Chapter 50
Chapter 50
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Translator: uly
Chapter: 50
Chapter Title: Backlash
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"What is this?"
Iven wiped his mouth and stared at the monstrous mass he had vomited up, squeezing out his very life force to expel it.
"Iven, do you recognize it? This place is Haba, a hidden land in Gehenna where nothing grows and nothing blooms-a barren valley."
"Haba? Ugh!"
Iven vomited up even more black blood.
As Iven writhed in agony, gasping and shedding tears of blood from his despair and torment, Iveldra continued speaking in the void-like space.
"True to its name, it's a place that hides itself away."
Iven panted raggedly as he surveyed his surroundings. It couldn't compare to the Granblad Great Canyon, of course, but rather than sheer cliffs rising high, it felt more accurate to say he had fallen into a rift torn open in the earth itself.
Iven didn't fully grasp why Iveldra had brought him here, but it was clear that the black form before him, which he had just regurgitated, was the primary reason.
"O King of Demons, granting horns to all and bearing the sins of your race is no easy task. Remember that you must ultimately atone for the sin of inheriting this fate."
"Is that why I vomited up that... abomination?"
Iven rose from the rocky ground, watching as his black blood and fluids pooled together, gradually taking shape. This must be the backlash-the pitiful eyes bearing the flame of the sin of inheriting the horns, one of the great sins that had been divided, as Iveldra had described.
"The previous Demon King vomited up his own rage as well. As backlash for granting horns, he had to confront his sins. And so he stopped after giving them only to representatives of each race. This is the truth of the Pitiful Eyes and the backlash of dividing the Flame of Sin."
"Then does the Holy Brazier also have a backlash for those who inherit the sword?"
"The sin borne by those who inherit the sword is already being carried by some forgotten soul on Haipoji Mountain. And the Hero who divided that sin and truth must also endure a pitiful fate."
"A pitiful fate?"
It'sounded much like what had been said about Bulki-that he too must suffer an even more pitiful fate to pass on his destiny. But right now, Iven had no spare thought for that.
The sin had taken form.
"Though different from what he bore, this too has been passed on to you, Iven. Behold. The sin you swallowed, your own pitiful fate."
The writhing, repulsive form soon revealed its true shape.
"No way."
From some time, some place-a being who had truly pondered the world's salvation. Someone who shared drinks and conversations, sparred with his closest friend, stayed up late dreaming of hope, and ultimately failed to protect someone precious.
"My hope. That's what it is..."
It was none other than himself-not as the Demon King, but as Iven.
"Is my sin such a radiant form?"
Iven's sin was weeping. His face was filled with fury, holding a straight sword from just before it would break.
"Iven, the more horns you erect, the more things that should never exist in this world-including you-will be born."
In an instant, it twisted, aging slightly, then donned the armor of the 1st Knight Order. It twisted again, now clad in Bulki's golden armor.
A future he could never have, one he could never seize eternally.
"If I die, does that thing live, Iveldra?"
"Yes, my lord. It will become a new fate and leave this Haba. Since the Demon King, proxy of Nesheph, has changed, the story will twist anew because of its existence. Kin of sin will appear in the world."
Too exhausted to fully comprehend Iveldra's words, Iven gazed at what he had vomited up and felt the depths of his own abyss once more.
But since he was already the abyss itself, he shed no tears despite the pain-he merely laughed pitifully and spoke. Even if it meant killing all his dearest wishes, what he had to slay was the princess.
"There was a time I'might have raged at fate, asking why only I had to bear it. But if this is the sin I'must carry..."
That mad visage resembled the previous Demon King so closely. Iven drew a sword from his chest-broken, rusted, rotted-and declared,
"I'll chew you up and swallow you once more."
In that moment, blood tears scattering from his furious heart, the Demon King charged at the Hero Iven-the one he still yearned for even now.
***
The blade that cleaved the great ocean: the uppermost deck of Hoshekh Hatar.
The Hero's party and Rondnel stood on deck, alternating gazes between the shore and the sea.
"This is the deck. What do you think, Hero?"
"Hard to think of it as a deck, really."
And rightly so-the edges lacked any railings or holds. One wrong slip, and you'd plummet into the sea with nothing to grab.
"Looks like you didn't quite grasp my explanation on the way up. Aside from the cannon ports and the ship's entrance, nothing here is open."
"No way! So even the entrance we came through is a cannon port?"
Rondnel asked in surprise, and the great dwarf king nodded in affirmation.
"Hoshekh Hatar is unlike any conventional vessel. Aren't you headed to the heart of the great ocean? No need to brave brutal waves. Infuse the Hero's light at full power into that entrance we came through, and it'll charge up as propulsion."
The Hero recalled the great dwarf king's words upon entering.
"Then, dwarf king, if we have enough power, does that mean we can even dive beneath these deep seas?"
"Until we set off and complete the adventure, we probably won't surface."
"How is such magic even possible..."
"It's not magic, Hero."
The Hero, Sherpandel, gazed at the distant sea and said,
"It's technology. Science. What sets us apart from the demons isn't which god we serve. It's the civilization we've built. A vast society, a world, a force that endures will! That's why you must infuse this technology with the best light you can muster!"
"What sets us apart from demons..."
The Hero could somewhat grasp the meaning. Sherpandel had foreseen issues even after the great sin vanished, so Bulki's burdens as a Hero had only grown.
"Thank you, great dwarf king. I'll do my utmost."
"All this is to end the war. I've chosen you as my Hero-simply trust, rely on, and follow me."
Bulki felt his chest swell at Sherpandel's gentle smile.
"If we return safely, I'll be sure to visit."
"You must! We have thirty engineers and over fifty human and beastkin sailors and crew conscripted from the coastal village. Bring them all back to me safe and sound, Hero."
"I'll keep that in mind."
"And keep this in mind as well, Hero."
Sherpandel placed a hand on Bulki's shoulder, encouraging him as he recalled the Third Demon Incursion.
"You alone are the one to slay the Demon King and seize the Pitiful Eyes."
As king leading his race, Sherpandel had known for ages: only by killing the Demon King with the Pitiful Eyes could the inheritance of horns be halted. He simply didn't know that king was the Hero's dearest friend.
"That too..."
Bulki had no intention of abandoning Iven, but deep down, he was anxious.
What if things didn't unfold as he hoped? If Iven tried to kill him, or refused to join forces to create the great sin?
If, when they next met, it was no longer his friend Iven?
"I'll keep it in mind."
Bulki pushed the thoughts aside and simply replied.
"Alright, let's prepare for departure. I'll get ready to infuse the light."
And so Rondnel, Shainelius, and Bulki toured the vast inner chambers where they'd live, preparing to set off for the distant great ocean.
But the Hero still didn't know.
That the weight of the sin from inheriting the sword-unleashed by opening the Holy Brazier-was growing ever heavier.
And I, who had noticed it all, said nothing and hid in the shadows.
The tale must continue to be chronicled through the current Demon King and Hero alone.
***
Throughout the crumbling valley, Iven stared blankly at the Iven he had defeated. Rain fell.
"Ha, so even this is beyond me."
The fallen one was Great Demon King Iven van Ivelhac.
And Iveldra watched impassively.
The reason the previous Demon King hadn't expanded his horns to strengthen every race one by one.
When you divide horns and bear sins, the backlash manifests as confronting a version of yourself that should never have existed in this world-one you must slay yourself.
That twisted fate was the backlash inherited through the Pitiful Eyes, the Flame of Sin divided.
"So absurd. Full of contradictions and tragedy."
Iven recalled what he had endured to reach this point. All that effort, defeated by the ideal he had longed for-it filled him with bitter regret.
His belly pierced, arm torn, wings broken and feathers soaked in filth.
The Hero Iven grabbed the Demon King Iven's horn, hoisted his tattered form, and aimed his sword. Golden light gathered on the blade once more, preparing to burn him.
"But like this..."
Iven gazed at his dream. The self he had given up on from the start, yet never truly forgotten.
"You think it ends?!"
In that instant, Iven opened his maw and, impaled on the sword, bit into the Hero Iven's arm.
The closer he got, vomiting blood and dying, he dyed the golden light on the sword purple. Blood flowed. Tears fell. No-rain poured. Iven could not die like this.
Boom!
The Hero Iven's sword exploded in golden light, incinerating the Demon King Iven's remains. Even amid that bizarre blaze, he kept devouring the Hero Iven. No form left. Consciousness long gone.
But his will endured.
The Hero Iven screamed. Arm devoured, then shoulder, neck, collarbone, heart. The Demon King Iven literally chewed him up and digested him.
Grrr... Grooo...
Beast-like growls echoed again. Iven tore into the remaining head of Iven. With his own twisted hands, he slew every last shred of his hopes.