Chapter 91
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Translator: penny
Chapter: 90
Chapter Title: The God That Was Not Born (5)
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The next day, the alchemist—who had drained Enoch's blood to its limit, forcing him into unconsciousness—placed him onto the prepared transmutation circle.
And on the opposite side, he set the spirit elixir capable of containing everything Enoch possessed.
—With this, I evolve one step further as a living being...!
The alchemist activated the transmutation circle, his voice brimming with ecstasy.
Enoch's body began to slowly melt and seep into the spirit elixir on the opposite side.
At the same time, the scenery in everyone's vision grew increasingly blurry.
The capital had already entered the domain of the god, stripped of all sources of light.
In that situation, with even Enoch's memories fading away, nothing remained but deep, profound darkness.
...That was the end.
It showed nothing of what followed, nor how Enoch had reached this point now.
All a newborn god needed was a horrific memory filled with agony, and the moment to name it a nightmare.
Somewhere in the capital, someone muttered in a voice full of bewilderment.
"And that's supposed to be just a simple nightmare..."
A man lowered his head, cutting off the words.
"Where's the fun in cutting it off here like a cheap trick? If you want to see more, I'll show you as much as you like. But watch it to the end."
Fwaah.
In the thick darkness that rejected all light sources, a faint beam like candlelight flickered.
Over Enoch's memories, which hadn't fully vanished yet, the current form of Enoch overlaid like a superimposition.
To be precise, everyone was sharing the scene reflected in the eyes of the God of Nightmares.
Reality and nightmare, the one seeking birth and the one rejecting it, divinity and humanity.
With all other gods having lost their power and confined to the Pantheon, it was a matchup no one could oppose. The scales had already tipped.
But Enoch, displeased with that, set fire to the scales.
Though he had fallen asleep under the immature yet proper divine authority, his flesh resisted and adapted to it.
Thus, the master of the nightmare, who should never awaken, did so.
"In the end, I win everything, you fucking bastard."
Enoch staggered forward, spewing curses. Unlike usual, his fingertips—enveloped in feeble flames—touched the massive fetus's eye.
The blurring memories regained clarity in an instant.
There was... a young Enoch, half his body melted, suddenly rising and devouring the spirit elixir.
Crunch, crunch.
His body, having completed all preparations, accepted mana for the first time in its life.
He knew nothing of refining it into aura or magic.
But his body, driven to its limits countless times, instinctively knew how to draw out its potential to the extreme.
After all, humans had wielded mana even before the concept of aura was born.
Consciously or unconsciously.
Kwaaaa—!
A fierce shockwave of flames erupted centered on Enoch. It was merely expelling the portion of the fire-attribute spirit elixir's energy he couldn't absorb.
Impressive as it was, it wouldn't be enough to breach the alchemist's workshop with mere mana discharge. However...
Boom! Bang!
The transmutation circle, into which the alchemist had poured every resource, proclaiming it his life's masterpiece, began to explode in chain reactions from the sudden mana burst.
Possible only because Enoch and the elixir stood at its center.
Thus, the workshop was instantly engulfed in explosions and flames, the entire view dyed crimson.
The alchemist, barely clinging to life with a hollow expression.
Unable to move from wounds everywhere, out of reagents and mana, struggling even to escape—before him stood the young Enoch on two feet. Far from burned by the surrounding flames, he absorbed them, recovering his strength.
—Haha... This, I truly, truly didn't expect. Then again, you've always exceeded my expectations.
Even in this situation, the mad alchemist delighted at the sight of Enoch unharmed... no, clearly stronger than before.
Enoch had absorbed the spirit elixir in a primal method too basic to even call rudimentary, melting the mana not into his dantian but throughout his flesh.
His once-white hair slowly turned a brilliant gold like the sun, and his black eyes, inherited from his mother, began shifting to a beastly yellow.
Finally, the unleashed young Enoch opened his mouth.
—I told you. I'd kill you and all the warlocks.
Splatter!
The alchemist's head, stripped of resistance, shattered.
The nightmare did not end as a mere nightmare.
At the same time, every kind of light source stripped across all of Elysium regained its original brilliance.
The nightmare of Enoch, forcibly revealed until now, had been for the God of Nightmares to declare its own existence.
But denied, the divinity failed to complete, and the authority evaporated.
What remained was something that had opened its eyes yet still didn't know who it was. Something properly existing yet never born.
Roar!
Now free from divine suppression, Enoch, having regained his full power, illuminated Elysium's night and spoke.
"Well, shit happens in life."
The massive fetus twitched meaninglessly. Countless faces began rising over it.
The warlocks Enoch had defeated so far. And on its forehead, the Second Prince's face emerged.
Those who sought to replace the God of Nightmares' soul scattered in all directions, having lost their divine core, screaming in agony as they resisted.
If they could just survive this moment, there might be another chance.
But Enoch had no intention of letting them be.
"But you can't spend the rest of your life just reminiscing about the shitty stuff, right?"
Immense heat concentrated in his clenched fist. It wasn't mere flame or fire.
Light and heat beyond measure evoked awe. That was why the sun was always deemed sacred.
"No matter how horrific the nightmare, you'll wake from it someday."
Going beyond mere rampaging aura in his body, Enoch drew even the aura stored in his fangs for recovery and burned it all.
Though the divinity was denied, that body still held transcendent power, leaving him no choice.
"Just like how, no matter how dark the night, the morning sun rises eventually."
The God of Nightmares—no, the fetus that could no longer be called that—upon seeing that brilliant light, reached out toward Enoch.
As if to extinguish the light in Enoch's fist... Or perhaps, yearning for a light it had never seen.
"Sorry."
Enoch gave a wry smile as he pulled back his fist.
"I can't celebrate your birth just yet."
His legs spread shoulder-width, firmly planted on the ground, his gaze locked precisely on where his fist would strike.
And he thrust out the fist, now trembling even in his current body, hard to contain.
"Still, thanks for letting me see Mom's face after so long."
With Enoch's mutter, the sun-laden fist smashed into the fetus's head.
Kwaaaaaang!
Exploding flames. The aftermath alone forced anyone in the capital to close their eyes against the blinding light and suffocating heat.
Once the flesh of a god, the fetus seemed to endure... but soon burst like a balloon, scattering everywhere.
Not solely due to the power in Enoch's fist. It was merely the trigger, like pricking an overinflated balloon.
Countless souls that weren't its own—unable even to mix—burst from within, crumbling its form.
The translucent screams, tainted by black magic, scattered about, but soon began burning on their own.
Enoch's energy filling the space denied even the warlocks' final rest, as embers flew everywhere.
"Heh."
Enoch smirked and said,
"I told you. I'd kill every last warlock."
The exact words young Enoch had uttered while killing the alchemist.
Even after incinerating the God of Nightmares and all the warlocks' souls, a faint remaining aura shot toward the sky as a burning trail.
And at some point...
Crack!
The night sky split like glass, revealing the morning sky with its sun already risen beyond.
The demoted authority and the final remnants of the warlocks' ritual magic completely vanished.
Perhaps because Enoch's memories had played for quite a while, he let out a hollow laugh and nodded at the warm midday sunlight.
"Ha... Is it really over now?"
Most of the warlocks had likely died by Enoch's hand with this.
Some might have survived, of course, but they wouldn't function as an organization like before.
That final moment... Not the warlocks' will, nor the Second Prince's—a pure movement from the God of Nightmares itself.
Recalling the hand reaching toward him, Enoch flopped onto the ground.
"Well, just like eternal night doesn't exist, even day has an end. ...We'll meet again someday."
With those words, Enoch fell asleep as if fainting. Toward his empty body, drained of all power, shadows that didn't fade even in broad daylight—and fragments of dreams—seeped in.
Not being born meant not obtaining life.
And what wasn't alive naturally never met death.
Thus, the unusually sweet dream the fainted Enoch had was no coincidence.