Author: 年终 / Nian Zhong

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

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Chapter 137: This Is Normal

Throughout the entire journey, Myss hadn’t had the slightest clue what the Blind God’s motive might be. It was one thing for him not to understand the human world, but even the experienced Dragon Fae had failed to come up with a reliable theory.

And yet Salaar had somehow just… figured it out?

Fine. That brat Salaar was definitely hiding something from him. Myss ground his teeth and patiently let Salaar continue.

“…You have to make a deal with me.”

Salaar’s voice was clear and solemn, even though both his arms were still wrapped tightly around Myss’s waist.

Myss snorted disdainfully. Never mind whether Sogné really counted as the Blind God itself. Even if he did, why would he make a deal with some stranger like Salaar who had dropped out of nowhere…

“All right.” Sogné’s voice came from outside the door. “I never expected that the one I chose would actually be you, Lord Salaar.”

Myss jolted in shock, but Salaar’s arms were locked around his waist, preventing him from standing.

“You two know each other?” Myss grabbed Salaar’s golden hair and sucked in a breath. “According to our contract, you have to—”

“This has nothing to do with our body swap, so I didn’t tell you immediately. Strictly speaking, I haven’t violated the contract.”

Salaar showed no intention of opening the door. Instead, he buried his face back against Myss’s stomach.

Myss could feel his breathing growing slightly rapid.

Salaar seemed nervous.

“How were you planning to tell me?” Sogné asked in his usual tone. “If you intended to use the old method, then I—”

“We’re already inside a dream. What old method is there to talk about?” Salaar said. “Since you’ve already constructed a space like this, you might as well let me borrow it.”

Sogné: “Very well. Then I’ll wake Mommy up first.”

With that, he suddenly laughed.

“Fortunately, he said that the two of you aren’t truly in love. Otherwise, it would be rather inappropriate for me to call you ‘Daddy and Mommy.’ After all, strictly speaking, we are all—”

Salaar cut him off directly. “There’s no need to make him leave.”

“If something has to be shown, then compared with you, I actually want him to see it more.”

See what?

The two of them kept speaking back and forth in riddles. Myss threw his plan to sleep with Salaar completely out of his mind. All that remained in his head was pure curiosity.

The next instant, the entire space trembled.

A strange magical fluctuation passed through the door, circled Salaar once, then vanished immediately. Myss vaguely sensed that something invisible had been transferred into Salaar’s hands.

Before he could ask Salaar to confirm, the surroundings abruptly changed. The edge of the bed beneath Myss became a bench inside a black wooden boat. Salaar was still holding him in exactly the same position.

But the vessel’s shape was extremely strange. It was too narrow and too twisted. Myss lowered his head and narrowed his eyes.

Only then did he realize that what he was riding wasn’t a boat at all. It was an open black coffin.

The coffin-boat floated through the air. The honey-sweet atmosphere vanished completely, leaving only cold light like an icy river. Myss looked around but saw no sign of Sogné.

Still, since the “Blind God” was close by, it should be able to see these images.

Myss’s gaze quickly settled on a particular figure. Now he could finally be certain. This darkness belonged to Salaar’s memories.

Because at the center of the narrow, dim room, Myss saw Salaar—another Salaar.

It was a Salaar who felt unfamiliar to him, identical to the portrait hanging in the Karnes family hall.

This Salaar wore no smile at all. He looked exactly like a statue that happened to breathe.

“Lord Salaar.” A blue-eyed young man approached and bowed his head. “You came here personally. Is there something you require?”

The color of his eyes was somewhat similar to lapis lazuli, though not as deep as Salaar’s. Sweat covered his forehead. A small red blister sat at the corner of his mouth, and there were two tiny scars on one ear.

He carried a palpable, earthy vitality. By comparison, Salaar looked perfect and cold.

“I only came to inspect ‘Its’ condition,” Salaar said in an extraordinarily flat tone. 

“Please don’t worry. After you leave, we will take excellent care of ‘It.’” The young man lowered his head. “Please follow me.”

“Procott!”

Before the young man had finished speaking, a shout suddenly came from the corner.

“Procott, my son, I know you can hear me!”

An old man with reddened eyes rushed forward and blocked their way.

His hair was tangled and dry, sticky discharge crusted around his eyes, and he reeked of vinegar and alcohol—a stench strong enough that even from their distance, Myss could smell it.

The young man instinctively looked toward Salaar. Then, as though suddenly waking from a dream, he stepped forward and embraced the old man.

“Mr. Marsh, Mr. Marsh, please calm down.”

“Your son, Procott Marsh, has already passed away. He was a good young man. We all miss him deeply. He was our finest data-calculation specialist…”

“No. He isn’t dead.” The old man’s lips trembled violently, spit spraying from his mouth. “My child, my child. He loved studying these things from the time he was little. He wasn’t even thirty-two, but he had already worked here for sixteen years.”

“He calculated day and night, and whenever he had time, he wrote letters to us…”

“He’s right there! He’s right there! His soul is still there…”

The old man raised one withered hand, pointing a trembling finger directly at Salaar. His gaze was unfocused, and his dilated pupils were filled with pain.

The young man grew anxious. “Mr. Marsh! You know that we only extract memories. Procott is gone. You—”

“‘I’m writing to you during work hours again, Father.’”

Salaar suddenly spoke.

“‘The pickled roots you sent me are very refreshing. Thank you. Next time, remember to add more salt. That way I can savor them more slowly.’”

“‘I hope the next time the Night Scourge comes, we can be trapped inside the same refuge. No, perhaps I should say that your remarkable son will discover some extraordinary formula and completely unravel the secret of the Night Scourge.’”

“Love you, Dad. Take good care of my younger brother and sister.”

The old man opened his mouth. A dry, rasping sound came from his throat. Yet his eyes were overflowing with moisture and cloudy tears rolled down through the wrinkles of his face.

“My son…”

“This was the last letter he wrote to you. He never had the chance to send it.” Salaar’s expression remained impassive. “If there is anything else you need, please say so.”

The tears seemed to wash away part of the old man’s madness. He sobbed for a while, then raised his reddened eyes.

“I know you’re about to go… You’re going to seek out that chaos. You’re destined never to return.”

“I know it’s shameless of me to ask for anything more. I only want to see Procott one last time…”

Salaar didn’t answer. He merely rolled up the sleeve of his left arm. Strings of flesh slowly formed. Salaar moved his fingertips lightly, and a faint magical fluctuation spread along with the soft sound.

The aura was extremely weak, almost imperceptible. To Myss, it didn’t even qualify as a “magical fluctuation.” Forget ordinary humans. Even Myss would have struggled to notice it.

Yet the instant the strings were plucked, the old man let out a wail. Like an old beast catching the scent of its cub, he suddenly opened his eyes wide and stared greedily at the empty space before Salaar.

His withered arms shook violently before reaching desperately toward it, trying to embrace someone who didn’t exist there.

Myss continued staring at Salaar. From beginning to end, Salaar’s face showed almost no expression. Only when his fingertips left the strings of flesh did that hand pause briefly in midair before slowly lowering.

“Lord Salaar.” The young man awkwardly stepped back twice. “There is no need to indulge them this way. Some people are stubborn by nature. They may end up doing something rash.”

“The dead are dead. You’re not them. You are simply…” The young man faltered mid-sentence.

He seemed to want to say, You are simply yourself, but wasn’t entirely certain whether that statement was appropriate.

“I’m already preparing to leave,” Salaar said, apparently noticing his awkwardness and finishing the conversation for him.

Only then did the young man sigh in relief. The two walked around the old man, who had collapsed to the floor sobbing uncontrollably, and left.

The black coffin floated through the air, following the current and keeping close behind Salaar.

The young man guided Salaar toward a mechanical lift suspended from chains. The lift swayed in midair and looked, at first glance, like an enormous birdcage.

“With my clearance level, I can only escort you this far. Just press the button for the lowest floor. We’ve stored ‘It’ over there.”

“Goodbye, Lord Salaar.”

After speaking, however, he didn’t leave immediately.

The young man’s blue eyes shifted uneasily and sweat gathered even more densely across his forehead.

Salaar paused before entering the lift but didn’t turn around. “…Do you also have someone from the past you wish to ‘meet’?”

“S-since you were willing to help old Mr. Marsh…” The young man stammered, a trace of guilt in his voice. “I only wanted to know more about that remarkable woman, Lady Mariana, who raised you.”

“You know she was my aunt. She spent all that time caring for you, but I barely had any contact with her…”

Oh. Salaar would surely play another song for him, Myss thought.

But before his eyes, Salaar took one step forward and entered the cage-like lift.

“Lady Mariana was only an ordinary human.”

Through the cold metal bars, Salaar turned around and faced the nervous young man. The shadows of the bars crossed his face, making his features look slightly distorted.

“In fact, fundamentally speaking, she was no different from Mr. Marsh or from you.”

“Impossible!” The young man’s voice shot upward, as though Salaar had uttered something blasphemous. “Lady Mariana respected you so much! She strictly forbade anyone from chasing the shadows of the dead in you. If she were still alive, Marsh would never have dared do something like that!”

“She was far stronger than the rest of us. She respected you so much, even though she knew perfectly well that you actually—”

“I know. She was responsible for raising me, and all of you regarded her as my caretaker. I, too, once believed she was different from other humans—that she was truly seeing me.”

Salaar interrupted him again and looked directly into the young man’s somewhat grayish blue eyes.

Only then did Myss notice that when Salaar spoke of the woman, he had never once used the word “mother” or anything similar.

“…And yet, on her deathbed, she clutched my hand, looked into my eyes, and called the name of the child who had died long ago.”

At last, a flicker of emotion finally crossed Salaar’s face. The shift was even fainter than ripples made by drizzle, yet Myss recognized it immediately.

Salaar, all those years ago, seemed a little sad.

Unfortunately, the shadows of the bars concealed it. A few steps away, the young man looked agitated and confused.

“That stillborn baby she donated. That body with no memories of its own… She was simply looking at him. That’s completely normal.”

Salaar’s voice remained as still as stagnant water. He lowered his eyes toward the bottomless darkness beneath his feet.

“After all, he was one of the core materials used to create ‘me’.”

---

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

Author: 年终 / Nian Zhong

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

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Chapter 136: Good Atmosphere, Bad Atmosphere

Myss’s rational mind told him that he should take the opportunity to probe Sogné’s memories.

But his instincts made him turn his head and give Salaar an interested, questioning, “Hm?” Under Sogné’s puzzled gaze, the magic that had just begun to stir vanished in an instant.

“I said we should rest early today.” Salaar looked as though he had just breathed a sigh of relief.

Myss had a nagging sensation of having finally won, but not quite decisively. Salaar had definitely seen through what he had been about to do and interrupted him in an emergency.

…But why? Based on Myss’s understanding of Salaar, perhaps Salaar might selfishly want to linger in this long dream for a little longer. But at most, that would make him less proactive. He would never deliberately obstruct Myss.

So was probing Sogné too dangerous? Or had Salaar already figured something out?

Myss casually abandoned the thought and reached out to pull at Sogné’s face instead. The little brat could not run away anyway. There would be plenty of time later.

“Must… protect… hope… everything is not… over yet…”

As luck would have it, several black shadows appeared beside the dining table at the same time.

They huddled together, bent over, looking deeply pained.

“Daylight has come… but daylight is not the only thing that came…”

“Hide… hide…”

“Black coffin…”

Sogné showed no reaction, as though he had long since grown accustomed to them. For once, Myss listened carefully to the dreamlike fragments and committed them to memory.

……

Night.

No, more accurately, there was no night here. Outside the window, the sky remained an unnaturally vivid blue with white clouds. But once the bedroom curtains were drawn, the room grew dim enough to resemble nighttime.

They were inside a dream world, where even cleansing magic was unnecessary, yet Salaar still solemnly took a bath. So when he entered the room, his hair was still faintly damp.

The instant Salaar stepped inside, Myss shut the door with a thud like a hunter trapping an animal. The entire room sank into a honey-thick haze.

The outline of the bedframe became soft and indistinct.

Myss was still wearing the clothes from earlier that day and stood between Salaar and the bedroom door, as though Salaar might suddenly make a run for it.

Salaar: “…”

The corner of Salaar’s mouth twitched.

“I’m not going to run.”

Myss gave a satisfied snort, crossed the room in two steps, and dropped onto the edge of the bed. He generously opened his arms toward Salaar. The gesture looked less like seduction and more like provocation.

“Come on!”

Watching Myss flap his arms, Salaar suddenly thought of a wild beast encountering a powerful enemy and spreading itself wide to appear larger. It looked as though they were about to charge into battle rather than climb onto a soft bed.

Salaar struggled hard to suppress a smile. “I have to tell you, humans have a bad habit. The more we reach moments like this, the more we care about the ‘mood’.”

Myss stabbed Salaar with a look that plainly said, Why are you so troublesome?

Salaar smiled and shook his head. He took a candle from the stand in the corner and lit it beside the bed. A layer of warm light spread through the dim room, making the shadows seem even sweeter and thicker.

Then Salaar sat down beside Myss and quietly looked up at the ceiling, lost in thought.

Myss: “What now?”

“This is Kendrick’s body. It still feels a little strange,” Salaar said softly. “Even though Kendric abandoned this body, it still…”

They had already kissed countless times before. Myss himself was using the slave’s body! In more than three hundred years, Myss had never seen Salaar agonize like this.

He strongly suspected Salaar was stalling for time.

“This is a dream, Salaar. The you here is nothing more than a consciousness. What are you overthinking for?”

“…Right. This is a dream.”

Salaar froze for a moment, then smiled again.

He raised both hands and slowly wiped them across his face, as though removing an invisible mask. His fingers passed through his black hair. The strands seemed to ignite, turning into brilliant gold.

Between his fingers, those two lapis-lazuli eyes became faintly moist, their gaze winding around Myss like climbing vines.

When Salaar lowered his hands again, Myss saw that familiar yet unfamiliar face.

Myss instinctively stopped breathing. He couldn’t help slowly raising a hand and touching Salaar’s cheek with his fingertips.

…This was the first face he had ever seen when his consciousness was born.

How strange. Kendrick Karns’s body had been altered by Salaar until its build was almost identical to his former one. Even the face carried traces of the Salaar from long ago.

But Salaar had never possessed Kendrick’s damp, gloomy air. He had always been crisp and clear, like autumn sunlight.

Logically, Myss should have long since grown accustomed to the difference.

Yet the instant he clearly saw that face, Myss felt as though something had clenched around his heart. 

For a moment, he forgot what he was supposed to do next. Forgot what goal he meant to accomplish. He even forgot where he was.

He simply looked at him, just as he had at their very first meeting.

“Salaar?” After a long while, Myss called softly, his voice slightly hoarse.

“It’s me.” Salaar lowered his hands completely. “I keep forgetting… this is only a dream, and I’m very skilled in mental magic.”

“Salaar.” Myss called his name again.

“I’m here.” Salaar smiled—a smile with his true features, wearing the same expression that had graced the face of “Kendrick”. Myss suddenly realized that inside the seal, Salaar had never smiled this gently at anyone else.

Salaar really did like him. For the first time, Myss understood that with startling clarity.

The concept that had once made him smug suddenly became real, heavy, and close enough to touch.

The candle beside the bed flickered. Myss’s mind tangled into a mess, and for a moment he had no idea how to continue.

Salaar, on the other hand, calmed down. He didn’t mock Myss as he had imagined, nor did he continue with a joking remark.

“May I hold you?” His voice was soft.

Myss nodded blankly. Only afterward did he realize what Salaar had asked.

Salaar climbed off the bed and bent down; his shadow nearly swallowed Myss whole. His arms moved around Myss’s back.

Myss sat rigidly in place, watching that face draw closer and closer… only to pull away again.

Something warm and smooth brushed across his cheek. Only belatedly did Myss realize that Salaar had just untied the ribbon at the back of his hair.

Without the ribbon holding it in place, his long gray-white hair cascaded down like a waterfall. The pomegranate blossoms tangled within slid loose as well, their vivid red even more striking.

Oh. He was letting my hair down so the bun wouldn’t press uncomfortably against the back of my head later.

Myss held his breath and waited for the Hero to approach again. A tingling sensation rippled across his skin, and the blood in his veins felt as though they had been replaced by boiling mercury.

For the first time, Myss discovered that the sound of his own heartbeat was annoyingly loud.

But Salaar didn’t climb back onto the bed. He watched the long hair spill down and gently exhaled, then he carefully bent lower and knelt onto one knee before Myss.

It was not a posture of submission. Salaar opened his arms and wrapped them tightly around Myss’s waist, burying his face against Myss’s soft stomach.

Myss’s brain seemed to turn into mush. For a while, he couldn’t think clearly.

Everything was too surreal that he couldn’t even identify his own emotions. Amid the confusion, Myss instinctively raised a hand and gently stroked Salaar’s brilliant golden hair.

At that moment, the strands were immersed in dim shadow and looked almost black.

Myss’s hand suddenly tightened.

How strange. In the span of a single heartbeat, he understood exactly how Salaar felt.

The Salaar resting against his legs was only a phantom from the past. That body had aged and decayed little by little before Myss’s own eyes, with no possibility of ever recovering.

When their journey ended, Salaar’s consciousness would return to that nearly corpse-like body and disappear completely.

After so many days, Myss once again imagined Salaar’s death.

This weight. This warmth. All of it was false.

At some point in the future, Salaar would vanish before Myss’s eyes and turn completely to dust. Just like the Salaar in front of him now, he would disappear entirely and exist only in the depths of Myss’s memories.

How ironic, Myss thought in broken fragments. He had already known that Salaar loved him, just as he had always known that Salaar was destined to die—either in Myss’s victory, or in Myss’s destruction, disappearing alongside him.

But at this moment, Salaar’s love and Salaar’s death both became unbearably real at the same time.

The most vivid Salaar Myss had ever known was already half dead. That head of brilliant golden hair existed here and could only exist here.

Just like the endless daylight outside the window —just like the home Salaar desired. They were things destined never to exist in reality.

Myss suddenly felt an uncomfortable pang. He tightened the fingers buried in Salaar’s hair, unsure how to make the strange emotion disappear. His throat went dry, and his chest felt filled with lead.

Waves of inexplicable anger battered his thoughts, but he had no idea where to vent that rage.

Myss sat there angrily for quite some time, then sniffled loudly.

“Myss?” Salaar raised his eyes slightly and looked up at him.

“I’m upset,” Myss said in a muffled voice. “I think I understand why you want to stay here now. Damn it.”

“Really? …I thought you’d never understand me in your entire life, and somehow you actually saw through me.”

Salaar buried his face again. “Ah, being understood by your enemy is never a good thing.”

Myss felt a mix of smug satisfaction and irritation at the same time. He smacked Salaar on the head.

“Shut up. Let me finish being upset first. We can do it later. Right now, the… atmosphere isn’t right.”

Had Salaar been feeling something like this ever since they entered this place? Myss couldn’t fathom how he could still smile.

Tentatively, Myss bent forward and wrapped his arms around Salaar’s head. 

Silence swayed along with the candle flame. Drops of wax slid down the candle one by one and slowly hardened on the wooden table. Objectively speaking, of course, all of it was only a trivial, fleeting dream.

One minute… Two minutes… Ten minutes.

At last, Myss’s mind cleared somewhat. He drew a deep breath, released Salaar’s head, and patted his own chest. “Let’s continue.”

That pat immediately dislodged a flattened loaf of bread. It slid down beneath the fabric and smacked Salaar directly on the head.

Salaar: “…”

Salaar: “…Pfft!”

“What are you laughing at? How was I supposed to know the dream would reproduce everything this accurately?!”

Myss pulled out the other loaf, which was still in place, and slapped it onto Salaar’s head. Salaar instinctively jerked his head aside, sending the bread flying heroically through the air. It smacked against the wall and slowly slid to the floor. 

Looking at the valiantly fallen loaf, Myss failed to suppress the laughter in his voice. The Archdemon pressed his lips together several times before finally bursting into loud laughter.

“Oh, how intense.”

Salaar couldn’t stop laughing either, tears gathering at the corners of his eyes.

“This is the most absurd ‘atmosphere’ I’ve ever experienced. Even those terrible books written about me never had this much imagination.”

Myss’s body shook continuously with laughter. Salaar rested his head on Myss’s lap, his face flushed and hot from laughing.

“I need to confess,” Salaar said once he finally calmed down, still lying across Myss’s legs.

Myss braced both hands behind himself on the bed and panted for breath. “Confess what?”

“—I feel so happy.” Salaar played with the end of one loose strand of Myss’s hair. “In this ridiculous place made entirely of lies and impossibilities, we somehow managed to put everything else aside and simply be together.”

“The home I first imagined wasn’t even this good.”

“Your first imagined home?” Myss curiously scratched the back of Salaar’s head.

“Yes. The first home I imagined.” Salaar muttered, “To tell you the truth, the first time I ever thought of ‘home’ was when I saw you… though I suppose we weren’t exactly living together back then.”

Myss thought back to the darkness inside the seal and that lonely little house. “You had a very strange imagination.”

“No. You don’t understand.” Salaar said, “That was the first time I realized…”

He abruptly stopped, his expression stiffening. Then he raised his head and looked toward the door.

“I see.” He said, “So this is what the ‘Blind God’ wants. No wonder…”

No wonder what? Myss stared down at Salaar in complete confusion.

Salaar closed his eyes and slowly released a long breath. When he spoke again, his voice was clear and calm. 

“I know what you want now, Blind God.”

“I can give you what you want. But you have to make a deal with me.”

---

The author has something to say:

I swear I’m getting them into bed in this arc!!!

First, let’s have Salaar peel a few onion layers of himself to set the mood. [applause]

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

Author: 年终 / Nian Zhong

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

---

Chapter 135: Hymn of Praise

When the Dragon Fae appeared again, Father Kalen was badly startled. The little mouse staggered out, flopped beside his shoe, and nearly reverted into a corpse on the spot.

Father Kalen hurriedly took out a gemstone and hid it beneath the mouse’s fur. The Dragon Fae frantically absorbed its magic, reducing the gem to powder in the blink of an eye.

Then Tass listlessly flicked his tail to indicate that he was fine.

“They’re all right for now. I told them everything I needed to say.” He whispered into the air. “My condition is better than I expected. I didn’t suffer any serious injuries.”

Only then did Kalen sigh in relief, though that relief was soon replaced by unease. According to the Dragon Fae, did that mean all they could do now was wait?

A few steps away.

“Egan, your spell doesn’t appear to have succeeded. Has God given you any further instructions?”

After dealing with the “accidental” little fire, the High Priest and Garnet turned their attention back to the boy.

Egan bit his lower lip and gently shook his head.

The old man sighed. “Child, you must understand that the sacrifices’ dream is a beautiful dream personally created by Lord Blind God.”

“I knew you couldn’t interfere with it, which is why I tolerated your mischief. Remember this lesson and be sure to distinguish dreams from reality.”

Egan obediently lowered his head and muttered rather childishly, “But I really did hear God’s voice.”

The High Priest naturally didn’t dislike such innocent loyalty. He smiled. “Garnet, once this year’s Eye-Opening Ceremony is over, you must properly instruct this child.”

Kalen instinctively looked toward the half-dead Dragon Fae rat and lightly nudged the tip of Tass’s tail with his boot.

Tass immediately understood his question. “I merely amplified the mechanism of his spell and used it to smuggle myself into the dream. His own magic isn’t strong enough to enter so easily.”

Kalen hesitated, glanced at the tiny tail again, and tugged it slightly toward Egan.

“Hey, I can’t investigate a second time. My body hasn’t recovered yet.” Tass curled himself into a dark-brown ball, pulling even his tail inward.

Having no method didn’t mean they had to sit and wait for death.

Since they were already inside, they needed to collect as much information about the Blind God as possible before the Eye-Opening Ceremony began. When Myss and Salaar awoke, Kalen wanted to provide them with the most complete support and backup possible.

Hermit had instructed him to assist the two of them with all his strength, so Kalen resolved to investigate as seriously as he could. He stuffed the rat-ball Tass into his pocket and quietly began retreating with the two ordinary rats.

At almost the same moment, Egan spoke. “Um, I shouldn’t continue disturbing your preparations. I must return and pray for a while longer to apologize to Lord Blind God.”

His tone remained obedient, but every adult present could hear a trace of grievance and defiance within it.

The High Priest stroked his white beard, which nearly touched the floor, and smiled kindly. “Good night, Priest Egan.”

Father Kalen hurried after Egan and quietly left the preparation room behind him.

On the way in, Kalen had deliberately observed the layout. Within this spiraling, shell-like corridor, there were two routes leading toward the very center, the sanctuary of the Blind God.

One was the route Salaar and Myss were meant to take. The preparation room connected to the confession chamber, which in turn connected to the central sanctuary.

The other appeared to be reserved for clergy. It stood directly beside the preparation room, at the end of the corridor.

Compared with the small arched doors lining both sides of the passage, this door stretched from floor to ceiling and filled the entire corridor. Its panels were extremely thick and bore a dim metallic sheen, making it look impossibly heavy.

Kalen reached out and touched it. The cold instantly bit into his fingers.

Once Egan returned to his room to sleep, Kalen planned to find a way to open the door and investigate the sanctuary…

Huh?

Before Kalen’s astonished gaze, Egan turned a corner and strode toward the Blind God’s sanctuary. The child had said he would “apologize to Lord Blind God.” Had he meant that literally?

Surprised though he was, Kalen didn’t waste such a perfect opportunity to infiltrate the sanctuary. He once again became Egan’s invisible tail and followed him all the way to the great doors.

Egan placed his hand on the door and recited an obscure incantation. In a manner completely at odds with its heavy appearance, the sanctuary door slid open without a sound.

The interior was dim, and faint, bathed in a faint, eerie green glow. The moment Kalen stepped inside, the door silently closed behind him, solid as a wall.

Kalen quickly turned his head, searching for a statue of the Blind God. Instead, he was met by the group of closed-eyed sculptures in the center of the hall and the enormous pit more than ten meters wide.

Dressed in a pale robe, Egan walked step by step toward the horrifying pit, which resembled an empty eye socket. Against the ghostly green light, he looked almost luminous.

Kalen remained concealed and followed directly behind him, hiding within the vague human silhouettes. Tass had recovered a little. He gripped the edge of Kalen’s pocket and curiously examined everything around them.

Egan closed his eyes and prayed with complete devotion.

Deciding to fully commit to the ruse, Kalen stepped between Egan and the pit, drew a deep breath, and said, “Good child, you’ve done well.”

Egan immediately opened his eyes. Delight nearly overflowed from his blue gaze.

“My God, my spell failed. I thought…”

“Good child, don’t doubt yourself,” Father Kalen improvised on the spot. “When the Eye-Opening Ceremony begins, you will witness a spectacle unlike anything ever seen before.”

Egan’s cheeks reddened slightly. “Yes!”

Tass had regained some strength. He climbed along Kalen’s elaborately decorated Crimson Marsh clothing until he reached the priest’s shoulder.

“What are you going to do next?”

“You can’t order him, in the Blind God’s name, to explain the Blind God to you. This child doesn’t look foolish. Be careful, or he’ll become suspicious.”

That was true. Father Kalen frowned. Yet the difficulty didn’t trouble him for long. Egan’s youthful face reminded him of the distant past.

“A hymn.” Hermit enunciated each word carefully. “Next, I’m going to teach you the hymn of the Lord of Shadows.”

“Aren’t hymns sung by bards?” the young Kalen asked in confusion. “The Church of Cadence explains its doctrine first. Why is the Order of Shadows different?”

“No, no, no.” Hermit laughed. “Hymns are easy to remember. They also help you remember the rough outline of a god’s origin, deeds, and desires.”

“Hymns are far more interesting than doctrine, and what they represent is far greater than doctrine as well.”

“Gods have desires too?”

Hermit’s response suddenly grew distant. “Gods…”

The memory lost its shape as quickly as a drop of ink dispersing through clear water. Father Kalen rubbed his temple and decided to focus on the situation before him.

“…Therefore, I don’t need your apology,” Kalen said softly.

“Sing the hymn for me, good child.”

Egan’s eyes flickered. For that brief instant, the childishness on his face faded. His delight became complicated, mixed with something vague and indescribable.

Kalen didn’t have time to examine it closely before the hymn’s words captured his attention.

“The long night nears its end, and calamity runs rampant. Upon this green battlefield, there is only hunger, plague, and death. The emissary points toward the hidden marsh and excavates hope from the ruins.”

“The suffering walk among the relics, seeking echoes of the past. Lord Blind God sleeps in the deepest part of night. Omniscient and omnipotent, He dispels every uncertainty with His wisdom.”

“The ruins are reborn, and daylight endures forever. In this green paradise, there is only abundance, health, and a beautiful plaza where song shall never fade…”

“…Ignoring all the excessive praise, the story is rather realistic,” the Dragon Fae commented quietly.

“I’ve read the histories. The human world truly was chaotic immediately after the Night Scourge ended. It sounds like a group of displaced, bewildered people rebuilt a town under the guidance of the ‘Blind God.’”

“Does that truly qualify as a ‘miracle’?”

Compared with the hymns of other religions, the Blind God’s hymn was extraordinarily plain. It had nothing to do with creating the heavens and earth or warring among the gods.

The Dragon Fae stroked his whiskers with his damaged paw.

“I have to admit, the Crimson Marsh’s urban design is impressive. This place is fundamentally unsuitable for human habitation.”

“The Crimson Marsh we saw could never have been planned by ordinary people. I also suspect that these people’s common sense, laws, and customs have all been influenced by the Blind God.”

Kalen’s own theory mirrored Tass’s.

But ruins had already existed here during the age of the Night Scourge. By conventional reasoning, the “Blind God” might have been some brilliant human who was later deified.

Yet that wouldn’t explain the line about “sleeping in the deepest part of night.”

And how could a god “sleeping in the deepest part of night” answer human questions?

Still, speaking of the deepest place…

Kalen could not help looking toward the pit before him.

What exactly was hidden inside that darkness?

Could the legendary “Blind God” truly be sleeping deep within the shadows?

……

“Stop sleeping. You’ve already been asleep for more than an hour.”

Myss hammered unceremoniously on Sogné’s door. “Open up. Let me take a look at you.”

The Archdemon’s tone differed very little from that of a swindler. Salaar silently shook his head while washing the dishes.

Sure enough, Sogné immediately became wary. He didn’t open the door and instead spoke through it.

“Mommy, I have a right to privacy.”

“You already call me Mommy.” Myss searched his understanding of humans. “That means I have the right to pull the sheet off your bed even while you’re lying on it. I’m also going to look under the bed. I can only promise not to read your diary.”

At that, Myss even looked expectantly toward the closed door.

Since a few words from Salaar had caused Sogné’s dream to change, perhaps Myss could do the same.

Sogné became as silent as a corpse. The environment around them flickered faintly and grew even more solid.

Myss: “…” This was a blatant provocation!

Myss turned toward Salaar.

“Does this count as the teenage rebellious phase?”

Salaar answered diplomatically, “If Sogné truly is the Blind God, He is only a little over twenty years younger than I am.”

“What’s wrong with that? That’s a perfectly normal human age difference between father and son.”

Salaar sighed again. The difference between someone in his teens and someone in his thirties was indeed normal. But between someone in his three hundred and teens and someone in his three hundred and thirties, the tens digit could safely be ignored.

Still, he decided to let the Blind God bear that particular concern alone.

“…Then treat him as though he’s going through his teenage phase.”

Immediately afterward, the Hero assumed an almost serene expression and watched the two gods match wits.

Myss grabbed the doorknob. “Be a good boy and open the door!”

“No. This is my room.”

“Your father made delicious snacks.”

“You’re lying. I can’t smell anything.”

“Can you remain inside forever? Are you not eating dinner?”

Sogné fell silent behind the door. Myss thought for a moment and grinned as an excellent idea occurred to him. He transformed part of his magic into mist, quietly seeped it through the crack beneath the door, and condensed it again.

He reproduced the strange shadow from the living room almost perfectly. The shadow pressed close to the door, looking rather oppressive. Unfortunately, under Myss’s control, its words were far less normal.

“Raspberries are delicious, gooseberries are disgusting, raspberries are delicious, gooseberries are disgusting…”

The uninvited shadow startled Sogné. With a loud bang, Sogné burst through the door. Myss attempted to seize the opportunity and push his way inside, but Sogné crashed directly into him and sent him flying.

By the time Myss recovered, the door had already shut by itself again. The Archdemon clicked his tongue loudly in fury.

That little brat’s strength was suspiciously strong. It was almost certainly the Blind God itself!

“Don’t do that again, Mommy! I know it was you,” Sogné said indignantly, grabbing the hem of Myss’s robe.

Myss lowered his head and revealed an evil smile utterly unrelated to maternal affection.

“How did you know I did it? Normally, you should have run out shouting that something strange had appeared inside.”

“Is it because you’re familiar with those shadows and know they would never say anything like that? What are those shadows, hm?”

The sound of Salaar washing the dishes immediately grew much quieter. He was obviously listening with intense concentration.

Sogné raised his distorted face toward Myss. Myss remained entirely unmoved.

“Your father and I both saw the shadows earlier. Don’t try to deny it. What, do they count as your privacy too?”

Sogné lowered his head again. He seemed to want to rest it against Myss’s leg, but in the end, he stopped himself.

“They are my memories,” he said solemnly, as though this required immense courage. “They aren’t as private as a diary. I don’t mind if you see them…”

“Excellent.” The corners of Myss’s mouth rose.

Until now, he had only used his self-created magic to peer into human memories. He had never attempted to control a god. Since Sogné had said that, he might as well try it and directly analyze Sogné’s—

“Myss.”

The moment Myss’s magic began to surge, Salaar suddenly spoke. His voice wasn’t loud, but it was like a sharp piano wire tightening directly around Myss’s movements.

Salaar paused before continuing, his tone carrying a subtle shift in nuance.

“I’ll make dinner early today.”

His words held even more determination than Sogné’s had.

“We should… go to bed early.”

---

The author has something to say:

Myss: ?

Myss: Did you do that deliberately or accidentally, or did you deliberately do it accidentally? [cat paw]

---

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

Author: 年终 / Nian Zhong

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

---

Chapter 134: Myss’s Proposal

“Try… what?”

For once, Salaar’s voice stumbled.

“Tass’s theory is unlikely to be true. The Eye-Opening Ceremony has continued for over three hundred years, with more than three hundred pairs of living sacrifices. Even if collecting ‘knowledge of birth’ once wasn’t enough, there would be no need to repeat it so many times.”

“Who knows? This is preparation for Its own ‘birth.’ There’s no such thing as being too careful.”

Myss stirred the cream soup with his spoon, slices of mushroom rising and sinking in the milky broth.

He meant every word. For the sake of ensuring his own perfect birth, he had tolerated Salaar for more than three hundred years. A “god’s” concept of time was naturally different from that of short-lived humans.

When Salaar remained silent, Myss had no choice but to continue. “Of course, there’s another possibility.”

“Sogné seemed to change because he ‘understood’ something. The Blind God selects beautiful, good-natured humans every year and brings them here. Perhaps It wants to ‘understand’ certain things… things that will allow It to truly be born.”

“And going one step further, since the Blind God’s Blessing turns the sacrifices into lovers, perhaps what the Blind God wants has something to do with emotions.”

The more Myss spoke, the more brilliant he found himself. At the same time, he grew increasingly dissatisfied with Salaar’s passive attitude. They had adventured together in the human world for so long, and this was the first time Salaar had shown so little initiative.

Ever since entering this long dream, he hadn’t offered a single good idea apart from meal plans.

Salaar sighed softly. “So when you say we should try, you mean…”

Myss puffed out his chest. “We should do something that satisfies ‘pregnancy’ and also involves ‘emotion,’ then observe the Blind God’s reaction.”

Immediately afterward, he saw genuine shock on Salaar’s face for the first time. The Hero went pale for an instant, then flushed rapidly.

“Do you understand what you’re saying?”

“I know I can’t give birth, and you don’t possess that function either. But with my control magic and your mental magic, fabricating it shouldn’t be difficult.”

Myss confidently patted his chest. Of course, that was assuming the Blind God truly cared about something like “pregnancy.”

It didn’t matter. Trying it would at least provoke some kind of reaction from the Blind God. Studying the conditions required for Its birth would be highly beneficial to him. This was only an insubstantial dream anyway, and…

And Myss discovered that he greatly enjoyed the sight of Salaar feeling flustered yet trying to maintain a façade of composure.

Salaar thought, or perhaps simply froze, for two seconds before striding away from the dining table.

“Why are you running?”

Myss abandoned his soup and happily chased after him. The room wasn’t large. Before long, the unfortunate Hero had been driven into a corner.

“…This isn’t something you should joke about,” Salaar said dryly, averting his gaze for the first time.

Myss raised a brow. “What’s wrong with you? You weren’t this resistant before. I thought you would look forward to it.”

Salaar stared steadily at Myss, complicated emotions flowing through his lapis-lazuli eyes. “This should be something private between us, not an experiment.”

“And you. You were never this enthusiastic before… You want to observe the Blind God’s birth, just as the Blind God wants to observe the sacrifices, don’t you?”

“So what? You’re the one who repeats ‘everything is for end of the Night Scourge’ every day. If we can’t get out of here, how are we supposed to keep tracking V.O.R?”

Myss curled his lip, lightly brushing aside Salaar’s challenge.

“I thought Saint Salaar had always been willing to use any means necessary to end the Night Scourge.”

It was only their usual mutual mockery, not even particularly harsh, or so Myss believed.

But the instant he mentioned “everything is for ending the Night Scourge” in this ordinary room, Salaar seemed to dim. Within the shadows, his irises looked coated in dust, like ruins buried for more than three hundred years.

Myss hesitated and closed his mouth, swallowing the insult he had been about to deliver. He enjoyed seeing Salaar angry, stubborn, or bewildered. He didn’t like this.

Salaar only gazed at him in silence. Beside them stood an enormous window, and the daylight beyond it looked unbearably false. He needed to change the subject.

Myss quietly stepped half a pace backward, his ember-red eyes darting around.

Then…

“Protect…” A muffled voice exploded behind him.

Myss jolted and leapt directly toward Salaar.

Beside their dining table, a vaguely human shadow appeared without warning. It was mostly translucent, with only the faint outline of a human form. The farther downward it extended, the paler it became, resembling the “ghosts” described by bards.

Its voice was rough and loose like sand, making age and gender impossible to determine.

“You… wait… for him… to finish…”

“Mission… continue… the legacy…”

The shadow tilted its head upward, looking toward a target that didn’t exist within this place.

“Do not… give up…”

After speaking, it vanished.

Then Myss noticed several more shadows appearing throughout the room. But they merely hurried past, disappearing even faster than the Dragon Fae.

Salaar seemed to forget their earlier unpleasantness. He gripped Myss’s wrist tightly and stared in the direction where the shadow had been. 

Myss cooperatively pretended to have forgotten everything. “What was that?!”

“Perhaps a dream belonging to the Blind God.” Whenever the subject involved mental magic, Salaar’s tone became serious. “Since Sogné exists here, this dream world is not only ours. The Blind God is its true master.”

“The environment has become distorted, and Sogné’s appearance has changed. In other words, for some reason, the Blind God’s embellishments are peeling away.”

“Those shadows and voices were probably things that had previously been concealed.”

“They didn’t look like former sacrifices,” Myss said.

Salaar nodded.

Only after a long pause did he look back at Myss.

“For now, they appear harmless.”

“Oh,” Myss said. “Good. This dream is getting closer and closer to collapse.”

“…”

Damn it. Salaar had gone silent again. He was definitely thinking about what had happened earlier. Myss scratched frantically at his thoughts until inspiration struck.

“I’ll finish the soup, and I’ll wash the bowls! You didn’t sleep enough last night, so go catch up on your rest.”

Salaar shook his head and looked again toward where the shadow had disappeared.

“This isn’t reality. Nothing will happen if I don’t sleep.”

“We should remain awake as much as possible. It would be best not to miss what those shadows say. They’re all clues.”

Myss gave an awkward laugh. “Oh. Right…”

Salaar fell silent again, and a subtle awkwardness spread through the room.

Myss continued clawing at his thoughts. He was no longer certain whether he should provoke Salaar, seduce him, or comfort this strange version of Salaar.

Especially the last one. Since the moment he developed consciousness, the word comfort had never existed in his dictionary.

“…You.” Salaar returned to the table and rubbed his face hard. “You hate Sweet Trap so much that I thought… Never mind.”

“Thought what? That I firmly believed you would use sex as a means of deception, like that Hero everyone knows?” Myss snorted dismissively. “I only hate being portrayed as an idiot who gets manipulated, controlled at will, and has no ability to resist.”

“If the story had been about a Chaos Witch seducing a Hero into destroying the world… that would be another matter.”

Salaar stared at him with an expression that seemed caught between being disappointed in unyielding steel and resenting steel for being so unyielding.

The Hero said nothing, yet Myss could practically hear the question in his mind: How did I end up falling in love with something like you?

Myss decided to go all the way. He pulled out a chair and sat opposite Salaar, then propped his chin in his hands and met Salaar’s gaze directly.

A strand of hair fell with the movement and swayed beside Myss’s cheek. The room was somewhat dim, but the pomegranate blossoms on Myss remained vivid, like countless eyes watching them.

After an unknown length of time, Salaar gave a self-depreciating laugh. “So in the end, the one willing to use any means necessary is you. You’re even more heartless than I imagined, Lord Chaos Archdemon.”

Myss didn’t understand. “What are you talking about now?”

“Do you seriously think I’m using you as a tool because I want to get out of… uh… this place sooner?”

Before Salaar could answer, Myss himself grew irritated. “Then you’re far more stupid than I imagined, Saint Salaar.”

“If I were trapped here with the Crow Priest, I would simply take that little brat Sogné hostage. No one in this world can force me to do something I don’t want to do. Not even I can force myself!”

Myss pounded the table repeatedly, his voice growing sharper.

Amid the Archdemon’s storm of anger, Salaar looked somewhat stunned. “You mean you actually want to… with me?”

“The previous two times weren’t unpleasant,” Myss said. “You know perfectly well that I’ve always enjoyed using you, and only you, for amusement.”

Salaar shot to his feet. Then, as though remembering something, he slowly sat back down. “I need to think about it.”

Seeing this enemy become so unusually anxious and uncertain, Myss found him utterly incomprehensible. When fighting Myss, Salaar wouldn’t even blink after losing a leg. They had already done similar things before. Heaven knew what this human was agonizing over.

Then again, Salaar had already fallen in love with him, and Myss had felt a certain emptiness after accomplishing that goal. Now, at last, he had found a new method of tormenting Salaar.

The two of them becoming entangled would certainly not improve the situation, but Myss didn’t mind welcoming further chaos. What he wanted should be held tightly in his hands. What he disliked should be kicked away. Wasn’t that how it worked?

…Wait, no—by that logic, he should kick Salaar away.

Strictly speaking, the Crow Priest had never wronged him. His treatment should rank above Salaar’s.

Forget it. It had to be because Myss had signed a contract with Salaar. Myss decided to abandon the irritating paradox.

“Take your time thinking.” Myss finished the lukewarm cream of mushroom soup and pushed the bowl in front of Salaar. “Oh, and now that you look slightly less like a corpse, remember to wash the dishes.”

Salaar gave him a helpless glance. “…Fine.”

Myss rose while humming, brushing nonexistent dust from his clothing. The proposal had been made, the soup was finished, and Salaar was still staring blankly at the bowl. He was surely considering how he should wash it later.

It was only shortly just past noon, with a long time remaining before night. The great genius Myss decided to find something to occupy himself, such as inspecting Sogné’s room.

Perhaps more talking shadows were hidden inside. Who knew? He had to understand this damned dream as soon as possible. After all, understanding was the prerequisite for control.

Only by seizing control of this dream early and holding its final outcome in his palm could he… Could he stop facing that brooding Salaar whose thoughts he couldn’t understand.

Myss stopped outside Sogné’s door and knocked with moderate force.

---

The author has something to say:

The true main plot of this book: “Sweet Trap” (×

Actually, Salaar cares very much! He’s a Hero who is taking this romance extremely seriously.

And then there’s the Archdemon who has no idea he’s currently in a relationship. [cat paw]

---

Kinky Thoughts:

The author’s note is really quite apt. Poor Salaar, wants to get his rocks off but wants Myss to reciprocate his feelings too and not have it be a means to an end. Though when Myss stated that no one (not even himself) can force him to do things, isn’t that quite a declaration of love?

---

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

Author: 年终 / Nian Zhong

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

---

Chapter 133: Divine Revelation?

Perhaps the rat’s brain was affecting him, because the Dragon Fae’s head buzzed for a while. The more he thought about it, the more convinced he became that his theory might be plausible.

Admittedly, physical pregnancy would provide a better reference than mental pregnancy. But physical pregnancy required an emotional foundation and enough time. A single night was clearly insufficient.

That left only one possibility: “mental pregnancy.”

The consciousnesses of two people could be drawn into a dream realm, where time could be stretched out for years.

Within the dream, they would possess bodies modeled after reality. As long as the one behind it had enough magic and made the dream sufficiently realistic, it could reproduce the process of a real pregnancy with a high degree of accuracy.

That had to be it. Given Myss and Salaar’s personalities, there was no chance they had simply “fallen asleep the moment they entered.”

But if they could never conceive, wouldn’t they be trapped in the dream forever, never able to awaken?

Even setting that aside, who knew how quickly time flowed inside the dream? If their minds spent tens of thousands of years there, would they still be sane when they finally woke?

He had to find a way to warn them.

The Dragon Fae anxiously twitched his whiskers.

Kalen couldn’t use magic, and Tass himself was not skilled in mental magic. There was also an unknown and immensely powerful presence inside the room, one very likely connected to the Blind God. They had to think of something quickly.

He decisively turned around and scurried away along the wall.

Ten minutes later.

“What?”

After listening to Tass’s explanation, which was heavily interspersed with squeaks, Father Kalen looked utterly bewildered.

The possibility that the sacrifices were pulled into a dream world on the night of prayer was still within Kalen’s understanding. Hermit had once told him that every religion was fascinated with the spiritual realm to varying degrees.

But the theory that they would be unable to escape unless someone became pregnant in the dream was so shocking that his thoughts stopped entirely for five full seconds.

“…Are you certain the unknown being intends to, uh, trap people in a dream and make them have a child?” Kalen asked, struggling to process the information.

“That thing is terrifyingly powerful. It might even be the Blind God itself. I’m telling you, I know that kind of atmosphere too well. It definitely wants to be born, using Myss and Salaar’s power to do it.”

Tass rubbed his whiskers anxiously.

“Of course, the pregnancy and childbirth part is only my guess. Do you have a more reasonable explanation? Like those two simply being tired?”

Kalen made several awkward sounds. “Perhaps It only wants to admire the love between the sacrifices…”

Tass raised his black, bead-like rat eyes.

His left eye said, Are you serious?

His right eye said, How old are you?

His pupils were practically turning into question marks.

“…There’s no point in guessing here. You’re right. Our immediate priority is contacting Salaar and Myss,” Father Kalen continued. “How good is your mental magic?”

Tass shook his head. “That stuff is only popular with clergy and deranged criminals. Ordinary mages rarely use it.”

Kalen said, “There probably isn’t enough time to contact Archmage Gentry, and finding a criminal of that level is even less realistic. Clergy… clergy…”

The two suddenly looked at each other.

Not long ago, they had interacted with a young priest.

Since that little priest had been allowed to join the procession welcoming the sacrifices, he had to possess considerable talent.

Even if his magic wasn’t yet practiced, they could exploit it. As a magical creature, Tass might not be skilled in mental magic, but he was very good at hiding inside other spells and smuggling himself along.

Kalen immediately set off and returned to the room of the priest named Egan. The Dragon Fae expertly squeezed through the gap beneath the door and discovered Egan sleeping peacefully in the darkness. The boy faced the wall, sleeping soundly.

After confirming that everything was normal, Kalen concealed himself again and crept back inside. He placed a hand over his chest and spent more than a dozen seconds offering a penitent prayer. Then he took out a fire-starting magical tool and relit the extinguished candle.

Kalen cleared his throat and spoke in an ethereal voice. “Good child, awaken…”

Between the light and the voice, Egan woke almost immediately. He rubbed his eyes and looked at the candle in surprise.

“My God?” the boy murmured, his eyes filled with delight and devotion.

Father Kalen had never been so grateful that the Lord of Shadows had granted him the power of concealment. At that moment, not even Tass standing at his feet could see how red his face had become from embarrassment.

“I need you to enter the sacrifices’ dream.”

Kalen tried to sound as gentle as possible. His hand returned to his chest as he apologized frantically in his heart. Egan lowered his head, his face briefly sinking into shadow. A few seconds of silence felt as long as several years.

Kalen’s heart nearly leapt from his throat. What if Egan hadn’t learned mental magic yet? What if this request was forbidden? Worst of all, what if he told the other priests and caused a disturbance?

Fortunately, after the brief silence, Egan spoke somewhat shyly. “Of course I am willing to obey Your will, my God. But my abilities are limited. I don’t know whether I can satisfy You…”

“That’s no concern.”

Only then did Kalen remember how to breathe. He nearly blew out the candle in front of him.

He had intended to add something like, “Don’t tell anyone,” but Tass interrupted by biting him.

“Don’t,” Tass whispered. “The more you say, the more mistakes you’ll make. Let it happen naturally.”

Meanwhile, Egan nodded solemnly. He put on his shoes and left the room.

He paused briefly before the barred gate and placed one hand against the layers of relief carvings. With a rough grinding sound, the gate opened again.

Kalen rejoiced inwardly and hurried after Egan through the gate and into the preparation room.

The preparation room door opened openly. Garnet spun around.

“Egan? Why are you here? You were clearly supposed to…”

“I received a divine revelation,” Egan said with absolute seriousness. “Our God wishes me to be here.”

Garnet frowned and was about to speak, but the High Priest stopped him.

“Egan is talented and still young. There’s no harm in allowing him to remain,” the old man said softly. “This is Lord Blind God’s sacred night. We must not quarrel before the god.”

“Understood.” Priest Garnet immediately lowered his head. 

The old man smiled at Egan. “As you can see, child, we are keeping vigil for Lord Blind God. You say you received divine revelation. What did Lord Blind God tell you?”

Father Kalen’s toes immediately tensed, while Tass’s tail stiffened beside his feet.

The next instant, Tass’s eyes rolled. He dashed outward and knocked over the silver candlestick in the corner.

The candlestick fell onto a tablecloth, instantly igniting a patch of flame. The High Priest had no time to continue questioning him. He murmured an incantation, and a sphere of water formed over the fire, extinguishing the flames before they could spread.

While both priests’ attention was diverted, Kalen strode to Egan’s side and gently pushed him toward the confession chamber.

Egan was indeed quick-witted.

Facing the tightly closed door, he silently recited something. A ripple of magic spread outward. Tass shuddered, immediately ran to the door, and worked to merge part of himself into the spell.

The little rat collapsed beside the door. At the same time, a wavering, illusion-like Tass flew through the door alongside the spell and vanished into thin air.

Tass had prepared himself to be severely injured. He didn’t know what conditions were like inside the dream. The magic there might be just as chaotic as it was outside.

Under such terrible circumstances, this “portion” of him might survive only a few seconds, or even less.

That was why he had separated out only part of his power. If that portion were completely destroyed, he would have to cling to life using what remained inside the mouse’s fleshy shell.

When the time came, Father Kalen could pay for the gemstones needed to heal him! Tass thought heroically.

……

Myss held a slice of bread toasted crisp without being burnt, dipped it into the soup, and happily brought it to his mouth.

Crunch!

The rich flavor instantly filled his mouth, and Myss gave a satisfied hum. Now he finally understood where Salaar had learned all these skills. As expected of a Hero who had inherited the memories of countless humans. He was extremely useful.

Sogné stared wide-eyed at Myss. He obediently took a sip of soup and then a bite of bread, apparently never having considered combining the food that way.

In a good mood, Myss looked at him twice and waved the slice of bread. “Want some?”

Sogné blinked in delight and opened his mouth wide. “Ahh…”

Myss: “…You can dip your own.”

Then he ate the rest of the soup-soaked bread in one bite, his cheeks stuffed full.

Sogné closed his mouth in disappointment, the corners drooping slightly.

“How cruel. As expected of you.” Salaar chuckled. He dipped his own bread into the soup and fed it to Sogné.

“Good that you understand,” Myss said indifferently.

Salaar seemed rather fond of this place, and Myss was no longer in a hurry to get out. Since they were on the same team, Salaar could handle the task of winning the child’s affection. Myss had no idea how to care for children anyway.

“Your mommy really is cruel.” Salaar fed Sogné another piece of bread, completely untroubled by the distorted face. A faint smile rested on his lips, while his peripheral gaze remained fixed on Myss.

“I originally thought Daddy and Mommy weren’t truly in love,” Sogné said while chewing. “But now it seems Daddy really likes Mommy.”

Myss gave a smug hum.

“That’s right.”

Salaar didn’t shy away from the admission. “Is it that obvious?”

Sogné nodded and sighed with his fragmented face. “I’m going to take an afternoon nap. Daddy and Mommy can keep eating.”

Then he gave Salaar a look that clearly meant good luck and trotted back to his room. Although the surroundings had changed somewhat, his bedroom door remained firmly shut.

The moment the nuisance left the table, Myss sprang up and attacked Sogné’s bread basket. “These are all mine now.”

“Eat as much as you like. I’ll bake more if it isn’t enough.”

“Hey, Salaar, aren’t you worried at all about… What the hell is that?!” Myss’s voice suddenly shot upward.

In his bowl of cream soup, the half-dead face of the Dragon Fae appeared in reflection.

“My… ss, Myss? Is that you? Can you… hear me?”

Tass’s face was mostly obscured by a floating mushroom. His voice was distorted, sometimes near and sometimes distant. Myss yanked Salaar in front of the bowl even faster than he had seized the bread basket.

“Speak quickly.”

“To make a long story short, you’re trapped in… a dream. Some powerful being, very likely the Blind God, wants to use your… power to be born.”

The Dragon Fae’s image grew more stable as he spoke rapidly. “Wait… why aren’t either of you surprised?”

Because Sogné had already told them about being “born.”

And given the strange environment, it was obviously either an illusion or a dream. Considering the unusual difference in time, a dream had already seemed more likely.

“Anything else?” Salaar urged. “You don’t look well, so stop worrying about us.”

The Dragon Fae nodded, causing ripples to spread across the soup’s surface.

“The magic outside is… complicated and chaotic, exactly like my birthplace.”

“I suspect they want Myss to become pregnant inside the dream, allowing that being to observe an infant forming from nothing and learn how to acquire a body.”

Salaar: “…”

Myss: “…………”

“In any case, your dream bodies are modeled after reality. The two of you can’t produce a child.” At last, the Dragon Fae saw the shocked expressions he had expected. “The Eye-Opening Ceremony has gone wrong. No one knows what will happen. You need to find a way to es… cape…”

The tiny face on the surface of the soup wavered and dissolved away.

Silence.

Silence spread through the dim room. Myss turned his head and stared soundlessly at Salaar.

After a long pause, Salaar said, “Uh, Tass has always had a vivid imagination. There may be another explanation.”

Myss continued staring at him without a word.

Salaar continued with some difficulty. “We should investigate based on objective evidence…”

“I think,” Myss said slowly, “the Dragon Fae’s theory makes some sense.”

“I have an idea. Should we try it?”

---

The author has something to say:

Egan (?): Hehe.

Egan (?): I wonder what expression Kalen will make when he learns the truth. [Let me see]

Our great genius Myss is about to have another brilliant idea! [okay]

---

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

Author: 年终 / Nian Zhong

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

---

Chapter 132: Its Motive?

Born?

Myss felt a subtle irritation.

If this child truly was an incarnation of the Blind God, then the Chaos Archdemon himself hadn’t even managed to be born successfully yet. How dare some mere Blind God try to get there first…

Wait.

The Blind God wasn’t a “god” forcibly transformed by V.O.R using an Abnormal Fruit. If Myss could observe how this being was born, perhaps he might learn something. With luck, this could even become a path to breaking through his seal.

Besides, Myss was confident that even if this so-called Blind God succeeded in being born, it would still be no match for his true body.

And from another perspective, this being had failed to be born so far, while all the previous sacrifices had departed intact. Whether it succeeded or failed, Myss stood to gain either way.

Most of the restlessness in his heart immediately vanished, and Sogné looked considerably more agreeable.

“That’s a worthwhile goal. Mommy and Daddy will support you with all our strength,” the Archdemon said solemnly, fishing for information. “Speaking of support, is there anything you need?”

Faced with Myss’s complete reversal in attitude, Sogné looked at him in confusion. “Mommy and Daddy… Mommy and Daddy only need to interact naturally. Our family just needs to live happily together.”

So he refused to say it directly. Myss clicked his tongue inwardly.

He dropped onto the living room sofa and looked out at the bright sunshine and endless grasslands. This place was the complete opposite of the interior of the seal. Here, there was only daylight that never ended.

Sogné shuffled over in small steps. “Mommy, can you hold me?”

For the sake of knowledge, Myss generously patted his lap. “Come here.”

The sofa was narrow. Sogné climbed onto it awkwardly, only for Myss to lift him horizontally in midair. The pose looked exactly like a fisherman proudly displaying a large fish he had just caught.

Sogné shifted uncomfortably, but Myss’s hands were as tight as iron clamps. In the end, he could only endure it.

“Is there anything else you want?” Myss asked kindly.

Sogné: “…No.”

His entire body was tense, bent stiffly at the waist, with a faint sheen of sweat forming on his forehead. 

Easy enough, Myss thought with approval. Even more pleasingly, the mushrooms he had used as toys earlier had automatically returned to their original places. The food here appeared inexhaustible.

Judging by the time, it should be morning now. He wondered what they would eat for lunch…

Creak.

After sleeping for only an hour, Salaar got up again. He pushed open the half-closed door and saw Myss holding the large Sogné fish in both hands.

Salaar: “…”

Salaar slowly withdrew into the bedroom, closed the door, then slowly opened it again.

Myss and Sogné turned to look at him together. One large and one small gray-white head gleamed beneath the sunlight.

“Daddy!” Sogné cried, sounding as though he were calling for rescue.

To Myss’s surprise, the usually smooth and adaptable Salaar didn’t respond immediately. He stood quietly with one hand on the doorframe, gazing at the sunlit living room.

“Was that little bit of sleep enough?” Myss wrinkled his nose at Salaar. “Be careful. If you don’t rest enough, your brain will turn stupid.”

“Daddy, um, hold me,” Sogné continued trying to ask for help.

Myss ignored him.

“If you’re not going to sleep, you might as well tell me what we’re eating for lunch. For the record, I want creamy mushroom soup with diced bacon. It’s a shame there aren’t any raspberries here… Salaar?”

Salaar was still standing by the door. Myss had a strange feeling. Salaar had never looked so… vulnerable before.

For one brief instant, Salaar appeared content and ordinary, much like those insignificant humans, yet somehow different. If Myss had to describe it, he looked like a pitiful fool immersed in a beautiful dream while knowing perfectly well that he was dreaming.

“Creamy mushroom soup with bread and a vegetable salad,” Salaar finally said after a long while. “What about you, child? What would you like?”

“Mushroom soup sounds good, but I want the bread to be crispier.” Sogné struggled to tilt his head. “Daddy, what’s wrong? You look a little sad.”

Salaar stepped forward and lifted Sogné out of Myss’s claws.

“Sad? Of course not. I only want to remember this moment as clearly as possible.”

Sogné said, “But we’re only discussing lunch. That’s ordinary.”

Salaar’s gaze passed over Sogné and fell on Myss, who was sprawled backward across the sofa. Myss looked much calmer than he had before Salaar went to sleep. His expression was completely relaxed, and he no longer seemed out of place within this space.

At that moment, Myss wore the hairstyle Salaar had arranged with his own hands, stretching beneath the brilliant golden sunlight. Healthy color showed beneath his skin, and soft humming sounds emerged from his throat.

Outside the window, the sky was a flawless blue. They both knew that night would never arrive here.

“…This isn’t ordinary, child.” Salaar’s voice sounded unusually old. “This is a scene I was destined never to touch in my entire life.”

“Discussing lunch?”

“No.” Salaar smiled at Sogné. “I mean ‘having a home’.”

Sogné looked at Salaar without fully understanding.

“But Daddy, you’re so young and handsome. Even if Mommy breaks… breaks up with you, you can still have a home, as long as you want one.”

At those words, Myss turned his face toward them and swept his gaze repeatedly over Salaar’s face. Salaar couldn’t help scratching his cheek.

“To do that, I would have to abandon my responsibilities, my wishes, and my true feelings.” Salaar patted Sogné’s head. “But if I did that, I would no longer be ‘me’.”

“Some desires are destined never to be fulfilled yet can never be put aside. Perhaps you can’t understand…”

“No.” Sogné’s expression vanished. 

“I can understand.” He spoke in a strange, flat voice with no rise or fall.

“I can actually understand.” As he spoke, he placed a hand over his heart.

“Look. It feels like there’s a hole here that can never be filled.”

Myss frowned. Sogné’s movement gave him an uncanny sense of familiarity.

Not long ago, when the younger Salaar had confessed to him, he had pressed a hand to his chest in exactly the same way.

[—Look. This is where the burning begins.]

The hollow expression on the young Salaar’s face at the time nearly overlapped with Sogné’s now. 

But in that instant, Sogné stopped moving entirely. It wasn’t ordinary stiffness. It was closer to becoming frozen in place. He stared expressionlessly at Salaar without blinking.

Salaar moved in a flash, seized the sunbathing Myss, and flung him behind himself.

Crack.

A chain of sharp sounds rang out as Sogné’s head split open like an eggshell. Amid the violent tremor, dazzling white light exploded through Salaar and Myss’s vision.

Myss instinctively wrapped all four limbs around Salaar. He didn’t know which of them was more vulnerable in this position. He only knew they absolutely couldn’t be separated right now.

Fortunately, no attack followed. When the two barely regained their sight, the surroundings had changed.

The size of the room remained the same, but the warm wooden walls had turned into cold stone bricks. The soft carpet had vanished from the floor, leaving only frigid stone. Even the sofa had become a stone bench without cushions, which immediately irritated Myss.

The entire atmosphere had darkened considerably. Candlesticks bearing carved candles had appeared in the corners. Sunlight still blazed outside the windows, but its colors were several times more intense than before, making everything look false.

Myss clung firmly to Salaar’s back, his eyes sweeping warily across the room. He had no intention of getting down yet.

“Daddy. Mommy.”

A childish voice called.

Myss slowly poked his head out from behind Salaar and looked toward the sound. “That thing” still somewhat resembled Sogné, but he had become smaller.

Before, Sogné had been tall enough to bury his face against Myss’s stomach. The Sogné before them now was shorter than Myss’s leg. 

He still had gray hair and blue eyes resembling theirs. But his face… His face looked malformed, with the left and right sides different in size.

Sogné’s head was no longer normally rounded. It looked as though someone had tried to fuse half an adolescent’s face with half a child’s face, creating a nauseating disharmony. Worse still, faint traces of cracks remained across his face, like overgrown capillaries.

Expression returned to that distorted face. It was a bright yet uneasy smile. Sogné clutched the corner of his clothes and looked nervously at the two of them.

To an ordinary human, he might have appeared terrifying. To the Chaos Archdemon, however, this was less frightening than a sprouting potato.

Myss climbed down from behind Salaar and immediately began pinching and pulling Sogné’s face again, studying the changes in this wild god, or perhaps this wild god’s puppet.

“Mm… Mommy… Daddy…!”

A trace of astonishment still remained on Salaar’s face. But when he realized the place still existed, the Hero seemed to release half a breath. Then, seeing Myss energetically torment Sogné, he slowly released the other half as well.

Myss truly was exceptionally intelligent, and he valued his life. If Myss dared touch Sogné directly, that meant the change wasn’t negative, or at least posed no immediate threat to their lives.

Eventually, Salaar instinctively turned his gaze back toward the kitchen.

“The food is still there. Good.” He said, “Actually, I’m more accustomed to stone kitchens. Creamy mushroom soup, vegetable salad, and crispier toasted bread, correct?”

Now it was Sogné’s turn to feel uneasy. He touched his distorted body and looked back and forth between Myss and Salaar.

“Mommy, don’t you hate me?”

“Your father is uglier than you when he gets old,” Myss said cheerfully.

Sogné: “…”

Sogné looked even more confused. “That isn’t what I meant…”

“Fine, if you don’t want to hear stories about that old guy.” Myss clicked his tongue loudly. “You look more human than I did when I was young. Is that better?”

Sogné’s expression grew more vivid, though not in a positive way. He stared at Myss in utter incomprehension, his face plainly asking, Why haven’t you run away yet?

Myss didn’t care about the brat’s mental state. He even bent down and sniffed around Sogné.

This was a valuable change in magical fluctuations. He had to remember it clearly.

……

Outside the door, Tass abruptly pulled his nose back and sneezed.

The other two rats, or more precisely, the contemptible cowards, had fled in panic to warn Kalen the moment they noticed something unusual. But he, the brave Dragon Fae Tass Ga, dared to stick his nose through the gap once again.

A brief eruption of magic had occurred inside only seconds earlier. The wave passed through the door and made his rat whiskers tremble violently. Perhaps because of the surge, the strange presence in the darkness had concealed itself, and its aura had weakened somewhat.

Tass immediately shoved his nose inside and sniffed repeatedly.

The smell hadn’t changed.

But the magic… The magic was circulating faster and faster. The entire magical atmosphere had become somewhat “warm,” increasingly resembling the place where he had been born.

Yet this magical tide was even more complicated and violent than his birthplace. It gave him the absurd illusion that his birthplace was merely an imitation of this place.

Extremely active magic. A magical tide resembling the birthplace of magical creatures…

No. Something was missing.

When Tass had been born, the Dragon Fae ancestors had already constructed a guiding formation. The birthplace directed the active magic into clusters, allowing the newly conscious Dragon Fae to follow its guidance and gradually construct their bodies.

But there was no guiding formation here. There was no guiding magic at all. Inside the room, there was only suspicious darkness and the strange being concealed within it.

Think again… A man and a woman chosen as sacrifices… The Blind God’s Blessing, which produced loving, happy couples…

No.

Could it be drawing exceptional humans into falling in love, guiding them into mental union and spiritual gestation, then allowing that unknown magical creature to imitate them and construct a body of its own?

What exactly was the being so desperately trying to be born?

No, no!

The Dragon Fae’s expression changed in horror.

Never mind the unknown entity. This time, two men had gone inside!

Those two were already a couple and had no need for the Blind God’s Blessing, but they were physically incapable of producing a child!

---

The author has something to say:

They don’t have that function. They don’t have that function. [cat paw]

Dragon Fae: What do we do? Are they going to be trapped in there for the rest of their lives? [afraid]

---

Kinky Thoughts:

Tentacles and falling in love with a Cthulhu-type monster is fine, but Nian Zhong won’t cross the line with MPREG? Lol. Though to be fair, I’m not a big fan of MPREG either.

---

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

Author: 年终 / Nian Zhong

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

---

Chapter 131: The Rat Fae’s Adventure

Father Kalen returned to the corridor once more. This time, he didn’t encounter any other troublesome figures.

Even so, the priest lightened his steps and crept carefully outward. By the time he reached the outermost part of the Root Church, Tass had finally recovered somewhat.

“This place is deadly. I thought I’d never be able to breathe properly again in my life.”

The priest scratched his head. “Is there something wrong with the magical environment inside?”

Tass laboriously pushed half his body out, both hands gripping the edge of the gemstone. “It’s hard to describe. I’ve never encountered an environment like that before. It’s like…”

He struggled for a while to find the right words. “…Like the place where I was born.”

Father Kalen gave him an inquisitive look.

“The flow of magic is abnormally chaotic, but the magical fluctuations are extremely rich. If the environment outside is a cup of cold water, then the inside is a pot of boiling cream stew.”

The Dragon Fae tried his best to explain it to the large human.

“If the latter is served in a bowl, it’s a wonderful dinner. But if you yourself get thrown into the pot to stew, it’s not nearly as pleasant.”

The priest gave an only half-understanding “oh.” “Then I’ll find somewhere to hide the obsidian. You can rest outside.”

“No! I barely helped last time, and now you want me to rest again? I can’t afford that humiliation.”

Tass shouted with full vigor. “This kind of magical turbulence can be blocked by flesh and blood. As long as I have a physical body to inhabit, I’ll be able to stabilize my form.”

That made sense, Kalen thought.

The Dragon Fae was genuinely powerful. Even those young priests could move freely through the Root Church, so there was no reason Tass couldn’t.

But a body of flesh and blood…

“You can possess things?” Father Kalen asked cautiously. “I thought only divine power could do that.”

“Listen, even without that frightening mental exchange, similar forms of ‘possession’ have existed before.” The Dragon Fae lifted his nose and explained with considerable expertise. “The first kind is altering the appearance of your own body and impersonating someone else. It’s extremely difficult flesh magic, but it does exist. Humans like using that method.”

“The second is a little trick reserved for magical creatures like us. Give me a fresh corpse, and I can temporarily ‘wear’ it and move around.”

After speaking, Tass sighed. “Dragon Fae usually don’t do it, though. It’s a technique favored by the undead.”

Father Kalen looked as though he were facing a mortal enemy. “But where are we supposed to find a fresh corpse?”

“That’s the hardest part.” Tass sighed repeatedly. “If I had no morals, I could have killed that brat just now. Unfortunately, I do. Quite a lot of them, in fact.”

The priest had already begun considering other approaches. “…Does this fresh corpse have to be human?”

“Wait, you’re not seriously—”

“Would a rat work?” Father Kalen asked, already reaching into his pocket.

The Dragon Fae opened his mouth.

The phrases “Rats are filthy, you bastard” and “Do you have some kind of grudge against me?” lodged in his throat.

What finally emerged was: “You just asked them for help, and now you want to kill one?”

Kalen looked horrified. “Of course not! Aside from humans, I never kill animals that have spoken to me!”

The Dragon Fae: “…”

The Dragon Fae: “…Okay.”

At the same time, Kalen pulled his hand from his pocket, revealing a piece of sweet cheese.

He summoned a rat and proposed a small trade. They would provide a relatively intact mouse corpse, and he would exchange it for an equal amount of sweet cheese.

The rat liked the bargain.

Before long, they dragged a stiff little rat before Kalen. It seemed to have eaten something poisonous. White foam clung to its mouth, and its body hadn’t yet begun to breed maggots.

A hopelessly dispirited look settled over Tass’s face. He sighed at least a hundred times in front of Kalen before finally entering the dead rat’s body.

The instant the dead rat stood up, several nearby rats shrieked in terror and fled in a stumbling panic, cheese clutched in their mouths.

The Dragon… Rat Fae: “Heh.”

“Next, I’ll direct the other rats to assist you. If you encounter danger, scream, and I’ll have them throw you the obsidian,” Kalen instructed earnestly.

“Fine.” Tass struggled forward on all four legs. He wanted to sigh again.

He had to admit that once he had this shield of flesh and blood, the influence of the strange magical turbulence weakened immediately. No wonder Myss had experienced the environment so differently.

The only problem was that everything he was used to had grown several times larger, while a stiff tail now trailed behind his rear. Tass walked with exceptional irritation and wanted nothing more than to bite someone.

When they returned to the barred gate near the central sanctuary, Kalen stopped.

Countless spells had been attached to the gate. It wasn’t that he couldn’t break it open through brute force, but this was too close to the center of the church. He would be discovered almost immediately.

Three dark-brown rats, including the remarkable Tass Ga, slipped through the hollow patterns and continued onward in his place.

Light from the corridor danced across the cutout designs, casting faint shadows.

“May His Veil shroud you, unseen and unharmed.”

Kalen solemnly placed one hand over his heart.

Under the complicated gazes of the other two rats, Tass squeezed through the gap in the door with a display of heroic determination despite his physical limitations and successfully infiltrated the preparation room.

Two priests stood inside, one old and one young.

“Both honored guests have entered,” Priest Garnet said, bowing his head to the elaborately dressed old man.

The old man’s beard reached the floor. He wore broad white robes, and the sweet fragrance of nut oil concealed the particular scent of old age. He leaned on an emerald staff taller than himself and gazed at the tightly closed door.

“May our God’s wish be fulfilled,” the old man sighed.

Priest Garnet looked far more expectant. He gazed longingly at the door. “I heard that you were chosen by the Blind God when you were young. I’ve always hoped that God might grant me the same honor someday. Unfortunately, this year He chose outsiders.”

Tass strained his neck upward to examine Garnet.

The priest had a strong and attractive build, smooth skin, and spotless white teeth. It was clear that he took great care of his appearance. His features were indeed handsome and proper, but he was still a level below Salaar. Even the plain and honest Kalen surpassed him.

Tass was actually quite curious about the Blind God’s standards. Usually, followers of other faiths would be treated as literal living sacrifices rather than recipients of divine blessing… Tass was no longer young. He refused to believe the Blind God had gathered two attractive young people merely to play matchmaker.

Perhaps humans found it romantic to receive a spouse of exceptional appearance whose character had been guaranteed by a god. But Dragon Fae possessed no sense of “romance” whatsoever. Tass firmly believed there was some kind of conspiracy involved.

The magical conditions here resembled the environment in which magical creatures were born. That couldn’t possibly be a coincidence. Unfortunately, the old man only smiled silently and didn’t respond. His gaze remained fixed on the nearby door.

“Choosing two outsiders and choosing a pair of lovers are both unprecedented,” Priest Garnet continued. “It appears Lord Blind God wishes to alter His selection method…”

“Garnet, say what you truly mean,” the old man said calmly.

“High Priest, is this change truly… ‘positive’?”

For the first time, uncertainty entered Garnet’s voice.

“What exactly does our God desire?”

“The prayers that night were like one long dream. When I awoke, she and I retained only a faint impression of the taboo, along with a sense of intimacy toward each other.”

At the mention of “her,” the old man revealed a faint smile. But as he continued, it quickly disappeared.

“…At the same time, I remember an inexplicable sense of loss. We must have disappointed Him. Later, I questioned other ‘blessed couples,’ and they all had similar feelings.”

“Child, I do not know what He seeks from us, but that desire must be extremely urgent, and it has never once been fulfilled.”

Garnet fell silent. Viewed that way, the Blind God certainly had a reason for choosing outsiders, but…

“Why doesn’t He tell us what He desires?” Garnet asked.

“Garnet, oh Garnet. How could a god make a wish to humans?”

The old man laughed. “Besides, He is the great being who raised our ancestors from the marsh and restored these ruins to glory. If even He can’t fulfill this wish, what use would there be in telling us?”

“You’re right,” Garnet said humbly.

Humans really did love overthinking things. The Dragon Fae snorted through his rat nose and nearly toppled over from the stench of his own breath.

As magical creatures, Dragon Fae had no faith and therefore no instinct to idealize gods. In Tass’s view, this Blind God was deeply suspicious. Perhaps He refused to reveal His purpose simply because that purpose was too dangerous.

Listening to the two humans speak in riddles had yielded little useful information. Tass’s eyes shifted. He quietly crawled toward the tightly closed door.

He wouldn’t go inside. He would merely use his height advantage to peek through the gap beneath it. That should be safe enough.

The Dragon Fae was a creature of action. He shook off the other two rats and, while the priests weren’t looking, crept close to the crack beneath the door.

There it was again. This time, even through flesh and blood, he could feel that turbulent, chaotic aura. The gap beneath the door was extremely narrow. Tass forced his head into it, but after a great deal of effort, only half his nose fit through. Fortunately, he had pressed his head low enough to barely see the room beyond.

The interior was pitch-black. Salaar and Myss lay near the door. Soft cushions had been placed beneath them in advance. Their breathing was long and shallow, and they appeared to be in a deep sleep.

Farther inside, everything was submerged in darkness, and Tass couldn’t see clearly. But within that ambiguous blackness, he smelled something.

It resembled raw meat soaked in water for far too long, rotting honey, and moldy medicinal herbs. Faint heartbeats sounded from the darkness. There was more than one, yet they beat in perfect unison, like ten thousand drumsticks striking at the same time.

Tass’s tiny claws tensed. The center of the chaotic magical turbulence was inside that darkness.

Something within the shadows cast its gaze outward, watching the two sleeping figures near the door. Tass couldn’t resist stretching one tiny mouse paw into the room, trying to grab a loose strand of Myss’s hair.

Before his paw could even cross the threshold, a cold flash appeared, and the tips of his claws were sliced off entirely. Fortunately, he was using a dead mouse as his body. The wound neither bled nor hurt.

But if this body were damaged too severely, his true form wouldn’t survive either.

Tass could only curl himself up and continue observing. Since he had come this far, he was determined to see what that thing truly was.

As if sensing his thoughts, a face gradually emerged from the darkness.

Most of it remained covered in shadow, leaving only a faint outline. Even so, Tass could tell that it was a young human face.

It hung upside down, its scalp pressed against the ground at a grotesque angle. If it came any closer, it would certainly see Tass through the gap.

The Dragon Fae’s fur stood on end. He staggered back two steps, then turned and hid behind the doorframe.

On the brightly lit side of the door, the two priests stood together and prayed with absolute devotion.

“May our God’s wish be fulfilled.”

“May our God’s wish be fulfilled.”

……

Inside the “room.”

Although he found the child abnormal, Myss bravely finished every last piece of fried meat.

“Tell me. What do you want me to do?” The Archdemon wiped his mouth and set the empty bowl on the table.

Sogné pretended not to hear.

This brat was becoming more and more like Salaar. Myss drew a deep breath and clenched his teeth. “Tell me. What do you want ‘Mommy’ to do?”

“Nothing special,” Sogné said. “Mommy only needs to be herself. Of course, it would be even better if Mommy played with me.”

Myss truly had no idea how humans played. There was nothing like that in the slave’s memories.

He thought for a long while, then had no choice but to imitate Salaar. He rummaged through the ingredients and pulled out several mushrooms.

“Watch carefully. I’ll throw them, and you bring them back.”

Sogné: “…Mommy, I’m not a dog.”

“Your father likes this game. He even plays it by himself,” Myss stated honestly.

Sogné considered this in silence for quite some time before swallowing his frustration.

“All right.”

Myss gave a small hum and casually threw a mushroom far away. Sogné sprang lightly into the air. Using movements no ordinary child could possibly perform, he ran along the wall and landed beside the mushroom.

He picked it up without enthusiasm and trotted back to Myss.

“Mommy, now it’s my turn to throw.”

“I’m not a dog either,” Myss said.

Sogné looked somewhat aggrieved. “But you said Daddy…”

Myss was utterly merciless. “Why do you think he played by himself back then? Because I refused to play with him.”

Sogné pursed his lips and made a pitiful look. Myss, on the other hand, felt inexplicably relieved. Perhaps the Blind God would find him so irritating that It would kick the two of them out. That would count as freedom too.

Putting the thought into action, he pinched Sogné’s round cheeks and stretched them out.

“Mommy, don’t do dat,” Sogné said indistinctly. “Let’s play something else. What does Mommy like to play?”

What did he like to play?

The question genuinely stumped Myss. From the moment he became conscious, he had never had time to explore his preferences. He had spent all his time observing Salaar.

After entering the human world, he had also remained inseparable from Salaar. Every activity that could be called “playing” somehow involved Salaar. But if he had to name the activity he enjoyed most…

“I like playing with your father,” he concluded solemnly. 

Sogné sucked in a sharp breath. “You shouldn’t say that to a child.”

Myss: “…”

Sogné: “…”

Myss: “Then I have nothing else to say.”

Interacting with young creatures was truly irritating, though this little brat might not actually be human. If Salaar hadn’t stayed awake for so long and needed more sleep, Myss would have dragged him out of bed already.

Seeing Myss stand there distracted, Sogné sighed, somehow sounding even more world-weary than Myss.

“You’re tired from playing, aren’t you? Go to sleep,” Myss suggested hopefully.

“I don’t need sleep,” Sogné muttered. His blue eyes stared unblinkingly at Myss. “If Mommy is tired, you can rest. I’ll read by myself.”

“Let me think. You don’t want parental affection, and you don’t need us to do anything. You only want us to remain here and…” Myss wrinkled his nose. “…And love each other. Do you have some strange hobby?”

“Hobby?”

Sogné gazed steadily at him. Those eyes, so similar to Salaar’s, were perfectly clear.

“Mommy, I’m only learning.”

“Learning how to be ‘born.’”

---

The author has something to say:

Dragon Fae: I thought I was responsible for at least part of the good looks.

Dragon Fae: (Heartbroken inside a rat’s body)

---

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

Author: 年终 / Nian Zhong

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

---

Chapter 130: It Knows

The confession chamber.

Myss had a strange dream. Everything in it was pitch-black, as though he had returned to the depths of the seal. He tossed and turned on the bed, hugging the entire blanket to his chest, and slept until a dull ache throbbed through his temples.

He had definitely slept for more than eight hours.

The Archdemon realized he was awake. At the thought of having to deal with that terrifying child again, he kept his eyes firmly shut and rubbed his face against the pillow.

If he stayed like this a little longer, the Eye-Opening Ceremony would begin. He could wisely sleep until everything was over. Nothing could make him open his eyes…

…Hm?

A soft, rich aroma of meat drifted into Myss’s nose. Unable to resist, Myss cracked one eye open and saw a piece of fried meat Salaar was holding beneath his nose.

Myss lost all restraint. His mouth opened, and he bit the meat from Salaar’s fingers.

Salaar had probably boiled the cured meat to remove some of the salt, then coated it in egg and breadcrumbs before frying it into golden pieces. He also sprinkled pepper over the top, making it taste absolutely delicious.

“There’s more in the kitchen. Since you’re awake, get up.” Salaar sat beside the bed, amusement in his voice. “Hurry. I need to do your hair.”

Myss sat up with the blanket draped around him. His clothes were disheveled from sleep, leaving his upper body barely covered. His long gray-white hair was scattered everywhere, though the pomegranate blossoms miraculously remained in place.

He hesitated between “enduring the headache and boredom to keep sleeping” and “going to the kitchen to enjoy fried meat and fruit.” Ultimately, the latter won.

“Is it almost dawn?” Myss leaned toward Salaar hopefully.

At that, Salaar’s expression turned slightly grave.

“I’ve been keeping track of the time. You slept for nearly nine hours, but the sky outside is still daylight. The sunlight hasn’t changed at all.”

“Judging by when we entered the Root Church, morning has already come outside. But nothing in this room has changed, and no one has come to collect us.”

He carefully avoided using words such as “leave.”

Alarm bells rang in Myss’s head. “What does that mean? Are we really trapped?”

Salaar nodded.

Could this be a plot aimed specifically at them?

Myss crawled over to Salaar on his own and turned his back, covered in a cascade of long hair, toward him.

“Hurry and brush it. I need to investigate.”

As he spoke, he expertly held out a hand, ready to catch Knife and Fork that had been tucked into his hair. Salaar had hidden them there before they entered the confessional.

Yet Myss held out his hand for quite a while without feeling the familiar cool touch.

“Knife and Fork aren’t here. More precisely, they’ve disappeared.”

Salaar poked Myss’s open palm.

“That means this place definitely isn’t reality.”

Of course he knew perfectly this wasn’t the real world. Myss pulled his hand back irritably.

“After all your explanations, the fact remains that you can’t see through the Blind God’s trick. Is this what you call being ‘skilled in mental magic’?”

“In an illusion of this level, our perception of time is probably inaccurate.” Salaar continued combing Myss’s hair without changing expression. “In other words, how ‘long’ we stay here depends entirely on the Blind God’s will.”

“If It refuses to release us, we might spend another three hundred years together in this place.”

With that, he inserted the fiery pomegranate blossoms back into Myss’s hair. Myss had just gotten out of bed, and his hair still held a gentle warmth. It felt unusually alive beneath Salaar’s touch.

Myss didn’t find the prospect of being trapped terrifying. Instead, he found Salaar’s expression more frightening. Salaar actually looked relaxed, as though being imprisoned here wasn’t a bad thing.

“You don’t care?” Myss asked.

“First, they don’t know who we are, so this isn’t a targeted attack. Second, mental realms depend on mental strength, and I’m confident in mine. Third… now I understand why the previous sacrifices survived and all went on to form happy families.”

The single men and women carefully selected by the Blind God were bound to be attractive and of decent character.

On the surface, such a pair merely prayed together for one night. In reality, they spent an unknown length of time in this peculiar place, accompanied by an obedient “child” who resembled them both.

It was easy to understand how affection could develop between them, leading them to marry after they returned.

“…We joined the Eye-Opening Ceremony to relax in the first place.” Seeing Myss still glared furiously, Salaar continued, “Fortunately, you and I were trapped here together. We can take our time now. Since the situation is unclear, I suggest we continue step by step and wait to see what happens.”

Myss sat frozen on the bed.

His unhappiness ultimately came from being controlled by some nameless god. His pride couldn’t tolerate it. Salaar, meanwhile, had been suppressed by Myss all along. His skin was more than thick enough.

And now, time flowed differently here, so this wouldn’t delay anything outside. His mortal enemy was trapped beside him in the same miserable situation, unable to tamper with anything while Salaar was absent.

Since returning to the human world, this was probably the first time Salaar had felt so free.

The more the Archdemon watched his enemy enjoying himself, the angrier he became. The moment Salaar finished arranging his hair, Myss spun around and pounced, pinning him to the bed.

“I can’t relax. I have to find a way out first.”

Salaar took the opportunity to lift his head and kiss the tip of Myss’s nose. “Mm. I wish you success.”

Myss got up irritably and rushed toward the kitchen, deciding to carry out the first step of his revenge by eating every piece of fried meat Salaar had made.

Unfortunately, he wasn’t the only one who could smell it.

“Mommy!”

Sogné stood on tiptoe, reaching for the fried meat cooling on the rack. His mouth still shone visibly with grease.

The instant Myss appeared, he whipped his hands behind his back, looking nervous.

“Daddy said I could eat some… I washed my hands!”

At the thought of who this little brat meant by “Daddy” and “Mommy,” another wave of disgust ran through Myss, nearly making him move his arms and legs out of sync.

He wanted to beat the child up to vent his anger. But considering that Sogné was very likely the key to getting out, Myss had no choice but to force the violent impulse back into his mind.

“Children can’t eat too much,” he said stiffly, hugging the entire bowl to his chest.

“But Daddy’s cooking is really good,” Sogné said miserably. “Can I have two more pieces? …One? Mommy—”

The whining irritated Myss beyond endurance. He swiftly pulled out one piece and stuffed it into Sogné’s mouth.

Sogné blinked those lapis-lazuli eyes. They gradually curved into crescents, making him look exactly like a smug Salaar.

“Mommy is so nice.” He held the meat in both hands and spoke obediently.

Myss put another piece in his own mouth and cast a sideways glance at the boy. He diffused his pupils scanning for a Magibase but found nothing. The child was most likely an incarnation or puppet of the Blind God. He was definitely not a normal human.

Knife and Fork might be gone, but Myss still had magic. Perhaps he could probe Sogné’s memories and find some useful clues.

Once Myss formed the thought, he acted immediately. He quietly dispersed invisible magical mist, guiding it into Sogné’s nose, mouth, and ears.

“Achoo!”

Before Myss could do anything else, Sogné let out a huge sneeze and blasted away all the magic Myss had so carefully controlled.

“You can’t do that, Mommy.”

After sneezing, Sogné rubbed his nose. “Parents aren’t allowed to secretly read their children’s diaries. Memory diaries count too.”

Myss’s hand holding the bowl stiffened. A chill ran down his back.

He had only just sent his magic inside. The spell had barely begun. How did Sogné know he intended to read his memories?

As far as Myss knew, only Salaar had ever been able to identify the type of magic that quickly. Had this child inherited Salaar’s knowledge? Did the Blind God possess that kind of ability?

“I didn’t do anything. It’s Salaar’s fault for adding too much pepper,” Myss lied stubbornly.

Sogné tilted his head. His originally innocent face took on a trace of Salaar’s helplessness. “Mm. Let’s say that’s what happened.”

Then, as though gathering his courage, he added, “But I still want another piece of meat.”

Myss looked at those damned blue eyes, then at the bowl. In the end, he stuffed another piece into Sogné’s mouth.

“Eat.” He spoke reluctantly and resumed chewing himself.

Two gray-white heads, one large and one small, stood beside the sunlit window eating fried meat. Salaar had also left cream soup simmering on the stove. The bubbling broth released steam, faint rainbow colors shimmering in the sunlight.

From this angle, they could see Salaar resting in the bedroom.

He had remained awake for nine hours and was now sleeping deeply, without even closing the bedroom door. Myss stared at Salaar’s legs and bit viciously into the meat, as though it were Salaar’s calf.

Sogné looked at Myss, then at Salaar, before returning a timid gaze to Myss.

“Mommy, did you and Daddy have a fight?”

“No,” Myss said curtly, throwing another piece of meat into his mouth.

He could hardly tell the child that Myss wanted to get out as soon as possible while Salaar wanted to take things slowly in this miserable place.

Sogné said, “You look angry with him. Why are you angry?”

“Daddy is a very good person. His fried meat tastes good, and the hairstyle he gave you is pretty too… He did your hair, right? You can’t arrange that style by yourself.”

Myss’s eyes shifted as a brilliant idea struck him. “Tell me a story about the Blind God, and I’ll tell you why I’m angry.”

Sogné fell silent. Under the sunlight of the endless day, those blue eyes looked impossibly pure.

“But Mommy doesn’t care about the Blind God. And the Blind God didn’t choose Mommy.”

His tone carried an almost cruel innocence, as though he were sharing a small secret between mother and child.

Myss stopped chewing.

“Oh, I understand. Mommy gets angry with Daddy so easily because the two of you aren’t truly ‘in love.’ All of this is fake, right?”

Sogné spoke excitedly, his cheeks flushing with happiness.

“That’s wonderful. You’ll definitely be able to stay with me for a very, very long time!”

Warm sunlight wrapped around Myss, while cold foreboding slid down his spine.

This “child” knew what they had done.

That meant the Blind God knew they weren’t normal sacrifices, yet had still dragged them into this “home.”

Myss silently shifted his position, placing himself between Sogné and the bedroom door, his body blocking the sleeping Salaar from view.

He lowered his head and looked at Sogné’s face, which was immersed in happiness.

What exactly did this “god,” holed away in a desolate land, intend to do?

---

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

Author: 年终 / Nian Zhong

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

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Chapter 129: A Prayer Before Bed

Kalen immediately activated his divine power, and his figure dissolved into the darkness.

Although the room was clean, it was practically empty. There was only a single wooden bed covered with a thin sheet, an obviously ancient desk, and a rough wardrobe with its doors tightly shut.

Had time not been limited and Kalen’s build not been so large, he might even have tried hiding inside the wardrobe.

Creak.

Light from the corridor spilled through the opening as a boy entered carrying a candlestick. Kalen silently pressed himself farther into the corner and recognized the face. It was clearly the boy who had been assigned to “watch” Earl not long ago. His name seemed to be Egan.

Egan placed the candlestick on the desk without activating the magical lamps. The room was immediately coated in layers of dim light and shadow.

The boy had his back to Kalen. Illuminated by the candle, his shadow stretched all the way to the ceiling, making him look abnormally tall.

Kalen waited quietly in the corner for Egan to leave.

Tass also understood the situation and kept his mouth firmly shut, pretending he didn’t exist at all.

The room didn’t look inhabited, so Kalen had assumed Egan would leave quickly. Yet the young priest had barely set down the candlestick before he walked to the bed and sat down.

Kalen: “…”

Did this child actually live here? Had the door been left improperly closed not by coincidence, but because this was his room?

Kalen could indeed conceal himself, but he could only conceal himself. Small objects like the obsidian could remain close to his body without issue, but he couldn’t hide the motion of opening or closing a door.

Egan seemed completely unaware of the other person in the room. He interlaced his fingers and touched the knuckles of his index fingers to his lips, assuming a standard posture of prayer.

Unfortunately, he didn’t close his eyes. His sky-blue gaze remained fixed on the empty floor.

“Praise the loving nameless god. Praise His silent protection, His impartial care, and His endless gifts. Darkness shall at last be broken, and light shall soon arrive…”

He chanted softly in a clear, pleasant voice.

Kalen’s brows drew together slightly. These were probably prayers to the Blind God, yet they sounded faintly familiar.

Through the dim little room, he seemed to see the equally dim house he had once shared with his brother many years ago.

To save money on lamp oil, they would light only the fireplace. At least they could gather the wood themselves and didn’t need to pay for it.

Apart from the small circle directly before the hearth, their room had been just as dark.

“Don’t look so miserable, Kalen.” Hermit embraced him in the memory. “This darkness is perfect. We can pray to the Lord of Shadows.”

“But I heard that only people who believe in the Eternal Hearth pray to fireplaces,” Kalen said. “Should we put the fire out, Hermi?”

“Darkness and shadow are different things.” Hermit released him and rested both hands on his shoulders. “Think about it. A God of Darkness sounds evil the moment you hear the name!”

Kalen only half understood. “Oh. Then how do we pray?”

Hermit turned his back to the fireplace and rolled his eyes in thought. “Like this. I’ll say one line, and you repeat after me.”

“Praise the loving god.”

“Praise the loving god.”

“Praise His protection, His care, and His endless blessings.”

“Praise His protection, His care… His endless… what?”

“Blessings, Kalen. Bless-ings. They’re something like gifts.”

“But I haven’t noticed any blessings.” Kalen looked extremely confused. “The Lord of Shadows hasn’t even given us a single copper tooth, and we barely have any lamp oil left at home.”

To get more lamp oil for reading, Hermit had once tried buying some cheap oil.

Unfortunately, it had smelled strange, and when burned, it filled the entire room with choking smoke. The two of them had been forced to give up.

“All right. Maybe I shouldn’t have compared them to gifts.” Hermit grimaced. “He gave us hope, Kalen. Hope is far more precious than lamp oil.”

Kalen remained confused. At least in his own memory, he had never felt despair.

But if Hermit said so, then their “hope” had to be real. Kalen silently considered this for a while.

“Praise His protection, His care, and His endless blessings,” he repeated clumsily.

Hermit smiled. Although he still had the face of a child, the smile held a strange bitterness. In the firelight, even the scars on his face seemed less obvious.

Wait… When had Hermit been injured?

Kalen pressed his fingers to his temple. In his memories, Hermit seemed always to have carried those two terrible scars. There was also a frightening scar encircling his neck like a noose.

Yet Father Kalen couldn’t remember where that had come from either.

Perhaps he had still been an infant without memories at the time, Kalen thought.

Hermit had simply never mentioned it, and Kalen had grown so accustomed to the scars that he had never thought to ask. That had to be it.

Their prayer back then had also ended with that mysterious line of unknown origin.

“May His Veil shroud you, unseen and unharmed,” Hermit recited in his clear voice.

“May His Veil shroud you, unseen and unharmed.”

An equally clear voice crossed the years and repeated the words before Father Kalen.

Egan remained in his prayer posture, a faint and devout smile on his face.

For an instant, Father Kalen nearly dispelled his concealment and rushed forward to demand where the words had come from.

The Secret Garden was fiercely isolationist. It practically wished to draw a boundary around all of Mondicia and declare that the destruction of the outside world didn’t matter.

The Order of Shadows couldn’t possibly be the Secret Garden. It was difficult even to find anything the two had in common.

And yet an Emissary of the Secret Garden had used a prayer from the Order of Shadows directly in front of him.

Was it merely a coincidence? Or was this child also a member of the Order of Shadows?

Kalen’s heart had never beaten so quickly. It was making enough noise to threaten to reveal his location. Worse still, after finishing his prayer, Egan slowly rose and walked toward the corner where Kalen was hiding.

Egan’s head reached only Kalen’s chest, yet Kalen instinctively drew himself inward, his heart pounding even faster.

He could use divine power to hide his form, but he couldn’t make himself truly cease to exist. If Egan touched him, the boy would still realize something was wrong.

Within seconds, Egan stopped directly in front of him. He leaned forward and reached one hand toward Kalen.

Kalen hurriedly moved aside and nearly collided with him. His chest narrowly brushed past Egan’s forehead. In the end, Kalen froze awkwardly while Egan grasped an inconspicuous broom standing in the corner.

For that brief instant, it almost looked as though the boy had rested his forehead against Kalen’s chest.

Egan didn’t move immediately, as if lost in thought. His breath lightly brushed the front of Father Kalen’s clothing.

Kalen tensed even harder, not daring to breathe. At the same time, he had to remain aware of the broom behind him in case Egan pulled too forcefully and struck him with the handle.

He had clearly divined no ill omen. What was this supposed to be?

Fortunately, after that brief “moment of distraction,” Egan abandoned the idea of cleaning the room.

He returned to his original seat, drew his knees together, and stared at the wavering candle flame. Drops of wax slid down one after another, cooling into lustrous warm-white beads.

Kalen had only just released a breath when Egan’s next words suspended his heart again.

“My God, when will I be able to return to my family?” Egan spoke softly. “I know we must remain apart. I have my reasons. I only hope everything will be settled soon.”

Kalen’s throat tightened.

He watched Egan’s sorrowful face for a moment, slipped a dried leaf capable of altering his voice beneath his tongue, and quietly moved closer to the candle.

“Soon…”

He forced the single word out in a breathy whisper, making the voice seem to come from the flame itself.

The candle flickered gently, illuminating Egan’s stunned face.

In the next instant, that face broke into an extraordinarily bright smile.

“My god, it’s really You. I knew You would answer me—”

Kalen immediately shut his mouth and offered no further response.

He had wanted to comfort the child purely out of sympathy for someone in a similar situation. His own brother had also left him, driven by some “compelling reason” Kalen still couldn’t understand.

But Egan had no intention of stopping.

“Listen to me. I had no choice but to separate from the younger brother I love dearly.” Egan stared intensely at the candle. “The worst part is that I left without saying goodbye… more or less.”

Egan looked not yet twenty. His younger brother could only be younger still.

Kalen remained silent, picturing a little boy crying and calling after him.

“But I have my mission. I must serve my God.” Egan seemed to treat this room as a confession chamber and continued speaking without pause. “And because of… certain reasons, if I remained with him, I would only place both of us in danger.”

That’s no excuse for leaving without a word, Kalen thought. You could have told him all of this.

But that hardly sounded like something a god should say, so he could only continue remaining silent.

Egan closed his eyes.

“I know You once taught us that family should be honest with one another.”

“But if everything could be explained in a few simple words, it wouldn’t be a ‘compelling reason.’”

“My God, leaving him and deceiving him have caused me unbearable pain. Even so, I still want to protect him, just as he once protected me.”

“I made him a promise. I would willingly give my life to keep it.”

The boy’s tone was extraordinarily sincere, carrying even the faintest hint of tears.

Kalen stood there in a daze.

That was right. Why was he so fixated on Hermit’s reason for leaving?

His brother loved him. They had lived together for many years, and there could be no doubt about that. Therefore, Hermit’s strange arrangements afterward, the way they had unconsciously guided Kalen into following Myss and Salaar, must also have been driven by some compelling reason.

Even now, the mysterious V.O.R remained concealed in fog. Perhaps Hermit knew something dangerous and had truly attracted V.O.R’s attention.

The more Kalen thought about it, the more his brows relaxed. The possibility comforted him in a subtle way.

Hermit was still alive, merely hiding in the shadows and helping them. Myss and Salaar were the key to confronting V.O.R, so Kalen only needed to give them his full support.

Even better, their next destination was the city Evening Star in Atla, where they would investigate the Order of Shadows. If Kalen’s guess was correct, this was precisely the result Hermit had guided him toward indirectly.

Hermit was alive. Everything was still filled with hope. It was the best situation Kalen could possibly imagine.

“He will forgive you…”

Kalen moved close to the candle again and answered in an ethereal voice.

Egan rose from the bedside and strode to the desk, his face full of joy and relief.

His movement happened to open a path through the cramped room. Kalen immediately slipped through and successfully reached the door.

“Thank you for Your understanding and tolerance.” Egan raised his voice. “I will prepare for the Eye-Opening Ceremony with all my heart.”

It seemed Kalen had overthought the matter. Egan still worshiped the Blind God. Most of Kalen’s curiosity faded.

The Crimson Marsh was filled with ruins of the Firmament. Perhaps the prayers of the Order of Shadows and the Secret Garden merely happened to share the same ancient origin.

Revealing himself rashly would be unwise. It would be better to observe the other emissaries first.

“…Good night, my dear little brother.”

Beside the desk, Egan extinguished the candle. He returned to bed, and his breathing soon grew calm and even.

The door was unlocked. Kalen gently pushed it open with the tip of his boot and returned to the brightly lit corridor. The next moment, the door silently closed behind him, and everything within the room sank completely into darkness.

“Good night, my dear Kalen.”

On the old wooden bed, “Egan” curled his lips into a smile.

---

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

Author: 年终 / Nian Zhong

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

---

Chapter 128: Sogné

Myss’s mind grounded to a halt. He even forgot to use his control magic to distort the child’s senses.

Not even when he first discovered that he had been body-swapped into the human world had he been this shocked. Myss had thought the Eye-Opening Ceremony was nothing more than entertainment. Now it seemed the Blind God was somehow even more chaotic than the Chaos Archdemon himself.

“Mommy.”

The child still clung tightly to his leg and refused to let go.

Suppressing the irritation filling his chest, Myss lowered his gaze and glared at the child.

It was a little boy with lapis-lazuli eyes identical to Salaar’s. His hair was gray-white, much like Myss’s, hanging at the length that brushed against his shoulders.

His appearance was exceptionally sweet and well-behaved. His cheeks were round, and he had none of Salaar’s annoying air. Yet the longer Myss looked, the more unhappy he became. He realized that the child’s brows and eyes somewhat resembled his own, while the nose and lips were the spitting image of Salaar’s.

As for his age, Myss wasn’t good at judging human years. He only knew that the child stood slightly above his waist, with his face at precisely the right height to bury itself against Myss’s stomach.

What the hell is this nightmare child, and where did he come from?

Just as Myss struggled to peel the child off his leg, Salaar approached in astonishment. The wretched child immediately changed targets.

“Daddy!”

Myss and Salaar: “…”

The two looked at each other and, for the first time, saw a trace of helpless confusion in the other’s eyes.

Driven by some subtle emotion, they silently moved a little farther apart.

Salaar drew a deep breath, crouched halfway down, and tried to meet the boy’s eyes.

“Who are you?”

“I’m Sogné.” The little boy looked shocked, and a hint of panic appeared on his face. “Daddy, don’t you recognize me?”

Salaar: “…Daddy’s only feeling a little dizzy. Good boy, do you remember what happened before we went out?”

While the child’s attention was fixed on Salaar, Myss quickly surveyed their surroundings.

The room they were in looked nothing like a church confession chamber.

It resembled the interior of a large wooden house. The living room was spacious, with a complete kitchen and bathroom, as well as two bedrooms. With all the doors and windows open, everything was visible at a glance.

Yet it was nighttime, and they were plainly underground inside a church. Outside the windows, however, stretched endless grassland beneath a vividly blue sky filled with white clouds. Sunlight slid along the curtains and spilled in broad patches across the wooden floor.

Myss turned and tugged at the door through which they had entered, only to discover that it wouldn’t open no matter what he did.

He quietly separated several magical threads and tried to destroy the door, but even beneath his savage annihilation magic, the wood didn’t change in the slightest.

Myss immediately checked the surrounding flow of magic. Strangely enough, this place still wasn’t a Divine Realm. They couldn’t escape by killing its master.

Wonderful. They were trapped inside this inexplicable “confession chamber,” most likely through the Blind God’s handiwork.

Could this brat be an incarnation of the Blind God?

Myss turned back and examined the strange child with an unfriendly gaze.

“…Mommy and Daddy didn’t go anywhere. We’ve always lived here,” the child calling himself Sogné said. “Daddy, I’m hungry. Can we have potato soup today?”

“All right. I’ll make it.” Salaar agreed immediately and gave Myss a meaningful look.

The kitchen shelves were filled with baskets containing all kinds of ordinary fresh vegetables. In one corner stood a full vat of clear water.

Besides salt and baked bread, there was cheese, butter, and cured meat. Salaar even found a small bowl of pepper.

Mr. Hero put on an apron with practiced ease and picked up a kitchen knife.

Myss crowded over beside him, though his hands showed no intention of helping.

“What’s going on?”

“You haven’t figured it out either, so this probably isn’t a Divine Realm. Unfortunately, my mental magic doesn’t work here.”

Salaar skillfully peeled and sliced the potatoes.

“I think the only thing we can be certain of is that this is connected to the Blind God’s divine power. Remember what the priest said? There is no fixed prayer. We ‘only need to show friendliness.’”

Only show friendliness?

Ever since seeing that face combining features from both of them, the goosebumps on Myss’s skin hadn’t faded.

When he thought of the so-called Blind God’s Blessing, they grew even worse. Myss couldn’t help scratching his arm.

The Blind God’s twisted sense of humor was even more outrageous than Salaar’s. Even if it had nothing to do with V.O.R, Myss still wanted to beat it up.

Unlike him, Salaar regained his composure remarkably quickly, almost suspiciously so. He expertly set potatoes, carrots, and onions to simmer, looking relaxed as though he had returned to his own home.

Amid the rising steam, Mr. Hero stirred the soup while glancing at the child several times from the corner of his eye.

Myss couldn’t identify the meaning in that gaze. He only felt his goosebumps threatening to spread. Compared with this cursed place, he almost missed the Red Amber.

Forget it. The priest had also said that as long as they didn’t mention leaving, everything would be fine.

They only had to remain in this miserable place for one night and endure it.

Myss had tolerated Salaar for more than three hundred years. He had considerable confidence in his patience.

“Mommy, carry me!”

The child calling himself Sogné clung to him again, wrapping his arms affectionately around Myss.

…No, maybe he wasn’t that confident in his patience. Myss shuddered from head to toe.

“Yes, you need to be friendlier, darling.”

Salaar solemnly waved the soup ladle.

Myss wished he could stab straight through him with his gaze.

Angry as he was, he still picked the little brat up. Sogné was lighter than he had expected and made no provocative movements. The child simply wrapped one arm around Myss’s neck and used the other to play with the pomegranate flowers on his plant necklace.

“So pretty,” he said happily.

His movements were extremely careful that he didn’t even pluck off a single petal.

Salaar lifted the lid from the pot and used brilliant golden magic to crush the ingredients into a thick orange-yellow soup. Then he chopped some bacon, tossed it in, and a fresh fragrance spread with the steam.

Myss sniffed. The scent was completely real.

At the sight of the soup, Sogné’s eyes sparkled. “That’s pretty too!”

His smile was so radiant that it seemed he had never known the meaning of worry in his life.

“Good boy. Remember to wash your hands before eating.”

Salaar quickly accepted the role of “father” and even seemed to be enjoying himself.

As he arranged bread in his hands, and the corner of his mouth curved into a faint smile—a rare, genuine smile.

Had Salaar been contaminated by the Blind God? The thought made Myss feel increasingly horrified.

Restless and distracted, Myss found the meal flavorless. The moment he finished eating, he claimed that he was tired and needed an “afternoon nap.”

The priest had only said he couldn’t leave. He never said anything about hiding. Contrary to his expectations, Sogné neither cried nor made a fuss, nor did he continue clinging to him.

He even poured Myss a cup of clear water.

“Mommy, rest well. I’m going to my room to draw.”

Myss fled like an arrow.

Once inside the bedroom, he slammed the door and began pacing around the medium-sized wooden room.

Less than two seconds later, the door creaked.

“Don’t be nervous, ‘Mommy.’ It’s just me.” Salaar had removed that damned apron and looked far more relaxed than Myss.

“You seem to be enjoying yourself,” Myss hissed. “Even the two of us can’t figure out what this place is. Is the Blind God really this powerful?”

“The Secret Garden is famous, but as a relatively new religion, its influence is far weaker than that of the Church of Cadance. If the god it worships were truly that omnipotent, the Secret Garden would have dominated everything long ago.”

Salaar sat on the edge of the bed and patted the space beside him.

“So I think the Blind God’s power isn’t strong, but unusual. Like an obscure poison. Treating it may not be difficult. The hard part is identifying its properties.”

“It’s like the Lord of Shadows worshiped by that priest. Its ability to conceal is astonishing, and neither you nor I can see through it.”

Myss reluctantly sat down beside Salaar. “…You have a point.”

He watched the bedroom door warily, terrified that the horrifying child might appear at any moment, even though Salaar had locked it behind him.

“Judging by the time, it should be well past midnight. Sleep for a while.” Salaar patted his shoulder. “I’ll keep watch. Nothing will happen.”

“Trust you?” Myss sneered.

But before he could remove the mockery from his face, his body had already fallen onto the soft bed.

Hopefully, the friendly meal Salaar had prepared would count as a prayer. He wanted nothing more than to sleep soundly until ten minutes before the Eye-Opening Ceremony. Myss prayed hazily to himself, then quickly sank into sleep.

In the child’s bedroom.

Sogné held a red crayon and drew a pair of red eyes onto the “Mommy” in the picture, then began coloring the plant necklace threaded with pomegranate flowers.

Beside “Mommy,” the outlines of “Daddy” and “the child” had already been sketched.

Everyone had simple round heads, trapezoid bodies, and twig-like limbs. They could only be distinguished by their colors and clothing.

Sogné drew with complete concentration. Before long, the family portrait was finished.

Humming a gentle lullaby, he solemnly pasted it onto the wall.

And the walls of the room, including the ceiling, were already covered in countless sheets of paper. Every picture had the exact same composition. They were all family portraits of three people. Only the colors worn by the figures varied slightly.

The pictures overlapped like dense scales, new paper layered over old, one sheet after another.

In the gaps, the oldest drawings had already yellowed to the color of dried leaves.

“Daddy. Mommy.”

Stroking his gray-white hair, he raised his lapis-lazuli eyes and gazed at his newest creation. His eyes brimmed with happiness.

…

The Root Church corridor.

The little mouse carried the obsidian in its mouth, darting through the barred door and racing along the base of the walls before finally stopping beside an apparently empty section of stone.

It spat out the obsidian and raised its head, its pointed nose poking around as though searching for someone.

The faint outline of a hand appeared, picked up the obsidian, and left behind a small piece of butter. Only then did the little mouse relax. It happily grabbed the butter and scampered away.

Father Kalen remained concealed as he raised the obsidian before his eyes.

He recognized its shape. It was indeed the gemstone that had previously been set into the pocket watch.

For Salaar and Myss to throw it out without explanation, either the two of them were in danger, Tass was having trouble, or both.

“Oh, I feel a little better…” Tass’s thin voice emerged from the obsidian. “Is that you, Kalen?”

Father Kalen performed a quick divination, selected one of the many outer doors that wasn’t properly locked, and slipped into the empty room beyond it.

The moment he revealed himself and prepared to ask questions, he heard footsteps approaching from a distance.

Judging by the sound, the person was young, probably one of the boys or girls among the clergy.

Father Kalen held his breath, even though he knew it shouldn’t be necessary. All the doors looked identical from the outside, and there were nearly a hundred of them. No one would randomly come over to inspect this particular room.

Unfortunately, this time he was wrong.

The light footsteps drew closer and closer, gradually slowing.

At last, they stopped precisely outside his door.

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The author has something to say:

Now they really do have a child. (…

But don’t worry, there is no male pregnancy in this story! He originally wanted a mommy and daddy. It’s just that the Archdemon became the male mommy instead… [cat paw]

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