Author: 年终 / Nian Zhong

Translator: Kinky || https://kinkytranslations.com/

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Chapter 147: The Same Power

Myss woke up hungry.

The Crimson Marsh wasn’t large. From sunrise until noon was enough time to make a full circuit of it. According to the arrangements for the Eye-Opening Ceremony, they should have returned to the Root Church to make the final prayer.

But they hadn’t yet returned and Myss had already lost all interest in the noisy celebration. His mind was still savoring the delicious sandwiches he had eaten in the dream, while his stomach very practically rumbled and growled.

As the flower carriage headed back, Myss strengthened the illusion concealing him and pulled a flatbread out from his chest. But just as he opened his mouth, he saw Father Kalen push through the crowd and rush toward them with a panicked expression.

At the same time, an icy water pheasant came flying toward them. The long-tailed bird swept past the two of them, snatched Myss’s bread away in its beak, and tossed a small bundle of cloth onto Salaar’s lap while it was at it.

Flying swiftly through the rain of petals scattered by the crowd, the bird moved so quickly that hardly anyone noticed the inconspicuous white bundle.

The bundle gave off a familiar aura. Myss forgot all about demanding justice for his bread and craned his neck to look at the silk bundle.

Salaar expertly pulled apart the silk and, sure enough, found Tass wrapped inside.

Tass was curled up like an infant. His normally fair skin was flushed scarlet from fever, while his black wings were pressed tightly against his back. His eyes were shut, a sheen of sweat coated his forehead, and his breathing was abnormally rapid. He looked to be in terrible shape.

Salaar immediately cupped the Dragon Fae in his hands and, using the cloth as cover, immersed Tass completely in a sphere of light.

“What happened?” Myss asked curiously.

He hadn’t detected any abnormal magical fluctuations. A Dragon Fae shouldn’t collapse this easily. Even taking the worst-case scenario, if a Dragon Fae did collapse, he could still use the power of gemstones to heal himself.

For the priest to be forced to send him straight over meant the problem was serious.

“My healing isn’t working,” Salaar said, his tone somewhat grave.

Myss hissed through his teeth. “So he’s reached the end of his lifespan?”

“You’re the one… who’s reached the end of your lifespan…”

The Dragon Fae regained a little consciousness. He struggled to open his mouth and weakly raised a middle finger at Myss. “Take me to… Atla… Gemstone Lake…”

Weren’t they supposed to be going to Evening Star City?

Myss and Salaar exchanged baffled looks.

Sogné, hidden behind the seat, said, “Gemstone Lake in Atla. That is the homeland of the Dragon Faes, a city that belongs only to Dragon Faes. It is extremely well hidden and usually doesn’t open itself to outsiders.”

“Unless it is a matter of life and death, Dragon Faes prefer to meet in Evening Star City. Forget humans, even a young Dragon Fae won’t return home unless absolutely necessary.”

Salaar removed a few decent-quality gemstone fragments from his ceremonial clothes and wrapped them together with the Dragon Fae.

He lowered his voice. “You know about the Dragon Faes?”

“To achieve my ‘birth,’ I specifically sent people to study them.”

Sogné explained everything in detail. “They appeared suddenly after the Night Scourge ended, during the early stages of the Magic Enlightenment. Before Magibases had even become widespread, the Dragon Faes appeared first.”

“They are born from whirlpools in a lake where the magical environment is extremely unusual. It can condense pure magic into physical substance, while also swallowing and dispersing all kinds of magical energy.”

“Many Dragon Faes return to their homeland after growing old and allow Gemstone Lake to consume their remains, shattering themselves at the place where they were born.”

Myss looked at Tass, whose whole body was burning red, and understood.

“So you want to return home to die.”

Tass no longer had the strength to speak. He merely struggled to move both hands and raised both middle fingers at once.

“Sogné, find a way to persuade your High Priest. We can’t waste any more time. We need to leave immediately,” Salaar said after a moment of thought.

Sogné fell silent for a moment.

With Kalen’s concealment in place, they couldn’t see Sogné’s face. But for some reason, Myss suddenly felt that the atmosphere at this moment resembled that dream about a home.

…Forget mentioning leaving.

The Blind God had seen too much sunlight and too many flowers in dreams. His newly born heart wouldn’t be moved by them. Compared with cheers and blessings, he cared far more about “farewell.”

“Do you really have to leave now?” Sogné finally asked.

Amid the cheering, a tiny flower petal passed through the concealment magic and drifted gently onto the back of his hand.

“…The sunlight is very nice today,” he said to it.

Salaar froze slightly, then sighed soundlessly.

“We don’t need such a solemn farewell. We’ll come back to see you soon.”

“Just think of it as family going away on a trip, all right?”

Sogné: “I understand.”

Salaar smiled toward the direction of his voice.

“Strictly speaking, you and I really are family. I suppose that makes me your older brother.”

Sogné gave a quiet “Mm.” But the touching mood didn’t last long. The very next second, his voice wavered.

“But just now, you told me to call Mr. Myss ‘Mommy.’”

Salaar: “…Don’t get hung up on the details.”

Sogné: “…All right.”

Myss, for his part, didn’t much care about this mysterious discrepancy in seniority, just as he didn’t mind shaping Sogné’s appearance after the form he had taken in the dream.

He merely pressed a hand to his hungry stomach, his mind already wandering to something completely unrelated.

They were going to Gemstone Lake next. There would be no V.O.R there either, so he should have plenty of free time.

Once he fully mastered Sogné’s magical techniques, what kind of “weapon” would he be able to create?

……

By the time Kai returned to the area around the Crimson Marsh, his face was long with displeasure.

The higher-ups had ordered him to make a trip to Evening Star City, and Kai had no objection to that. He simply couldn’t understand why he had to use a teleportation formation near the Crimson Marsh.

He genuinely disliked the damp environment of Mondicia, and he disliked ancient alchemical lifeforms that appeared at random even more.

He had just brought back a great deal of valuable knowledge. He should have been entitled to a few days off.

Forget it. Who told the leader to give the order personally?

Their leader had instincts like a monster’s. He rarely gave direct orders, but whenever he did, the results were always worthwhile.

As long as his investigation into “that matter” went smoothly enough, Kai was willing to put up with the hardship.

Kai tightened his backpack, laboriously lifted his suitcase, and waited wearily for the teleportation formation to activate.

But just then…

“Judging by your clothes, you’re from the Kingdom of Aufon, right?”

A mud-covered wild man rushed up to Kai. The man was quite a bit taller than Kai and fairly sturdy. The small, thin Kai cautiously backed away several steps.

“And you are…?”

“I’m Earl Nebula.”

The man let out a long breath and rummaged through his pockets, pulling out a handful of gold rings.

“I became separated from the group on the expedition to the Old Lands and only just woke up near the marsh.”

“The people here don’t accept gold rings, and there aren’t any traveling merchants nearby. Please help me leave this place. The Nebula family will reward you generously.”

Hadn’t the expedition to the Old Lands ended several days ago? How had he survived after lying unconscious in the wilderness for so long?

Kai suspiciously examined the man claiming to be Earl Nebula.

Although he was covered in mud and dust, Kai could still make out dark gray hair and amber-orange eyes…

Those did match what he remembered of the Nebula family.

“I have urgent business, Mr. Nebula. I can only take you as far as Emerald Cliff along the way. There are many gemstone merchants from the Kingdom of Aufon there. You can return with them,” Kai said matter-of-factly.

Emerald Cliff lay east of the Crimson Marsh, on the border between Mondicia and Atla.

To reach Evening Star City, Atla’s capital, one had to register and transfer through Emerald Cliff.

Fortunately, Emerald Cliff wasn’t particularly remote. It sat right beside the homeland of the Dragon Faes, the legendary Gemstone Lake, a place where elderly Dragon Faes occasionally visited.

To curry favor with those experienced gem artisans, many major merchants had rented land around the area, eventually creating an entire small town.

Those gemstone merchants were extremely familiar with the nobles of every kingdom and handled social situations flawlessly.

No one could criticize Kai for delivering Earl Nebula to them.

Kai was still calculating when Earl spoke.

“You’re going through Emerald Cliff?… Forgive me for asking, but which city in Atla are you heading to?”

“Evening Star City.”

Kai hesitated for a moment but ultimately didn’t lie. It wouldn’t be difficult to investigate something like this, and he didn’t want to leave behind unnecessary trouble.

“Wonderful. Then please, you absolutely must travel with me.”

Earl let out a long breath of relief.

“The Nebula family owns property in Evening Star City. Please take me directly there. I, uh… it’s already embarrassing enough that I got separated from the group alone. If my family finds out I ended up owing a favor to some major merchant…”

Fine.

A small merchant like him really was better suited to negotiating compensation openly.

What a troublesome noble young master.

Kai wearily wiped his face.

Forget it. Earl Nebula at least had a decent reputation, and the Nebula family was related somehow to the Kingdom Archmage, Marcela Memi.

If Kai remembered correctly, Archmage Marcela Memi was currently staying in Evening Star City… There were benefits to doing him a favor.

At that thought, Kai put on exactly the right amount of pleased surprise. “My honor, young Mr. Nebula.”

It was only one unexpected companion. He could deal with that easily enough…

“Mr. Kai.” A familiar voice sounded behind him.

Was he hallucinating? Kai instinctively rubbed his temple and slowly turned around…

Salaar, Myss, Kalen—three unbearably familiar faces. Payton Karns was absent. He had probably gone back.

“Why are you here?” Kai swallowed. “Weren’t you going to the Crimson Marsh?”

Salaar unobtrusively glanced at the mud-covered Earl, whose expression had gone blank. Then he smiled slightly and casually wrapped an arm around Myss.

“We just finished watching the Eye-Opening Ceremony and were planning to go to Emerald Cliff to look at the latest jewelry.”

“Kendrick Karns.” The real Earl showed undisguised disgust.

As expected, Salaar raised his brows high. On the way here, Kalen had honestly told them about Hermit. So that mysterious Hermit had dumped the real young master of the Nebula family here.

The real Earl Nebula only wanted to stay far away from the infamous “Kendrick.” He turned his mud-smeared backside toward them and prepared to ignore the group entirely.

Unfortunately, Kai’s expression brightened.

“You’re going to Emerald Cliff too? What a coincidence. Let’s travel together!”

As a member of the Stargazers Society, Kai didn’t believe in gods. But as a traveling magical artifacts merchant, Kai believed in good luck. After all, the last time he traveled with these people, he had hooked a very big fish.

Earl Nebula’s back shifted slightly. He seemed to want to protest, but his upbringing forcibly choked it back, and in the end he said nothing.

Half an hour later, the group of six, counting Tass lying feverish inside Myss’s pocket, which made six if one was generous, climbed aboard the carriage used for teleportation.

Myss glanced at Earl across from him, who had managed to clean himself up somewhat, then turned away with little interest. Anything involving social nonsense like this was better left to Salaar.

His stomach was full of jam pie from lunch, and his fingertips idly rubbed Knife and Fork inside his pocket. The two little snakes were wrapped around the Dragon Fae, using their bodies to cool Tass down. They felt pleasantly warm to the touch.

The teleportation activated. As the magical light grew increasingly dazzling, Myss closed his eyes.

…The next second, he found himself suspended in absolute darkness.

Myss reached out and waved a hand in front of himself. His fingertips immediately struck the boundary of the space. It felt cool and resilient, like the skin of a dead person.

This was a special space he had created by imitating Sogné’s magic. It was a blend of dream magic, a little illusion-based control, and magical precision so extreme it bordered on absurdity.

Myss had practically used everything he had learned throughout the journey, and all he could create was this cramped, dark independent space.

In truth, he didn’t even know what it could be used for. It was constructed from pure annihilation magic, grounded in reality yet existing independently from reality.

He hadn’t yet had time to integrate the hole-digging magic from the Sea of Concepts—or rather, open a back door. Once he incorporated the concept of “traversal” and polished this new creation a little further, perhaps he could bring his physical body inside too…

But what good would that do?

At most, it could serve as a portable shelter. He could stuff his consciousness inside and play dead, or stuff his body inside too and run away.

Unfortunately, as the Chaos Archdemon, Myss had no need to play dead and would certainly never tuck his tail between his legs and flee.

Myss felt irritated, as though he had exhausted everything he had ever learned just to invent something useless.

Still, he greatly enjoyed the feeling of playing with knowledge… Perhaps once he learned more, this little space would become far more useful. For example, he could put a sack over Salaar’s head and do this and that.

Myss fiddled with his crude new creation for a while before dismissing the magic.

…Only then did he realize that Knife and Fork had wound themselves so tightly around his fingers that his fingertips had already turned bluish-purple.

“Myss, Myss.” Knife avoided Earl’s line of sight and quietly crawled up Myss’s collar.

“Tass suddenly got much worse. Think of something.”

“I’m not the one who knows healing.” Myss kept his mouth still and grumbled through his teeth.

“But Salaar can’t do anything, and Kalen doesn’t know magic at all. You’re a genius at analyzing magic. Take a look at him.”

Knife anxiously flicked its tongue. Even its tongue had been heated up by the Dragon Fae.

Myss shook out his numb fingers and glanced toward Salaar from the corner of his eye. Salaar was staring intently at him. Knife’s plea probably reflected what Salaar wanted too.

…Hm. They still needed to investigate V.O.R next. The Dragon Fae was useful enough in a fight.

There was no harm in taking a look. Myss rubbed his eyes and leaned his head against Salaar’s shoulder again.

Using that position, he lowered his head deeply enough to ensure that Earl across from him couldn’t see his diffused pupils. Let him take a good look at exactly what was wrong with the Dragon Fae’s body…

“Ugh!”

A stabbing pain struck. Myss instinctively covered his eyes and forcibly stopped the analysis.

The instant he tried to analyze the Dragon Fae’s body, an extraordinarily complex magical force surged out, attempting to obscure his vision. It came violently, like an enraged venomous snake, ready to strike the “intruder” at any moment.

If Myss hadn’t reacted quickly enough, he would definitely have provoked that magical force.

…He had seen it before.

Although it hadn’t been this violent or this thin back then, he definitely recognized it.

Back in Rosha City, during the Magibase summoning ritual, he had tried to peer into the process by which a Magibase took shape.

…Back then, it had also blocked his sight. Only at that time, it had seemed much stronger and far more arrogant, nowhere near as fragile as it was now.

Magibases that had suddenly appeared after the Night Scourge. And a new species that had appeared out of nowhere during the same era.

Myss slowly lowered his head and looked at the delirious, feverish Dragon Fae.

…What exactly were these so-called “Dragon Faes”?

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<<< || Table of Contents || >>>

Author: 年终 / Nian Zhong

Translator: Kinky || https://kinkytranslations.com/

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Chapter 146: One or the Other

By the time they left the Root Church, Myss was already sleepy.

The morning sun had just risen, spilling bright daylight over everything. He narrowed his eyes slightly and tilted his head back. A pomegranate blossom slid down along his hair, only to be caught neatly by Salaar.

Feeling the warm palm supporting the back of his head, Myss simply relaxed and treated it as a pillow.

The two of them were sitting in an open carriage wound with flowers, dried fruit, and vines. But what pulled the carriage at the front wasn’t real horses. Instead, they were four-legged alchemical lifeforms wearing magical collars. They had no heads, only limbs, resembling enormous white dogs with nothing but their bodies left. Heaven knew where the Secret Garden had found them.

Their tails were likewise tangled with brightly colored flowers, and the heavy fragrance spreading through the air made Myss even sleepier.

The carriage followed a road carpeted with turf and flowers. Its wheels crushed tender grass and petals beneath them, producing damp, muffled crunches. Behind the carriage seats, in the place that should have been filled with bouquets, Sogné stood quietly.

Father Kalen had concealed him. Amid the surging blessings of the crowd, only Myss and Salaar could hear his words.

Unfortunately, the Blind God was far too quiet that Myss almost forgot he was there.

Salaar was silent too, but the Archdemon hadn’t forgotten about him and glanced over from the corner of his eye every now and then. Salaar’s gaze rested on the laughing crowd beneath the morning light, and he seemed to be in a fairly good mood.

Myss had absolutely no interest in those noisy humans. Their voices were like bubbles in boiling water, and to him, the flowers on the ground were no different from the decorations on the carriage. Once again, he raised his head against Salaar’s hand and looked toward the silent sky amid cries of “Praise our Blind God” and “Bless your love.”

The stars had been swallowed by daylight, leaving the sky exceptionally clear.

The High Priest of the Secret Garden raised his staff high. A beautiful circular rainbow appeared in the sky. Paired with the riot of flowers covering the plaza below, it looked as though this vivid world had been born from that beautiful ring of rainbow light and fallen from there to the earth.

Myss stared fixedly at the ring-shaped rainbow. It was the first thing since the Eye-Opening Ceremony began that had genuinely interested him.

Salaar liked looking down over the earth. Myss liked looking up at the sky. Unfortunately, Sogné didn’t seem particularly interested in either.

Perhaps he had spent too long in darkness, or perhaps he had seen too much through other people’s memories. He turned his neck somewhat stiffly and looked around with sluggish movements.

“The priest who suggested I come see this seemed to hope that I would be happy because of it… Mr. Salaar, you said that I already possess a heart, but I don’t feel joy or happiness.”

Surrounded by a joyous crowd, Sogné lowered his voice. His tone was slightly tense, as though he were confessing some kind of sin.

He still wanted to inherit Salaar’s position and do everything possible to end Kalen. The unshakable mission embedded in their minds had been built from countless sufferings within their memories. It couldn’t be forgotten or removed.

In a sense, they were no different from flesh-and-blood machines implanted with commands.

But Salaar had said that they had been born as “people.”

If he already possessed a human heart, then he should have been moved by this beautiful scene and delighted by these humans’ gratitude. Yet Sogné felt nothing… Those people sincerely praising him remained just as distant as before.

Had he truly been born? Could someone as cold as him truly succeed in taking Salaar’s place?

Salaar thought for a moment and was just about to speak when…

“What a ridiculous amount of fuss,” Myss said, his tone laced with exasperation.

Sogné: “?”

“You’ve spent all that time explaining it, but isn’t the problem simply that you can’t resist your instincts?”

Myss had no interest in dwelling on how cruel Kalen was or how noble this so-called mission might be. In his eyes, what Salaar and Sogné described was nothing more than “instinct.”

Salaar and Sogné’s instinct was to “end the Night Scourge.”

His own instinct was to “be born healthy.”

Instinct against instinct. That was all.

But that didn’t stop Myss from enjoying the Hero Cushion, playing with Salaar when the man opposed him, or even imagining how he would properly deal with the Hero after destroying the world. If he wanted to do something, he simply did it. Why bother thinking about so many pointless details?

If V.O.R and whatever beings stood behind It wanted trouble, he would destroy Them without hesitation. Just as if Salaar tried to fight him to the death one day, Myss would kill Salaar without hesitation.

As for whether he felt empty, lost, or bored afterward, none of that mattered.

At the very least, he would still be alive.

“Relax. Salaar was a much bigger bastard than you before.”

Myss couldn’t resist continuing. “Aside from insisting on ending the Night Scourge, this guy never did a single human thing. You’re worrying yourself sick just because you ‘weren’t moved.’ If anything, I think you’ve got too much humanity in you.”

Sogné was left speechless. “But…”

Myss was terribly sleepy. The humans around him were buzzing, and Sogné was muttering too. He gradually grew impatient.

“There is no ‘buts.’”

“You protected these humans for more than three hundred years, and you don’t intend to hurt them in the future. Isn’t that enough? Your instincts are only telling you not to starve to death, and here you are worrying about table manners.”

“…As long as you’ve eaten your fill, you’re free.”

Myss spoke as though it were the most obvious thing in the world. After all, every living creature was born knowing this truth.

Salaar’s body paused slightly. The hand resting on his knee tightened.

Without drawing attention, his gaze swept across Myss’s face. Beneath the morning sun, those blue eyes were tinged by red, flashing faintly purple.

He pursed his lips and reached out to wrap an arm around Myss’s shoulders, laughter in his voice.

“Listen to Mommy Myss. He’s right.”

Myss rolled his eyes at Salaar, but didn’t shake off the arm.

He still had his head tilted slightly upward, as though trying to break through the surface of the sea amid all the noise. The beautiful ring-shaped rainbow was reflected in those vivid red eyes like a pair of distorted pupils.

The rainbow seemed near one moment and far away the next, sometimes blurred and sometimes sharp. Before Myss’s consciousness could react, he sank into the abyss of sleep.

Salaar gently shifted his hand, letting Myss rest his head against his shoulder. Then he raised one index finger and made a “shh” gesture toward the people around them.

The onlookers understood and lowered their cheers, their smiles growing even brighter.

Praise the Blind God. Bless you both, they mouthed.

Bless you both. Bless you both.

Bless you both.

The carriage rolled over flowers and grass toward the center of the city. The sun rose completely, the redness of dawn fading away until the sky became a clear azure once more.

In the endings of countless legends, the Hero would ride in a carriage with his companion or lover, smiling amid flowers and blessings. Everything would be settled, and no shadow would remain in the world.

A forget-me-not was lifted by the wind and brushed across the corner of Myss’s lips before catching in the hair at his temple.

Still asleep, Myss smacked his lips. Salaar lowered his eyes and looked at the companion, lover, and adversary.

The Crimson Marsh truly was a dreamlike place. If one wasn’t careful, one might willingly sink all the way to the bottom of its depths.

Salaar smoothed the hair at Myss’s temple and removed the flower.

“Sogné, what do you plan to do next?” he asked softly.

Without hesitation, Sogné answered, “Hide myself completely and use the Secret Garden to gather more knowledge. Wait for your summons or inherit your mission after some unforeseen change.”

“According to Myss, you’re still acting according to instinct. I’m asking about you yourself. Aside from those things, do you have any questions, or any guesses you want to verify?”

Sogné hesitated. A few seconds later, he moved closer to Salaar and Myss, looking as though he wanted to speak but was unsure whether he should.

“How is… the Chaos Demon God?”

Salaar smiled slightly, feeling Myss’s warm breath.

“He’s still alive and doing quite well.”

…In fact, He was even snoring softly against his shoulder, making Salaar’s neck itch.

“As I thought.” Sogné paused for a moment. “If the masked man wasn’t lying, our situation is extremely bad, Lord Salaar.”

“As things stand, it seems that certain unknown gods want to kill the Chaos Archdemon and destroy the human world in the process. If they win, the human world will perish. If they lose, once the seal loosens, The Night Scourge will inevitably return. Either way, the end will still come.”

“To avoid the apocalypse, we must defeat both sides. We do not even have a chance of erasing the Chaos Archdemon alone.”

By the end, Sogné sounded increasingly uneasy.

“Then we deal with those outsiders first.”

Salaar smiled. “The Chaos Demon God hasn’t even been born yet, and those beings still don’t dare attack directly. They have reservations. At the very least, they cannot be stronger than the Archdemon.”

But we aren’t stronger than the Chaos Demon God either, Sogné thought, utterly speechless.

As Salaar moved, another forget-me-not was brushed loose and swept across Myss’s nose.

Myss sneezed, blinked sleepily a few times, then quickly fell asleep again.

Salaar’s smile widened. “I have my methods. In any case, from now on, focus on gathering information about V.O.R and investigating the truth behind the Firmament’s loss of contact.”

“I understand.” Sogné breathed a sigh of relief.

Perhaps Salaar’s personality was not particularly heroic, but he was certainly not a madman who made reckless boasts. Now Mr. Salaar even had a lover. Perhaps he had found an extraordinarily powerful companion.

Only then did Sogné lift his head and look at the beautiful circular rainbow.

For the moment, he couldn’t feel its beauty.

All he thought of was the Ouroboros in his memories, biting its own tail.

…Still, it really was much more vivid than the pale ring on a sheet of paper.

……

Father Kalen moved against the flow of the crowd and hurried back to the inn.

When he saw “Earl’s” neat, empty bed, his eyes shifted slightly, but in the end, he said nothing.

“You really have gotten quite a bit stronger.” The Dragon Fae tried to cheer up the deflated priest. “Before, you could only hide yourself. Look at you now. Even from this far away, you can hide the Blind God!”

“Thank you, Tass. You don’t need to go out of your way to comfort me.”

The priest gave a bitter smile.

The Dragon Fae rubbed his nose. “All right. Truthfully, I don’t really understand what it feels like to have family. If I said anything offensive, don’t take it too seriously.”

“Hermit wouldn’t leave me for no reason. He must have something more important to do… He even swore before our god.”

Kalen sounded certain, though it was hard to tell whether he was explaining things to Tass or trying to convince himself.

Tass was considerably less polite. “Then why didn’t you just ask him about the Order of Shadows? If I remember correctly, he was the one who brought you into the faith, wasn’t he?”

Kalen: “…”

Kalen pitifully lowered his head. “I was too excited at the time. I forgot…”

You even forgot the Order of Shadows?

Tass glanced at Kalen’s proper priestly attire and shook his head vigorously. “Forget it. Our route is already decided anyway. I can investigate my wings along the way, so I suppose I’m benefiting from you too.”

Kalen: “……”

“I wonder where Mr. Hermit plans to dump the real Earl Nebula.” Tass smoothly changed the subject. “Hopefully the Karns family won’t get dragged into this. It would be a pain if it caused some kind of social scandal… Ngh!”

Tass suddenly bit his tongue.

He wobbled down onto the bed and fiddled with the black scales on his wings.

Only then did Kalen notice that the scales covering Tass had turned completely black. Even the faint, tiny scales along his legs and feet had changed color. They resembled fine obsidian, gleaming with a delicate luster.

Beautiful though they were, their aura felt rather unpleasant… and Tass himself didn’t look particularly well either.

“Are you all right? Should I take you to Salaar?”

Kalen hurriedly untied his herb pouch and began searching for calming herbs.

“It’s fine. Just stings a little.” Tass moved his wings slightly. “About the same as a stomachache. Doesn’t really affect anything. Once the wave passes, I’ll be fine.”

Despite what he said, neither of them looked particularly reassured.

Father Kalen said seriously, “Hermit didn’t mention the Order of Shadows to me, which means that matter probably isn’t urgent. I’ll speak to Myss and Salaar later. We’ll prioritize your condition.”

“Thanks.” 

Tass smiled, and his wing spasmed uncontrollably. He immediately pressed it down with one hand as though nothing had happened.

In truth, he had lied.

The pain just now had been far worse than “a little stinging.” For one instant, Tass had almost thought he was a balloon about to burst, his entire body filled with explosive agony.

As magical creatures, Dragon Fae didn’t fall ill like ordinary living beings. The only thing that could make them feel unwell was an abnormal magical environment. But what exactly counted as “abnormal” was difficult to say.

Throughout their journey, the environment had changed again and again. The only things around him that had remained constant were his companions: Salaar, Kalen, Myss.

The Dragon Fae turned around and looked out at the city through the window. The distant clamor of the Eye-Opening Ceremony drifted over, and even that noise seemed soaked in sunlight.

Salaar was the legendary Saint Salaar. The nature of his magic was healing. That kind of magic was the gentlest and most accommodating of all, so there was no way it could provoke such a violent reaction.

Kalen had no magic, but he carried the Lord of Shadow’s divine power. The Order of Shadows was shrouded in mystery, so that divine power truly might be the “source of contamination.”

As for Myss…

Tass suddenly realized that the person he knew the least about was actually Myss himself.

“Hey, Kalen. Historically speaking, and I mean actual history, Salaar wasn’t supposed to have a lover, right? If he really had someone he was involved with, all those legends about him wouldn’t be such a mess.”

Kalen shook his head blankly. Hermit had never allowed him to read those messy books. And Kalen himself never pried into his companions’ private lives, even if that companion happened to be the famous Saint Salaar.

Tass: “…Forget it.”

The most likely explanation was still “the influence of the Lord of Shadow’s divine power.”

Myss’s magic was merely a little sinister. Surely it couldn’t be even more outrageous than actual divine power.

In any case, they would soon be heading to Atla. They could investigate properly there. Tass rubbed his cold scales and confidently flapped his wings… Then promptly crashed headfirst onto the floor.

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The author has something to say:

Tass: Is this the price of stuffing myself on too much gossip.jpg

————————————

Sogné: How’s the Chaos Archdemon doing?

Salaar: We have a child 👍

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<<< || Table of Contents || >>>

Author: 年终 / Nian Zhong

Translator: Kinky || https://kinkytranslations.com/

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Chapter 145: Brothers Reunited

Tass looked at the stranger, then at Kalen, then twisted around to look at the stranger again, his neck making a series of cracking sounds.

He had a stomach full of questions he wanted to ask, but “Wasn’t your brother captured by V.O.R? How is he fine?” and “Why is your brother dressed exactly like the leader of the Stargazers Society?” were obviously not the sort of questions that should be raised right now.

In the end, Tass awkwardly rubbed his nose. “Uh… should I give you two some privacy?”

No one answered him.

After calling Hermit’s name, Kalen simply stood there blankly. Hermit smiled at the two of them as the door slowly closed behind everyone.

All right, the Dragon Fae thought. He shook out his wings, sat down on the nearest wooden table, and found himself the best possible seat for watching the show.

“…Why?”

At last, Father Kalen found his voice again. His tone was restrained, though it was difficult to tell whether he was suppressing shock or hurt.

“Why are you appearing now? Back then, you just…”

“A reward.”

Hermit interrupted him.

Perhaps because he had removed the mask, his voice was no longer difficult to distinguish. Instead, it was light and smooth, like fresh cream.

Kalen had never been particularly good at communication to begin with. Now he became completely tongue-tied. “W-what…”

“I never expected you to find that bone so quickly.” Hermit spoke gently. “If that little flying runt hadn’t egged you on, you probably would have waited until Salaar and Myss finished the ceremony before investigating.”

“And by then, I would already have taken advantage of the Eye-Opening Ceremony to leave this place… You disrupted my plans. We were never supposed to meet.”

The Dragon Fae instinctively wanted to protest the rude description “little flying runt,” but he was afraid of interfering with the show. In the end, he merely bounced once on the edge of the table.

“But you gave me the opportunity. You could have kept the mask on.”

Kalen’s voice trembled slightly. Tass had never seen Father Kalen this agitated before.

“I had no idea you even knew blood magic… Egan came out of Earl Nebula’s room. Earl Nebula claimed he had somehow become separated from everyone else. Was that also you…?”

Clap. Clap. Clap.

Hermit applauded with satisfaction. “Your instincts have always been accurate.”

Kalen leaned forward, looking as though he desperately wanted to rush over to Hermit. But he forced himself to remain where he was, his lips pressed into a taut line.

At that moment, he didn’t know whether he should feel angry, relieved, or confused.

Whether disguised as Earl or Egan, his brother had constantly dropped hints, indirectly implying that there was some compelling reason behind his disappearance.

But…

“So this is the ‘reason’ you couldn’t show yourself… Something this trivial.”

A dull ache spread through Kalen’s chest. He instinctively pressed a hand over it, then suddenly felt that the gesture, so close to prayer, was almost blasphemous.

This was a private matter between him and Hermit. It had nothing to do with any god.

“…No. I’m sorry, Hermit. I don’t mean to accuse you. I know you wouldn’t toy with me over something like this. It’s just… It’s just that I was truly very worried…”

Kalen took a deep breath and added the words in a disordered rush.

His hands hung stiffly at the sides of his clothes, unconsciously kneading the fabric.

Why Hermit had faked his own disappearance, and why he was wearing the clothes of the Stargazers Society’s leader, no longer mattered at this moment…

What mattered was that Kalen didn’t want Hermit to leave again.

“I understand. I understand completely.”

Anyone could have heard the accusation in Kalen’s voice just then, but Hermit acted as though he hadn’t noticed at all.

His tone was almost soothing, completely at odds with his roguish demeanor.

“I’m the one who wronged you… I can’t continue staying by your side. I shouldn’t have come to see you in the first place. That’s why I called this a ‘reward.’”

Kalen finally moved.

He stumbled toward Hermit and grabbed both of his shoulders.

Although Hermit wasn’t as heavily built as Kalen, he was still tall and solid, and somehow didn’t lose out at all in presence.

“So you’re still leaving.” Kalen’s voice grew even hoarser. “Why can’t you stay? At least tell me… Tell me a little about this ‘reason’ you keep talking about.”

“I’m asking you, Hermit. I’m begging you.”

The smile on Hermit’s face froze for a moment, then he gently shook his head.

“When the day comes that you eliminate V.O.R, if I’m still alive, I’ll tell you.” Hermit said, “Until then, I have to keep this secret with my life. It is an oath I swore before our God.”

“I’m sorry.”

While Kalen was still stunned, Hermit raised both arms and slowly embraced his brother. His hand gently patted the back of Kalen’s head, and a soundless sigh slipped from his lips.

Yet the next instant, Hermit suddenly tightened his arms, so tightly that Kalen could feel the taut muscles beneath the fabric. In the blink of an eye, that strength vanished again, as though the crushing embrace had only been an illusion.

Kalen froze helplessly in place, like an animal caught by the scruff of its neck.

“You won’t force me to stay, will you?” Hermit asked softly.

“…” Kalen remained silent for a long time. “You said you swore before our God…”

“It’s true.” Hermit released him, his expression unusually solemn. “Here and now, I am willing to swear again before the Lord of Shadows that I have absolutely not deceived you.”

Very, very slowly, Kalen loosened his hands. His eyes were slightly red. Although his hair was still fluffy and neat, there was a desolate air about him, as though someone had dumped a basin of cold water over his head.

“As long as I keep traveling with Salaar and the others, as long as we eliminate V.O.R, you’ll come back and tell me the entire truth.”

“Then swear before our God that, until that day arrives, you must remain safe.” By the end, Kalen’s voice was barely a whisper.

A smile returned to Hermit’s face. He patted Kalen’s cheek, looking almost happy.

“I promise.” He winked at Father Kalen, once again looking thoroughly roguish. “So… I’ll see you then, ‘Father.’”

Hermit stepped back half a pace and put the black mask painted with a silver moon back on, then adjusted his hood. The last strand of flaxen hair disappeared into the darkness, and Hermit suddenly seemed very far away.

He rested one hand on Kalen’s shoulder and walked past him toward the door, until that hand slipped away as he moved forward.

Kalen kept his back to the door the entire time. He neither turned around nor said goodbye.

Only when the door made a nearly inaudible sound did Kalen finally fail to hold himself back and speak again.

“If everything goes well… will there be another ‘reward’?” His voice was low, as though afraid of startling something.

Hermit’s steps paused slightly. He didn’t answer. The only response Kalen received was the slowly closing door.

Yet in a corner no one could see, on the other side of the door…

“This meeting really was a ‘reward.’” Hermit silently moved his lips. “It’s just that… it was just a reward for me.”

“I’ve already been selfish enough. To ask for mor would be inviting God’s wrath.”

After saying that, he couldn’t help turning back to look at the cold door.

“…Still, perhaps God would forgive me for being just a little more selfish.”

……

The Root Church had no windows, but they could more or less smell the change in the air. Dawn was approaching.

No matter how unsettled Kalen felt, he still remembered that they were short on time. If he delayed what Salaar and Myss needed to do, that would be genuine dereliction of duty.

Fortunately, the return journey went smoothly enough. Tass wasn’t particularly surprised to discover that the barred gate separating the sanctuary opened at the slightest touch, just as it had when they had pursued “Egan” earlier.

The Blind God probably left the door open for us, Tass thought.

However, the instant Kalen and Tass entered the confession chamber, time seemed to freeze.

Salaar was tugging at the fabric over Myss’s chest, adjusting the flatbread stuffed inside. The Blind God Himself sat properly on the offering table, seriously watching the two of them pull and fuss at each other.

Dragon Fae: “Wow.”

It wasn’t just young people these days that were impulsive. Apparently the… elderly had plenty of tricks too.

Father Kalen took several deep breaths and barely managed to regain his composure. “It’s good that the two of you are all right.”

“Sogné gave us the general outline of what happened with you.” After adjusting the bodice of Myss’s dress, Salaar moved on to adjusting his hair. “Nothing else should happen next. You can leave first and return to the inn ahead of us.”

Tass: “Huh? We can’t stay?”

That was the Blind God, the god of one of the three great religions! Something this rare only became rarer every time you looked away.

Kalen probably wasn’t in the mood, but the Dragon Fae genuinely wanted to know how such an extraordinary being had somehow ended up looking like the child of these two.

“The ceremony will continue according to its usual tradition. Please watch from the surface.” Sogné spoke softly. “As all of you know, in order to conceal my existence, I won’t leave this place.”

The Dragon Fae let out a disappointed “Oh.”

Kalen was silent for a moment. “Your followers have prepared a very beautiful ceremony for you.”

“Colorful flowers will grow all over the surface of the Root Church, and there will even be a rare circular rainbow overhead… The offerings are called Your left and right eyes. I think they must very much hope that You can see it.”

Sogné listened impassively.

He had no desire to become a god, just as Salaar had never regarded himself as one. He had merely followed the mysterious masked man’s guidance and rescued the people nearby.

Religion had only ever been a tool for his birth, a means through which he could observe the human world.

Whether it was humanity’s love or fear, none of it had ever been what he wanted.

Tass looked at Father Kalen in confusion. In his experience, Kalen rarely interfered with other people’s decisions, much less the decision of a god.

A few steps away, Salaar finished arranging Myss’s hair and tucked the vivid red pomegranate blossoms into place.

“If you get the chance, I actually hope you’ll go see it,” he said. “We really weren’t born as ‘gods,’ Sogné. We were born as ‘people.’”

Sogné listened intently. “I understand, but I cannot do it.”

“Without that bone, my concealment is weaker than before. I cannot rashly leave…”

“I’ll do it,” Kalen suddenly said, the ring on his right hand glowing dimly. “Even now, I can still only conceal one person perfectly, but that person doesn’t have to be me. I can take You to the surface.”

“You have protected so many people. You deserve to receive this… this…” Father Kalen paused there, a little color returning to his face. “…this ‘reward.’”

Sogné remained silent for a long time. Although confusion still lingered on his face, he ultimately nodded.

Myss had little interest in the subject. No matter how things turned out, it had nothing much to do with Salaar. The Secret Garden meant nothing to him. He only wanted to see the circular rainbow Kalen had mentioned.

Still, seeing these humans talking so enthusiastically made another question pop into Myss’s head.

“So why are you called the ‘Blind God’?” He asked curiously. “All your followers seem convinced that you’re blind. Even if you have to stay inside the Root Church, there’s no reason you need to pretend you can’t see, right?”

Sogné was anything but blind. Previously, his entire body had been covered in eyes, an astonishing number of them. Even calling him the “Lord of Shadows” would have fit reality better than “Blind God.”

It was difficult to imagine how such a foolish fellow had ended up calling himself the “Blind God” to his followers.

Sogné was slightly taken aback and those eyes, so strikingly similar to Salaar’s, lowered. “The masked man gave me that divine name. He said it was his blessing to me.”

“He said he hoped I could remain hidden in the shadows for as long as possible and never be tempted by the cruel stars—never drawing near, never feeling curious, never gazing upon them.”

“…Because the most foolish and hopeless act in this world is ‘stargazing.’ That is what he said.”

Sogné repeated the words one by one, clearly extremely confident in his own memory.

Kalen abruptly snapped his head up and looked at Sogné.

The divine power of shadow that had appeared three hundred years ago; the Stargazers Society that had suddenly emerged more than twenty years ago; and Hermit, dressed in the clothing of the Stargazers Society’s leader.

What exactly was the relationship between the Order of Shadows and the Stargazers Society?

……

Aboveground, inside the inn room.

“Earl” stretched and patted his stiff waist and back. Humming a tune, he pulled open the curtains. The sky had turned a clear iris blue. The sun was about to rise, and that beautiful ceremony was about to begin.

“Earl”—Hermit—took a deep breath of the morning air and straightened his bed, then he picked up the paper and pen from the desk. The tip of the pen hovered over the paper again and again.

In the end, Hermit looked several times toward Kalen’s bed and shook his head.

“…Forget it.”

He put the paper and pen back where they had been, casually slung his coat over his shoulder, and stepped out of the increasingly bright room.

Sunrise was imminent, and all of the Crimson Marsh had come alive. The morning air carried the fragrance of flatbread and fresh bread. People greeted one another with smiles.

A cheerful woman was handing out herbal cookies on the street.

Hermit took one cookie, casually held it between his teeth, and walked toward the legendary plaza. He had walked this road once before in the middle of the night.

Looking at it now, it seemed like an entirely different world. The sky along the horizon had been dyed rose red, and the morning sun was about to rise. Overnight, green grass and flowers had grown across the plaza’s damaged stone paving.

Now they were bathed in the golden-red glow of dawn, like a velvet carpet laid out to welcome a hero.

Something in his pocket began to vibrate. Hermit avoided the steadily thickening crowd and slipped into the shadows.

A muffled report came through the magical communication device.

Hermit silently chewed his cookie. When he had heard everything, he removed the crescent-shaped cookie from his mouth. His voice became distorted and ethereal once more. “Evening Star City.”

“Have Kai handle the assignment. He’s free right now… Yes. I’ll be back soon.”

Hermit’s tone was utterly rigid, devoid of accent or emotion. His pronunciation was so standard that not a single flaw could be found.

“Before the end of the world, faith is useless. Humanity can only save itself. To the stars that are destined to fade.”

The communication ended.

With a sharp crack, Hermit crushed the communication crystal into powder, mixing it with the remaining cookie crumbs. Not far away, vague cheers rose from the crowd like swelling waves.

Presumably, the god’s “left eye” and “right eye” had appeared.

Hermit lifted his head. Across the whitening sky, the last few morning stars were gradually fading, swallowed by the growing light.

He smiled at them, then turned and walked toward the flood of flowers and joy like any ordinary tourist.

---

The author has something to say:

This arc is finished!

Next arc, we’re heading to Evening Star City!

Time to start peeling back the layers of the Order of Shadows. [cat paw]

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Kinky Thoughts:

With this arc reveal and delving into Salaar’s past, I can see why in the previous arc he wanted to experience “young love”, just like how he longed to stay in the dream state. I know a few readers didn’t think it made sense why he decided to take the “Return to Youth” potion, but this explains a lot. It’s quite sad when you think about it.

Remember, Nian Zhong doesn’t leave plot holes. Everything happens for a reason, and patience is needed when reading her work. All the puzzle pieces will eventually come together.

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<<< || Table of Contents || >>>

Author: 年终 / Nian Zhong

Translator: Kinky || https://kinkytranslations.com/

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Chapter 144: Hermit

“Huh?” Myss said.

When he and Salaar woke up, they happened to catch Sogné just as he appeared.

Sogné had inherited Salaar’s brisk, straightforward style. He got straight to the point and told them the story of how he had been rescued by someone “suspected to be the Lord of Shadows,” as well as the current whereabouts of Father Kalen and Tass.

Myss didn’t even get the chance to praise his own skill at shaping a human body before Sogné’s little story stole his attention.

“You’re saying that guy dug you out from underground while badly injured, taught you how to establish the Secret Garden, told you some strange little story, and then just left?”

Myss leaned against the wall, looking boneless while playing with the ribbon tied to the end of his braid.

Putting aside whether that masked man really was the legendary “Lord of Shadows,” Myss felt that there was definitely something wrong with his head.

After going to all that trouble, he still refused to explain things clearly. Myss found the whole thing extremely suspicious.

If Sogné hadn’t lacked a heart back then, functioning merely as a flesh-and-blood machine carrying out a mission, there was no telling whether he would even have obeyed.

Compared with the masked man, Salaar was more concerned about something else.

“You lost contact with the Celestial Canopy?” He stepped half a pace forward, the candlelight casting a crack-like strip of shadow.

“Yes. Approximately eight years after you left.” Sogné sat on the empty altar table inside the confession chamber and answered earnestly. “After you left, the Celestial Canopy infused me with newly extracted memories every year. But in the ninth year, they didn’t appear.”

“After that, I remained trapped in the darkness for roughly ten years before I encountered the masked man. Around twenty years after you left, I formally established the Secret Garden… That happened to coincide with the beginning of the Magic Enlightenment. I could use my power freely, so the Secret Garden grew rapidly.”

Sogné didn’t seem particularly accustomed to the reality that he actually possessed a “heart.”

Whenever he stopped deliberately acting like a child, his tone became quite stiff, every word pronounced with meticulous precision.

Myss looked mockingly at Salaar.

Less than ten years after Salaar left, while Salaar was still leading his army inside the seal and roasting mushrooms, something had already happened to the Celestial Canopy outside.

If that strange masked man hadn’t interfered, Sogné would simply have remained trapped beneath the ruins, knowing nothing, slowly rotting away until both he and the “Celestial Canopy” were buried by history.

…Still, Myss had observed Salaar’s army before.

Even the weakest-willed members of the Celestial Canopy could endure for more than a decade.

No matter how much the Celestial Canopy declined, there was no way it would run into trouble in less than ten years, much less casually abandon a major research achievement like Sogné.

Rather than internal collapse, it seemed much more likely that the Celestial Canopy had been attacked by an outside force.

The organization had been completely destroyed, its records thoroughly erased. Sogné had been hidden extremely well, which was the only reason he survived. That hypothesis was obviously far more reasonable.

Salaar fell into deep thought and only spoke again after quite some time.

“All these years, did you never consider using the Secret Garden’s power to investigate what happened to the Celestial Canopy?”

Sogné shook his head. “To become your successor, my highest priority was to ‘be born.’ Before completing that mission, I wouldn’t leave the underground… However, I did expect members of the Celestial Canopy to eventually come here and investigate. I never saw them.”

Salaar’s brows drew tighter and tighter, his face becoming so tense that even Myss could no longer comfortably enjoy the spectacle.

Myss curled his lip.

“What’s wrong with you?”

Salaar glanced at Sogné, then moved closer to Myss’s ear and lowered his voice.

“I’m thinking that, according to Sogné, that masked man possessed power approaching that of a god. Yet an existence like that was wounded badly enough to fall into despair… which means someone even stronger defeated him.”

“His wording also bothers me. ‘You sealed away something enormous and dangerous, a calamity that was about to be born.’ That should refer to me sealing you away. Then who are ‘those who fear you’ supposed to be?”

Myss scratched his head and tried hard to remember.

The “Age of Magic Enlightenment” that had suddenly appeared not long after the sealing…

The “Celestial Canopy,” which had pressed forward through suffering and sealed the Archdemon with mortal strength. Both the knowledge it had accumulated and even the very fact that it existed had been erased as thoroughly as pulling weeds up by the roots…

And there was V.O.R, whose strength remained a mystery, wandering through the human world and spreading Abnormal Fruits everywhere…

Those scattered puzzle pieces were beginning to connect in a twisted way.

Myss had to admit that he was currently in the weakest state he had ever been.

And from everything they had seen, anyone talented enough to touch divine power was entangled with the Abnormal Fruits somehow.

Geniuses were tempted by V.O.R, consumed by curse-like obsessions, and eventually transformed into twisted, fanatical monstrosities.

Even after Salaar, generations of geniuses had come and gone in the human world, yet no true “god” had ever been born.

Of all the beings they had encountered so far, the clearest-minded and closest to a genuine “god” was actually Sogné, who had miraculously survived disaster.

“…To be honest, I think everyone should be afraid of me, so I have no idea who those people are.” Myss shamelessly whispered back. “But I have to admit, both the human world and I are at our weakest right now.”

“Seriously, if some other ‘Archdemon’ took advantage of us both being weakened and arranged to stab both of us in the back, that would be hilarious.”

After saying that, he curiously watched Salaar’s reaction. Salaar couldn’t even destroy him, the Chaos Archdemon. If another Bomb-Disassembly Archdemon or Magibase Archdemon appeared, wouldn’t the brat’s nerves snap entirely?

Salaar: “……”

Salaar rubbed his face and laughed. It was not a bitter laugh born of helplessness or despair. It looked more like relief.

“You’ve finally gone insane?” Myss clicked his tongue in wonder.

“No,” Salaar said softly, sounding almost happy. “If that’s really the case, then it means our decision to prioritize investigating V.O.R was correct.”

“We’ve already saved Roman, the ‘Prisoner of Dreams,’ Payton, the ‘Redemption Puppet,’ and now Sogné, the Blind God. All three retain a certain degree of power and have regained some clarity.”

“And beside us, we also have Father Kalen, the suspected successor of the Lord of Shadows.”

“Most importantly, you’re standing beside me now… I’m a remnant of the Celestial Canopy that those people fear. Surely you wouldn’t just stand there and watch some other ‘Demon God’ kill me?”

“Impossible!” Myss blurted out.

Salaar’s survival or death, his hatred or his love, all of it had to belong to him.

Damn it. If someone else got there first and destroyed the human world right in front of Salaar, how was that any different from someone eating every raspberry off a cream cake right in front of him?

Just imagining it made him furious.

Seeing Myss’s expression suddenly darken, Salaar smiled even more brightly. Taking the opportunity, he tilted his head and gently kissed Myss on the forehead.

“I knew it,” he said.

Myss finally realized what had happened.

“I mean, they’re obviously hostile toward me. For my own safety, of course I’d prioritize killing anyone more threatening than you…”

Salaar still wore that infuriating smile.

“Mm-hm, mm-hm. I understand.”

Myss: “No, you—”

“It’s nearly dawn.” Sogné coughed. “You two should prepare for the Eye-Opening Ceremony as soon as possible.”

Salaar immediately picked up the conversation. “You said you returned the thighbone to Father Kalen. What do you plan to do next?”

“The concealment divine power remaining at the bottom of the pit will last me for a while longer. Rather than helping me hide more effectively, I would prefer that your companion become stronger.”

Sogné awkwardly twisted the corners of his mouth into an unpracticed smile.

“With that power, Father Kalen will surely be able to help you.”

……

“Kalen!” Tass flew behind Father Kalen’s head, shouting anxiously.

After traveling together for so long, he had never seen Father Kalen this agitated. The priest went straight for Egan’s room.

Sure enough, the door had been left slightly ajar, as though waiting for someone to push it open. Kalen extended a trembling hand and gently pushed the door.

The room was dim, and a distinct human shape lay on the bed. Egan appeared to be asleep, his body rising and falling gently.

Kalen suppressed his excitement. He decisively released his concealment and reached toward Egan…

“Wait!” The Dragon Fae dove down and wrapped himself around Kalen’s finger.

“Tass?”

“The smell is wrong,” Tass said. “And the magical fluctuations here are extremely strange. There are traces of blood magic!”

Kalen lowered his eyes in confusion, and his overheated mind cooled slightly. “Blood magic…”

“I told you before, humans love using blood magic to impersonate other people. The people I hunted were especially fond of that trick.” Tass shook his head vigorously. “Egan went to the sanctuary just now, but he didn’t pick up the sanctuary’s scent. And this room has an extremely strong residue of blood magic.”

“Someone used a spell to alter their appearance here only a few minutes ago!”

“You mean the Egan we met…” Kalen forced the words out with difficulty.

“Most likely wasn’t Egan himself.”

Tass flew to the side of Egan’s pillow, poked his neck, then lifted one eyelid. “Just as I thought. This kid isn’t ‘asleep.’ He was knocked unconscious.”

Kalen turned and left.

He returned to the corridor and jogged uselessly through it, trying to find the disguised person who had only just departed.

“Young people these days…”

Tass casually cast a sleep spell on the real Egan and flew after Kalen again.

Fine beads of sweat appeared on Kalen’s forehead. The winding corridor was filled with identical doors. Searching them one by one was impossible.

He didn’t possess Tass’s keen senses. Salaar and Myss weren’t here either…

Dawn was approaching. There wasn’t enough time. The hidden divine power was useless for this…

Kalen lowered his head and looked at the ring on his left hand.

The left hand foretold ill omen.

Truthfully, it was an extremely vague ability. Until now, it had possessed only one function: divining whether a particular location or event would bring Kalen danger.

He wanted to find someone. His target wouldn’t bring him ill omen. But Kalen had no magic. This was the only ability he possessed that could possibly “search” for a target.

Kalen steeled himself and tried to activate the ring, concentrating its newly acquired power.

…Oh God, I do not seek Your admonition.

…Oh God, I pray for Your mercy and Your guidance.

…Oh God,, I wish to see that person once more, that child who recovered Your lost glory.

Buzz…

The ring suddenly grew scorching hot, nearly burning Kalen’s finger.

Under the Dragon Fae’s astonished gaze, dozens of distorted pale-golden characters flickered beside the ring. They clung together, their shapes continuously changing, until finally they condensed into a golden thread as fine as spider silk, extending toward the end of the corridor.

The thread flashed once and vanished into countless motes of light, yet Kalen seemed to sense something. He strode toward the far end of the corridor.

Once again, he stopped in front of an utterly ordinary door.

“Strange. There’s no aura inside at all.” The Dragon Fae scratched his head repeatedly. “Are you sure it’s here?”

“We are both followers of the Lord of Shadows,” Kalen murmured. “Of course our god would protect him as well.”

The door appeared tightly shut, but the instant Kalen placed his hand on the handle, it almost eagerly slid open.

A familiar figure stood inside.

The person wore a black robe, and a twisted silver moon was painted across the black mask.

They had seen this figure in the Sea of Concepts. It was, or rather, they had assumed it was, the nameless leader of the Stargazers Society.

Just as Kalen hesitated over whether to release his concealment, the person moved. He slowly raised a hand. Gloved fingers hooked under the edge of the mask and lifted it away.

Flaxen hair identical to Kalen’s, though slightly longer at the ends. 

Aquamarine eyes identical to Kalen’s, now curved slightly in a smile.

…Beyond that, however, the face bore no resemblance to Kalen at all.

It was an extraordinarily handsome face with features entirely different in style from Kalen’s, carrying a somewhat irreverent, roguish air.

Two horrifying scars crossed the man’s face, forming a slightly crooked cross that nearly spanned the whole thing, lending his handsome features an almost sinister quality.

Kalen abruptly appeared.

It was difficult to tell whether he had deliberately dropped his concealment or simply lost the concentration needed to maintain it.

He swallowed hard, his voice terrifyingly hoarse.

“…Hermit.”

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<<< || Table of Contents || >>>

Author: 年终 / Nian Zhong

Translator: Kinky || https://kinkytranslations.com/

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Chapter 143: Vermin and Moss

Myss had the most comfortable sleep of his entire existence.

The bed in the bedroom was large, the sheets were soft, the temperature was perfect, and he had his favorite Hero Cushion. Better yet, he happened to have the finest sleeping aid of all: exhaustion.

Of course, by the time he woke up, the Hero Cushion was already gone. Faint clattering sounds came from the living room, and the steaming aroma of food drifted into his nose. Through the crack in the door, Myss could just make out Salaar’s back as he cooked.

Sunlight bathed the human Hero from head to toe, giving Salaar’s silhouette a hazy golden outline.

Myss watched for a while, then rolled over on the bed and buried his face in Salaar’s pillow. He stretched lazily, his entire body suffused with an almost drunken contentment.

“Awake?” Salaar asked without turning around, as though he had eyes in the back of his head.

Myss: “No.”

Salaar chuckled. “Then keep sleeping. I’ll just drink your soup myself…”

Myss sprang upright and tumbled off the bed. With his long hair a complete mess, he charged straight for the dining table in the living room. Salaar glanced at his enemy, who looked like a ball of fluff, and couldn’t help sighing again.

Myss rubbed his eyes and looked out at the daylight that had remained unchanged for so long. Then his gaze returned to Salaar, sweeping repeatedly over that excessively familiar face.

This face really was much easier on the eyes.

Counting the Prisoner of Dreams and the Blind God, he had already remodeled the bodies of two “gods.” If Salaar were willing to strip naked and let Myss remodel him however he pleased, perhaps he could twist Kendric’s body back into Salaar’s original appearance.

Unfortunately, no matter how unserious Salaar could be, he would never let an enemy casually tamper with his magic circuits.

…Forget it. They had only swapped bodies temporarily. There was no need to be so attached to a mere vessel.

It would be better to start studying the Blind God’s magic sooner, Myss thought as he bit the tip of his fork.

Clang.

A plate piled high with sandwiches was pushed in front of Myss.

The sandwiches were filled with fresh tomatoes and greens, along with perfectly cooked fried eggs and ham. The bread had been fried until crisp without burning, giving off a rich aroma of butter and wheat.

The rim of the plate was heaped with freshly washed raspberries, silver-like droplets of water still clinging to their surfaces. Salaar turned away and began ladling vegetable stew into a wooden bowl.

The rich aroma completely derailed Myss’s train of thought. After all, for the past day, or perhaps two days, they had been too busy devouring each other to eat anything beyond a little bread with jam.

“We should’ve stayed a couple more days… Mmph.” Myss greedily tore into his breakfast.

“I doubt the truth will be that easy to uncover. We probably won’t face the final showdown anytime soon.”

Salaar shoved another bowl of steaming soup toward him.

Myss gave a muffled response.

This investigation of the Blind God had only revealed a few of Salaar’s little secrets. The entire matter seemed unrelated to V.O.R. Strictly speaking, they were still on vacation.

Still, Sogné had said he had something important to tell them. Perhaps there would be some interesting news in it… Thinking of it that way, leaving today didn’t sound so bad.

After the meal, Salaar leisurely washed the dishes and wiped the water from the cutting board. Myss sprawled limply across the sofa, his eyes following Salaar as he moved about.

All of this was an illusion. Salaar’s tidying was completely meaningless. Yet Myss had a vague feeling that he shouldn’t point that out.

Perhaps it was because Salaar looked so peaceful, as though this truly were their home. As though they were simply going away for a while and would return in a few days.

In truth, they both knew they could never come back here. Once they left, it would be a final farewell.

At that thought, Myss couldn’t help looking around the room as well. He suddenly realized that this crude little wooden house was actually rather pleasing to the eye.

No wonder Salaar had enclosed himself in a little box even within the darkness of the seal. To Myss, a so-called “house” was tiny and ridiculous, but… wait. Something was wrong.

V.O.R targeted human geniuses. No matter how obscure the corner where a powerful person hid, they could dig them out and plant an Abnormal Fruit in them.

The Secret Garden was one of the famous three major faiths, after all. With a figure as significant as the Blind God hiding right in the capital, how could V.O.R have completely ignored him for three hundred years?

The Blind God was hardly weak. He had, after all, been made from the same mold as Salaar. Even Myss had to be somewhat wary of the brat. There was no reason V.O.R wouldn’t interfere.

So was V.O.R genuinely uninterested in the Blind God, or were they unable to interfere with him for some special reason…?

Myss narrowed his crimson eyes and fell into thought.

“Lift your feet.” Salaar was cleaning the floor with a broom instead of cleansing magic. “What is it? What are you thinking about?”

“If I were V.O.R, I’d definitely get rid of the Blind God.”

Myss muttered as he lifted both legs and hugged his knees. “That guy is powerful enough to stand out. He counts as more than half a ‘god,’ no matter how you look at it. But he’s also weak enough that he can’t properly protect himself, and he spends every day obsessing over being born.”

“If you killed a guy like that, whether you replaced him afterward or simply left things alone, there wouldn’t be any future trouble. The Church of Cadence is roughly from the same era, and the Rhythm God doesn’t even exist.”

Salaar paused. “Actually, I’m curious about that too.”

“Right?”

“But there’s something else I’m even more curious about,” Salaar said. “Most members of the Celestial Canopy were atheists. At most, they were loosely religious. There’s no way they had experience managing a religion.”

“Yet the Crimson Marsh seems to have begun rebuilding more than three hundred years ago, and the Secret Garden’s faith has remained clean and orderly without anything going wrong over the centuries. Most importantly…”

“What?” Myss blinked and stared attentively at Salaar.

“Sogné’s mission was to be successfully born and become my successor. Three hundred years ago, never mind whether he even possessed a sense of self, he would never have conceived the idea of ‘proclaiming himself a god.’ That would have been a complete rejection of the Celestial Canopy’s will and an insult to every person who sacrificed themselves.”

“So I’m curious who told him to do it in the first place.”

“Then let’s hurry up and leave so we can ask Sogné.” Full and satisfied, Myss immediately regained his energy.

Salaar sighed again and pushed Myss back onto the sofa. “Fine. I’ll tie up your hair now.”

“None of this is real,” Myss protested.

“Pretend it is.” Salaar spoke quietly and pressed the top of Myss’s head.

Myss grumbled indistinctly and glanced at Salaar’s face from the corner of his eye. When Salaar approached with the comb, Myss abruptly turned around and nipped Salaar’s lips.

“Fair enough,” he mumbled indistinctly. “Let’s pretend it’s real.”

The brilliant sunlight cast long shadows, and the two silhouettes briefly intertwined near the sofa. More than ten minutes later, they drifted toward the doorway.

The taller shadow reached out and wrapped an arm around the shorter one’s shoulders. Judging only from their silhouettes, they looked exactly like a pair of lovers preparing to leave the house.

“Salaar.”

“Mm?”

“You still have time to change your mind. I mean, your face looks awful, like you’re about to die. Staying another day wouldn’t matter. I’m not that curious.”

“…”

Salaar remained silent for a long while, then a trace of laughter entered his voice.

“It’s all right, Myss. I’ve memorized it properly.”

“Someday, when you kill me, or when I kill you, I’m sure it’ll appear among the memories flashing before my eyes.”

“…You should really just shut up.”

Drip.

Amid the gentle sound of water, within the cool darkness, Salaar opened his eyes once more.

A little regrettable, he thought.

He hadn’t even heard the sound of that door closing all the way.

……

“;…Have You ever heard of the ‘Order of Shadows’?”

Father Kalen urgently questioned Sogné. “I’m a priest of the Order of Shadows. This thighbone carries my God’s power of concealment…”

To make himself more convincing, he even removed the ring from his right hand and placed it beside the thighbone. The ring was only slightly smaller around than the bone, and the two were identical in color and texture.

Sogné looked at Kalen for quite some time before gently shaking his head.

“I have never heard of a religious group called the ‘Order of Shadows,’ Father.” He raised his head and tried to meet the priest’s gaze. “At least, the person who gave me this thighbone never mentioned the ‘Order of Shadows.’”

Kalen’s eyes immediately dimmed.

Tass, however, keenly caught the important point. “Would you mind telling us about the person who gave it to you, Sogné, uh… sir?”

Sogné glanced again at the thighbone and ring in Kalen’s hands, then nodded. “That person found me in the deepest part of the darkness.”

“He wore a black mask with no openings in it, as though darkness itself were covering his face. From beginning to end, he never said who he was.”

At the words “black mask,” Kalen’s breath hitched. He immediately thought of the mysterious leader of the Stargazers Society.

“Just a black mask?” For once, he interrupted Sogné. “Was there any pattern on it? A silver moon emblem, for example?”

“No. Just a black mask.”

Sogné sounded exceptionally certain. “That person was extraordinarily powerful, but when he found me, he was covered in blood and barely alive. His mental state was also extremely poor, and he spoke incoherently. In my personal judgment, his will to survive seemed… weak.”

It didn’t sound like a pleasant subject. Tass closed his mouth and quietly listened alongside Kalen.

“He didn’t even ask about my condition. He simply spoke to himself and warned me that the ‘daylight’ to come would be equally dangerous. Before I truly ‘came into being,’ I absolutely couldn’t go to the surface.”

“He gave me some knowledge and taught me how to establish a religion that could endure for a long time, not so that I could be worshiped, but so that I could continue acquiring knowledge and search for a way to be born.”

Tass finally realized something was wrong. “Wait, a religion? You founded a religion?… You don’t mean the Secret Garden, do you?”

Sogné honestly nodded. “People call me the Blind God.”

“Kalen, look! Kalen, this is what adventuring is all about!”

Tass shot in front of Sogné’s face, clicking his tongue in astonishment. “The Secret Garden really does have a god, and he’s alive! Wait, are you really the Blind God? You look way too much like two friends of mine. You…”

Before he could finish getting excited, Father Kalen grabbed him with one hand and pulled him back.

The priest seemed entirely unmoved by the appearance of the “Blind God of the Secret Garden.” He stared fixedly into Sogné’s lapis-lazuli eyes.

“What about the person who gave it to you? What else did he do?” Kalen asked urgently.

“He left.” Sogné said, “Before he departed, he removed one of his own leg bones in front of me and said it could help conceal me.”

“‘Farewell, good child. I wish you and your world the best of luck.’… Those were his final words.”

That sounds rather like a dying farewell, Tass thought. But out of consideration for the priest’s mental state, he ultimately didn’t say it aloud.

If even a bone possessed power this strong, the person wearing that black mask had undoubtedly been one of the foremost figures in the Order of Shadows. In the worst-case scenario, it might even have been the “Lord of Shadows” Himself.

Kalen remained silent. He merely stood there blankly, apparently having thought of much the same thing.

Tass coughed dryly twice and forced himself to continue. “Why did you, no, I mean why did You listen to him?”

“By your account, that person was nearly half-mad, and You didn’t know him…”

“Because the magic within him was extraordinarily powerful, far beyond human levels. I couldn’t see through his identity.”

In the end, Sogné still confirmed the worst possibility. “If what he said was true, then rashly revealing myself could very well have killed me. By contrast, following his guidance cost me nothing.”

Damn. By that logic, could the mysterious “Lord of Shadows” have fallen three hundred years ago?

Tass cautiously looked toward Father Kalen. The priest’s eyes were red, and he looked utterly lost.

“I said I was ‘returning it to its original owner’ because you also carry his aura.” Sogné sighed. “Now it appears that was because of the rings.”

Kalen lowered his eyes, the hand holding the thighbone trembling slightly.

No. Nothing could possibly have happened to the Lord of Shadows. If He had fallen more than three hundred years ago, then why did the Order of Shadows still exist?

An obscure little religion couldn’t possibly have endured for more than three centuries amid such despair. His god must have… must have hidden Himself within the darkness.

Yes. Hermit had once told him…

“Stop crying over every little thing, Kalen.”

His older brother spoke sternly. “Listen. The Lord of Shadow is indeed tolerant, but He is also a resilient and cunning god. He won’t like a whiny crybaby.”

“B-but ‘cunning’ is a bad word…” Kalen said through his tears.

“Uh.” Hermit, unusually, stumbled over his words. He cleared his throat. “What I mean is, in order to protect His devout followers, the Lord of Shadows will use whatever means necessary and do everything in His power to preserve Himself.”

“So when you face despair, don’t just cry… or at the very least, once you’re done crying, think about how you’re going to solve the problem.”

“But!” Little Kalen wiped the tears from his face. “All the potatoes we worked so hard to save have sprouted… Waaaah…”

“Look, isn’t there still one good one?”

Hermit patted his head. “We’ll eat that one first. We can sell the sprouted ones to the old woman next door. She knows how to plant them.”

“The Lord of Shadows protects us. There is always a solution.”

…Yes. The Lord of Shadows protects us. There is always a solution. Father Kalen adjusted his breathing, and his wildly pounding heart gradually calmed.

As though sensing his composure, the thighbone suddenly dissolved into countless pale-golden points of light. They drifted gently through the air, divided into two equally sized clusters, and flew into Kalen’s pair of rings.

A strange warmth rippled through the rings. Kalen raised both hands before his eyes. The rings seemed to have fused into his body. They had become lighter, easier to control, and more… powerful.

Without question, this was a gift from the Lord of Shadows!

Was it really only a coincidence that he had stumbled upon this thighbone? And Egan’s ambiguous words from not long ago… the lost glory…

Kalen’s spirits surged.

“Tass, before the Eye-Opening Ceremony begins, I need to go out for a while,” he said hurriedly. “I have to talk to Egan. That child might…”

Might be a member of the Order of Shadows.

Thinking of Egan’s prayers, so strikingly similar to those of the Order of Shadows, Kalen became increasingly convinced of the possibility. He looked up toward the opening of the enormous pit, and before he could even finish speaking, his body shot upward.

Only when his figure was nearly gone did Kalen remember to throw down a hurried, “Farewell, Lord Sogné.”

Tass had no intention of letting his companion act alone. He hastily said goodbye to Sogné and immediately flew after him.

Sogné: “…”

Young people these days really are in a hurry.

Still, he knew that those two were Salaar’s teammates. Lord Blind God decided to pretend he had seen nothing and turned around to welcome his true companions.

After all, he hadn’t told those two the truly important information.

Yes. Three hundred and twelve years ago, that strange man, covered in wounds and speaking incoherently, hadn’t given some vague explanation like “the daylight to come will be equally dangerous.”

Looking back, Sogné could still remember the sharp smell of blood. The strange man had struggled to breathe behind his mask, his voice no different from a wood saw, as though he might suffocate at any moment.

His warning had actually been quite explicit and very convincing.

“You sealed away something enormous and dangerous, a calamity that was about to be born.”

He spoke in a voice so hoarse that its original tone was impossible to distinguish. “And now… all those who fear It want to come try their luck. They want to strangle It in the cradle…”

So?

At the time, Sogné had been utterly unable to understand. What did that have to do with him?

The man laughed though there was no humor in the sound, only despair bordering on madness.

“All right, all right. Let me give you another analogy.”

“Suppose there is an immovable magical explosive here. Once it detonates, the entire continent will shatter and sink. But if you dismantle it, you can seize extraordinary benefits from it… What would you do?”

“Do everything possible to dismantle it,” Sogné answered obediently.

“Very good.”

The masked man spoke almost sorrowfully. “But that explosive is covered in vermin no larger than pinpricks, and a patch of insignificant moss.”

“They wail, ‘Please, think of another way. Don’t destroy my home.’ Do you think humans would listen?”

“…”

“For humans, there is only one choice: ‘immediate destruction.’”

“For those insignificant, pitiful creatures, there are two choices: have their home immediately destroyed and plundered until not even scraps remain or exhaust every possible means delaying it for several thousand years, until the explosive eventually detonates on its own and everyone is reduced to ash together.”

“I don’t understand what You mean…”

“Yes. You don’t understand.”

The masked man released a long sigh.

“I’m only a patch of moss that wants to survive. That’s all.”

---

<<< || Table of Contents || >>>

Author: 年终 / Nian Zhong

Translator: Kinky || https://kinkytranslations.com/

---

Chapter 142: A Single Bone

Kalen walked through the Blind God’s temple.

He circled once around the various closed-eyed statues, but in the end, he still didn’t venture too close to the enormous pit. Egan was still praying devoutly. The only difference was that he kept his eyes open, his gaze drifting over toward Kalen from time to time as though intentionally, yet not quite.

Kalen had no choice but to remain concealed, revealing only the faintest trace of his voice as he whispered to the Dragon Fae. The temple was terrifyingly quiet. There was only the faint sound of candles and oil lamps burning, along with the occasional drip of water from somewhere unknown.

For some reason he couldn’t explain, Kalen didn’t like this place very much. It made his chest feel tight and his mood increasingly irritable.

“What’s wrong with you?” The Dragon Fae keenly noticed that something was off. He poked his nose out from Kalen’s pocket and nudged Kalen’s waist.

“Nothing. It just feels like… I’ve seen somewhere similar before.” Kalen tried his best to keep his voice low.

He didn’t sense any ill omen. It was simply that the deep pit, the ghostly green flames… the more he looked at these details, the more familiar they seemed. It was as though he had seen them somewhere inside a twisted nightmare. Yet whenever Kalen tried to recall it, he couldn’t remember a single thing. 

He forced himself to look away from the massive pit. The longer he stared into it, the more strangely attractive the darkness became, as though if he jumped into it, he could escape this unsettling atmosphere entirely.

“…Praise be to my God for His generosity and mercy. May His Veil shroud you, unseen and unharmed.”

More than a dozen steps away, Egan finally finished the lengthy hymn and prayer. He slowly straightened and smoothed the wrinkles at the front of his robe.

Looking at the expectant eyes of the boy, Kalen felt somewhat awkward. 

He had heard the hymn and entered the temple. He could remain hidden here until dawn, or use the passage on this side to investigate the confession chamber.

Although Kalen was still concerned about the prayer involving the “veil,” forcibly keeping innocent Egan here would only cause trouble for the boy. He pursed his lips and forced himself to speak.

“Good child.”

“I will follow all Your instructions, my God.”

Egan smiled. He bowed toward the enormous pit with heartfelt reverence, then decisively turned around and retreated toward the door.

Just as Kalen pressed at his temple and prepared to relax, Egan abruptly stopped walking.

“My God, please proceed to the deepest part of the darkness.”

His voice was extraordinarily gentle, saturated with devotion as sweet as honeyed water. “…That is where Your lost glory awaits.”

With that, the heavy doors opened and closed again. The entire process took only a dozen seconds, leaving Kalen no time at all to formulate a response. He was already bad at this sort of situation, and on top of that he was pretending to be the Blind God. He couldn’t exactly blurt out a foolish, “What?”

The heavy doors of the temple swallowed the boy’s slender silhouette. Kalen stood frozen for a while, forgetting even to release his concealment.

“Do you think he noticed you?” The Dragon Fae squeaked. “I’m telling you, if you didn’t deliberately make noise, even I wouldn’t be able to detect you… That brat is strange. Want me to chase after him and ask?”

Kalen had finally managed to sneak in here without attracting attention. It would be rather inconvenient for him to leave. Still, even a tiny mouse could find a crack to squeeze through.

“Maybe it was just part of the prayer.”

Kalen pressed at his head again. That faint, dark discomfort lingered at the edge of perception, making him uneasy. The Dragon Fae shook his head vigorously.

“Impossible. What kind of prayer orders a god around? I’d sooner believe that brat realized we were fooling him and set a trap.”

“Too bad the magical flow here is so strange. Otherwise I could fly down and take a look for you… Hm?”

The Dragon Fae tilted his mouse head. “Strange. The atmosphere here seems different. Much calmer.”

The priest honestly shook his head. He couldn’t feel any difference at all.

Tass gritted his teeth and tried poking out a little more of his head. Sure enough, the magical vortex that had been building toward birth had stopped at some unknown point.

“My god.” The Dragon Fae sucked in a sharp breath and quickly abandoned the dead mouse corpse, revealing his battered body.

“While that thing has stopped, hurry and take out the gemstones. Once I heal myself, I can go down and take a look.”

The priest worriedly pulled out a small handful of gemstones.

“I think we should wait here for Salaar and Myss instead. If there really is a trap down there, or if the magic becomes abnormal again, your safety…”

“Father Kalen. You don’t seriously think I joined you to ‘avenge my friend’ because I’m especially cautious and value my life, do you?” Tass shrugged. “I already left my people to become an assassin. Of course I do whatever I want.”

“That Egan is far too strange. I want to know what he’s after.”

“Then I’ll go down instead.” Kalen stared at the huge pit. “There’s no warning from my sense of ill omen, and I have healing abilities. I’m not that easy to kill.”

“No warning doesn’t mean you can skip investigating properly. And you’re so huge that cleaning up after you would be a pain.” The Dragon Fae cheerfully drained four or five gemstones. Amid the dust left behind by the gems, his body rapidly recovered, his scales turning glossy black.

“Relax. If he sets some magical trap, I’ll spot it immediately.”

“I am Tass Ga the Unfailing… except that one time!”

The priest struggled with the decision for a while but ultimately agreed. 

The temple had been cleaned spotless in preparation for the Eye-Opening Ceremony. There was simply nothing here he could use as a clue. Combined with that faint sense of aversion, Kalen knew he wouldn’t uncover anything important himself.

Thinking ahead, he took out the mouse corpse and tied several gemstones around it. Then he dug out the spool of thread he used for mending clothes and suspended the mouse corpse from a length of string before handing it to Tass.

“Take this with you. If the worst happens, use the gemstones to heal yourself, then reclaim the mouse corpse. Tug the string three times. I’ll pull you back up immediately.”

“Pretty thoughtful.” Tass picked up the rigid mouse. “I’ll be right back.”

Fortunately, everything went smoothly enough. The priest waited anxiously. Instead of feeling the thread tremble, he eventually saw Tass himself return.

“It’s pitch-black down there, and there’s nothing.” Tass looked completely baffled. “Forget some ‘glory.’ There isn’t even a basic altar. It’s just an empty pit. Well… maybe whatever was supposed to be there isn’t there anymore.”

The whole thing sounded even stranger.

Normally, Father Kalen would have abandoned the attempt to explore that darkness and gone back to finding ways to help Salaar and Myss.

But he stared almost obsessively at the enormous pit overflowing with shadow. The thought “That’s enough,” never arose in his mind. Not from himself. Not even in the form of one of Hermit’s old warnings.

“Let’s go down together,” he said.

Tass studied him for a moment. “All right. This time, you carry the mouse.”

Kalen passed between the various snow-white statues. Dressed entirely in black, he stood out starkly among them. Eventually, he stopped at the edge of the giant pit. A soft, warm breeze drifted up from below, as though something in the darkness were breathing gently.

Outside the pit, the temple was cold and oppressive, but the pit itself felt like the warm embrace of a mother, making it all the more tempting.

Kalen closed his eyes and jumped.

As expected, the bottom of the pit was completely empty.

It was so dark that he couldn’t see his own hand in front of his face, yet there was no sense of confinement. Kalen felt as though he were standing in a wilderness beneath a moonless night.

But there was an aura here… An extraordinarily familiar aura. It resembled the Lord of Shadows’ divine power of concealment almost exactly.

Walking through the darkness gave Kalen the comfortable sensation of soaking in warm water.

“See? There’s nothing here.” The Dragon Fae flicked one hand and raised a magical light no larger than a bean. “I was hoping to see some exciting ruins, or… Hey, where are you going?”

Kalen strode through the darkness as though he could see straight through it. The Dragon Fae had to flap his wings furiously just to keep up.

There was something here.

The entire bottom of the pit was wrapped in the Lord of Shadows’ divine power. It was perfectly normal that the Dragon Fae couldn’t sense the divine power of concealment.

But as a follower of the Lord of Shadows, Kalen could feel the subtle variations.

The divine power here varied in strength.

In one place, for example, there was a moderately sized gap. Something should have been there. For now, it had left, leaving behind something like an indentation.

Elsewhere, however, the power was terrifyingly dense. It gushed out divine power like a spring, ensuring that this small portion of the pit’s floor remained perfectly hidden within darkness.

Kalen stopped in front of that “spring.”

The source of the power was a bone.

More precisely, it was a long human thighbone. It lay quietly in the darkness, undecorated and unwrapped, like the most ordinary piece of exposed human remains.

Yet the bone was clean and smooth, without the slightest trace of dirt. Its surface was as fine as polished jade.

Kalen’s scalp prickled. The texture was so familiar that it made him slightly nauseous. Its sheen was almost identical to that of the rings on his hands.

Except the power contained within this bone was far stronger than that of his two rings, the sacred relics of the Lord of Shadows.

Lost glory?

…Whose bone was this?

“What is it?” The Dragon Fae asked curiously. Even though the bone was directly in front of him, he seemed unable to see it.

Kalen’s fingers clenched into fists, then slowly relaxed.

He could not take it, he thought. Whatever connection this bone had to the Lord of Shadows, there had to be a reason it was here.

He could not question God’s…

“To think we have visitors.” A childish voice sounded from the darkness not far away.

Kalen and the Dragon Fae whipped around and saw… a child.

The child looked only five or six years old and was wrapped in bright red cloth. Kalen looked twice before realizing that it resembled torn flesh membrane or wet afterbirth more than fabric.

There were no ornaments on his limbs. His feet were bare, he carried no weapons, and there wasn’t the slightest trace of hostility about him.

Yet Kalen had a strange intuition. This child was extremely powerful. Definitely no weaker than “Payton” from the Middle Finger Tower.

Strangest of all was the child’s appearance. His gray-white hair was identical to Myss’s. His lapis-lazuli eyes looked exactly like Salaar’s, while his facial features faintly carried Myss’s likeness as well.

If Kalen hadn’t known that both men were male, he would almost have believed this child was Salaar and Myss’s biological son.

The Dragon Fae slapped himself across the face.

“Father Kalen, I think I’m hallucinating. I can see Salaar and Myss’s child talking to me.”

Kalen swallowed with difficulty. “I can see him too.”

The Dragon Fae turned pale with shock. “My god. Was Myss actually a woman disguised as a man? Or is Salaar actually… wow…”

The child’s expression twitched, as though he had swallowed ten thousand things he wanted to say. In the end, he still spoke politely, or more precisely, he spoke to Kalen.

“You’ve come.”

Kalen stared at him blankly. He could sense a faint trace of concealment divine power on the child. But judging by the child’s size, he didn’t quite match the empty indentation from earlier.

Seeing both of them frozen, the child paused, then smiled. “You may call me ‘Sogné.’ I won’t do anything to you…”

His gaze swept around before settling on the bone nearby. Sogné looked at the bone, then at Kalen, who was still trying to process the situation.

He seemed to understand something. He bent down, picked up the thighbone, and offered it to Kalen with both hands.

“Take it. You could say I’m returning it to its original owner.”

The moment Sogné finished speaking, the surging divine power within the bone faded, like a switch had been turned off.

The Dragon Fae’s jaw dropped.

“A bone suddenly appeared in his hands! I didn’t even sense a magical fluctuation. Kalen…”

At that moment, Kalen had no attention to spare for the Dragon Fae. “You said ‘returning it to its original owner.’ You know where it came from.”

Hot blood surged through Kalen’s head in waves, making him dizzy. “…Have you¹, no, have You¹ ever heard of the ‘Order of Shadows’?”

¹[Ni](你) vs [Nin]( 您). The former is an informal way to address someone, usually used among peers, friends, or someone younger than you, while the latter is a formal more respectful way, usually used for elders, people of higher rank, or showing deference.

……

The dream world.

Myss lay limply in the bathtub and let out an enormous yawn.

He was lying on his favorite Hero Cushion while warm water swayed around his body.

This was a dream. The water in the bathtub would never cool and his skin would never wrinkle from soaking too long. Everything was just right.

…Provided one ignored the room outside the bathtub, which looked as though a storm had swept through it.

They had tangled their way from the bathtub into the dim, ambiguous bedroom, “fought” from the bedroom into the sunlit living room, then eventually returned to the warm bathtub.

Day and night never changed here. Myss couldn’t remember how long they had been at it. He only remembered that neither of them had been willing to surrender first.

In the end, thirst and hunger became too much for either of them, and they had no choice but to call it a draw.

Myss’s legs were terribly weak and Salaar was exhausted too. He had forced himself to toast some bread with butter, spread it thickly with raspberry jam, and place it beside the bathtub.

“Your stamina leaves a lot to be desired.” Myss muttered between bites of the bread. “It was the same before. You never fought me for very long. Before even a day passed, you’d run off to chew on your mushrooms…”

“Can’t be helped. Humans are that fragile.” Salaar’s cheeks were stuffed full too. “If you don’t like it, you’re welcome not to eat and enjoy the charm of ‘hunger’ to your heart’s content.”

As he spoke, he unceremoniously reached out and pressed Myss’s flat stomach.

Myss instinctively wanted to slap the hand away. Unfortunately, both hands were occupied with bread, so he had to endure it.

“…In the future, whenever we get sick of looking at each other, we can fight this way,” Myss continued thoughtfully. “Never mind you nearly stabbing me half to death. I bit you until you looked patterned, and the contract didn’t classify any of that as harm.”

Salaar touched an arm covered in bite marks and scratches and sighed. “That’s your takeaway?”

At last, Myss was willing to abandon his bread. He tossed it back into the basket, turned around, and sat on Salaar’s stomach. “What do you want to hear? That you seduced me so thoroughly that I decided to hold my breath until I died?”

Salaar raised an eyebrow. “You know that isn’t what I mean.”

“Fine. It really did feel good. Much better than the previous two times.” Myss pressed down on the Hero Cushion covered in dark-red bite marks and announced cheerfully, “That’s why I said, before the contract ends, if we can’t suppress our killing intent… Ow!”

He looked down in displeasure at the new bite mark on his chest.

“What are you doing?”

“My killing intent suddenly became unbearable.” Salaar grabbed Myss’s arm. “Do you have any idea how infuriating you are?”

Myss grinned. “Thank you for the compliment.”

Looking at the Archdemon’s smug expression, Salaar couldn’t help laughing. His arms tightened slightly.

Myss slipped and fell straight into Salaar’s embrace. He immediately protested loudly. “Wait, let me eat first! I’m still hungry…”

“Shh. Let me hold you for a while.” Salaar tightened his arms and locked Myss firmly against his chest. He held him so tightly that Myss almost suspected his ribs would be crushed.

Apparently, Salaar really did like him. And he really did like this place.

Maybe they should simply stay here for a few years, a few decades, or even a few centuries, Myss thought.

He could use the beautiful eternal daylight, the peace far removed from the human world, perhaps even “a home,” to numb Salaar.

He could make the Hero fall amid pain and attachment. Once Myss had fastened the collar around Salaar’s neck, they could leave this place. It wouldn’t delay their pursuit of V.O.R at all.

Salaar buried his nose in Myss’s wet hair. His breath felt almost hot.

Myss’s eyes shifted. He moved slightly and gently rubbed Salaar’s earlobe.

“Forget it. Two more bites of bread don’t matter. We can…”

“We’ll have a feast later.” Salaar interrupted him. “Whatever you want to eat, I’ll make it for you.”

All this time, Salaar had never deliberately made things Myss disliked, but neither had he ever indulged his every whim. Anything abnormal had to have a reason behind it.

This time, Myss was the one to raise a brow.

“What? Are you planning to do something you’ll feel guilty about?”

“Yes. Something very much against my own wishes.” Salaar still had his face buried against Myss’s shoulder. He had never healed the marks on his body. The scratches across his back were still seeping blood.

“After we eat, we’ll sleep properly. We’ll sleep until we wake naturally. Then I’ll clean the room and lock the doors and windows. After that, we’ll leave here together and continue our journey.”

Tch. Myss’s fingers moved slightly.

Fair enough. The Salaar he knew wasn’t some character from a vulgar romance novel. He wouldn’t waver because of something as trivial as sex, much less allow himself to be trapped by an illusory dream.

Myss’s brilliant scheme vanished in an instant, yet he didn’t feel particularly frustrated by it. But leaving after a single night’s sleep? Wasn’t that a little too soon? He had not rested enough yet!

Myss frowned irritably and tugged hard at the golden hair. “Why are you in such a hurry? If you ask me, we should rest here for at least another week.”

“Because I’m the one being tempted. So I have to be the one who chooses to wake up,” Salaar said softly. “If the best memory between us turns out to be nothing more than a dream… That would be far too tragic.”

---

<<< || Table of Contents || >>>

Author: 年终 / Nian Zhong

Translator: Kinky || https://kinkytranslations.com/

---

Chapter 141: Ripples and Sunlight

Myss didn’t want to help.

He had no interest in that twisted lump of flesh, and the concept of “offspring” left him even more indifferent. If he hadn’t happened to end up inside a human body, even “reproductive behavior” would have meant absolutely nothing to him.

But what if he refused? Salaar had obviously already come up with some scheme. If Myss stubbornly refused, the Blind God would simply become “Salaar’s child,” then go on to become the inheritor of Salaar’s will. That sounded almost as special as being a “destined enemy.”

…Then it would be better if he were “their child,” Myss thought.

That way, he would get the satisfying feeling of having tainted the entire concept. There wouldn’t be such a direct one-to-one relationship between Salaar and Sogné.

“What do you need my help with?” Myss asked irritably.

“Use your magical blades, together with my healing ability, to reshape him into a human form.”

Salaar leaned close to Myss’s ear. “Remember, reshape him into a human form, not turn him into a human.”

Oh. Back in the rabbit hole, they had done something similar to the Prisoner of Dreams. But at the time, they had only removed the Abnormal Fruit from Roman’s body and reorganized his magic circuits. The Prisoner of Dreams’ divine body had already been humanoid, so Myss had never needed to consider cosmetic reconstruction.

From what Salaar meant, he wanted them to turn Sogné’s lump of flesh into something shaped like a human. Wasn’t that just deceiving oneself?

…Still, Myss had no intention of worrying about Sogné’s mental health.

He considered the feasibility for a while. “Simply changing his appearance will be difficult. I need to account for his magic circulation. Just like when we modified Roman, this guy’s magic circuits will need to be adjusted too…”

“You don’t need to worry about failure. I’m here. I can heal him at any time,” Salaar said.

In truth, Myss didn’t particularly care about failure. It made no difference to him whether Sogné lived or died; though if Sogné perished, the Secret Garden would simply come after them…so he might as well do it just to avoid trouble.

Myss diffused his pupils and began observing the flow of magic through that lump of flesh.

The Blind God had longed so desperately to be born that It had reached the point of grasping at anything. Only after Salaar explicitly pointed it out had the guy realized that It had already grown a “heart” and unknowingly been born into the world.

“So troublesome. What’s wrong with this form? Why insist on a useless human shape…”

Salaar smiled. “Because I understand his obsession.”

Fine. Myss had certainly witnessed Salaar’s obsession with “ending the Night Scourge.”

He flicked his hand. Pitch-black magic covered his fingers and extended outward into thin blades like scalpels.

The Blind God’s method of controlling dreams was quite impressive, at least far more realistic than Myss’s control magic. Since he had to operate anyway, he might as well take the opportunity to study it properly.

Keeping his pupils diffused, Myss pressed the black blade against the enormous embryo, directly over one of the faces that closely resembled Salaar.

Hm. Perhaps this would be more entertaining than he had expected.

The black blade sank into pale skin, but no blood seeped out. The incision split open like a smile, exposing something inside that resembled red cotton wool.

“I’m starting.”

Only after making the first wound did Myss leisurely speak.

The cut lay precisely along the boundary between two faces, at the position of a throat that didn’t actually exist. Even as the face resembling his own twisted apart, Salaar remained completely unmoved. He merely gathered a sphere of golden light.

“Begin,” he said softly. “Let him… be completely freed.”

……

At three in the morning, Myss withdrew his blades. He was drenched in sweat, looking as though he had just been fished out of water.

Even treating Roman hadn’t been this troublesome!

There was no Abnormal Fruit inside the Blind God, nor any Magibase. His magic circuits were countless times more complicated than Roman’s, making Myss’s vision repeatedly go dark from strain.

“How is it?” Salaar asked.

Myss shot him an irritated glance.

This time, Myss had unquestionably done all the heavy lifting. While blades flew everywhere on his side, Salaar could only provide healing when Myss requested it and use mental magic to remove whatever pain the Blind God might experience.

For the rest of the time, Salaar simply stared at Myss without blinking, lost in thought.

The floor was now piled with chunks of flesh radiating hot, bloody heat. The embryo remained suspended in midair, wrapped inside a membrane of flesh. Opaque, writhing meat enclosed it completely, giving it an elongated shape like a blood-red snake egg.

“It’s fine,” Myss grumbled. “He’ll be humanoid, damn it.”

“…I meant, how is his condition?” Salaar continued.

“Does he have anything inside him resembling a Magibase, or…”

Myss froze, frowned, and looked plainly annoyed, as though asking, Why should I tell you?

“I’m worried V.O.R may have tampered with him,” Salaar said concisely.

“Ugh, fine. No, they haven’t.”

Myss shook his head decisively. “His magic circuits are completely different from those people who use Magibases, and they’re also different from Roman’s circuits when he was parasitized by the Abnormal Fruit.”

“If I had to describe them, his magic circuits are relatively pure. They’re similar to yours, but not as powerful.”

After speaking, Myss clicked his tongue. “I mean, not as powerful as you were at your peak.”

In Myss’s memories, the Salaar who smiled while fighting him was still the strongest being he had ever seen since gaining consciousness.

…But the Blind God’s dream magic was quite impressive.

He had to admit, the tricks the Blind God had refined over three hundred years were simply cleaner and more elegant than the control magic Myss had invented on impulse, and considerably more effective.

Myss was already growing impatient. If dawn hadn’t been only three hours away, he would have started researching the Blind God’s magic immediately.

“I’m going to sleep for a while.” Myss yawned and rubbed his eyes. “Reshaping flesh is exhausting…”

Whoosh.

The instant he finished rubbing his eyes, he saw sunlight slanting across the floor at his feet.

He and Salaar had returned once again to the room called “home.” The only difference was that this time, Sogné was gone.

The door to Sogné’s room stood open, and the family portraits still covered the walls. A new sheet of paper lay on the dining table. On it was a family portrait of Myss and Salaar.

Salaar picked up the page and instinctively turned it over.

[Salaar and Myss:

Thank you for your help. Although I still need some time to adapt to my body, I can feel my limbs. In three hundred and twelve years, I have never felt this light.

I once misunderstood my mission. Now my long-held wish has been fulfilled. I will do everything in my power to assist Mr. Salaar and preserve the peace of the human world.

You may rest here as much as you like, until you decide to greet the next sunrise.

Also, I will wait patiently outside. Before the Eye-Opening Ceremony begins, I have something important to tell you, Mr. Salaar.]

The signature was only a single simple word: “Sogné.”

Myss’s mood immediately improved.

His nerves had been stretched tight for most of the night, and he had thought he would have to wait miserably for the Eye-Opening Ceremony.

Now everything was perfect. They could rest here as much as they wanted. 

Salaar’s fingers tightened slightly, creasing the paper.

Outside the window, the sky was a clear, transparent blue, and the sunlight was just right. Sogné had even restored Salaar’s original appearance directly. In the brightly lit room, his hair looked like solidified light.

Myss looked at Salaar’s silhouette, and some of his exhaustion and sleepiness abruptly faded.

The sunlight here was too bright, so bright that it seemed slightly unreal. Dust motes drifted slowly beside the bed. The air carried the scent of old wood and warm cotton and linen…

And the scent of Salaar himself.

The sweet tang of blood and bitter scent of sweat from not long ago seemed like things from another world.

Salaar standing before the sunlit window overlapped strangely with the Salaar from his memories who had stood before a window in darkness.

It was as though everything had already settled, and this was the ending.

But at that moment, Myss no longer had any interest in examining the finer details of the Blind God’s magic.

He had only one thought.

…This human belonged to him, he thought.

Without tentacles to use, Myss had no choice but to creep up behind Salaar and suddenly wrap both arms around his waist, filled with the satisfaction of having seized his spoils.

Unfortunately, Salaar was simply too tall. His shoulders and neck blocked Myss’s face, making the position rather awkward.

Myss adjusted himself several times before finally managing to get the large man properly wrapped in his arms.

Salaar set down the family portrait. “We don’t need to put on an act for Sogné anymore.”

Myss couldn’t quite identify the emotion in those words, but he was certain there was no rejection in them.

Salaar even relaxed and leaned back slightly. It was only a tiny movement, but Myss felt it.

He immediately buried his face deeper, breathing in the scent most familiar to him in the entire world. His breath slipped softly over Salaar’s skin.

“You said we were going to sleep early tonight.” Once Myss had sniffed enough, he opened his mouth and bit Salaar’s shoulder blade through the fabric.

“Even if we can’t verify anything anymore?” Salaar did not turn around.

“Even if things get worse.”

In his mind, Myss imagined a pitch-black sack, stuffing Salaar entirely inside it, then tying the mouth shut with a dead knot.

The thought of tempting Salaar into falling, making Salaar’s obsession spiral out of control, sent a burning anticipation crashing around inside his chest until his heart began beating faster.

Salaar turned around and stroked the top of Myss’s head.

“We need to take a bath,” he said.

Myss found the man completely unreasonable. “First, this is a damn dream. Second, you know that damn cleansing magic.”

Salaar: “Tomorrow is the Eye-Opening Ceremony. I need to conserve my magic.”

What a terrible excuse. You’ve already absorbed the power of an Abnormal Fruit. Who are you trying to fool?

Myss shot Salaar a disdainful look, silently expressing his protest.

Salaar met Myss’s glare with nonchalance. “If you wash properly, I’ll let you take the lead.”

As he spoke, he rubbed and kneaded the rim of Myss’s ear. “Or you can wait here by yourself, and later we can each rely on our own abilities… Even if we’re both working only from theory, I’ve seen hundreds or thousands of times more than you have…”

“…Besides, this dream was created according to our preferences. The bathroom looks the way you like it.”

Myss took a deep breath and compromised.

Sure enough, the bathroom was quite… remarkable.

It wasn’t large and was similarly built of wood, somewhat like a rural bathhouse in Ring Town. But it came equipped with the same luxurious bathtub as the Red Amber, large enough to hold three or four people, and beside it were the fruity fragrances Myss liked.

Myss jumped into the tub before Salaar, without the slightest awkwardness.

Salaar: “…”

“This is the curse of bathrooms,” Myss said solemnly. “Before you enter, it’s one thing. After you enter, it’s another.”

Salaar didn’t immediately remove his clothes, although the distinctive Crimson Marsh outfit didn’t contain much fabric to begin with. He sat on the edge of the bathtub with both legs submerged in the hot water and gathered Myss’s wet gray hair into his hands.

High on the bathroom wall was a small round window. Sunlight slanted through it and reflected directly across the water. Under the strong light, the strands in Salaar’s hands gave off a soft glow, like molten silver.

This was a dream world, and there was not a trace of dirt on them. Yet Salaar still gently washed and combed through the hair, the backs of his hands occasionally brushing Myss’s damp nape.

Salaar’s hands were warm.

Myss shifted position and moved closer. But doing so forced him to turn his back toward Salaar.

The surface of the water rippled, breaking the reflections apart, and he could no longer make out Salaar’s expression.

“You aren’t worried about the ‘Black Coffin’?” Salaar asked softly.

“I was watching the entire time. You didn’t leave any hidden measures inside Sogné.”

If Myss wanted to, he could deliberately have left his own magic inside Sogné’s magic circuits. Considering the dangerous nature of Myss’s magic, if they ever became enemies in the future, Sogné would certainly suffer for it.

Myss might not be particularly perceptive when it came to human relationships, but Salaar had never doubted his understanding of battle and power.

“Mmm…” Being washed felt so comfortable that Myss let out a long, languid hum. “Why would I worry about the ‘Black Coffin’?”

“True.” Salaar smiled faintly. “It’s only a small human struggle…”

“Because worrying is useless.” Myss casually tossed a clump of foam and hit Salaar on the nose. “Stop testing me. As if I don’t know you. Even if Sogné disappeared, there would definitely be some magical tool acting as a brain or magical storage device somewhere… What you preserve is pure information. There are plenty of ways to keep information from being lost.”

“And you aren’t the kind of narcissist who thinks ‘only I can save the world.’ If necessary, you wouldn’t mind releasing your memories to the entire human world. How could that possibly be lost?”

Having said that, Myss splashed idly at the water for a while.

The window cast a circular blue shadow across the surface, swaying back and forth like a pupil. Myss casually shattered it with his hand, then piled up a large mound of foam.

“…So.” After more than ten seconds of silence, Myss concluded, “I’m not going to suddenly try to kill Sogné. Relax. That brat isn’t even qualified to be my enemy.”

Salaar’s eyes crinkled into crescents. “You think that highly of me?”

Myss turned his head, intending to give a suitably imposing affirmation, but the instant he turned, his lips met something soft.

At some point, Salaar had slipped into the bathtub. His movements were silent and graceful, hardly disturbing the water at all. Myss was caught directly in his arms, and the bitter taste of foam mixed into the kiss.

The sound of sloshing water covered the sounds of their kissing. Myss abruptly realized that his territory in the water was shrinking at alarming speed. In the brief time their tongues tangled, his back struck the edge of the tub.

The rim was cold and hard. Annoyed, Myss raised both hands and tried to push Salaar away. Unfortunately, although the Hero Cushion was soft enough, Salaar himself was solid as stone and wouldn’t budge.

Two hands appeared against Myss’s back as well. Salaar’s fingers threaded through his wet gray-white hair and pressed firmly against his spine.

They were burning hot, made even more obvious by the contrast with the cold bathtub. Seeing that the Hero was about to pin him in completely, Myss suddenly realized something was off.

“You said I could take the lead…”

“Yes. After you finish bathing.” Salaar smiled. “But we haven’t finished bathing yet, have we?”

Myss: “…” This brat truly was shameless beyond measure.

He put on a stern expression and tried to slip away along the edge of the tub. Salaar caught his wrist in one hand and yanked him back.

Sunlight flashed across Myss’s vision. The hard sensation of the bathtub disappeared, and his back collided with Salaar’s chest.

Warm water supported Myss’s body while the soft Hero Cushion propped up his back. Sunbeams passed through the rising steam, making Myss narrow his eyes.

The fragrances Myss liked floated all around him, mingling with Salaar’s scent and giving him the illusion of being slightly drunk.

Salaar rested his chin on Myss’s shoulder again. “Do you really want to leave, Myss?”

His voice was soft, almost as though he were showing vulnerability. At the same time, his hands began moving with practiced familiarity.

Salaar’s touch was gentle, creating tiny sounds in the water like wind chimes. Myss slowly sucked in a breath, heat rising through his head in waves.

Letting Salaar attend to him first wouldn’t be so bad. He had been exhausted earlier and could use the chance to recover some strength… That was fine too…

After all, this was only a dream. None of this was real…

…Was it?

Myss’s increasingly sensitive senses told him that Salaar’s heartbeat had never been this fast before. Not when his blood had nearly run dry. Not when his tentacles were about to pierce his eye socket.

That heart had never lost control like this. It made Myss’s own heartbeat quicken in response.

Hot blood surged toward his head in wave after wave, as though this were some lethal confrontation. Salaar’s burning breath spilled across the back of Myss’s neck.

Myss couldn’t resist twisting around and biting Salaar again. His hair clung to Salaar’s body, brushing softly across him whenever Myss moved, like another kind of tentacle.

For the first time, Myss understood that killing intent could burn with this kind of thirst.

He didn’t know what Salaar meant by love. Myss only knew that at this moment, his instincts were screaming wildly.

Contaminate him.

Destroy him.

Devour him.

Make him fall forever into my darkness.

And Salaar’s love seemed every bit as sinister as his own.

Myss swallowed the fire in his throat and kissed Salaar again, as though that could lessen the burning thirst. Salaar’s movements grew rougher as well. Both hands gripped Myss’s waist tightly, leaving deep red marks behind.

At the unexpected feeling of intrusion, Myss instinctively tensed, several muffled sounds escaping his throat. Salaar’s movement abruptly faltered, and the room plunged into an eerie, deathly silence, brokenly only by the sound of their uncontrollable heartbeats.

Salaar planted a kiss, incredibly light, against Myss’s collarbone.

“Does it hurt?” he asked, his voice barely a whisper as if he was speaking to himself.

The sudden question stunned Myss. Salaar seemed to snap out of a trance at the same moment, and the two stared at each other with almost matching confusion.

Perhaps this dream was simply too unreal, or perhaps this place felt too much like a home… Myss had once believed that such a question would never exist between the two of them.

His fingertips sank into Salaar’s skin, his nails scraping out tiny beads of blood. For a moment, he could almost smell the battlefield again, filled with torn flesh and spraying blood.

“…How stupid.” After a long while, Myss finally found his voice again. He provocatively raised his chin, smiling with extraordinary arrogance. “To ask such a stupid question, the magnificent Lord Salaar… You’ve lost control… ngh!”

…That wasn’t what they had agreed on!

The previous two experiences had been good, so Myss had assumed there would be no pain. Who could have guessed that the ambush had been waiting for him here?

This time, there wasn’t the slightest hesitation in Salaar’s movements. Everything from moments before seemed like nothing more than an illusion.

Damn it. This really was a fight to the death.

Myss couldn’t break free of Salaar’s hands, so he bent down and viciously bit into Salaar’s shoulder. Blood seeped between his teeth, slid into the hot water, then was scattered and swallowed by the violently rocking surface.

Salaar made no move to heal the wound.

He even deliberately offered his shoulder to Myss’s teeth, as though encouraging him to leave more marks. Blooms of blood unfurled amidst the foam, while water continued to slosh out of the bathtub, spilling across the floor.

Before long, Myss no longer had the strength to keep biting. Instead, he wrapped his arms tightly around Salaar’s shoulders and neck, panting and coughing like someone drowning.

Myss strained his neck. All he could see was the swaying ceiling and the trembling ends of Salaar’s brilliant golden hair.

The pain changed into a different sensation… Something Myss didn’t quite understand.

The warm water around him seemed to boil, turning into soft flames. Tingling waves ran through Myss’s spine. His head grew even dizzier, and he had no choice but to free his mouth and gulp in air.

Once he recovered slightly, he would bite Salaar’s lips again, or his tongue. Spots of light danced wildly across the water like scales peeling away.

Contaminate him.

Destroy him.

Devour him.

Make him fall forever into my darkness.

Those thoughts gradually burned away until only the simplest repetition remained.

Possess him.

Possess him.

Possess him.

Make him belong to me forever.

Myss’s vision melted beneath the overly bright sunlight. He clung tightly to Salaar’s neck, licking at the wet wounds and tasting the sweetness of blood.

He couldn’t remember what he said. Perhaps he said nothing at all, only made meaningless sounds. Strangely, amid his own uncontrollable heartbeat and broken breathing, Salaar’s words were perfectly clear.

“Myss.” He kept calling his name, his voice hoarse as though scraped raw by sandpaper. “Myss, Myss…”

“You were right… I’ve never believed in anything like ‘only I can save the world’…”

When Myss could barely support his own body anymore, Salaar gently covered Myss’s ears and pressed a kiss over his heart.

All Myss could hear was the amplified rush of blood, the pounding of his heart like a drum, and the wet sound of kisses.

And mixed among them, a faint murmur —

“But if… if it’s possible…”

“You have to… You absolutely have to…”

His words were broken apart among fierce kisses, shattered like the sunlight on the surface of the water.

“…You absolutely have to die by my hand.”

---

The author has something to say:

At least the two of them finally got to eat some meat. Congratulations, congratulations. [dog head holding a rose]

---

Kinky Thoughts:

It seems these later works by Nian Zhong really push the boundaries of censorship. It feels like I’m reading something explicit but well written that it doesn’t seem like smut.

---

<<< || Table of Contents || >>>

Author: 年终 / Nian Zhong

Translator: Kinky || https://kinkytranslations.com/

---

Chapter 140: Mission and Mission

The memories that followed weren’t very different from what Myss remembered, but combined with Salaar’s own recollections, Myss noticed certain small details.

As time slowly passed and the survivors died off one by one from old age, the atmosphere in the settlement grew increasingly heavy.

Salaar, however, was the complete opposite. Whenever he faced Myss alone, the brat became livelier, more annoying with each passing day.

But when he returned to his companions, Salaar still retained the same demeanor as before: quiet, composed, and coldly impersonal.

He treated their injuries and illnesses and prepared bowls of steaming mushroom soup for them. He still patiently listened to the old people ramble, occasionally playing a song for them so they could remember sunlight from a past far too distant.

“Only a tiny fraction of them hate me. The rest are the ones with the strongest wills. I don’t want those upright people to know I’ve grown a ‘heart.’ I don’t want to increase their guilt.”

During one battle, Salaar spoke to the tentacle that had just sliced off his left leg. It was still stained with his blood, and he knew perfectly well that It couldn’t understand him.

Whenever Salaar spoke of having gained a “heart,” he would smile brilliantly, as though he had been born without the ability to feel pain.

Naturally, Myss understood none of it. It only saw that the lump of flesh was smiling annoyingly and making endless noises.

It tensed one tentacle and stabbed toward Salaar’s nose. Salaar barely dodged, losing only a few strands of hair.

“I know your attention toward me might exist only in my imagination, or perhaps it’s nothing more than the most basic instinct.”

“Even if you were only a plant that bloomed for me alone, I would still be… incredibly happy.”

In an empty room, Salaar leaned his elbows against the window and looked out over the tentacles covering the ground like capillaries.

“I’ll use the rest of my life to obtain the most valuable information possible for the human world. And I’m destined to die here, at your hands, without ever having to witness your death. Let me tell you a secret. I’ve never been this happy before.”

What would happen if you plucked a flower? What would happen if you erased a gust of wind? What would happen if you killed the only being in existence that had ever truly seen you?

Salaar calculated endlessly, day after day; yet in every single outcome, his odds of victory against the Chaos Archdemon remained zero.

It was a relief, in a way. He didn’t have to betray the human world nor would he have to stifle his own heart.

“…Right. I also need to research a method of extracting myself.” Salaar scratched his cheek. “I have emotions now, so I’ll have to strip the emotions out of my memories. Otherwise they’ll interfere with my successor.”

Then he smiled again and continued in a humming voice. “So this heart belongs only to me.”

Myss watched Salaar through the tiny window. It didn’t understand what the lump of flesh hoped to accomplish by stuffing itself into a little box. They both knew such a fragile box could be destroyed by one sweep of Its tentacles.

But in the end, It didn’t destroy it. Its consciousness had still been too hazy then. Perhaps It found the sight of a lump of flesh wedged into the opening of a box amusing… or perhaps It simply didn’t want to provoke this creature that could injure It.

…Whatever the reason, It merely watched in silence.

It watched Salaar secretly weave flowers from old strips of cloth and decorate the window with them. It watched Salaar repeatedly return to the center of the settlement to care for his dwindling companions. It watched him dig grave after grave and erect tombstone after tombstone.

Finally, the day came when the settlement fires went out completely.

That day, Salaar fought It for a very long time. Even after It broke every one of his limbs, even after Myss tried repeatedly to withdraw the tentacles that had been bent and battered, the battle still wouldn’t end.

By the end, Salaar’s clothes were completely soaked in blood. In Myss’s memories, that was the only time Salaar had ever attacked without restraint or concern for the consequences.

That day, the lump of flesh made very little noise.

“This is my coming-of-age ceremony.” In the end, Salaar said those words. “My homeland and my family have left me. From today onward, this life belongs to me alone.”

“When I leave you, will you remember…” Salaar never finished the sentence.

When the lump of flesh stopped making noise, Myss thought perhaps Salaar had malfunctioned too. After all, the other lumps of flesh always grew slower and quieter before being buried in holes.

But the next day, Salaar rummaged through the empty settlement and found a lute. A real lute, not one made from flesh.

Myss had initially mistaken it for some new kind of weapon, and in a way, the truth wasn’t far from it. When Salaar opened his mouth and started singing, Myss thought It was under psychic attack.

It furiously lashed Its tentacles around, trying to destroy the damned instrument. Salaar ran ahead, singing as he fled, laughing so hard he could barely breathe.

Myss had once thought that moment marked the ending of humanity’s harassment. In reality, it was the beginning of the long three hundred years between him and Salaar.

So Salaar remembered it that clearly.

And apparently… Myss did too.

Myss tightened his grip on the edge of the black coffin. By now, he had long since forgotten all about the Eye-Opening Ceremony and the Blind God. He no longer cared whether this was an illusion or a dream.

Only one pure, delighted thought remained. Salaar’s obsession with him was perhaps even deeper than he had imagined.

Myss didn’t know how to describe the feeling. It was like discovering a heavy fruit hanging from a branch, almost fully ripe.

He had no interest in waiting for the perfect moment to pick it. He no longer cared whether the fruit itself was poisonous. He only wanted to pluck it down, claim it for himself, and declare that it belonged to him.

He wanted to turn Salaar completely into his own, forcing that wretched creature to struggle desperately against his instincts. The mere thought made every hair on Myss’s body stand on end with excitement.

That would be the sweetest victory, the most glorious happiness..

Even if all of this was intentional guidance from Salaar, Myss didn’t care. Whatever Salaar’s purpose might be, if they were destined to fight to the death, then Myss was willing to take the risk.

Myss turned his gaze toward Salaar, who was still holding him tightly.

His heart had never beaten this fast. Blood rushed through his veins, filling his ears with a buzzing roar. He wanted to swallow Salaar whole, just so the man could become his possession sooner.

Salaar seemed to read his thoughts. He pushed himself upright and leaned his head toward Myss’s ear.

“Before this, you only ever thought about ‘annihilating’ me. You never seriously considered ‘conquering’ me, did you?”

His warm, damp breath brushed Myss’s ear. “Yes. I depend on you that much. I’m obsessed with you that much. Before I ever fell completely in love with you, I was already unable to exist without you.”

Myss grabbed Salaar’s hair, his breathing still ragged. 

“I know there’s a trap in this.” His scarlet eyes were astonishingly bright. “But I’m going to give it a very thorough try.”

Then he turned his head and bit the edge of Salaar’s ear. To Myss’s surprise, Salaar’s ear was burning hot. The heat startled Myss’s tongue, which recoiled from the heat.

Immediately afterward, the Archdemon felt an embarrassing loss of dignity. To restore his magnificent image as the one in control, Myss grabbed Salaar by the shoulder and found his lips.

He bit down on Salaar’s lower lip, not too hard and not too gently, tugging at it repeatedly as though tasting that imaginary fruit of victory.

Amid the tangle, Myss tasted the faint sweetness of blood. Salaar’s quickened breath spilled across his face.

Yes, exactly like this, Myss thought with a brain slowly boiling into mush.

He needed to tame this human, possess this human. He would turn the Hero Forgotten by humanity into something privately owned by Myss soon. This was sweeter than destroying Salaar and more scorching than killing him.

“Ahem.” From outside the illusion came an extremely deliberate cough. “Mr. Salaar, thank you for supplementing this information. However, our deal has not been established.”

Myss glared furiously toward the source of the voice. He had never found the Blind God so irritating.

Salaar didn’t answer immediately. Instead, he cupped Myss’s face and gave him a slow, tender kiss. The faint taste of blood dissolved between their lips and tongues, leaving only small, wet sounds amid their breathing.

Salaar’s kiss was long and tormentingly slow. Myss was forced to hold his breath until his head grew hazy. After several dozen seconds, he finally shoved Salaar away and gulped in air.

Salaar stroked Myss’s hair. Only then did he free his mouth and turn toward Sogné.

“Let me guess. After I left, the Celestial Canopy used the old method and entrusted all newly extracted memories to you.”

“According to the Celestial Canopy’s design, once you received ‘Black Coffin,’ you would be able to take human form, become ‘Salaar the Second,’ and replace me.”

Salaar bent down again and tightened his arms around Myss’s waist. It was difficult to tell whether he was restraining an enemy or marking his territory.

Myss was still dizzy from imagining his victory, so he generously allowed Salaar to hold him. He even let part of his weight rest against Salaar’s hands.

Sogné: “Yes.”

“The form of the ‘Blind God’ can extend my lifespan to its limit, but I cannot walk through the human world in this state. There was no news of you for a long time, and Black Coffin was never inherited. The situation outside became strange. I had to be born as quickly as possible. 

“But one day, the Celestial Canopy suddenly went quiet. I could only search for a method myself.”

Myss looked at Salaar, then toward the disembodied voice of Sogné, unable to understand what the Hero was trying to do.

He could understand why Salaar had shown Sogné the memories from inside the seal. That could at least count as an extraction with the emotions removed. If Salaar died, what had happened inside the seal would not be lost.

But what did any of this have to do with “birth” This wasn’t what the Blind God wanted, was it?

“So you began studying me. Imitating me.”

“You cared for the survivors of the Crimson Marsh, helped humans establish cities, kept them away from disaster, and behaved like ‘Saint Salaar.’” Salaar spoke softly. “At the same time, you knew I had been created by the Celestial Canopy and raised by humans. So you searched for exceptional young people, made them fall in love, and disguised yourself as the child they never had.”

“That way, you could study the process of human embryonic development and be raised by exceptional humans.”

“That doesn’t sound right,” Myss blurted out instinctively. “Then why did he try so many times? Shouldn’t he have succeeded long ago?”

Mariana had been a genius, but she hadn’t even been willing to admit Salaar was her child. Myss couldn’t see what was so difficult about imitating that. Compared with Mariana’s treatment of Salaar, Myss himself was more like Sogné’s mother.

Sogné strongly agreed. “Although I lacked knowledge relating to the Night Scourge, I came to understand enough humans, and the memories I accumulated were no fewer than those contained within the Black Coffin. I watched human embryos form more than a hundred times. I received more than a century of human upbringing within dreams. I clearly satisfied as many conditions as possible, yet I was never able to truly be born.”

“I thought I must be missing something important.”

Salaar smiled, but this time it wasn’t bright or cheerful; instead, it held a note of bitterness.

“No. You have something important that you shouldn’t have.”

Sogné didn’t respond. Everything around them returned to darkness and silence.

“Given Lady Mariana’s meticulous nature, the birth spell must include an emotional check to ensure that my successor has ‘no heart.’ After all, if one inherits the Black Coffin recklessly, a ‘human heart’ would collapse under it.”

Salaar’s voice was barely a whisper.

“Unfortunately, you and I are the same.”

“We’ve both lived too long that we’ve grown a heart of our own. Forget three hundred years, even if the Eye-Opening Ceremony continued for another three thousand years, you could never become a second ‘me’.”

The air seemed to freeze and the darkness shuddered violently.

The illusion created by Salaar shattered and the Black Coffin vanished. They were back in that bizarre home, the endless daylight outside still glaringly bright.

Sogné sat blankly beside the table, his distorted face revealed little emotion. One hand rested over his heart, as if wanting to say something, yet unable to utter a word.

If Myss absolutely had to describe it, the twisted creature looked… Aggrieved.

“Impossible…” Sogné spoke as though sleepwalking. “Every time I understood humanity a little more deeply, my body changed. You both saw it. I thought…”

“I thought I was succeeding…”

“Yes. We saw. It weakened the dream and weakened your disguise.” Salaar sighed. “But that wasn’t the Celestial Canopy’s magic approving of you. It was a warning.”

“The more you try to understand humanity, the farther you move from ‘birth.’ The Celestial Canopy doesn’t need a gentle, compassionate god. It only needed an absolutely rational leader.”

Myss suddenly understood. He looked at Sogné’s distorted face and callously let out a mocking laugh.

“I get it. The Celestial Canopy wanted you to keep sleeping exactly as you were until Salaar finally dropped dead.”

“But you thought you couldn’t open your eyes because you were blind, so you kept trying to force your eyelids open… The name Blind God really does suit you.”

Sogné looked at Myss in confusion. There was none of the hostility Myss had expected in his gaze.

Only then did Myss realize that Salaar had omitted the most crucial information from his memories. Sogné only knew what had happened inside the seal. He had no idea who Myss really was.

Even now, Sogné probably still thought Myss was one of Salaar’s companions.

A malicious grin spread across Myss’s face. “Do you know that I’m actually—ugh!”

Salaar tightened his arms and squeezed the breath out of Myss, preventing him from finishing.

“…But.” At the same time, Salaar turned toward the distorted Sogné. “You never needed to become ‘me’ in the first place. You saved the human world. You learned to understand it. You have your own thoughts, your own joys and sorrows. You are the Blind God of the Secret Garden. You even have your own name.”

“…You were born a long time ago, Sogné.”

The darkness began trembling again.

The false daylight vanished and the nonexistent candlelight flickered out. The crude little home broke apart before Myss’s eyes. Among the fragments flying through the air, Sogné’s bedroom was the last thing to disappear. And as the walls crumbled, they both saw it—

Every wall of the tiny room was covered in crude family portraits.

The sheets of paper that had never existed in reality drifted lightly into the air, revealing childish writing on their backs.

[Aikin and Belinda. Two years and six months. Aikin taught me many woodworking techniques. Belinda sings beautifully. They would make wonderful parents…]

[Scarlet and Hahn. One year and four months. Hahn is the most attentive human I have ever met. Scarlet has astonishing talent in mathematics… Scarlet misses her parents very much, so I let them wake up. There is still no progress toward my birth, but that is not their fault…]

[…]

An unfinished drawing drifted down beside Myss’s feet.

On it were Myss, Salaar, and Sogné. The Sogné they had encountered when they first entered, the one who looked almost entirely human.

[Salaar and Myss]

Only the beginning had been written on the back. There hadn’t yet been time to continue. The handwriting wasn’t particularly beautiful, but it was full of anticipation, almost as though the letters themselves were dancing.

The drawing slowly vanished beneath Myss’s feet. Behind the shattered dream, the true Sogné was revealed. He looked exactly like the “successor” from Salaar’s memories.

He hid most of his body within the darkness, revealing only an embryonic outline and one or two distorted faces resembling Salaar. Only then did Myss realize that he and Salaar were lying just inside the doorway of this room.

The room was roughly the same size as their “home”, but it was more dilapidated and darker. There were no windows anywhere, much less eternal daylight. Only tightly sealed stone walls surrounded them.

“…Stop crying,” Salaar said.

Myss turned his head in confusion. He even checked his own eyes before realizing that Sogné, or rather the Blind God, was crying.

Tears seeped from those lapis-lazuli eyes. Perhaps because of his abnormal body, they couldn’t fall. They remained as a thin film of moisture instead.

The twisted monster made no sound at all. If Salaar hadn’t pointed it out, Myss would never have realized those were tears.

“I understand. You, too, have a ‘mission’ that feels like an instinct.”

Salaar stood up and casually helped Myss to his feet. “My mission is to end the Night Scourge. And your mission—your former mission—was to be successfully born and become ‘Salaar.’”

“But you never inherited the Black Coffin. You still helped the human world using your own methods. Even without a human form, you continued guiding Mondicia, one-third of all humanity in this world.”

“But… my mission…” The grotesque embryo emitted a buzzing sound, like countless mouths speaking at once.

“Yes. Our destinies.” Salaar cast a meaningful glance at Myss. “If you truly cannot let go of your mission to be born, then change the method. Embrace it.”

What did that mean?

Myss immediately became alert, his entire body tensing.

He could barely tolerate Salaar showing Sogné the memories from the seal. But if Salaar dared hand over his mission to “end the Night Scourge,” Myss might as well kill Sogné immediately.

“—Become our child,” Salaar said. “That would still make you ‘Salaar’s successor,’ wouldn’t it?”

Sogné: “?”

Myss: “…???”

Salaar smiled and patted Myss on the back, nearly knocking the bread loose from Myss’s chest.

“Next, I’ll need your help, Mo~mmy.”

---

The author has something to say:

Myss: ???

Myss: ???????????

---

Kinky Thoughts:

LMAO. They hadn’t even done it yet but already are parents.

---

<<< || Table of Contents || >>>

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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<<< || Table of Contents || >>>

Author: 年终 / Nian Zhong

Translator: Kinky || https://kinkytranslations.com/

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Chapter 138: The First Glimpse

The cage elevator started moving, rumbling as it plunged downward.

Salaar didn’t wait for the young man’s answer, nor did he even look at his expression. He simply descended alone, falling toward the deepest abyss of the darkness.

There was no firelight in the shaft. The black coffin seemed to dissolve into the shadows.

Salaar’s arms were still tightly wrapped around Myss’s waist, and the Hero still had his face buried against Myss’s abdomen, breathing slowly and steadily.

Salaar had been created.

Myss discovered that he wasn’t particularly surprised by this revelation.

During the Night Scourge, alchemy had been highly advanced. There had been all manner of bizarre alchemical lifeforms, and the Celestial Canopy so-called “Divine Blood Puppets,” which the Stargazers Society had reconstructed from its remnants…

In that case, an alchemical lifeform identical in appearance to a human wasn’t especially strange.

Myss unconsciously stroked Salaar’s hair. It was warm and slightly coarse.

It was ironic, really. They had fought inside the seal for more than three hundred years, and all Myss had ever thought about was how to stab that damned human full of holes. Not once had he ever touched Salaar’s hair.

There was no question about it. Salaar was showing him everything.

Probably because the Blind God was deeply connected to the Celestial Canopy. At this rate, Salaar wouldn’t be able to hide it from him anyway, Myss thought.

Better to rip the bandage away all at once and explain everything clearly.

And Salaar wanted to tell him something… But what?

Myss concentrated and watched the phantom of the past.

Salaar finally reached his destination. Inside and outside the cage, there was nothing but pure darkness, almost identical to the environment within the seal.

A brilliant golden orb of light ignited and obediently floated beside Salaar. Yet even though it was so bright, it couldn’t pierce the swamp-thick, oppressive darkness. Myss could only see the dark-brown soil beneath Salaar’s feet. In every other direction, there was no distinction at all.

Salaar walked unwaveringly toward a particular direction. Myss had no idea how he knew the way. Earlier, he had still been able to sense faint magical fluctuations, but here there was nothing at all. It was like a void.

Salaar walked for quite some time before he came to a halt. The golden light continued forward on its own and illuminated what lay ahead.

Myss widened his eyes. His hand, which had been idly playing with Salaar’s head, went still.

He saw lapis lazuli blue.

More precisely, he saw more than a hundred pairs of lapis-lazuli eyes. They varied in size and were embedded in incomplete human faces.

Countless faces had fused together, their pale skin connecting into a mass that faintly outlined the shape of a human embryo.

Every face covering the thing’s surface… Every single one looked exactly like Salaar.

The “embryo” floated in midair and was even larger than the adult Salaar standing before it.

The lapis-lazuli eyes across its surface blinked irregularly. The golden radiance made them narrow in discomfort. But every black pupil was undoubtedly directed toward Salaar.

Those eyes weren’t very different from the two on Salaar’s own face. They were just as cold, like exquisite glasswork.

“I’m going to leave, my…” Salaar paused slightly before continuing. “My successor.”

The embryo remained silent.

More magical devices floated around it. Countless tubes disappeared into the darkness, producing an inorganic humming sound.

“According to our current projections, I will have only one ending. I will be destroyed by the source of Chaos. Before that happens, I will buy as much time as possible.”

“The moment I am destroyed, you will inherit my mission and be born into this world. Before leaving, I thought it necessary to see you once.”

Salaar’s tone sounded less like conversation and more like speaking to himself.

He gazed intently into the countless eyes covering the embryo, as though trying to find something within them.

But in the end, he found nothing.

“…I’m not dead yet, so I can’t give you the most complete version of my memories. I’ll copy everything I remember up to this point and leave it with you as an advance reference.”

He spoke calmly and placed one hand against the floating embryo.

The instant Salaar touched it, countless specks of brilliant gold exploded outward. Like ten thousand sparks, the golden fragments ignited the darkness.

In an instant, a chaotic whirlwind began to turn through the near-void. For a moment, Myss felt as though he had returned to the instant when they first entered the Fallen Child’s Divine Realm.

Only this time, the memories filling the darkness didn’t belong to the mother of Rosha, but to Salaar himself.

The earliest memory was darkness.

“It’s too late. Our research is falling far behind the rate at which the Night Scourge is worsening. Even if every country sets aside its grudges and cooperates, we can’t increase efficiency any further…”

A middle-aged man spoke in frustration.

“The effects of the Night Scourge are simply too vast, and the information is too scattered. Our observers can’t record every detail, and there’s always a loss of information in communication.”

“Never mind how difficult cooperation with other countries is. Even within the Celestial Canopy, coordination across departments and regions is nearly impossible…”

“Perhaps all we can do is accumulate as much information as possible. Maybe future generations will be able to use it.”

A younger woman tried to comfort him.

“I heard the Nebula family is researching a magical ‘brain’ that can organize and summarize all that information.”

“If we had several hundred more years to perfect it, perhaps.”

Another dry voice cut in.

“Enough. Stop lying to yourselves. More and more people are changing directions and preparing to compromise with the Night Scourge. We lose researchers every day.”

“I’ve seen the Nebula family’s magical ‘brain’ too. It’s decent at storing information, but if you actually ask it to ‘think,’ it can’t even tell an apple from a pear.”

The middle-aged man said, “Yes. Human thought is irreplaceable. Unfortunately, a single person has far too little time to learn… Wait.”

“Tell me. If we poured all of our observations, knowledge, and experience into a single genius, might that give us a better solution?”

……

Darkness, an even longer stretch of darkness.

“No.”

This time, the middle-aged man’s voice was gone; it was the younger woman who spoke.

“He’s gone mad… I should have realized it. Pouring so many people’s memories into one mind all at once was bound to cause a mental breakdown, even if he was the strongest among us…”

“Hah. I warned him long ago.”

The dry voice gave a bitter laugh.

“Well, now the Celestial Canopy has lost another genius. He’s nothing but a heap of insane fragments now. He doesn’t even know who he is, much less how to find a solution…”

“Still, compared with simply surrendering, the method is theoretically viable. During the brief periods when he was barely lucid, he did produce several extremely useful new ideas.”

The young woman’s voice was slightly hoarse.

“We can try stripping the emotions out of the memories and attempting it again. This time, I’ll do it.”

“…”

The dry voice remained silent for a while before releasing a long sigh.

“Let me do it instead. You’re still young, Mariana.”

“I’m already old, and my mind isn’t sharp enough anymore. You’re still young. As long as the young don’t give up, there is still hope.”

……

This time, the darkness lasted even longer.

So long that Myss began to wonder whether his own perception had malfunctioned.

“…”

“…I’m sorry.” Mariana spoke softly. “Even memories without emotion still destabilize an established personality… You remained lucid only slightly longer than he did…”

“Never mind the countless scenes of carnage and horrific recollections, just the details mixed into those memories, the conflicting habits of life… even something as trivial as whether a person eats fish can disrupt someone.”

“We aren’t as strong as we imagined…”

There was no response.

It was difficult to tell whether this was a conversation or simply someone muttering to themselves.

Myss more or less understood the Celestial Canopy desperation.

The situation was deteriorating rapidly. Humanity was running itself ragged. The Celestial Canopy had tried to create an omniscient sage to face the approaching end of the world.

Magical devices and machines could bear unlimited information, but they were astonishingly stupid, and humanity had no time to improve them. Human thought and inspiration were relatively useful, but the human mind couldn’t withstand a vast flood of information.

It would only break apart into madness. At first glance, the problem truly seemed unsolvable. And yet the “answer” was currently lying across Myss’s lap, breathing softly.

The woman named Mariana remained silent in the darkness for a long time.

“But if there is no ‘heart’ to begin with, then there is nothing to collapse.” At last, she murmured those words. “Yes. Yes. The technology for alchemical lifeforms is mature enough. We only need to construct a ‘homunculus’…”

“An ordinary human body is too fragile. If we add a large amount of Night Scourge essence, it will possess extremely high resistance to the Night Scourge…”

“Then we give it everyone’s memories and experience.”

“It will become a one-of-a-kind ‘Hero’… Ha!”

Mariana’s voice suddenly grew excited.

“I’ve thought of a brilliant idea. Can you hear me?”

“The Celestial Canopy already has every material we need. We only lack a fetus with no memories!”

“There are so many stillborn infants these days. Someone will certainly be willing to donate one…”

Her voice grew quieter and quieter before ending in a sigh.

“…No matter what, I will not allow the apocalypse come to pass.”

Her tone was utterly resolute, accompanied by the faint rustling of fabric. “I will let my child see the sunlight.”

“Do you hear me?”

……

The darkness finally disappeared.

Through blurred vision, Myss and the newborn “Salaar” saw Mariana’s face together.

Her features were fairly proper, and she possessed lapis-lazuli eyes identical to Salaar’s.

Whether because of the Night Scourge or simply because of her emotional state, even Myss, who wasn’t sensitive to human ages, felt that the woman looked much older than she actually was.

Her cheeks were hollow from thinness, and her skin was covered in an unhealthy waxy yellow pallor.

Within the memory, she placed a swaddled infant onto a cushioned seat.

The baby neither cried nor fussed. He simply looked at her in silence, both little hands rested on his knees. His face showed none of the joy, anger, sadness, or pleasure that a human infant should possess.

“…Salaar.” After a long while, she spoke. “From today onward, your name is ‘Salaar.’”

“You previously called ‘me’ Selene,” the infant said in a childish voice.

His tone, however, was extremely close to that of an adult. Myss keenly noticed the hairs on Mariana’s arms rise for an instant.

“That’s not your name. It was the name of my dead child. You’re not him.” Mariana’s voice was dry.

“I’ll remember,” Salaar said calmly.

“From now on, I’ll be responsible for your daily care and education. Your body is still too… fragile.” Mariana took several deep breaths. “In the future, you will need to absorb new memory information at regular intervals and devote yourself entirely to researching a solution to the Night Scourge.”

“Remember this above all else: everything is for ending the Night Scourge.”

“I understand my mission,” Salaar said. “I have only one question. How should I address you?”

“According to ordinary human logic, I should call you ‘Mo—’”

“Madam. Or Lady Mariana.” Mariana forced a smile. “The amount of Night Scourge source used to create you far exceeds the contribution from an infant’s body.”

“According to ordinary human logic, the source of the Night Scourge is closer to being your ‘mother’ than I am.”

“Understood, Madam,” Salaar said, sounding completely unmoved.

Myss: “…?”

Myss lowered his head and looked at the adult Salaar still holding him. Goosebumps slowly rose across his skin.

“Don’t worry. I never thought of it that way.” Salaar spoke for the first time, and he even sounded like he was suppressing laughter. “Even then, I knew she only said that because she wanted to reject me tactfully.”

Myss thought for a moment. “Then do you consider yourself human?”

If Salaar wasn’t even human, Myss truly couldn’t understand where his obsession with “everything is for ending the Night Scourge” had come from.

If he could persuade Salaar to fall, that might count as a victory of its own…

Salaar didn’t answer; the shifting memory answered for him.

……

A teenage Salaar sat beneath the sunlight, writing and calculating on parchment.

“The observers in Atla have withdrawn eight hundred people and transferred them to the vicinity of the Crimson Marsh in Mondicia.”

He continued calculating without pausing his pen.

“We need to build a large stronghold in Mondicia.”

Mariana carried over a plate of cakes and gently placed it beside Salaar’s hand. “Why?”

“Even after incorporating a large quantity of Night Scourge source, my essential nature is still human.” Salaar didn’t look at her. “I will age and die or perhaps die unexpectedly.”

“More importantly, according to our current information, the probability that our generation alone can eradicate the Night Scourge is extremely low.”

Mariana smoothed her hair. Several white strands at her temples were especially conspicuous.

“What are you thinking?”

“Stop concentrating all memories in me.”

“Imagine that we reconstruct a mental magical device and use it to back up all memory information.”

Salaar continued, “It would be simple and independent. It wouldn’t need to rely on me for its existence. That way, after I die, a ‘replacement’ can inherit it directly and continue fighting the Night Scourge.”

“Like the Nebula family’s magical brain,” Mariana said in understanding.

“No. A physical object is too easy to destroy. If something happens to the Celestial Canopy, there’s a risk that the inheritance of knowledge will be lost.”

Salaar finally raised his head.

“I intend to turn it into pure magic.”

“I will anchor a powerful mental spell within my body. At the instant of my death, it will automatically extract all the knowledge I possess and transfer it to a designated target.”

Mariana understood. “Mondicia’s environment is the most suitable for hiding living things. You want a successor.”

“Yes. The closer its physical nature is to mine, the better.”

Mariana remained silent for a long time. “You’re not purely human. It’ll be difficult for you to have descendants. I—”

“There’s no need.” Salaar’s tone was indifferent. “You may use my flesh however you like. Even a lump of meat would be acceptable. A group of monsters might be better. As long as they possess thought and can survive for a long time…”

“…And most importantly, like me, they must have no ‘heart.’”

Mariana: “A name?”

“I’ll not name my successor…”

“No. The name of the spell,” Mariana said softly. “I need to enter it into the records.”

Salaar thought for a long time.

“Black Coffin.” He said, “Just as those who entrusted their deaths to me, I’ll pass everything I possess onward in the same way.”

“Even if the Celestial Canopy fails and everything is buried in darkness, as long as the spell doesn’t disappear, there will come a day when all of this sees the light again.”

Mariana’s movements paused slightly. Her eyes lifted almost imperceptibly. She seemed as though she wanted to ask something, but in the end, she said nothing.

Myss immediately lowered his gaze and stared fixedly at the back of Salaar’s head.

So that was it. No wonder Salaar had shown him all this. He had been waiting for this moment.

Even if Salaar died, his memories and experience, together with all the other memories he carried, would be passed on to his successor.

And that damned successor would rise again and continue harassing Myss. Even if there were no successor, Salaar had hidden those memories inside a spell, waiting for some other human to discover them.

Unless the entire world was destroyed, Myss truly had no way to stop it.

“You showed me all this just to annoy me? To tell me that even after you die, your ghost will keep haunting me?”

Even though he knew Salaar couldn’t see his face, Myss still bared his teeth. The muscles of his abdomen tightened with irritation.

Salaar’s body moved twice, as though he were laughing. 

“That was only one of my goals.” Salaar’s voice was muffled. “Unfortunately, it isn’t the most important one.”

“What did you say—”

“Shh. We’re almost at the end.” Salaar tightened his embrace. “Be patient. Finish watching.”

Myss tried to peel the person clinging to him away. Unfortunately, Salaar was much stronger than his size suggested. After struggling for quite a while, Myss gave up.

“Isn’t it already over?” he asked irritably.

Before them, the golden light had already faded. Salaar stood opposite the malformed embryo. It seemed he had only wanted to entrust the necessary information to his “successor” before leaving.

Salaar shook his head.

“Now I’m going to add the part that happened after I left.” There was laughter in his voice. “…The most important part, and the answer the Blind God wants most.”

The moment Salaar finished speaking, everything returned to pure darkness.

This time, Myss recognized the place. It was the seal where they had been trapped. The ground beneath Salaar’s feet wasn’t dark-brown soil but cold, dark gravel.

Salaar wore battered armor and stood among crooked gravestones. Faint firelight glimmered not far away. Clearly, many of Salaar’s companions were still alive.

It looked like an utterly ordinary day.

Myss frowned.

…No, this wasn’t right. This wasn’t an “utterly ordinary” day.

The number of gravestones. The distribution of the firelight. The damage on the armor… He remembered them all.

That was the day He has first laid eyes on Salaar.

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