Author: 年终 / Nian Zhong
Translator: Kinky || https://kinkytranslations.com/
Chapter 139: Birth
Perhaps “the first time he saw him” wasn’t quite accurate.
Even before possessing consciousness, Myss could “see” Salaar.
It was like a seed encountering a stone while sprouting and knowing instinctively to grow around it. That was nothing more than instinct. He held no particular feeling toward the little stone itself, much less any desire to actively observe it.
…And the very first trace of “emotion” he felt was bewilderment.
Salaar was different from the other humans. Other humans also came to challenge Him, but none persisted with Salaar’s unwavering determination, charging again and again into agony and darkness.
Bones shattered. Flesh flew. Brilliant golden light flared again and again, dazzling Myss’s eyes.
He thought that this tiny lump of flesh was different from the others.
But why was he different? More questions followed. Along with the hazy sprouting of consciousness, the Chaos Archdemon looked down at that solitary figure.
Back then, Myss’s understanding of human language had still been incomplete. But now, the scenes in Salaar’s memories merged with Myss’s own recollections, forming a river whose waves brought every forgotten detail to the surface.
“If it weren’t for Salaar, I would have killed myself long ago.”
In the settlement where Salaar’s army lived, an emaciated mage spoke.
“He saw how bad I was doing and offered to play for me… and in it, I could feel my parents again…”
He stretched his hands toward the bonfire before him, greedily soaking in what little warmth and light it offered.
“Exactly. Memory extraction really is incredible. Did you see the way he built that house? It was identical to the work of craftsmen from my grandfather’s generation. He could absolutely pass as a professional carpenter.”
The person beside him coughed twice and nodded in agreement.
“Enough. That thing is nothing but a machine made of flesh. He doesn’t possess a shred of humanity. Everything he can do was stolen… er, taken from other people. And that impresses you?”
A cold voice cut into the conversation. A young mage sat with his knees together, most of his face hidden inside a scarf. The shadows beneath his eyes were shockingly dark, and he looked absolutely dreadful.
Silence fell for a moment. Beside the young man, a middle-aged woman frowned in displeasure. “You shouldn’t say things like that.”
The young man forced two laughs from his dry throat. “Am I wrong?”
“Ah, right. None of you had to watch your friend get executed by him with your own eyes. Everyone who followed him here believed in sacrificing themselves for the human world. Hande only had a mental breakdown and said a few things he shouldn’t have, and Salaar personally killed him!”
“Heller, I know you two were close. But you know Salaar has no heart, which means he can’t possibly act from personal bias.”
The emaciated mage shook his head repeatedly. “Hande tried to spread a faith of darkness. Salaar’s punishment followed the rules. Don’t forget, before we came here, we all agreed to those rules.”
“Yes, yes. Absolutely impartial Salaar. Absolutely rational Salaar.”
The young man named Heller spoke with cold sarcasm. “Even if we obey Lord Salaar’s orders and march to our deaths, it must be absolutely correct.”
“That thing survived until now precisely because he has no heart. How wonderful it must be to have no heart. You never have to feel any pain…”
The middle-aged woman sighed. “Enough, Heller. You aren’t well.”
“I’ve been in this hellhole for more than ten years. Of course I’m not well,” Heller said, his voice gradually dropping. “At least all of you lived under the sun until adulthood. I came here with Hande when I was fifteen.”
“By now, I’ve spent more of my life in darkness than I ever spent in the human world.”
By the end, a faint madness had entered his voice, thicker and more clinging than the darkness around them.
The bonfire continued burning weakly as the group dispersed on a sour note.
Heller was the last to leave. He stared coldly at the little fire and muttered an indistinct incantation.
Above the flames, a water sphere the size of a fist slowly condensed. Heller closed his eyes. The sphere splashed down onto the bonfire. The last bit of light vanished instantly, leaving only sizzling embers.
A long while passed before Heller opened his eyes again.
He stared blankly at the extinguished fire. Without light, the charred wood blended almost completely into the gravel-covered ground and became nearly impossible to distinguish.
The young mage stood there for about half an hour before he let out a soft, solitary chuckle. Tightening the grip on his wand carved from a dead branch, he staggered toward the graveyard.
Salaar stood motionless in the middle of the graves. There was almost no light there, and his figure nearly merged into the darkness, just like firewood burned down to ash. Only his brilliant golden hair still gave off the faintest glimmer.
Heller instinctively murmured a few spells, as though even that tiny light might be extinguished with water.
“Mr. Heller,” Salaar said without turning around.
“Monster,” Heller spat out.
“I understand your displeasure.” Salaar remained entirely unaffected. “If you need help…”
“What can you possibly do?”
A strange excitement appeared on Heller’s face.
“Listen. I don’t have parents. My best friend was killed by you. This cursed place doesn’t have any memories for you to extract. Hande’s corpse is buried right here. Your bard tricks can’t fool me!”
Salaar searched his memories and indeed found no other deceased person with whom Heller had been particularly close.
Heller was still young and withdrawn by nature. He and his fellow townsman Hande had always depended on each other. More accurately, Hande had been the more cheerful and optimistic one of the pair.
…And one month ago, Salaar had personally executed him.
“Then what do you want to do?” Salaar asked slowly.
“I want all of this to end.” Heller said, “Ants can’t stop a flood. Humans can’t stop the Night Scourge. We’re all destined to die meaningless deaths anyway. Everyone is just waiting to die. This hell will only get crazier.”
Salaar listened in silence.
Heller’s face twisted, the flesh stretching tightly over his bones until he looked like a dried skeleton.
“You know it, don’t you? From the very beginning, we never had even the slightest chance of winning! We, including you, are completely powerless against the colossal monster!”
By the end, his voice was indistinguishable from an animal’s howl. Heller’s eyes were redder than rotten meat. He seemed to want to cry, but his body no longer had enough moisture or salt to produce tears.
“Everyone is suffering through this alive. Just to survive two more days, launch two more attacks, and trade our lives for information about the source of the Night Scourge!”
“No. I only made my true judgment after seeing the source of the Night Scourge.”
“And yes. We have no means of dealing with the source of the Night Scourge. As of now, the human world has no possibility of victory.”
Salaar answered calmly.
“There aren’t that many miracles in the world. A ‘seal’ is the best solution we can currently achieve.”
As he spoke, he lowered his head and looked at a tentacle twisting beside his foot.
Myss suddenly remembered what He had been thinking at the time. Back then, He couldn’t really understand what those two lumps of flesh were making all those noises about, nor was His consciousness clear enough.
He had only felt a straightforward sense of confusion. He wanted to know what was so special about this particular lump of flesh called “Salaar.”
But this creature came to bother Him every single day without fail. Even in His muddled state, Myss remembered that He shouldn’t bring His tentacles too close.
And so, going back and forth like that, His tentacles became tangled around Salaar, quietly circling him over and over.
The young mage failed to notice the strange tentacle entirely.
He took two steps forward. “I’ve had enough.”
“Why should I care whether those people outside live or die?”
As he spoke, he subtly turned his body and hid his wand within the shadows.
A sphere of water began forming in Salaar’s blind spot, or at least what Heller believed to be a blind spot.
“The Night Scourge should continue.”
He forced the chant down into his throat and spoke in broken fragments.
“If I’m destined to die alone and insane, then everyone outside deserves to taste this kind of despair too…”
“Please take back those words,” Salaar said.
He was still looking at the tentacle, somewhat unable to understand what was wrong with it. Across the sandy ground, the narrow tentacle swayed back and forth, circling him endlessly. Every so often it would twitch, then suddenly freeze rigid, as though malfunctioning.
“I won’t take them back.”
The young mage spoke. Within the shadows, the water sphere slowly froze into an icicle as thick as a wrist.
Salaar sighed. “If you insist, then according to the rules, I must execute you.”
“If you can no longer endure your collapse, I can remove your…”
“I have no desire to become a monster like you!”
With that roar, the icicle shot forward at terrifying speed, aimed directly at Salaar’s heart.
It was as though Salaar had eyes on the back of his head. He shifted his body aside and dodged it perfectly. At that exact instant, Heller rushed forward as well, revealing a dagger that had already been hidden inside his sleeve.
For that brief moment, Salaar hadn’t yet recovered his balance.
Heller had clearly not acted on impulse. He had deliberately studied Salaar’s habits and deliberately positioned himself very close. With this strike, Salaar could guarantee only that he wouldn’t suffer a fatal wound.
Still, he was bound to suffer some pain.
Heller’s lips curled upward into a smile of pure satisfaction.
Then—
Smack!
Heller tripped directly over the twisting, crawling tentacle and went face-first into the dirt. The poisoned dagger flew from his hand, struck Myss’s tentacle, and was promptly smacked into the darkness by Myss.
Salaar: “…”
Heller: “…”
For a moment, the atmosphere became rather ridiculous.
Realizing that he had lost his only chance to attack, Heller simply remained lying on the ground and allowed Salaar to approach.
“Please take back those words,” Salaar repeated softly.
“I’m too tired,” Heller answered, not responding to the question.
Salaar fell silent for a moment. He habitually touched his left arm, then lowered his hand again.
“I’ll bury you beside your friend,” he said, almost cautiously.
Heller laughed. It wasn’t a relieved laugh, but a nearly hysterical, neurotic shriek. “I won’t be fooled by you. Who did you ‘learn’ that sentence from this time? You—”
His voice stopped abruptly.
Salaar withdrew his hand. Just now, he had used mental magic to completely burn away Heller’s brain. Everything happened in an instant, without pain. Heller remained stiffly sprawled across the ground. The only thing in the air was the faint stench of the corpse losing control of its bodily functions.
Salaar bent down and began digging a new grave.
Myss’s tentacle reached toward his hand again. His confusion grew even stronger. Why had one of the pieces of flesh suddenly gone cold? Why had “Salaar” destroyed one of his own kind?
At the same time, He couldn’t understand why Salaar was digging a hole.
So every time Salaar shoveled away a scoop of dirt, Myss would curl around a tiny pebble and carry it off, checking whether it possessed some mysterious function.
Salaar stopped moving and Myss stopped too.
He slowly bent down and reached toward Myss. Based on their previous experience trying to kill one another, Myss instantly pulled His tentacle back and fled.
Salaar’s expression shifted slightly, revealing a look that said, Just as I thought. He resumed digging the grave, treating the earlier abnormality as an accident.
The moment he began digging again, Myss’s tentacle casually wandered back. This time, He was a little smarter and knew to circle Salaar at a wider distance.
Unfortunately, Salaar still noticed immediately. Salaar stared at the “dead branch” pretending to be a twig, then raised his head toward the endless darkness overhead.
Thump thump thump thump.
Thump thump.
Thump thump thump thump.
The Chaos Archdemon’s heartbeat echoed through the darkness That sound never changed, He never ceased. It was as precise as the hands of a clock. It was omni present, and for that very reason, it seems impossibly distant.
Yet amid that vast, orderly chorus of heartbeats, a single tentacle stumbled closer and quietly circled him. It was only five steps away.
The moment it noticed Salaar looking over, the tentacle casually froze in place and pretended not to exist.
Was it a coincidence? A conditioned reflex caused by stimulation? Or…
Cold sand struck the top of Salaar’s boot. Without realizing it, Salaar discovered that he had stopped moving again.
A sharp and unfamiliar pain struck him. It was clearer than the gravel beneath his soles. Right there, on the left side of his chest. Salaar didn’t know how to describe the sensation.
There was nothing in his memories he could compare it to.
It was like someone who had spent their entire life immersed in darkness suddenly feeling a trace of light brush across their skin.
Its existence was not meant to drive away the darkness or point toward a path. It simply…made him feel warm, as though a frozen body was slowly regaining sensation.
For the first time, he felt the existence of “himself.”
…Something wet slid down his cheek.
Heller, who specialized in water magic, was already dead, Salaar thought. But if this isn’t an attack, why did it hurt so much?
It wasn’t grief. He had held no expectations for Heller. He had monitored Heller’s condition and knew that this day would eventually come.
It wasn’t anger. He remembered the disasters and chaos caused by the Night Scourge. He understood how the human heart changed after long years spent in darkness. Before Heller, he had experienced similar situations many times.
It wasn’t resentment either. Salaar understood his mission better than anyone. A seed was born to sprout. Salaar was born to end the Night Scourge. It was an instinct as natural as breathing. No one felt wronged simply because they “had to expend effort in order to breathe.”
Then what was it?
Salaar stared blankly at the tentacle moving back and forth. He used magic to remove the wetness from his face, but it quickly appeared again.
The tentacle had clearly noticed the tears. It hesitantly reached toward the dampened sand, lightly poked it with the tip, then instantly recoiled and curled itself up.
Several seconds passed before it slowly stretched out again and resumed circling him.
Salaar suddenly felt like laughing. That was his destined opponent, the entire reason for his existence, and the grave toward which he was inevitably headed.
He understood why the Chaos Archdemon’s tentacles fought against him. All living things resisted in order to survive. Beyond that, the abnormal existence was simply too immense and too distant.
It never responded to anyone—until now.
Salaar raised his head again.
Myss happened to be looking at him too.
Just moments ago, He had been shocked to discover that this little lump of flesh could produce not only red liquid, but clear liquid as well. He had investigated rigorously but found no wound.
Questions began to multiply. This little creature was too bothersome, too powerful, too unusual, too abnormal.
Those questions gathered together like droplets of water until they became flowing curiosity.
For the first time, He truly “saw” him.
For the first time, He began to think.
Perhaps His gaze was simply too intense.
Salaar stood there for a long time. Then suddenly, he smiled. He had never seen such a strange smile. Salaar never showed the other humans such an awkward smile.
“I’m the person you know best.” His voice was slightly hoarse. “‘I’m the person most familiar to you. You only look at ‘me’… even if this is merely my own delusion.”
The lump of flesh started making noises again.
Myss moved His tentacle in boredom and began probing the half-dug grave once more, trying to determine what was so special about the hole.
“I always thought the reason I could never feel loneliness or despair was because I could never possess a heart.” Salaar murmured toward the endless darkness. “So a ‘heart’ can grow on its own.”
Those emotions belonged only to him—a unique, singular emotion. Because his instincts, his obsession, his entire existence would point toward only one being.
In truth, he had understood it long ago. Whether it was love or hatred, from the very first moment he looked toward Him, his heart had never again possessed room for anything else.
Salaar gently placed his right hand over his heart. He was still in pain, yet that pain made him overwhelmingly happy.
Yes, he wasn’t some monster incapable of understanding loneliness or despair. He was simply luckier than other humans.
An endless journey with no destination was unquestionably hell, but rushing toward a destination was merely a journey.
He had always been watching Him. And in this moment, he was willing to believe that He had noticed him too.
Salaar pulled himself together. A brilliant golden light swept toward the tentacle. Myss’s tentacle stiffened and fled in a stumbling panic. He wasn’t yet accustomed to the skill called “thinking” and couldn’t manage both thought and movement at once, so His escape was particularly undignified.
The tentacle crawled crookedly for a distance, stopped, twisted around, and checked whether Salaar was still chasing. His clumsy posture made it look like an unfortunate drunken snake.
Salaar instinctively wiped his face. This time, his fingers found no more tears.
Instead, something warm and substantial had settled deep within his heart. For the first time, Salaar discovered that the act of “smiling” was much easier than it had ever been before.
Immersed in the warm, chaotic darkness, listening to the gentle heartbeat surrounding him from every direction, he became aware of “himself” for the first time.
…His birth was no different from that of an ordinary human. It had merely come a little late.
Even though he was filled with murderous intent toward the being that had “gestated” him, that murderous intent made him immeasurably content.
……
Through the eyes of His former self, Myss once again looked down upon that familiar figure.
There was something Salaar didn’t know.
On that day, at that moment, within that darkness, two souls had been born simultaneously.
The author has something to say:
All right, all right, I’m setting another flag. Tomorrow we continue… At least the word count improved! [please]
Looking at it this way, their birthdays could probably be considered the same day. [dog head holding a rose]
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