needed to choose a declaration of war that was neither humble nor arrogant and required no response. When that thing cried out, assuming the source of the Night Scourge cried like that, he would solemnly say it aloud and add a footnote to this long, arduous chase.
He thought about it for an afternoon, a week, a month…
In the gaps when he was tired from calculations, Salaar always considered this matter.
This kind of fantasy had no value, but it could always make his heartbeat stutter a few beats. That feeling was very novel, like carrying another tiny heart in his chest.
Finally, late one night, Salaar suddenly sat up in bed.
If one day he truly discovered that enormous lifeform, he would tell It—
[No matter what, I will watch you until the final moment of my life.]
In the end, Salaar still rejected it.
It was only useless imagination. The source of the Night Scourge might not be alive, might not understand his words… might not care about the life or death of a mere insect.
The next day, he calmly began calculating again, still using the “Magic Interference Theory” as his research direction. The cut finger had already healed, leaving no scar behind.
Only after that, whenever he saw something red like fresh blood, Salaar would always be distracted for a moment. Even though he had long forgotten the reason.
…Now he remembered, Salaar thought as he looked at Myss’s scarlet eyes.
That had been the very first time in his long life that he had ever felt “fear” toward Myss.
And only now did he know that every one of his gazes had been met with a response.
The priest and Asp had fainted, and Beverly was delirious. The survivors were busy paying attention to Roman, while Professor Gentry was watching them… It should be fine…
Salaar felt a little thirsty again, though this time he didn’t need honeyed water. What he craved was a kiss.
“…After coming into contact with him just now, the Prisoner of Dreams actually isn’t that strong. His aura counted as a desperate burst that didn’t care about his life, while you always held back in the seal and never fought with your life on the line.”
Teacher Myss lowered his voice and kept chattering nonstop. In every sense, Salaar couldn’t get a word in.
“Besides, the Abnormal Fruit was attached to him. His power is quite hollow. Although you are far, far inferior to my main body, you have absolutely no need to be shaken by his aura. He and you aren’t on the same level…”
Salaar: “…”
Lord Archdemon seemed to believe that Salaar had been stimulated by the Prisoner of Dreams’ divine power and lost confidence, so he was busily giving him a little class on power levels.
Saint Salaar had a breath lodged in his chest, and the scorching dryness turned into the urge to smile.
“Ah.” He sighed with deliberate affectation, as if he was about to shed tears. “The human world changes too quickly. Perhaps a human who surpasses me has appeared. You will definitely have a new opponent. It’s time for me to consider something else—”
“No!” Myss immediately panicked, even forgetting to suppress his voice.
Salaar pressed down hard on the corners of his mouth. “Is there a difference? You said it yourself. I’m far, far inferior to you…”
“That’s right—”
“As an outdated old fool, I should hand the responsibility over to someone like Roman…”
“You wouldn’t dare—!”
Myss didn’t know why he was so agitated, yet his indignation felt extraordinarily righteous, without the slightest wavering. He glared fiercely at Salaar, his gaze incomparably direct.
Salaar turned his head and let out a soft chuckle.
His fear made all his hair stand on end, but he simply couldn’t help being fascinated by this joy.
Just like many years ago, when he wrote the word “life” with blood-tinted ink.
……
Two hours later, everyone had moved to the rabbits’ banquet hall.
The rabbits were controlled by Roman’s subconscious. They were especially close to this “Rabbit King” and happily released all the survivors.
Only the priest and Jinx were still fused together, fainted in a heap along with Beverly and Asp.
According to Roman, he had been on the verge of death, but the Priest’s body radiated a remarkably soothing energy.
With Professor Gentry within arm’s reach, he wanted to absorb a little power, hold on a bit longer, and also consolidate his image as an “evil god.”
“I’m truly sorry.” He lowered his head toward Salaar and Myss. “No matter what, I used him. That is a fact.”
“Once I recover for a few more hours, I’ll be able to remove the rabbit…”
Even in such a peaceful environment, even after just breaking free from long torment, Roman’s tone remained cautious, border lining tense.
“He’s useless on his own. Handle it however you like.”
Myss didn’t care at all. As long as the Abnormal Fruit sniffer was alive, that was enough.
Only then did Roman breathe a sigh of relief. His gaze turned toward Salaar, and a few traces of pleading entered his eyes. “If possible, could you please treat my companions—”
“No.”
Professor Gentry interrupted him directly. “In order to heal you, these two used up a great deal of energy, and we still don’t know how long they’ll need to recover. This request is far too rude.”
“Professor?”
“Previously, I made an error in judgment, Roman.” Professor Gentry insisted firmly, “Your power hadn’t reached the level of a ‘god,’ and your physical body remained alive the entire time. That is why these two were able to successfully heal you. As for the others’ situations, you should know better than anyone.”
What kind of utter nonsense is he spouting? Myss was displeased.
Previously, the situation had been urgent, so he and Salaar hadn’t hidden their power. As long as this Archmage had any brains, he could definitely discern their extraordinary nature.
As for countermeasures, Myss had already thought of one. Before leaving this place, he would have Salaar hit him hard with mental magic, and once they got out, they would throw the blame onto the Abnormal Fruit. In any case, they had already tested the depths of this Archmage. Two against one, plus a surprise attack, would be easy.
…As a result, Gentry was publicly denying their strength right in front of them.
Myss had just opened his mouth when Salaar stuffed it full of a Salaar-flavored mushroom.
The mushroom was quite large, filling his mouth to the rim. Myss furiously chewed, seething with indignation.
“It’s thanks to those two snakes.”
While Myss had been hit with the mushroom silencing curse, Salaar took over. “They’re treasures from the Night Scourge period. We have always used them as staffs. We can’t bring people back from the dead, Mr. Roman.”
“It’s indeed ancient alchemical magic…”
Roman was silent for a moment and looked dejectedly at Fork devouring mushrooms.
Sean patted his shoulder. “Don’t mind it. The fact that we could live this long is already thanks to you.”
“After you get out…”
“You had best stay here, Roman,” Professor Gentry said in the tone of a teacher.
Roman and his teammates: “?”
“You retained part of your power, and you no longer need to send rabbits outside the Divine Realm. In that case, you can maintain a smaller ‘Divine Realm.’”
“Externally, I will ‘seal off’ these ruins. Sean and the others can continue living here. I will find a way to deliver supplies to you and search for a better solution for you.”
Professor Gentry explained it in an unhurried manner. “…As long as all of you have the patience to wait.”
Roman’s eyes widened slightly, and for the first time, color appeared on that pale face.
“I’m not leaving.” Before the others could speak, he rushed to answer first.
Salaar gave Professor Gentry a meaningful look.
Beverly and Asp were already muddle-headed, so they would be easy to handle. If he wanted to use mental magic, the most troublesome one would be Roman, who possessed divine power.
Moreover, if Roman left this place, V.O.R would immediately notice. If Roman stayed, then on the surface, it would look like Professor Gentry had merely carried out a failed expedition.
Although he wasn’t sure whether V.O.R would “watch every second of every minute” like Myss, this was already the most reasonable countermeasure.
This Archmage had cleared away all possible concerns for them. This was undoubtedly a show of goodwill.
For now, it seemed Professor Gentry knew of gods and knew of Divine Realms. He knew what it meant that Myss and Salaar had “successfully healed Roman,” and he was also clear about the possible methods they might use after exposing their strength.
Then next—
“Mr. Myss, Mr. Salaar, I would like to speak with the two of you alone.”
Professor Gentry put down his fork and spoke with great sincerity.
The author has something to say:
In any case, here is a young man’s first stirring of love. (???
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