Author: 年终 / Nian Zhong
Translator: Kinky || https://kinkytranslations.com/
Chapter 158: Exactly the Same
Without question, that was a lie.
Myss knew humans could live and die for love. In every story praising love, there was always a moment like that, a moment when a human heart lost its rhythm and they realized they had fallen in love.
Myss didn’t believe he had ever experienced such a moment.
His feelings toward Salaar had never undergone that kind of violent change. To Myss, Salaar was merely some sort of… phenomenon that had existed ever since he first gained consciousness.
Much like the sunrise and sunset in the human world.
He had simply never missed a single sunrise or sunset in his life, while hating the cloudy days that separated them.
How could something so mundane possibly be love?
What an arrogant human, trying to force the logic of “Sweet Trap” onto him. Myss wanted to mock Salaar, but feeling the blood running along his skin, he couldn’t get a single word out.
“…Shut up,” he finally repeated indistinctly, then started walking again.
Behind him, Salaar’s chest trembled faintly, as if he were laughing.
Then Salaar buried his face in the hair at the back of Myss’s neck and let his whole body go limp, like an injured bird returning to its nest.
Myss didn’t dodge.
He simply kept walking, feeling the warm breath against the back of his neck.
……
“Are those two really going to be all right?”
The puppet moved steadily through the fog, but Kai’s heart was far from steady.
Professor Gentry had repeatedly warned him that he absolutely had to stay with Salaar and Myss. Now those two had run off and had even specifically told them to go on ahead. It wasn’t as though Kai could stubbornly disobey.
At this point, all he could do was make the battered Divine Blood Puppet move a little slower.
“They should be… fine.” Father Kalen didn’t sound particularly certain.
He was still thinking about Marcela’s words, “a true god.”
After everything they had encountered on this journey, even someone as slow as Father Kalen could tell that humans had the opportunity to become gods or at least reach the level of “gods” in terms of power.
Unfortunately, all those people had been “mad gods” force-ripened by the Abnormal Fruits. Since the Abnormal Fruits inevitably came from stronger evil gods, Kalen still subconsciously regarded those people as unfortunate victims.
But the existence of the Blind God had shaken him slightly.
The Blind God was a remnant of the Night Scourge era. He possessed a vast religion loyal to him, along with formidable power over dreams. He was extraordinarily close to the gods Hermit had described.
But in the end, he was a human creation, a substitute for “Saint Salaar.” Since he didn’t consider himself a god, Kalen had never thought too deeply about it.
Now the question stood before Father Kalen once again. How exactly should a “god” be defined?
If they weren’t truly so unreachable, then could the Lord of Shadows he revered still be walking somewhere in the world?
His brother had to know something. That was why Hermit had deliberately stayed away from him.
If Hermit were here, how would he answer…?
“I’m sorry.”
A hoarse voice interrupted Kalen’s thoughts.
Lawler’s tall, thin body had curled in on itself. His face was filled with pure pain, and he had no interest whatsoever in being curious about the strange puppet beneath him.
Kai immediately turned his gaze toward him, looking as though he had been waiting for this moment for a long time.
“Don’t blame yourself too much. She deceived you, or worse, Lady Marcela was replaced by some evil being and you simply didn’t know.”
As he spoke, he pulled a liquor-filled chocolate from his pocket and pressed it into Lawler’s palm.
“Here. Eat something sweet. It’ll do you good.”
“I don’t know.” Lawler clutched it in confusion, seemingly having forgotten even how to unwrap the candy. “I don’t know…”
Kalen collected himself. “How did you meet Lady Marcela?”
“Tell us what happened. Maybe we can help.”
Only then did Lawler calm down a little. He tore open the wrapper with trembling fingers, unconsciously pinching the chocolate between them.
“…Three years ago, maybe four. I met her in the forest,” he said.
The entire story was almost crudely simple.
At the time, Lawler had only just come of age and had begun helping his unreliable uncle patrol the area. That was when he encountered Marcela outside by herself, researching magical plants.
She was dressed exceptionally plainly, so he assumed she had gotten lost and wanted to escort her home.
The result was predictable.
Communicating with the “poor communicator” Marcela took Lawler quite a bit of effort. No, rather than saying it took effort, it would be more accurate to say that Marcela simply treated him like air.
Lawler grew increasingly worried that Marcela had wandered off because of some illness, so he showed her his official Atla identification and escorted her all the way back to her residence.
At the time, he had no idea a Kingdom Archmage lived in that drab house. He only thought she was an elderly woman with some disabilities.
Seeing the chaos inside her home, with even the residue in the cooking pot gone moldy, Lawler couldn’t bear it. He cleaned the place from top to bottom, then brought over fresh wild vegetables and rabbit meat to make sure the old woman wouldn’t go hungry.
Marcela continued treating him like air.
Lawler never told his uncle about it. If Uncle Laird learned what he had done, he would only scold him for meddling in other people’s business.
But Lawler simply couldn’t ignore it. The old woman was all alone and clearly wasn’t living very well.
Lawler’s mother had died young, while his father had left to seek his fortune and never returned. He didn’t know whether that counted as abandonment, just as he did not know whether Lady Marcela counted as someone who had been abandoned.
But he thought that living that way must be difficult.
So every few days, he would wander near Marcela’s residence and bring her some fresh wild vegetables and meat, occasionally adding a small jar of honey or jam. Marcela accepted them and casually tossed them into some little container.
She still treated him like air. Strangely enough, however, the old woman’s home was no longer as chaotic as before.
That only encouraged Lawler.
In the moments when the old woman turned her back and busied herself alone, she reminded him of his mother, whose features had already grown blurry in his memory.
That was enough. And so the seasons turned, one after another.
…Eventually, on a certain winter day, Uncle Laird discovered Lawler’s little secret.
Once he realized exactly whom his nephew had been bothering, Laird gave him a severe beating and dragged him to Marcela’s door to apologize.
He kicked the back of Lawler’s legs, forcing him to kneel in front of that gray, gloomy house, repent for disturbing a Kingdom Archmage, and promise never to do anything so absurd again.
It really had been a terribly stupid thing to do, Lawler thought.
Given Archmage Marcela’s status, even if she waved a hand and killed him, no one would dare say a word.
His foolish, childish behavior had gone on long enough. It was time to stop.
“…He counts as something of a student of mine. Leave him alone.”
After an entire year, Marcela spoke to him for the first time.
Laird’s expression shifted from shock to ecstasy, then immediately to lingering fear. He slowly removed his hand from the back of Lawler’s neck and apologized over and over.
From then on, Uncle Laird really did stop interfering. Whenever Lawler had free time, he continued visiting with fresh food as usual.
One day, beside the fireplace where he normally left the food, there was an odd little snack. It was a dirty pink color, wrapped in greasy coarse paper, and gave off a smell that may or may not have qualified as food.
Marcela stood several steps away, staring intently at him. Her eyes even looked less cloudy than usual.
Urged on by that gaze, Lawler took a bite. The snack tasted awful, but he still accepted it.
“Lady Marcela,” he said carefully, “I… May I call you Teacher?”
Marcela took a long time to react, as though she had trouble understanding human speech. A full two minutes passed before she tugged at the corner of her mouth and threw out a single word.
“Yes.”
After that, she tossed the fresh vegetables and meat into the little container and turned her back again. Only when Lawler left did he occasionally discover her watching him from the window from afar.
After that, everything continued as before.
……
Kalen listened intently, waiting for some extraordinary incident or a touching moment. But Lawler simply ended his story there, his head hanging low.
How could one put it? Lawler’s earlier phrase, “met her once,” was actually quite apt.
Lawler and Marcela could hardly be called close. From Lawler’s story alone, Kalen had no way to determine whether the “Marcela” he had met was actually human, much less identify any possible clues or weaknesses.
“You said earlier that Teacher might have been replaced… but I feel like she’s still herself.”
Lawler spoke dejectedly. “Even though I don’t have any proof… I’m sorry… Maybe something simply went wrong with her research and she was affected by something bad…”
Father Kalen and Kai exchanged a glance. Neither of them spoke for a moment.
In the end, Kai sighed and stuffed another liquor-filled chocolate into Lawler’s hand. Then he picked up a sharp-tipped quill and quickly wrote something on the door panel.
Soon, the door panel trembled faintly.
Kai’s words disappeared, replaced by Professor Gentry’s smooth, forceful handwriting.
[The door on my side has neither fallen off nor moved. The residence you are in is only a one-way projection of reality and doesn’t physically exist.]
[After the fog appeared, you were cleverly transferred somewhere else. That so-called residence is more like bait intended to stabilize your emotions. Because you are wary of the fog, you instinctively remain inside the house.]
[As for the “plundering” and “gods” relayed by the priest, there are still too few clues to make any judgment… I will continue investigating the space you are in.]
In other words, even Professor Gentry didn’t know where exactly this fog-filled hell was located.
Looks like there was no hope of escaping anytime soon. Kai sighed and continued reading.
[As for Marcela’s transformation, I’m also extremely surprised. The only thing I can guarantee is that Marcela Memi is unquestionably a genuine human being, a mortal with joy, anger, sorrow, and happiness. If she really was influenced by some force, then that force must be capable of deceiving me with ease.]
At this point, Professor Gentry’s handwriting grew heavier.
[Be extremely careful. If such an existence is willing to live within a mortal body, it must have a purpose. At the very least, when facing Marcela, you absolutely must not leave Myss and Salaar’s side.]
Kai tapped a fingertip and magic concealed Professor Gentry’s warning. He quietly slowed the puppet even further, occasionally turning around to examine the rolling night fog.
Suddenly, a hazy, strange silhouette appeared in the mist. The thing was large on top and small on the bottom, like a human-sized chick.
Kai immediately stopped the puppet and prepared to attack. When the figure came closer, he nearly choked on his own breath.
Myss was huffing and puffing as he carried the much larger Salaar on his back, taking quick little steps as he chased after the puppet.
Salaar’s eyes were half closed. His entire body was covered in blood and mud, and his complexion was frighteningly pale.
Kai immediately ordered the puppet to stop and hurried forward a few steps, trying to lend a hand.
“What happened…”
“Private matter.” Myss dodged his hand.
He personally lowered the weak Salaar back to the ground, then half-dragged him toward the puppet. With the difference in their heights, Myss’s way of hauling him looked especially awkward.
Father Kalen got a tremendous fright. He hurriedly dug out medicinal ointment and began treating Salaar’s wounds.
Myss’s previously limp body tensed. He secretly watched from the corner of his eye.
Only after confirming that Kalen didn’t look panicked and that his movements were careful enough did Myss look away and resume his usual air of indifference.
“Should we stop for a little while?”
The priest sounded uneasy. “Salaar collapsed, and Tass is in poor condition. You and I are the only real combat strength left. As for Marcela…”
“No need.” Myss spoke absentmindedly. “He won’t get better until we kill Marcela. Otherwise he’ll turn into that weird thing again and get in my way.”
At the words “kill Marcela,” Lawler’s body trembled.
Silence spread around them. The only sounds were the sticky squelching of feet through mud and the similarly wet sounds of ointment being applied.
“It’ll take some time before we get there. Give me Tass so I can take a look.”
The moment Salaar’s wounds had been bandaged, Myss held out a hand toward the priest.
Salaar was currently leaning weakly against his left shoulder. Every so often, his eyelids lifted slightly to indicate that he was still awake.
Myss pretended the whole “you love me too” incident had never happened and silently endured the weight.
Business comes first, he thought solemnly.
The matter with Salaar had reached a temporary conclusion, and Marcela’s aura was still fairly far away.
There was no point wasting idle time. Now that he could see through Marcela’s magical flow, he could naturally try his hand at the “Dragon Fae Challenge”, a simpler hurdle.
Marcela had been badly injured and was physically weak. She could only consume human magic like fodder. Such terrible food could never fill her stomach.
So she had tried to force-feed Salaar with distorted magic, intending to turn him into richer, more nourishing lamb.
Myss understood that straightforward train of thought quite well.
So far, the Dragon Fae was the only “anomaly.”
Tass’s power hadn’t been absorbed, he showed no potential whatsoever for becoming a god, and he had likewise remained unaffected by the fog.
Not to mention what he looked like inside the fog…
“Don’t!”
The moment Kalen pulled that strange lump of flesh out of his pocket and instinctively tried to throw it away, Myss hurriedly stopped him.
“What is this?”
Father Kalen held the writhing lump of flesh in both hands, his voice going strange.
“I clearly put Tass inside my pocket…”
“Tass!” The lump of flesh squirmed twice and shrieked unhappily.
“That’s right. Tass.” Myss shrugged. “He really is disgusting. You can throw him over here.”
“What are you… talking about?” The lump bounced again. It was difficult to tell what part of it was producing the voice. “You’re… disgusting!”
Myss couldn’t be bothered arguing with an angry lump of flesh.
Using the night fog as cover, he mercilessly opened his eyes and looked down at the purplish-black mass twitching in his palm.
The second time was always easier. Besides, the obstruction around Tass was nowhere near as outrageous as Marcela’s.
This time, Myss used a small trick and pried open that strange layer of protection. Myss tightened his grip around the bizarre lump of flesh and reflexively tried to throw it away.
“Don’t!” This time it was Salaar who jolted. He struggled through his weakness and reached out to grab Myss’s arm. “…Don’t panic. What happened?”
“Marcela.” Myss held the cursing Tass in his hand, his voice changing too. “His magical aura is exactly the same as Marcela’s.”
Salaar fell silent for several seconds.
“When you say exactly the same, do you mean…”
Myss held the lump of flesh farther away and continued in a murmur.
“…As if he were part of Marcela.”
The author has something to say:
Dragon Fae: ???
Dragon Fae: This is terrifying. The moment we entered the fog, everyone went insane. (scared.jpg)
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