Chapter 212: Residents of a Ruined World (8)
Translator: RaidenTL
Chapter 212: Residents of a Ruined World (8)
The moment he removed his helmet and revealed his face, the sudden thought struck me: he looked like someone I knew.
No, it felt strange to think someone looked like “whoever” when I’d only just met them, but I suppose you could call it a bizarre sense of déjà vu.
He wasn’t someone with a detailed description in the Setting Book.
Nor were we people who had met before my regression.
And yet, to instinctively think he resembled someone—what exactly was I basing that judgment on?
Who did he even look like?
Lilac? Cheon Yu-hak? Well, he did say he was a Hero in his original world, so perhaps that was it.
However, the moment I heard his tone, saw his actions, and looked into his eyes, the surge of loathing I felt made me realize exactly who he resembled.
I understood why that thought had surfaced the instant we came face-to-face.
Ah, I see.
That man is just like me.
And while we’re alike, we’re also polar opposites.
The man, who had been chatting with the Professor after their greeting, was laughing with genuine joy.
“Ah, well. Anyway, it was good to see you. I mean that.”
His demeanor was so natural that I was likely the only one who noticed how jarring it truly was.
Consequently, I was the only one who read his movements and reacted in time.
“Get down!”
“What?”
Professor Park A-ram, who had been smiling, as well as the Chairperson and Professor Cathy, who had been watching him, all turned to me as if asking what I meant. But there was no time to wait.
“Grow, Ruyi!”
“Gah…!? What are you doing? Kang So-hyun, have you suddenly gone mad…?”
Professor Park A-ram, having dodged the massive mass of the rapidly extending Ruyi, tried to scold me. However, her expression froze when she saw the man thrusting his sword into the very spot where she had been standing a second ago.
“Oh, there’s one here with good instincts.”
“Ze…ke?”
The Chairperson responded with a bewildered face, but he nonchalantly cut through her wind blade with his worn sword and tilted his head curiously.
“How did you know? I was careful not to emit any hostility, let alone bloodlust.”
I knew. If any bloodlust or hostility had been felt, the Chairperson would have reacted before me.
“Ah, no. You don’t even have to say it. I see it now. Wow, I just noticed, but you’re the same breed as me, aren’t you? Hmm, but how is that possible? I only ended up like this at the very end.”
That guy probably didn’t particularly want to kill the Professor.
Similarly, he had even less interest in our lives.
“Zeke, what on earth are you saying…”
“Professor. I don’t know what your relationship is with that humanoid monster, but get up and get into a stance. Now.”
“Pardon? What do you mean?”
“He’s right. Did you forget what I looked like at the end? The person in front of you is an enemy. You need to get up.”
“I thought… I thought you’d regained your senses…?”
Were they closer than I thought? She seemed to believe that if he were in his right mind, he would never do such a thing. But no. She was wrong.
Even though I’d never met him, I felt like I understood that man better than the Professor did.
“What are you talking about? Regaining my senses?”
He drew his sword, and a dark blue Sword Qi, resembling a chilling shadow, coiled around the blade.
“I haven’t lost my mind for a single moment from that day until now. So what is there to ‘regain’?”
With a single breath, he swung his sword, striking Ruyi. A shock I couldn’t ignore vibrated through my hands.
“I’m always composed. You know that, don’t you?”
He maintained his natural attitude.
Yes, and that very naturalness was the source of the dissonance I felt from him.
Because I knew better than anyone that a Calamity who destroyed the world could never chat so casually with a denizen of that world.
As his attitude persisted even after the battle began, it seemed the others were finally starting to feel the abnormality as well.
* * *
The most cold-blooded and composed Hero, Siegfried.
The man who was once called by that name.
He was a man who was a madman precisely because he hadn’t lost his mind—a man who had buried a world with his own hands and slaughtered every human being without ever losing his composure.
His only daily routine and hobby in his ruined world was quietly reminiscing about the past. In truth, he hadn’t intended to come here at first.
He had heard the scream of a familiar figure from beyond, but thinking rationally, his crossing over to that world would only create a new threat; it didn’t seem like it would help her.
Since he loathed humans to begin with, he was certain that if he went over, he would most likely want to cut her down after helping her.
That would be troublesome.
He had no great desire to personally cut down a connection from the past—one he had gone to the trouble of letting live while killing everyone else on the day of destruction.
However, he suddenly realized a certain fact.
The one screaming now was not her clone, but her true self.
It was the last of the restrictions he and his comrades had placed upon her when they sealed her.
A restriction placed in the hope that she would find a reason to keep living; a restriction meant to make her writhe in guilt and repent for her actions in the future.
To truly love a person.
He was curious. He wondered who that Witch had managed to love.
He wanted to see if she had repented enough, if she had changed even a little.
He intended to confirm whether what he had done in the past truly had no meaning.
And then, he regretted it.
Had she simply had her true body stolen while the seal wasn’t fully released?
The voice that had been noisy and annoying for a while now was likely the mastermind behind this.
It was a fairly high-level mental manipulation technique, but the opponent was poorly chosen.
It was a bit insufficient to break this damn willpower of his—a will that hadn’t broken under the temptation of Great Demons, during the days he endured shameful insults, or even while his lover was taken and he burned the world.
Well, it was a different meeting than intended, but it was true he was glad to see her.
She was someone who remembered him—the first he’d seen in a very long time since he destroyed the world with his own hands—and she seemed to have grown, even if not as much as he’d hoped.
Should I let her live?
It was true the thought crossed his mind for a moment.
Originally, he intended to cut her down instantly because she hadn’t grown, but he thought it might be okay to have at least one person who remembered him.
She hadn’t been involved in that affair, and he didn’t like the idea of chasing down and killing someone he’d intentionally let go.
It wouldn’t be bad to just return after a pleasant conversation, reminiscing about the past.
So, if he hadn’t seen that right before his mind was made up to let her live…
He wouldn’t have drawn his sword.
Smiling?
She was smiling.
As if she were truly glad to see him, as if he were exactly as she remembered.
She shouldn’t do that. That face was the exact same one his most hated enemies used to make at him.
It was the expression worn by those who called him a Hero, a Brave, or sometimes, Hope.
It was the expression of the masses who possessed a faith and trust that would waver at a few words—the faces of those who would flip their stance so easily, saying they knew it would happen or that they knew it was an act from the start.
Ah, I see. You’re just like them. You’re just an ordinary person found anywhere.
Then this is the end.
He had thought that perhaps she, the undying Witch, might be different.
He had come here to see her changed, but he drew his sword while mocking his own contradiction—the part of him that had secretly hoped she hadn’t changed.
He didn’t particularly want to kill her, but at the same time, he didn’t feel a burning need to let her live.
Then he would have to strike.
As a fallen Hero who loathed the fact that any human could change.
To sever the ties of the past.
However, surprisingly, there was someone who noticed his attack.
At first, he thought the kid just had good instincts, but the moment he saw the boy’s eyes, goosebumps rose on his skin.
There was another one.
He didn’t know what kind of world this was for a mere child to have those eyes, but he felt it clearly.
The reason the boy had responded to his attack was likely for the same reason.
To think he would meet someone like this here.
Someone who had experienced destruction—no, someone who had led it.
We’re alike. They were so similar, yet he felt the bizarre sensation that they were polar opposites.
“Can I ask you one thing?”
“No, you can’t.”
“Oh, really? Actually, I wasn’t asking for permission. I’m the type who can’t stand it when I’m curious~”
He let out a smirk as if he’d expected that answer.
“You… how on earth do you have those eyes?”
The boy was clearly a denizen of a ruined world, worn down just like him.
His body was here, but his heart was someone who had yet to escape a destroyed world.
So why was there still light in his eyes? How could he look toward tomorrow and harbor hope?
What was so different about him that he struggled so hard to protect the things he had broken with his own hands?
After a moment of thought, the boy smirked and replied.
“And what are you going to do once you know?”
That wasn’t a taunt or a provocation.
Well, that was true. Even if he encountered another ‘destruction’ who chose a different path than his own now, his way of life wouldn’t change.
This was merely a matter of curiosity, and the boy had refused to answer because he knew that.
Well, at least one thing became certain.
“I had my suspicions, but it’s not me who’s crazy—it’s you.”
It meant that he himself hadn’t gone mad yet.
* * *
The man, now wearing his helmet again, charged with his sword in one hand.
The first to block him was the Chairperson.
However, her signature wind blades were weaker than usual, and she scowled, seemingly surprised by that fact.
[I’m a Hero, you see, so I’m quite popular with spirits. I guess the wind spirits in this world feel the same way?]
Wind gathered around the sword he drew, and then it began to rotate like a massive vortex.
[And it’s the same how it turns out like this when you add fire.]
The next energy was heat. When a small spark met the storm, it became a vortex of flames.
The one who countered this attack was Professor Cathy.
A fist imbued with the essence of martial arts pierced through the vortex of flames, but perhaps it was a feint from the start, as he abandoned his worn sword without hesitation and pulled a crossbow from his cloak.
I wondered if it was unloaded, but as if borrowing the power of spirits again, an arrow made of lightning was instantly formed and fired.
“Hmph…!”
Whether or not that was effective against Professor Cathy was one thing, but his means of attack were certainly diverse.
[…To punch lightning and be fine. I don’t think I’m one to talk, but are you a monster?]
“It’s not that I’m special. Any hero worth their salt can do this.”
Professor, I don’t think that’s true. It’s probably because of your experience fighting the lightning villain and the power-up you got at the sea this time.
In fact, even the Chairperson was looking at the Professor as if this were news to her.
[Is that so? Then shall we try this next?]
With a playful attitude, he pulled a whip from his waist this time.
“…Are you trying to play a joke?”
[Why? I don’t know how it is in this world, but Heroes are originally the ones who are jacks-of-all-trades. I still have many tricks left; shouldn’t I show them all?]
As if intending to play around, he struck the ground with the whip and widened the distance.
* * *
Park A-ram was a little flustered.
She had barely managed to pull herself together after the shock of him trying to kill her, only to find that his combat style had reverted to how it used to be.
At the end, as she remembered it, he hadn’t fought like a Hero like this.
The fighting style of using banter to read the opponent, receiving help from spirits to handle various weapons, and gaining the upper hand through elemental advantages—that was from the days when he was still called a Hero.
The man she faced on the final day handled a power that was far more vicious, hollow, and impossible to even resist.
But now, it was as if he were stalling for time…
Time?
Ah, I see.
“Cathy! We can’t play along; we have to end this quickly…!”
She didn’t know the reason.
But she thought she understood one thing.
He seemed unable to wield that overwhelming power right now.
[Ah, you noticed?]
He acted nonchalantly, but if he was ‘Hero Zeke’ and not ‘Calamity Zeke,’ there was a chance for victory now while he had no allies.
The way he skillfully deflected the mana arrows she fired with his whip showed marvelous technique, but that was as far as it went.
The weakness of Hero Zeke that she remembered.
Jack-of-all-trades.
Like the derogatory term he used for himself, he handled any weapon at a high level, but he lacked the power to deliver a finishing blow.
Without the help of spirits or comrades, his inability to output high firepower was his weakness.
[…I thought I just needed a little more time.]
The fallen Hero discarded his tattered whip and picked up the sword he had thrown away.
[In the end, a Hero always comes back to this. A cruel fate, isn’t it?]
Even as he saw the three heroes rushing toward him, he did not back down and swung his sword.