Chapter 89
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Translator: penny
Chapter: 88
Chapter Title: The God That Was Not Born (3)
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The barrier surrounding the academy melted away.
At a glance, it seemed as though consciousness had been severed...
But the reality was somewhat different.
An egg doesn't just break because someone drops it.
When the time for hatching arrives, the egg cracks its own shell and lets out its first cry into the world.
If the barrier encircling the academy had been a sturdy shell...
Then the first being it beheld...
Was the nightmare dormant deep within Enoch's psyche. That was its first cry.
Zzt.
Every person in the capital—regardless of gender, age, status, or level of cultivation—had a single memory forcibly implanted into their minds.
"K-Kill... I'll kill you all... Not a single one of you will be spared... Every last one..."
Pale skin. Black hair. A delicate-looking young boy overall.
Though nothing of his current appearance was visible now, the moment they sensed the beast-like glint in his eyes and the thick killing intent woven into his voice...
Anyone who had ever laid eyes on Enoch could realize it.
This boy was Enoch in his childhood.
"What is this...?"
"Could the Grand Duke of House Zahav have been a fake all along?"
"But his power, his achievements—they were real, weren't they?"
The nobles who hadn't been able to enter the academy but had watched Enoch from afar...
Even Cornelia, who had invited him, was taken aback by the unexpected sight.
But after a brief daze from the sudden daydream, Emperor Wilfried quickly regained his composure and stomped his foot lightly.
Boom!
"Calm yourselves. No one here is unaware that the current Grand Duke of House Zahav is an illegitimate child. And the blood of House Zahav has already been diluted. You all know the precedents well enough..."
"Ah."
Only then did the people flinch as if realizing something, beginning to nod one by one.
"Indeed... Even after sowing his seed in a collateral branch of the northern ducal house, Lady Jevella was still born..."
"If he's a bastard from lowly birth, it makes even more sense."
"Yet now, he's undeniably of House Zahav."
"You know full well that Bloodline Abilities sometimes awaken late, and the more mixed the blood, the stronger that tendency."
To the central nobles, the purity and grade of blood were values above all else.
Thus, they possessed all sorts of accumulated knowledge over long years.
Specifically, the less impressive the inherited Bloodline Ability and the more diluted the blood's purity, the later the manifestation—or in some cases, it never manifested at all.
In truth, most fallen nobles arose this way, unless involved in treason or similar false accusations.
That was why all nobles strove to preserve their bloodlines.
Having grasped the situation, Cornelia let out a sigh of relief and spoke.
"Phew. So this scene must be about how the Grand Duke of House Zahav awakened his bloodline and reached where he is now."
"...It might be. But it doesn't feel right."
Wilfried shook his head with a troubled expression at Cornelia, who had barely managed to regain her smile.
His reaction made Cornelia unnecessarily anxious, prompting her to ask.
"The barrier is down, the black mages have fallen, and I thought this was just the result of their final death throes... Was I wrong, Father?"
"If it were, at least I wouldn't be seeing this memory now."
"Huh...?"
It was obvious, but the emperor of the empire was constantly protected by all manner of artifacts. Add to that his own exceptional prowess.
Mere death throes couldn't pierce all those defenses to show Wilfried a hallucination.
It was at that moment of rising unease.
Flick—
Suddenly, all light around them vanished.
Torches, magic, lighting magic tools—of course, even the moon and stars in the sky fell silent in pure darkness.
At the same time, an immense pressure crushed the entire capital.
Divinity.
Everyone instinctively realized they were in the presence of a clear superior being.
A god manifesting after a millennium was stirring its body, and Enoch's memory was its babbling.
The process of a new god declaring its divine name to the world. Enoch had been chosen as the sacrifice for it, and the capital's people were mere witnesses.
All they could do was watch Enoch's childhood and bear witness to the birth of the infant god at its end.
"This is bad. Truly bad."
Wilfried clutched his chest with a voice laced in lament.
Through his palm, he felt his heartbeat—clearly slower than in his youth.
He had hoped never to need it until passing the throne to the next in line.
But when the moment came, he would not hesitate.
That was the seat of the empire's emperor.
What the many nobles had hoped for was to see how young Enoch awakened his bloodline and triumphantly overcame his current ordeal.
To them, House Zahav were a kin with questionable words and deeds but unquestionable strength.
And Enoch was one of the strongest in that house, with achievements to match.
Yes. They had all anticipated the opening of a heroic saga.
...But the unfolding scene betrayed their expectations head-on.
"Hm. So even the flower of Calliepneri melts dead bodies but can't fully dissolve living ones."
"Kuhk... Ghk."
An alchemist casually recording experiment results in a nonchalant tone. And Enoch's skin across his entire body was melting away, exposing raw red muscle and parts of his organs.
A grotesque sight beyond imagining.
Enoch, unable to even scream from the excessive pain, still had eyes gleaming with murderous intent.
"Not a bad result, though. Shall we move to the next experiment?"
The alchemist nodded and poured a viscous liquid over Enoch. The moment the foul-smelling solution touched the inner layers of Enoch's flesh...
"Aaaaagh!!"
Enoch's rapidly melting skin regenerated just as quickly, and before puberty had even set in, the sharp cry of a boy echoed loudly.
"Regeneration potion raw extract...?"
A noble versed in alchemy muttered in astonishment.
Difficult to produce, but its healing effects were unparalleled. However, it excessively stimulated nerves during recovery, so it was normally diluted. In fact, imperial law forbade its undiluted use except in life-threatening emergencies or interrogations of heinous criminals.
Yet Enoch had been doused head to toe in the raw stuff.
Thanks to it, his mostly dissolved skin regenerated in an instant... but the pain was enough to cause shock death without question.
Nevertheless, Enoch endured.
Staring at the alchemist's nape as if he would bite it at any moment... he simply bore it.
He writhed in agony, shed tears and drool like a man lost to the world.
But Enoch's eyes remained alive.
"Let's see. Next is..."
Paying no mind to whatever emotions Enoch harbored, the alchemist indifferently moved on to the next subject.
A grubby-looking young girl. Unlike Enoch, her eyes had been vacant, but she convulsed at the alchemist's voice.
"They say that inducing a Rubedo reaction with Florimila's poison freezes even the soul."
"P-Please, spare me! I'll do anything! Please stop..."
"The theory checks out, but the exact ratio isn't documented."
"No... I don't want any more pain..."
"Guess we'll have to find out through direct experimentation."
"Just kill me... Eugh!"
Ignoring the girl's pleas, the alchemist forced freshly concocted poison down her throat.
Soon, her limbs began turning purple.
"It hurts! It huuuurts...!"
"Just like regular frostbite. Need to up the ratio."
The alchemist repeated the process of mixing new potions and force-feeding them to her several times.
Each time, frost formed at her extremities, white breath suddenly mixed with her exhales, her brown eyes shifted to sky blue, and then...
"......"
"Tch. Dead already? And I hadn't tested the final mixture."
She stopped moving entirely.
Enoch, who had just caught his breath from the agony of regeneration, watched it all in silence.
Enoch still remembered the conversations he shared with the girl when the alchemist was away.
How skilled she was at knitting, how delicious her mother's stew was, how her father had passed but her reliable uncle would come to save her.
...And the nightly sobs, laments that these hands could no longer knit, ever-updating final words asking to tell her mother she loved her if she died.
Enoch buried it all in a corner of his heart, glaring at the mad alchemist with trembling eyes.
An emotional tremor never shown during his own torments surfaced before another's death.
"Well, this subject should be fine."
Shrugging, the alchemist forced the final mixture on Enoch.
A chill rising from deep within his body. Even as his innards froze solid, the fire in Enoch's heart only blazed fiercer.
"...I swear it. You'll die by my hand."
"Heh. Lots of talk from a kid about to die. You're holding up well for a brat, but you aren't the first of your kind, you know?"
Scoffing at Enoch, the alchemist recorded the changes in his body.
Afterward, similar events repeated countless times.
Apparently deep into poison research, Enoch was steeped in all manner of toxins.
Each time, most of his body crumbled only to regenerate repeatedly.
Meanwhile, every day or two, other test subjects were brought in besides Enoch, but none survived the experiments.
Enoch endured the torture-like trials while etching every death into his memory. And then.
"You. You're starting to build resistance to the poisons?"
In the depths of desperation, the blood of House Zahav awakened within him. Or so it seemed.
But this also shifted the alchemist's interest from poisons to Enoch himself.
Those who had watched up to this point couldn't help but realize.
This was only the beginning.