Chapter 249
Translator: Ebonarch
Chapter: 249
Chapter Title: Part 2 Chapter 19: The Hunter's Resolve (4)
Contrary to Jamie's expectations, Hawks came to his senses faster than anticipated.
He stared up at the ceiling of the building.
His last memory was of a massive light hurtling toward him.
He seemed to have countered in haste, but since he'd lost consciousness...
It looked like he'd failed.
He'd lost to a human.
Lost to the very race he'd always considered weak.
Yet, unexpectedly, it didn't feel humiliating.
"Your expression looks more serene than I expected."
"Isis. Did you bring me here?"
"Yeah."
Isis was sitting at the table, sipping tea.
Hawks tried to sit up, but his face twisted in pain, and he lay back down.
He hadn't noticed while lying still, but even a slight movement sent agony ripping through his entire body.
"The doctor said you shouldn't move for a while. Your whole body's a mess."
"...I lost."
"You lost to a human—the ones you've always seen as weak. Utterly crushed. So, how does it feel?"
"Not as humiliating as I thought."
Isis's eyes widened at his words.
She'd expected Hawks not to accept this defeat easily.
"I figured you'd say Jamie Welton is just a special case, and humans are still a weak race overall."
"That's true too."
"See?"
Isis took another sip of tea with a look that said there was no point in saying more.
Hawks fell silent for a moment, gazing at the ceiling as if lost in thought, then spoke.
"He didn't break my beak. I really thought he would."
"Yeah? Wonder why he didn't. If it were me, I'd have snapped it clean off."
"You actually did break it a few times."
"True."
When Hawks trained under Isis, he'd taken plenty of beatings under the guise of sparring—not just for a day or two.
Sometimes his wings got torn, or his beak shattered.
"That's when it started. When you screamed that you'd get stronger no matter what."
"I didn't want to remain weak."
"Hmm~"
Hawks closed his eyes.
Memories of that day flooded back.
His opponent was a black dragon.
He had no idea why it had attacked the Jo-in tribe's village.
As the tribe's chieftain, Hawks had led his warriors to stop it.
It was a horrific defeat.
All his subordinates were slaughtered, and he himself teetered on the brink of death.
But the black dragon didn't kill him.
It merely crushed his head underfoot and sneered.
-No matter how the weaklings struggle, they're just vermin. And the Jo-in are vermin too. Humans, dwarves, elves—they all bow their heads and grovel like slaves before a dragon like me.
The humiliation of being weak.
Hawks couldn't bear it.
At the same time, he felt pathetic.
It was because he was weak.
If he hadn't been weak, none of this would have happened.
If he'd been strong, he could have protected everyone.
-Act like the weaklings you are.
The nameless black dragon had laughed as it said that.
The weak should act weak.
The strong should act strong.
Those words seared into Hawks's mind.
Did the strong have the right to trample the weak?
Did the weak have to smile and accept such abuse from the strong?
It was absurd.
Hawks had thrashed and begged for death, but the black dragon just laughed.
-This is the 'right of the strong.'
Hawks couldn't deny it.
The strong held the power of life and death.
Become strong, and you could enjoy that too.
But was it right?
No.
He acknowledged the words to some extent.
The strong had their role, and the weak theirs.
But it shouldn't be forced.
The weak exist because of the strong, and the strong because of the weak.
If that balance collapsed, the world would run solely on power.
It would overflow with scum like that black dragon.
There needed to be strong ones to stop them.
He was weak now.
'Then I'll become strong! I'll become a protector of the weak against scum like that!'
Witnessing the mad black dragon had given Hawks his life's direction, leading him—though to a different degree—to pursue the same path.
He was trapped in binary thinking: the world consisted only of strong and weak.
He didn't realize how warped that ideology was.
Afterward, Isis appeared and slew the black dragon.
She later said she'd planned to bring the Jo-in to the Frontier, but that black lizard had caused chaos, so she'd dealt with it first.
Isis was strong, and she acted for the weak.
Whether it held meaning or not.
Hawks sought her teachings, and with his talent, he absorbed them quickly, ascending to the ranks of the strong in no time.
And now.
'I lost.'
To a human he'd deemed weak.
He hadn't realized it until the defeat.
Humans—and similarly frail races—were just things to protect.
Their role was to serve the strong, aiding them smoothly.
Even now, that view hadn't changed much.
"Humans are weak. Dwarves have nothing but their crafting skills. Elves are just average unless they're high elves. But..."
Isis spoke, propping her chin on the table amid the silence.
"They're struggling too. Sure, on average, the Jo-in aren't quite on the level of the three major races but are still strong. Humans make up for it with numbers. And from those masses, monsters rivaling us emerge."
"Jamie Welton."
"Not just him. Hando, Jindo, Beryl too. Countless powerhouses represent the human realm. What about dwarves? They lack innate might, but their technology narrows the gap in strength. Are they weak? And elves? They don't inherit power like high elves, but there's kids like Sharan."
To the silent Hawks, Isis continued.
"I've told you before. You're cursed."
"The curse of power, you mean."
"That black lizard's provocation haunts you like an obsession. Open your eyes, Hawks. The world isn't a binary realm of just strong and weak."
Isis stood.
Hawks probably needed time alone.
As she headed for the door, she left one last remark.
"I hope this valuable defeat brings you enlightenment. Rest."
Hawks turned his head to watch her go.
"Valuable defeat..."
For some reason, his chest felt lighter.
He didn't know why.
"Master!"
"Owner!"
Vena and Behemoth rushed in together.
But Jamie, slightly fatigued, brushed past them toward the bed.
He tossed off his robe and flopped onto the mattress.
"You look really tired."
"Seems like it."
Normally, he'd have shoved them away in annoyance or flicked their foreheads.
Vena approached the bed with Behemoth perched on her head.
"Are you super tired?"
Jamie waved a hand dismissively, too lazy to reply.
Vena and Behemoth exchanged glances.
This wasn't the Jamie they knew.
Behemoth whispered in Vena's ear.
"He looks really worn out. Let's come back tomorrow."
"Yeah!"
"Don't copy my speech!"
It was a whisper loud enough for anyone to hear.
Yet Jamie showed no reaction.
They shrugged and headed for the door.
They waved at the seemingly sleeping Jamie.
"Master, we'll come back tomorrow!"
"Owner, see you tomorrow!"
With that, they left his quarters.
Only then did Jamie slowly open his eyes.
He lay with hands clasped behind his head, staring at the ceiling.
The final clash with Hawks.
In the lake of the unconscious, he'd seen Black—and from that moment, the power of holy light awakened.
Opening his eyes to this new power, he instinctively knew his realm had elevated further.
He was no longer a half-baked 9th class but had reached full maturity.
That wasn't the issue.
'Black.'
No answer came.
"So you didn't wake up."
It had merely tossed him a temporary clue about holy light before vanishing.
The creature still slumbered deep in his unconscious.
It was nice seeing its face after so long.
He'd been curious about its state, but it would reappear when the time was right.
More importantly, the holy light.
"This power is... that, right?"
The 13th divinity.
The fabricated force Yormungand had created using his black mana.
Her ascension, Nirvana, had insisted it differed from holy light and the 13th divinity.
Not wrong.
The awakened holy light resembled the 13th divinity closely, but it existed without 'faith.'
Perhaps this was the divinity Yormungand sought.
"Extremes converge."
Black mana was born in the shadow world ruled by the King of Darkness Spirits.
Jamie suspected the shadow world was a fragment split from primordial darkness.
The power born there had reached its extreme and become light.
Now, it mimicked divinity.
What did this mean?
'The nature of primordial darkness and the 12 Gods.'
Black mana was crafted to slay gods.
He'd made it that way himself, yet he didn't know why it countered divinity so fiercely.
Perhaps...
So perhaps...
'Is primordial darkness the natural counter to the 12 Gods?'
He didn't know why.
This was mere speculation.
But black mana had become holy light akin to the divinity wielded by the 12 Gods.
Without needing faith.
Yet that didn't make sense either.
Converging extremes meant compatibility, not predation.
Why did black mana carry god-slaying power?
Why had it taken a form resembling divinity at its peak?
'Why did they seal me in primordial darkness?'
Could it be...
'From their perspective... primordial darkness is the most dangerous realm?'
So they sealed their greatest threat, Diablo Volpir, there.
Creatures often deem the most perilous places safe.
If primordial darkness truly countered them like a predator, it wasn't impossible.
Then why was primordial darkness their predator?
'No idea there.'
Jamie rose from the bed and approached the window.
"These kids left the window wide open."
He leaned on the sill, gazing at the night sky.
The earlier battle had cleared the skies.
The stars shone brighter than ever.
The 12 Gods dwelt above that sky.
If he could uncover the link between them and primordial darkness, perhaps he could slay them.
'I failed in my past life...'
Holy light flickered above his hand as he murmured.
"In this life, I'll drag you down for sure."
It was a world where pillars of immense light cascaded like waterfalls.
Auroras draped the sky, mirrored in a vast lake floating above.
At its center stood a colossal temple, built from dozens of pillars in a rectangular formation.
Beautiful fountains surrounded the temple, encircled by manicured gardens.
Fairies flitted about, tending the gardens diligently.
A man watched them from before a fountain.
"So bored."
He lounged on a sunbed, voicing his ennui.
"Nothing fun happens. The world's a bore. It's been tens of thousands of years of repetition, and still no amusement."
He looked utterly jaded.
With good reason.
Tens of thousands of years lording over the world from his absolute throne.
There had been crises, but mere blips in his long life.
And now, with that threat buried in primordial darkness, what was there to fear?
Only his once-family-like kin turning foe one by one.
"Hey, any word on that wench?"
A fairy hurried over to report.
"A new apostle has appeared, and she's restoring lost territories."
"I see. And my apostle?"
"You haven't made one."
"Right. What about my sword?"
"It's just leaving southern lands."
"Pathetic."
The man showed little reaction, even to bad news.
By now, few would rage or rejoice over trifles.
"Maybe it's time to start a war."
"A war, my lord?"
"My followers are struggling. Time to rally their spirits. It's a god's duty, after all."
"Your faithful will repay with greater devotion, O Zenith."
Zenith nodded.
"This should stir our Sun God a bit."
The tone dripped with sarcasm.
The God of War and Peace commanded the fairy.
"Perfect timing to end the boredom. Let's start with Pyro. Issue the revelation for the 'Holy War.'"
"Yes."
Holy War was imminent.