Chapter 406
Chapter 406
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Translator: Ryuma
Chapter: 406
Chapter Title: Miyamoto Ken (3)
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Ken, who had been quietly gazing down below, murmured softly.
"...No doubt about it."
He looked emaciated, as if on the verge of death, but no matter how closely he examined it, this was unmistakably his appearance from his human days.
How could he not recognize the face he'd carried with him his entire life?
It was the base face he still maintained to some degree even now, and one he often used when masquerading as a human.
'And these clothes... They're the ones I wore during my mercenary days. Exactly as they were right before I fell into that black mage's trap.'
As he stared blankly, a faint itch began to tickle the back of his mind.
Soon, it escalated beyond a mere itch into a throbbing headache.
A fierce pain stabbed at his head like a drill, accompanied by a swirling vortex of mysterious doubts churning in his brain.
His expression twisted savagely as he clutched his head.
'Wait.'
Suddenly, it hit him.
A single question bubbled up, sending a chill racing down his spine.
'...Come to think of it, what was my original unique skill?'
No matter how hard he tried, he couldn't remember.
What felt even more alien was that he hadn't even questioned it until now.
He had unwillingly become a settler, losing all his abilities as an Awakener in the process.
Everything tied to the system—status, skills, and all.
But to not even recall those things or feel anything off about it? That was blatantly unnatural.
'Who... am I, really?'
His identity in turmoil made his head spin.
Ken took a deep breath and quietly gazed at the other version of himself lying there like a corpse.
Though gaunt and ravaged, his age seemed frozen in his twenties.
Gulp—
Swallowing dryly, he extended his hand slowly, as if entranced.
It was an instinctive action he hadn't consciously willed.
And the moment his hand touched the other's forehead...
"...!"
His body convulsed violently, as if struck by lightning.
As if it had been waiting for this exact moment, the memories he had forgotten—and that had been distorted—began flooding into his mind.
"Kugh! Ack!"
Thud!
He staggered back and collapsed to the floor, gasping raggedly.
How long had it been since he squeezed his eyes shut and regulated his breathing?
Having roughly sorted through the jumbled memories, he slowly opened his eyes and looked around.
The grand white temple and the golden runes etched everywhere gave him an eerie sense of déjà vu, as if he'd been here before.
That's right—he hadn't come here for the first time today.
"...So that's how it was."
Miyamoto Ken's unique skill was Thought Transference.
It could be used for telepathy to transmit his thoughts or psychometry to read lingering thoughts from a target...
But as a mercenary focused on survival, he had developed it differently for combat.
He imbued his thoughts into magical tools, creating 'ego weapons' that acted with their own will and shared perceptions with the main body.
Simple defensive enchantments turned those tools into autonomous guardians for their owner, and this applied to his offensive and healing items as well.
Ego swords that freely maneuvered along unpredictable paths to slaughter foes, potion injectors that timely administered various elixirs based on the situation.
Thanks to them, the master-class mercenary Ken could reach a level where even if gravely wounded and unconscious, his equipped magical tools would autonomously respond.
'And I...'
Looking down at his hands, Ken clenched his fist tightly.
'...am a doll implanted with that Miyamoto Ken's ego?'
That was it.
The true identity of Ken, the count-level demon of the demon world.
◇◇◇◆◇◇◇ Deeper within the temple than where Ken grappled with the shocking truth, something long dormant writhed violently.
It was 'that thing'—now so decayed it could do nothing on its own—but the situation was different now.
Finally...
Finally, the key to its liberation had appeared!
A faint thread of self-awareness, nearly eroded away, began stirring in response to the external stimulus.
It immediately stimulated instincts to induce movement.
Missing this chance meant no more opportunities forever.
With the improbable finally becoming reality, there was no room for hesitation.
Rumble—
The faint vibrations echoing from the temple's depths began rising upward.
All that moved it now were fragmented obsessions.
Revenge against those who deceived and reduced it to this state.
Reclaiming lost power and reclaiming its rightful place.
The need for even greater strength to cleave the heavens.
To achieve that, it had to keep ascending, seize the key.
To complete its dangerously unstable self.
To fill the voids and be reborn more perfect.
💥 ROAR OF THE DEPTHS 💥 [————!]
Ken was neither an Earthling nor an Awakener.
He was merely a being that had perfectly inherited those memories.
And even that—a patchwork doll clumsily filling in the gaps from transmission errors.
'He gathered his entire ego for one final gamble.'
It hadn't taken long for the forcibly teleported Miyamoto Ken to accept he couldn't escape this place.
In this hellish environment, he was too weak to guarantee victory even against a mere baron-level demon.
So, to survive and find an external solution, he bundled his thoughts and hurled them elsewhere.
'Of course, he never dreamed it'd take over twenty years to return.'
The attempt itself was a gamble for Ken, so distortions in the memories were unforeseeable.
Some pull had drawn him here to the 'Dark Nest' of his own accord, but lax security meant he'd wasted time wandering without pinpointing it.
"Hoo, pointless to dwell on now."
Ken looked down at his original body with a complicated expression.
He wasn't entirely unshaken, but he wouldn't agonize over his identity.
Probably because his fully demonized body was influencing his mindset.
'Looks too far gone to revive anyway.'
He knew at a glance.
Some ritual barely clung it to life, but it was essentially a corpse.
Soul and flesh reduced to ashes, leaving mere traces; the pre-arranged unique skill showed no sign of activating.
The lack of aging was just lingering malevolent will—his body had long become a true settler.
Thirty years in Outerica made it inevitable.
Glancing aside, he saw corpses on a small altar—fellow Earthlings in the same plight.
Realizing his original body would soon join them stirred unease.
'The survivors are in similar states. What vicious scheme is this? What were they after?'
As Ken pondered...
"Kahaha!"
"Kahang! Kahang!"
With its ever-ghoulish cries, a Great Dane-sized three-headed hound trotted lightly into the chamber.
Despite canine faces, their expressions brimmed with thick satisfaction.
"Davidson? How'd you get here so fast?"
Ken's eyes widened as he scanned him.
Following him here meant he'd dealt with Sodian.
A marquis-level demon mage with a workshop in his lair—taken out this quickly?
And seemingly unscathed.
'Or did I lose track of time here?'
Even so, it was impressive.
Even against another marquis, such conditions would take all day without resolution.
'Maybe he inherited power from eating that cur-duke's essence.'
As Ken inwardly marveled...
Davidson, who had tracked his scent here, busily surveyed with his three heads.
Golden runes everywhere, dozens of sacrifices on small altars, one resembling Ken...
"Kahung?"
After alternating glances between them, Davidson's eyes narrowed.
A strange dignity emanated from his small frame.
Perhaps due to established hierarchy?
No words were spoken, yet Ken somehow knew what he wanted.
"Ahem... Hard to explain. I just learned this myself, but this seems to be my original body. It had the ability to transfer consciousness elsewhere, so the current me is..."
Like reporting to a superior or making excuses, his words trailed off abruptly.
His mouth worked silently, unable to continue.
The current me is... what?
'Why hadn't I questioned this until now?'
He grasped how it happened.
The problem was what came next.
Where did this body—imbued with Miyamoto Ken's Thought Transference ritual—come from?
'Same as before. Critical issue, yet no suspicion until speaking it.'
Unprecedented power surged in his grip.
Count-level demon force boiled like a volcano from his depths.
This body was no ordinary flesh.
By raw calculation, top two-digits in all demon world.
And above all...
'...I've had this power since my memories as a demon began.'
Thought Transference stealing such a body on a gamble? Absurd.
Normal outcome: his mind shredded on contact.
'So... this immense body was just abandoned, ownerless?'
Perfectly timed for his desperate throw.
Synchronization high enough to feel seamless with the original.
Flesh elevating him to realms beyond enlightenment.
Accepting his drifting thoughts as if waiting?
Too convenient...
Rumble—
His sharp senses caught faint vibrations shaking the entire temple.
Earthquake intensifying over time.
Soon, he realized something rose from below.
"No way the guardians were just Sodian? Davidson! Can you still fi—Kugh!"
Whipping his head to Davidson, Ken couldn't finish.
Crunch crunch—
One head, eyeing him meaningfully, bit off his hand.
"Gah! What the hell?!"
Feeling a chunk of his energy torn away, Ken grimaced and yelled.
The wound would regenerate quickly, no big deal—but betrayal from an ally stung.
His anger didn't last.
"Ah, as expected."
A deep voice suddenly rumbled.
"...Who's there!"
Ken heightened his guard, scanning frantically.
Only him, Davidson, and barely-breathing sacrifices.
With surprises piling up, his nerves frayed; an unseen voice triggered hyper-vigilance.
"Krhung! Where you looking, dummy?"
"Kahaha! Thought so from the start—you're kinda stupid!"
"Too bad. Three heads like us, and you'd be fine."
Ken's face fell at the next voices.
Unlike earlier doubts, these were crystal clear.
Lowering his wary gaze, he stared blankly below.
A sullen three-headed hound gazed back dumbly.
"You could talk this who—"
"Eh, whatever."
The nonchalant reply flashed Ken's humiliations: losing bed to a dog in hierarchy spat, sleeping on floor; begging for meat.
So much to say, but he swallowed it, closing his eyes discerningly.
He knew timing and place.
"Anyway, that body's not yours anymore, right?"
"...Yeah, but."
Ignoring his pouty response, Davidson sniffed around, nodding.
Prayers etched everywhere should be erased from records—impossible to exist.
But as an otherworlder with Xenoglossy, irrelevant to him.
"Krhung! This seems like..."
One head wrinkled its nose repeatedly, smacking lips.
"The original owner's coming now?"
"What?"
"Kahaha! This is rare! Taste was definitely count-level. But the approaching scent? Way beyond."
His nose—rivaling Diana's for eaten prey—reacted wildly.
Stronger than marquis Sodian or duke Karakul eaten before.
"Huh, so that's where it hid."
"What're you—wait. No way?"
BOOM! KWANG—!
Vibrations reached them.
A black silhouette visible afar rapidly closed in.
"Krhung! Problem though—even smelling it, I hoped otherwise."
"...Ugh, no energy like this."
One issue:
""No meat!""
The entity was fleshless spirit—made entirely of curses—Davidson's natural bane.
💥 ROAR OF THE DEPTHS 💥 [————!]