Chapter 438
-----------------------------------------------------------------
Translator: 8uhl
Chapter: 438
Chapter Title: You Would Know
-----------------------------------------------------------------
Though he'd braced himself for a fierce battle.
The black gate appeared instead of the revived Demon God.
From the moment he'd been invited through that gate, he'd vaguely anticipated it.
Who might be waiting inside.
But when that premonition became reality, even Rimon couldn't help clicking his tongue.
"Honestly, it's a bit unexpected."
"That I've become the Demon God?"
"No, that you're still alive."
Over his long life, Rimon had faced all sorts of enemies, many of whom refused to stay dead no matter how many times he killed them.
Cockroach-like black mages.
Especially the dark shamans among them.
Yet the reason Rimon found Sergei's survival truly surprising was simple.
"To be precise, it's that you can pretend to be alive like this that's beyond expectation."
With his reddish-brown hair and bushy beard.
He looked exactly the same as before, no matter where you looked.
Even as Rimon treated him like something less than human, Sergei didn't flinch.
He simply opened his mouth calmly.
"No need to find it miraculous. It's all thanks to the legacy of the Dark Dawn Society, in the end."
"The legacy of the Dark Dawn Society... So you used that to revive the Demon God."
"Indeed."
"You found it well enough. I thought they'd burned every last scrap of paper they left behind."
"Frankly, I got lucky."
After the Demon God War.
Black mages faced ruthless suppression.
The Dark Dawn Society, the black magic cabal central to the Demon God's descent, had even their traces erased.
That was the unanimous decision of all nations at the European Conference held after the Demon God was exorcised.
If Rimon hadn't declared he wouldn't tolerate innocent casualties, it would have reignited the nightmare of witch hunts—the crackdown was that thorough.
In that sense, Sergei obtaining the Dark Dawn Society's legacy was nothing short of a miracle.
"Do you remember? I once told you I tried to borrow the Absolute One's power for my revolution."
"I do. Including the lie that it yielded no results."
"That wasn't a lie. I truly couldn't borrow the Absolute One's power."
The Monarch and Rimon.
The Grand Witch or the Saints.
Even the Fairy Queen and the Word Spirits.
While investigating ways to contact various Absolute Ones.
Sergei had discovered a clue presumed to be left by one of them in the past.
Following that clue led him to a treasure hidden deep in the Siberian tundra, where even breath froze solid.
That was the Dark Dawn Society's legacy.
A secret research lab where black mages had hidden documents and records from centuries of Demon God descent research.
It was an absurd coincidence.
Yet also inevitable.
The Soviet Union before the Demon God War was a revolutionary state where even witches and priests with abilities were killed or exiled.
It was the perfect place for black mages to hide their identities and operate.
And Sergei, evading the government's eyes, naturally crossed paths with them.
"I swear, I didn't intend to use it from the start."
He knew the Demon God's dangers.
Misuse of that legacy could unleash a horrific catastrophe, so Sergei initially planned to destroy the entire lab.
Two problems arose.
First, the Demon God research materials lacked even ciphers—every bit of information was laid out plainly, almost miraculously.
Second, after scouring for Absolute Ones, he had the knowledge to understand them.
"But after seeing those materials, I changed my mind. The Demon God's power was nothing like what I'd imagined."
"Not just that you coveted black magic power?"
"I won't deny needing power."
Sergei accepted the sarcasm calmly.
The Dark Dawn Society had once stood shoulder-to-shoulder with the Seven Dragon Society.
Their Demon God research materials were the pinnacle of that society's essence, a priceless treasure.
"With no Absolute One—from you, Sword Duke, to any other—willing to lend me power, my only path was to become one myself."
"Even if it meant becoming a mere black mage?"
"Even the deadliest poison can be medicine, depending on its use."
That's what they call poison for a reason.
Rimon didn't bother pointing it out.
Instead, he regarded Sergei with a cold smile.
"So that's why you allied with the Liberation Brigade?"
"...What do you mean?"
"Don't play dumb. That black magic aura you're giving off now—I felt something similar from the Liberation Brigade's wraiths."
The Liberation Brigade's No. 7 wraith, Demon Diego, whom he'd chased from Brazil tracking Maya.
Cornered even after borrowing a Seven Arc's power, he'd resorted to black magic as a last measure.
He'd ultimately been torn apart by Maya, whose dragon essence had gone berserk because of it.
Even so, Rimon had harbored suspicions since then.
In an era where black mages were nearly extinct, where had a player-supremacist criminal group like the Liberation Brigade's wraiths learned black magic?
And why did the ambrosia they made feel eerily familiar yet unsettling?
Now he knew.
"You were the one teaching black magic to the Liberation Brigade, weren't you?"
"..."
Rimon clicked his tongue at Sergei's silent affirmation.
His black magic stemmed from the Demon God research.
No matter how corrupted, its origin explained the familiarity with the ambrosia.
And if Sergei was the source, the other mysteries resolved neatly.
"No wonder there were so many Liberation Brigade members in the revolutionary army... They weren't hiding at all."
"You were mercenaries hired by the Liberation Brigade in exchange for black magic."
"And overlooking their recklessness wasn't just faction infighting—it was mutual blackmail."
A black mage-Liberation Brigade alliance.
Rimon sneered at the perfectly matched, disgustingly so, pairing.
Silence lingered as Sergei watched him, then spoke softly after a long pause.
"I've never truly allied with the Liberation Brigade. I merely used them as needed."
"Sure. But their wraiths seem to put your black magic to good use."
Even knowing how many lives that ambrosia-made-from-black-magic had ruined?
To Rimon's cold question, Sergei replied softly.
"Regrettable that victims arose from the black magic I taught, but sacrifices necessary for revolution."
"...Ah, really?"
Rimon pondered briefly.
Should he just kill this bastard now?
But he coldly restrained his hand from his sword.
As long as the 'moment' hadn't arrived, he couldn't strike Sergei down.
So Rimon spoke deliberately.
"I just don't get it, so let me ask—why the hell can't you start your revolution?"
At those words.
Sergei fell silent.
The phrasing differed, but Rimon's question echoed the one from his meeting with Yekateriche.
Unlike with her, this time he didn't evade.
He simply spoke in a heavy voice.
"Because this country is rotten."
"Rotten... Because the people live too damn comfortably?"
"I acknowledge that the Ruskhanate offers the world's most stable life with the least labor."
A brief pause.
Then Sergei fixed Rimon with shining eyes and added.
"But this country offers nothing beyond a stable life."
Eating, sleeping, surviving.
In terms of basic shelter, clothing, food, and survival rights, the Ruskhanate maximized gains with minimal labor.
The issue was pursuing that efficiency in everything.
"The prime example is culture."
"From broadcasts to books and music, even art is calculated for necessity, producing and distributing only what's most efficient for governance."
"So bodies may be comfortable and plump, but souls are parched and barren."
Working just four hours a day meant ample leisure.
Yet most citizens couldn't use it freely.
They watched the same broadcasts.
Read recommended books and films.
Listened to cheaply distributed music.
Traveled only to state-approved tourist spots.
All because mass-supplying universally satisfying options was deemed efficient.
"This country manufactures and distributes even happiness like factory products."
Love pop songs? Can't if not distributed.
Prefer B-movies? Stuck with blockbuster hits.
Crave complex philosophy? Forced into typical romances or comics.
Whether the distributed culture's quality surprised or was uniformly state-stamped.
Citizens lacked freedom for personal best happiness over ten generic ones.
SNS or anonymous internet restricted as life-wasting.
Foreign info hard to access, lest discontent or greed reduce efficiency.
"The Great Khan would say what's the problem— to her, citizens are toys or national parts."
"But we're not dogs or pigs. We're humans with rights to choose our happiness."
"That's human rights. Thus, we must revolt."
Feed per livestock manual, buy toys, walk—only livestock happy.
Even children toss unwanted toys, picky eaters—that's human.
Revolution not a right, but human duty.
Yekateriche, ruling silver dragonkin who logicized even preferences, wouldn't grasp or dismiss it.
So he'd never raised it—now Sergei stated firmly.
Rimon replied softly.
"Many in the world can't even get that generic happiness."
"Others' greater misfortune doesn't deny our right to better happiness."
"Even if pursuing it kills the nation working 24/7 in factories?"
"Preventing that is the state's role."
Feeding citizens.
Guaranteeing freedom.
All state duties.
A proper nation pursues all, doesn't steal freedom using fulfilled duties as excuse.
Sergei asserted.
But Rimon twisted his lips at the seamless reply.
His voice colder than before.
"So, you'll create a paradise where all enjoy desired happiness?"
"Yes."
"Even gods couldn't make such a paradise."
"What gods can't, Demon God's power can."
At those words.
Rimon fell silent.
He knew Sergei's claim was logically sound.
Because...
"The Demon God isn't a god."
"..."
"You would know, Sword Duke. The Demon God's true nature."
The Demon God is a god.
Only first descended during the Demon God War.
Never appeared in human history before.
Many mistake... no, post-war truth distorted so.
Sergei spoke softly, correcting.
"A power that lets humans reach god-like miracles."
The distant Silver Age.
Ultimate magic from magic's heyday, rivaling London Barrier or Tartarus.
"Thus, it achieved what even gods couldn't, leaving its name in history long."
But breaching divine taboo, classified black magic.
So rarely appearing in history, always in different forms, hidden names— a legend.
"Before the Demon God War, we called it this."
Unlike gods, no will of its own.
No good or evil— strictly alters providence per user's intent. Miracle tool.
Granting eternal youth.
Resurrecting dead.
Turning stone to gold.
Any wish fulfilled on desire.
Thus, supreme blessing or supreme calamity.
Vast cost limited to thrice max, mistaken for treasure or consumable over magic.
Swallow's pouch.
Monkey's paw.
Wish ring.
Goblin club, etc.
Known by many names across lands.
Among them, the Demon God's old name, spread widest by those believing the magic itself had personality.
Sergei spoke softly.
"The Genie of the Lamp."