Chapter 253
Translator: RaidenTL
Chapter 253
After another grueling day, I returned to my office to catch my breath.
My daily routine hadn't changed much since my days as the Student Council President of the Union. There was an endless mountain of work to be done, but I only had one body. The hectic days blurred together without a single moment of rest.
Pour—.
"You look deeply troubled. Is something weighing on your mind?" Ciel asked in a gentle voice as she handed me a warm cup of tea.
The Demon King’s castle was staffed with numerous maids and butlers handpicked from across the Demon Realm, yet Ciel still insisted on serving as my personal maid. She no longer needed to trouble herself with such tasks, but her resolve was firm, so I eventually relented.
Besides, I found it more comfortable having her by my side.
I took a sip of the tea, letting my body relax. The tension in my stiff muscles began to melt away, and my mind, tangled with a thousand threads of thought, finally started to settle. I leaned back into my chair and closed my eyes.
"Worries, you say."
In truth, I had far too many.
The currents of the world were swirling violently around me. I had defeated the Demon God and ascended to the highest seat in the Demon Realm, yet I still couldn't control a single thing exactly as I wished.
The declaration of the ceasefire, the end of the war, the governance of my demonic subjects, the completion of my Great Task, the salvation of the world...
It was a burden too heavy to bear alone. It was a pressure that felt like it was crushing my very soul. The realization that every choice I made determined the life or death of countless beings weighed on me every single day.
And it wasn't just the grand problems. Even on a smaller scale, the issues were piling up. I couldn't even control the state of my own body as I desired.
I clenched my fist and looked at Ciel with a soft gaze. If she hadn't been by my side, I might have broken down long ago, unable to endure the strain.
I shook my head slowly, cutting off the train of thought.
"It’s nothing to worry about."
It wasn't something that could be solved just by talking, and I didn't want to burden her more than necessary.
But Ciel set the teapot down and spoke firmly.
"No, please tell me everything. I don't want to watch you bear such heavy responsibilities all by yourself any longer."
"……"
Ciel’s eyes burned with a quiet, stubborn resolve. Meeting her gaze, I sighed deeply.
‘I tried to keep it all inside so I wouldn't worry her. But could that be what's hurting her more?’
Perhaps. Ciel had suffered a sickness of the heart from watching Roen try to shoulder everything alone for so long. She had once expressed disappointment in herself when she realized Roen was hiding the truth from her. She had wondered if she wasn't even worthy of him confiding in her, of sharing his burdens.
Roen had held Ciel dear and kept his secrets to protect her, but in the end, that silence had only caused her pain.
But things were different now. Ciel and I had confirmed our feelings and promised to face the future together. It was better to be honest.
Opening up and sharing the weight—isn't that what true consideration for one another looks like?
"Alright. Then listen, and try not to be surprised."
Having made up my mind, I explained the situation to Ciel in detail, omitting only the part about my impending death.
I told her about the precarious position I was in. Although the ceasefire had saved humanity for the time being, it had become a massive political liability for me. Discontent was simmering within the Demon Realm, and the pressure from the Venerables during our daily meetings was mounting.
A coup could erupt at any moment. I had the power to suppress it, of course, but I couldn't rule through force forever. A fuse, once lit, is bound to burn to the end. Eventually, only destruction and ashes would remain. I might have to fight this internal battle endlessly—until I died, or until the Demon Realm was destroyed.
This was a colossal problem, one that our lives depended on and one that would dictate the course of the Human-Demon War.
But even that was trivial compared to what came next.
The Great Task left to me and the ever-approaching countdown. If I couldn't gather enough power to close the dimensional gate by then, the end of the world would arrive.
The Flood of Chaos—a calamity that would return everything to nothingness. Once that tide swept across the continent, nothing would remain. To prevent it, I might be forced to resume the Human-Demon War. And in that process, countless lives would be sacrificed.
Caught in the middle of this impossible complexity, I had to make a choice.
"I… see," Ciel said, nodding solemnly after hearing my explanation. "I don't know the answer to such a problem."
I nodded back. "I know."
I hadn't expected an answer from her. I was simply sharing the reality of the situation as she had asked. Still, giving voice to the thoughts I’d been suffering with alone made my chest feel a little lighter.
Ciel, who had been deep in thought with her head lowered, looked up at me. Then, with a faint smile, she spoke.
"But you've already made your decision, haven't you, Lord Roen?"
"...Yes."
As she said, I had already decided. I knew what I had to do, and what I had to bear.
Ciel took my hand, her voice calm and steady. "Whatever you decide, Lord Roen, I will be by your side until the very end. I may not be the most dependable person, but please, lean on me when things are difficult."
Fwoosh—.
With a wave of Ciel’s hand, the candlelight that had faintly illuminated the room was extinguished.
*
The workshop within the Demon King’s Castle.
A single ray of light pierced the darkness, illuminating an altar. This was the ‘Altar of Revival,’ hidden deep within the workshop's basement.
A faint mist of mana drifted around the altar, and a channel of water—symbolizing the river that divides life and death—flowed around it like a moat. The altar looked like a contradiction: a sacred shrine that was simultaneously a profane site for a dark sacrificial ritual.
A heavy silence filled the chamber.
Thump—.
The clear sound of a footstep echoed.
I walked between the rows of Fate Stones. Crossing the channel of water, I stood before the altar and carefully placed the homunculus I was carrying upon it.
The homunculus lay there, as still and transient as a doll. It was a perfect replica of the girl who had once met her end at my hands. It had warmth and a pulse, but it lacked the most crucial elements: a soul, and the karma that soul had accumulated.
Right now, it was nothing more than a hollow shell of flesh.
Rustle—.
I covered her naked form with a black cloth and pulled two orbs from my pocket.
The first was the [Karma Orb], which I had obtained during a past dungeon exploration. It was an orb imbued with the lingering regrets of souls who had entrusted their desires and karma to me before passing on. This orb could serve as a vessel for a being's karma.
‘Karma is the causal footprint a being leaves upon this world.’
Without karma, a soul becomes an entity that does not belong to this world; it cannot settle into a new body and is quickly rejected. Therefore, the karma contained within the Karma Orb was essential for the revival ritual.
Shk—.
Next, I took out the Orb of Life.
The Orb of Life possessed the ability to store a soul. While many artifacts and spells could hold a soul, none could do so as completely or safely as this. Though the orb had various other functions, I was using it now solely for its capacity as a soul vessel.
I placed the two orbs on the altar and composed my thoughts.
‘Death, in the end, is simply the severing of the physical chain that binds the soul to this world.’
A soul that has died after a natural lifespan cannot be revived, but one whose connection to the world was severed by physical trauma can be brought back.
Of course, the process was incredibly complex. It required the Orb of Life to hold the soul, the Karma Orb to hold the karma, and the alchemy to perfectly replicate the target's body. Finally, it required the wisdom and magical power to successfully execute the ritual. It wasn't something anyone could attempt just by knowing the theory.
Twisting the established providence of life and death required this level of preparation. No one else could easily replicate this—not even the Great Sage, Ain Soph Fingard.
With my preparations complete, I began the ritual.
Whoooom—.
As I infused it with mana, the magic circle carved into the altar began to glow with a brilliant blue light. It was a magic circle depicting an inverted Tree of Sephiroth—or more accurately, the roots of the Qliphoth.
‘The revival ritual is a process that goes against the existing providence.’
It was naturally the antithesis of the Sephiroth, which depicts the order of creation and the process of sublimation toward the divine.
The intense mana I injected surged through the magic circle's circuits, soon engulfing the homunculus. Simultaneously, the girl's soul and karma, stored within their respective orbs, began to seep into the artificial body along the flow of mana.
Whoooosh—.
I instinctively manipulated the mana, opening the lower, middle, and upper energy centers of the homunculus in sequence. The mana, karma, and soul seeped into the three newly formed vessels.
Swaaaa—.
The process consumed an astronomical amount of mana. The energy pouring from me like a waterfall was absorbed by the homunculus. An ordinary mage would have been obliterated by the sheer pressure of this flow, but for me, it was manageable.
I possessed the vast mana reserves gained through the succession ritual and the Sage's Glasses—the materialization of the Fruit of Wisdom. I could withstand the overwhelming tide of power and manipulate it with surgical precision.
The delicate task of ‘granting’ life to an empty vessel and settling the soul and karma within it required weaving together a countless number of spells. The sheer number of variables made it a task of unimaginable difficulty.
But with the comprehension granted by the Fruit of Wisdom, even this was possible.
At the end of the long ritual...
Flash—.
A pure white light filled the chamber. A cloud of mana billowed upward, obscuring my vision.
"Hoo."
I wiped the sweat from my brow and stared silently at the altar.
Had it succeeded?
I had performed countless successful alchemical experiments, but I had never been this nervous. Theoretically, it was perfect, but because the revival ritual defied providence, there was always a chance of interference from fate itself on a dimensional level.
Soon, the mana settled, and I saw the result of the ritual I had prepared for so long.
"……"
A black-haired girl was sitting up halfway, staring blankly at me. She blinked, looking at me, then touched her chest—the spot where I had once stabbed her.
"Successor... I was certain that I..."
The homunculus—no, High Priest Yutena.
Her soul and karma had safely settled into the body I had created. The proof was in her eyes; her memories, right up to the moment of her death, remained intact.
I draped the slipping black cloth back over her shoulders and smiled.
"Didn't I tell you? I promised you a new life."
The revival ritual was a success.