Author: 年终 / Nian Zhong
Translator: Kinky || https://kinkytranslations.com/
Chapter 128: Sogné
Myss’s mind grounded to a halt. He even forgot to use his control magic to distort the child’s senses.
Not even when he first discovered that he had been body-swapped into the human world had he been this shocked. Myss had thought the Eye-Opening Ceremony was nothing more than entertainment. Now it seemed the Blind God was somehow even more chaotic than the Chaos Archdemon himself.
“Mommy.”
The child still clung tightly to his leg and refused to let go.
Suppressing the irritation filling his chest, Myss lowered his gaze and glared at the child.
It was a little boy with lapis-lazuli eyes identical to Salaar’s. His hair was gray-white, much like Myss’s, hanging at the length that brushed against his shoulders.
His appearance was exceptionally sweet and well-behaved. His cheeks were round, and he had none of Salaar’s annoying air. Yet the longer Myss looked, the more unhappy he became. He realized that the child’s brows and eyes somewhat resembled his own, while the nose and lips were the spitting image of Salaar’s.
As for his age, Myss wasn’t good at judging human years. He only knew that the child stood slightly above his waist, with his face at precisely the right height to bury itself against Myss’s stomach.
What the hell is this nightmare child, and where did he come from?
Just as Myss struggled to peel the child off his leg, Salaar approached in astonishment. The wretched child immediately changed targets.
“Daddy!”
Myss and Salaar: “…”
The two looked at each other and, for the first time, saw a trace of helpless confusion in the other’s eyes.
Driven by some subtle emotion, they silently moved a little farther apart.
Salaar drew a deep breath, crouched halfway down, and tried to meet the boy’s eyes.
“Who are you?”
“I’m Sogné.” The little boy looked shocked, and a hint of panic appeared on his face. “Daddy, don’t you recognize me?”
Salaar: “…Daddy’s only feeling a little dizzy. Good boy, do you remember what happened before we went out?”
While the child’s attention was fixed on Salaar, Myss quickly surveyed their surroundings.
The room they were in looked nothing like a church confession chamber.
It resembled the interior of a large wooden house. The living room was spacious, with a complete kitchen and bathroom, as well as two bedrooms. With all the doors and windows open, everything was visible at a glance.
Yet it was nighttime, and they were plainly underground inside a church. Outside the windows, however, stretched endless grassland beneath a vividly blue sky filled with white clouds. Sunlight slid along the curtains and spilled in broad patches across the wooden floor.
Myss turned and tugged at the door through which they had entered, only to discover that it wouldn’t open no matter what he did.
He quietly separated several magical threads and tried to destroy the door, but even beneath his savage annihilation magic, the wood didn’t change in the slightest.
Myss immediately checked the surrounding flow of magic. Strangely enough, this place still wasn’t a Divine Realm. They couldn’t escape by killing its master.
Wonderful. They were trapped inside this inexplicable “confession chamber,” most likely through the Blind God’s handiwork.
Could this brat be an incarnation of the Blind God?
Myss turned back and examined the strange child with an unfriendly gaze.
“…Mommy and Daddy didn’t go anywhere. We’ve always lived here,” the child calling himself Sogné said. “Daddy, I’m hungry. Can we have potato soup today?”
“All right. I’ll make it.” Salaar agreed immediately and gave Myss a meaningful look.
The kitchen shelves were filled with baskets containing all kinds of ordinary fresh vegetables. In one corner stood a full vat of clear water.
Besides salt and baked bread, there was cheese, butter, and cured meat. Salaar even found a small bowl of pepper.
Mr. Hero put on an apron with practiced ease and picked up a kitchen knife.
Myss crowded over beside him, though his hands showed no intention of helping.
“What’s going on?”
“You haven’t figured it out either, so this probably isn’t a Divine Realm. Unfortunately, my mental magic doesn’t work here.”
Salaar skillfully peeled and sliced the potatoes.
“I think the only thing we can be certain of is that this is connected to the Blind God’s divine power. Remember what the priest said? There is no fixed prayer. We ‘only need to show friendliness.’”
Only show friendliness?
Ever since seeing that face combining features from both of them, the goosebumps on Myss’s skin hadn’t faded.
When he thought of the so-called Blind God’s Blessing, they grew even worse. Myss couldn’t help scratching his arm.
The Blind God’s twisted sense of humor was even more outrageous than Salaar’s. Even if it had nothing to do with V.O.R, Myss still wanted to beat it up.
Unlike him, Salaar regained his composure remarkably quickly, almost suspiciously so. He expertly set potatoes, carrots, and onions to simmer, looking relaxed as though he had returned to his own home.
Amid the rising steam, Mr. Hero stirred the soup while glancing at the child several times from the corner of his eye.
Myss couldn’t identify the meaning in that gaze. He only felt his goosebumps threatening to spread. Compared with this cursed place, he almost missed the Red Amber.
Forget it. The priest had also said that as long as they didn’t mention leaving, everything would be fine.
They only had to remain in this miserable place for one night and endure it.
Myss had tolerated Salaar for more than three hundred years. He had considerable confidence in his patience.
“Mommy, carry me!”
The child calling himself Sogné clung to him again, wrapping his arms affectionately around Myss.
…No, maybe he wasn’t that confident in his patience. Myss shuddered from head to toe.
“Yes, you need to be friendlier, darling.”
Salaar solemnly waved the soup ladle.
Myss wished he could stab straight through him with his gaze.
Angry as he was, he still picked the little brat up. Sogné was lighter than he had expected and made no provocative movements. The child simply wrapped one arm around Myss’s neck and used the other to play with the pomegranate flowers on his plant necklace.
“So pretty,” he said happily.
His movements were extremely careful that he didn’t even pluck off a single petal.
Salaar lifted the lid from the pot and used brilliant golden magic to crush the ingredients into a thick orange-yellow soup. Then he chopped some bacon, tossed it in, and a fresh fragrance spread with the steam.
Myss sniffed. The scent was completely real.
At the sight of the soup, Sogné’s eyes sparkled. “That’s pretty too!”
His smile was so radiant that it seemed he had never known the meaning of worry in his life.
“Good boy. Remember to wash your hands before eating.”
Salaar quickly accepted the role of “father” and even seemed to be enjoying himself.
As he arranged bread in his hands, and the corner of his mouth curved into a faint smile—a rare, genuine smile.
Had Salaar been contaminated by the Blind God? The thought made Myss feel increasingly horrified.
Restless and distracted, Myss found the meal flavorless. The moment he finished eating, he claimed that he was tired and needed an “afternoon nap.”
The priest had only said he couldn’t leave. He never said anything about hiding. Contrary to his expectations, Sogné neither cried nor made a fuss, nor did he continue clinging to him.
He even poured Myss a cup of clear water.
“Mommy, rest well. I’m going to my room to draw.”
Myss fled like an arrow.
Once inside the bedroom, he slammed the door and began pacing around the medium-sized wooden room.
Less than two seconds later, the door creaked.
“Don’t be nervous, ‘Mommy.’ It’s just me.” Salaar had removed that damned apron and looked far more relaxed than Myss.
“You seem to be enjoying yourself,” Myss hissed. “Even the two of us can’t figure out what this place is. Is the Blind God really this powerful?”
“The Secret Garden is famous, but as a relatively new religion, its influence is far weaker than that of the Church of Cadance. If the god it worships were truly that omnipotent, the Secret Garden would have dominated everything long ago.”
Salaar sat on the edge of the bed and patted the space beside him.
“So I think the Blind God’s power isn’t strong, but unusual. Like an obscure poison. Treating it may not be difficult. The hard part is identifying its properties.”
“It’s like the Lord of Shadows worshiped by that priest. Its ability to conceal is astonishing, and neither you nor I can see through it.”
Myss reluctantly sat down beside Salaar. “…You have a point.”
He watched the bedroom door warily, terrified that the horrifying child might appear at any moment, even though Salaar had locked it behind him.
“Judging by the time, it should be well past midnight. Sleep for a while.” Salaar patted his shoulder. “I’ll keep watch. Nothing will happen.”
“Trust you?” Myss sneered.
But before he could remove the mockery from his face, his body had already fallen onto the soft bed.
Hopefully, the friendly meal Salaar had prepared would count as a prayer. He wanted nothing more than to sleep soundly until ten minutes before the Eye-Opening Ceremony. Myss prayed hazily to himself, then quickly sank into sleep.
In the child’s bedroom.
Sogné held a red crayon and drew a pair of red eyes onto the “Mommy” in the picture, then began coloring the plant necklace threaded with pomegranate flowers.
Beside “Mommy,” the outlines of “Daddy” and “the child” had already been sketched.
Everyone had simple round heads, trapezoid bodies, and twig-like limbs. They could only be distinguished by their colors and clothing.
Sogné drew with complete concentration. Before long, the family portrait was finished.
Humming a gentle lullaby, he solemnly pasted it onto the wall.
And the walls of the room, including the ceiling, were already covered in countless sheets of paper. Every picture had the exact same composition. They were all family portraits of three people. Only the colors worn by the figures varied slightly.
The pictures overlapped like dense scales, new paper layered over old, one sheet after another.
In the gaps, the oldest drawings had already yellowed to the color of dried leaves.
“Daddy. Mommy.”
Stroking his gray-white hair, he raised his lapis-lazuli eyes and gazed at his newest creation. His eyes brimmed with happiness.
…
The Root Church corridor.
The little mouse carried the obsidian in its mouth, darting through the barred door and racing along the base of the walls before finally stopping beside an apparently empty section of stone.
It spat out the obsidian and raised its head, its pointed nose poking around as though searching for someone.
The faint outline of a hand appeared, picked up the obsidian, and left behind a small piece of butter. Only then did the little mouse relax. It happily grabbed the butter and scampered away.
Father Kalen remained concealed as he raised the obsidian before his eyes.
He recognized its shape. It was indeed the gemstone that had previously been set into the pocket watch.
For Salaar and Myss to throw it out without explanation, either the two of them were in danger, Tass was having trouble, or both.
“Oh, I feel a little better…” Tass’s thin voice emerged from the obsidian. “Is that you, Kalen?”
Father Kalen performed a quick divination, selected one of the many outer doors that wasn’t properly locked, and slipped into the empty room beyond it.
The moment he revealed himself and prepared to ask questions, he heard footsteps approaching from a distance.
Judging by the sound, the person was young, probably one of the boys or girls among the clergy.
Father Kalen held his breath, even though he knew it shouldn’t be necessary. All the doors looked identical from the outside, and there were nearly a hundred of them. No one would randomly come over to inspect this particular room.
Unfortunately, this time he was wrong.
The light footsteps drew closer and closer, gradually slowing.
At last, they stopped precisely outside his door.
The author has something to say:
Now they really do have a child. (…
But don’t worry, there is no male pregnancy in this story! He originally wanted a mommy and daddy. It’s just that the Archdemon became the male mommy instead… [cat paw]
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