Chapter 775: Things Forgotten
Translator: RaidenTL
Chapter 775: Things Forgotten
"Respect... Ah, right. Respect is due."
Divine Will pondered for a long while before he remembered the meaning of the word.
After all, as the Grand Duke Divine Will and the ruler of the Demon Race, a full thousand years had passed. He had long since forgotten what respect felt like. Most of those in this world who had once commanded his respect had perished in that Great Disaster.
The white-haired, red-eyed loli before him should have been one of those people. Even if she looked somewhat different from the version in his memories—for instance, she was much smaller and was wearing childish pink strawberry pajamas.
However, some things do not change with physical size. Things like that indifference, that detachment that felt as though she had long since departed from the mortal world.
And that lofty, downward gaze.
It was a natural look of superiority, devoid of any intent to insult. Even her calling him a "little one" was because she truly possessed the standing to do so.
Mela Domir, the oldest human currently alive, a fellow remnant of the era from a thousand years ago alongside Divine Will, and the only Origin-Tier Grand Magister of this age.
A thousand years ago, she was a powerhouse that Divine Will could only look up to from afar. Now, her gaze alone was enough to strike fear into the hearts of most people in this world.
"But I feel that there is no longer any need for me to respect you," Divine Will suddenly said.
His expression was gentle, like an old man chatting under a large banyan tree at dusk, but his tone was cold enough to incite fire and war at any moment.
"Oh?"
Mela Domir raised an eyebrow in surprise. "Why? Is it because after living for a thousand years, your courage has finally grown?"
"It has nothing to do with courage."
Divine Will shook his head. "It is just that... now, you are like me. Nothing more than a pathetic soul who has lost something precious, struggling and wandering in this world. Why should I have any need to respect you?"
"..."
Mela Domir descended slowly, her jade-white feet stepping onto the black stones. The contrast of white against black seemed to mirror the current atmosphere.
Her long hair fluttered and her red eyes flickered as something began to manifest into substance... but in the end, she only let out a long sigh.
"You are right. We are all just pathetic people," Mela Domir admitted frankly.
Having lost something precious.
Sleeping and wandering in this world in solitude.
Bound by a certain duty, searching through the long reaches of time for a possibility so minuscule it was nearly zero, lacking even the courage to walk toward death... truly pathetic and miserable.
"So then, are you here to attend my Resurrection Festival?"
Divine Will smiled and extended his hand in a sincere invitation. "If it is you, I can reserve the best seat for you."
"No," Mela Domir said coldly. "I am here to end this farce."
"..."
The atmosphere turned stagnant once more.
It was like a sword being drawn from its sheath, the ring of metal on metal.
Though Divine Will was radiating an unusual amount of goodwill, this reunion after a thousand years perhaps never had any possibility of reconciliation from the very start.
"Why?"
The smile on Divine Will's face vanished inch by inch. His crimson pupils stared intently into another pair of eyes that were also red, but far clearer.
A look of intense disappointment surfaced in his eyes, as if he had been betrayed.
He had thought that, just like a thousand years ago, Mela Domir would be on his side.
"You should have heard it too, shouldn't you? Her crying." Divine Will spread his arms wide.
The dim space was silent.
On that obsidian throne, the feather-robed skeleton sat upright and wordless. Its hollow eye sockets were deep and empty, containing nothing, yet Divine Will seemed to clearly hear a certain sound of weeping.
Her crying.
Miserable, painful, sorrowful, and filled with resentment... Of course she should be resentful. She had endured a malice she never should have faced, cruelly murdered on the day the disaster descended.
In the entire Demon Race... no, among those people who had not yet become the Demon Race, she was the one who least deserved to die.
Yet she became the "only" one who truly died.
"You should be able to feel that pain as well, Mela Domir!"
Divine Will roared, "You watched everything she did with your own eyes! So you should be like me, like her—you should know that bone-deep resentment and unwillingess!"
All the statues turned their heads, glaring at Mela Domir.
But Mela Domir's expression remained unchanged.
She tilted her head slightly, as if listening.
"Yes... I can hear it. I hear her crying."
Images flickered before Mela Domir's eyes.
She had never been part of the Eternal Cycle. Her longevity came from the Temporal Authority, and her memories had never been purged or affected. Thus, those images remained clear, often reappearing in her dreams.
The scenes from a thousand years ago, the disaster... the scenes from before "The Divine One" had descended, beautiful as sunlight shining over a flower sea.
She also knew what kind of person she was. When everything was on the verge of collapse, she was the first to discover the source of it all and had struggled to rewrite the ending.
Though she failed, no one would blame her. Even if a mortal fails to stop a flood, no one blames the fool who dared to stand before the rushing waters.
One could say that the entire Demon Race—those who were not yet called the Demon Race a thousand years ago—bore some form of unforgivable sin.
But she, the one who had once led those people forward, did not.
She was brave, kind, and powerful. Most importantly... she had remained clear-headed, never falling into the fanaticism of those sins.
Someone like her truly should not have met such a tragic end. If the guilty still cling to life in this world, why should she, the innocent one, have to die so miserably?
"However..."
Mela Domir looked up, meeting Divine Will's eyes. "Are you sure her crying sounds the way you described?"
"...What do you mean?" Divine Will froze.
"You know, Divine Will, I actually didn't plan on showing myself."
Her pink nightgown swayed as Mela Domir paced across the black stones.
In the pitch-black passage behind her, those eerie shadows that should have been emitting hoarse, low whispers to tear apart anyone who violated the rules were now trapped in absolute silence.
"I didn't plan to show myself, nor did I plan to interfere in your affairs or the affairs of the Demon Race. I still harbor a certain guilt toward you all. That is why I have allowed you to silently turn into these strange forms in this corner of the world for a thousand years..."
"Furthermore, because of the Eternal Cycle, you are all harmless to the world itself. So no matter how much you struggle, I could have turned a blind eye..."
"It's just that, Divine Will..."
Mela Domir stopped. She stood among the statues, gazing at the various sculptures before looking up at the countless chains covering the sky, and the souls at the ends of those chains... souls on the verge of shattering.
The shattering of a soul was a normal phenomenon. As long as one was within the man-made "reincarnation" of the Eternal Cycle, erosion was unavoidable.
However... they could have lasted much longer.
"Have you still not realized? You, who once stood by her side to fight against oppressors, have become exactly like them... you have become the very thing she hated most."
"You have become an oppressor too, Divine Will."
The entire Demon Race relied on the Eternal Cycle to exist.
That powerful Ancient Artifact was both a shackle and a protection.
If the Eternal Cycle hadn't purged their souls in cycle after cycle, these former followers of the Demon God would have long ago been completely corrupted into monsters by the Demon God's pollution.
The Corruptors wandering in the "slums" were the fate of souls that had failed to enter the Eternal Cycle.
Because of this, whoever controlled the Eternal Cycle effectively controlled the souls of the entire Demon Race.
And Divine Will was actually extracting power from these souls to use as fuel to resurrect her.
"An oppressor?"
Divine Will laughed dismissively. "What does it matter if I am an oppressor? As long as I can save her from her pain, what does it matter if I become a stranger or if my hands are stained with blood? I have long since—"
"You still don't understand what I mean!"
Mela Domir interrupted him, her tone suddenly becoming incredibly stern. Yet, the look she gave Divine Will was filled with a strange pity.
That pity made Divine Will uneasy, even angry.
"I haven't paid attention to your affairs for too long, so I only had vague suspicions before. Now, I am finally certain..."
Mela Domir looked at Divine Will and said, word by word:
"You have gone mad, Divine Will."
"...Mad?"
Divine Will's aged face twisted slightly as he looked at her in confusion. "Are you insulting me? Heh, I didn't expect you to be so crude—"
"No, I am simply stating a fact. You have gone completely mad, to the point that you have forgotten something so important."
"For... gotten?" Divine Will chewed on the word, as if contemplating its meaning.
"Do you know? There is another reason I didn't want to interfere: I knew your plan would never succeed! Everything you have done, from beginning to end, is nothing but a farce! A pure farce! A ridiculous joke!"
Mela Domir's lips parted slightly, as if she intended to use her words to tear Divine Will's soul apart.
"Because, she is..."
*
Muen felt like he was falling.
Ever since he jumped from that high tower, he felt like he had been in a constant state of descent.
A terrifying sense of weightlessness surrounded him, as if the abyss were swallowing him whole. He struggled to move his limbs, trying to grab onto something, but there was nothing to catch.
It seemed that in this pitch-black void, nothing substantial existed at all.
"Hey now, don't tell me I survived a literal Evil God only to accidentally fall to my death in a place like this."
Muen scratched his head in frustration. He found he couldn't even use his mana, so he could only say tentatively:
"How about some light?"
Then, light actually appeared.
As soon as Muen spoke, a piercing radiance extended from one end of his vision to the other.
But this radiance was not beautiful.
The moment Muen looked at it, a sharp pain shot through his brain. Unimaginable roars and whispers buzzed in his head; his spirit began to waver, his vision distorted, and an indescribable fear suddenly took root.
It was as if this wasn't pure light, but the afterglow emitted by some horrific existence... or perhaps it wasn't light at all, and Muen's brain could only interpret it in the form of light.
Regardless, light appeared.
And then, it tore the world open.
Indescribable shadows extended from behind the light, spreading across the entire sky at an alarming speed. The sun vanished, the moon disappeared, and all Muen could see was the shell of the world shattering bit by bit amidst its wailing.
Yet it wasn't just the sky that shattered; the earth began to undergo an unimaginable mutation. The surface, composed of soil and rock, suddenly began to flip in a bizarre fashion. The entire crust seemed to turn into a living thing, like massive, intertwining, convulsing tentacles. Then, this flesh cracked open, and ancient buildings symbolizing civilization sank into the earth, chewed to pieces. The crunching sound was like a child savoring a delicious snack.
Crowds fled in terror, only to be bitten and torn by monsters emerging from the shadows. A few children held onto each other, shivering as they hid in a temporarily safe shelter, but the scene shifted, leaving only several indescribable monsters locked in a brutal slaughter.
"This is..."
Muen was nearly suffocated by the horror of the scene. His gaze swept rapidly across this apocalyptic vision, trying to find its source.
Finally, above a grand city filled with high towers that was still temporarily intact, he saw... "The Divine One."
The image suddenly tore apart, as if it couldn't withstand the presence of such a being.
Muen's vision went black. His head felt as if it had been struck by a sledgehammer, and his entire consciousness was in turmoil.
However, when he came to, he found he was no longer falling.
He struggled to his feet, leaning against a wall, and realized he had arrived at a strange corridor.
Strange, yet familiar.
The architectural style was completely different from Belland or anywhere else on the continent, yet Muen recognized these intricate and exquisite patterns.
Because he had seen them before—more than once.
In Gutons Fortress, in the room where the Grand Duke of Bewitchment had once imprisoned him, and...
"A dream."
Muen murmured softly, observing his surroundings.
Ever since he obtained that branch of the Eternal Cycle, he had been having the same strange dream. This was his third time entering it.
This time was more real than the previous two, filled with details a dream shouldn't have. He could even clearly see and touch the fine blemishes left by time on the walls.
Muen's gaze fell on the ordinary-looking door in front of him.
According to the plot of the first two times, he should push the door open and see that girl again—the one lying in a pool of blood, clearly dead yet still pleading for him to save something.
But this time...
"▌▌"
A voice came from inside the room.
Someone was speaking in a language that was somewhat unfamiliar to Muen.
Ancient Language.
Strangely, although the language was unfamiliar, Muen could understand its meaning. However, the first few syllables—which seemed to be a name—flowed through his mind like a stream, leaving no trace behind.
Muen tried to recall them, but found he couldn't remember the name those syllables represented no matter what.
"The pollution is spreading further. More people have been corrupted into those monsters. The situation has spiraled completely out of control!"
"▌▌, what should we do? Everything seems to be heading for destruction. The entire world outside this city is collapsing. What kind of thing have we been worshipping?!"
"..."
"Calm down first."
After a moment of silence, another voice came from the room.
Muen didn't know how to describe it. The voice seemed to have become completely distorted over a thousand years, its timbre indistinguishable, raspy and coarse like a recording on an old radio.
Yet it was strangely imbued with a power that put one at ease.
"Stop the prayers. We can't let them be polluted any further. Also %&... %&..."
The following words became blurred, as if falling once more into the river of history, broken apart by the surging currents.
Muen could no longer distinguish the words, only remembering that the conversation lasted a long time.
But just as Muen thought the rest of the audio would be just as jumbled and chaotic, that comforting voice became clear again.
"By the way, could you step out for a moment? I want to be alone for a while."
"Mm-hmm, I know it's dangerous to be alone right now. Those monsters are everywhere outside, and many survivors in this city want to kill me. They think we are the source of all the calamities. But it's okay..."
"It's okay."
"I'm very strong, remember? They are no match for me."
"I'll only be a moment, just a moment. There are some very important things I need to think about..."
"Yes, that's right. It concerns our future."
"..."
The voice ceased, followed by another silence.
One of the two people in the room seemed to have truly left, so even Muen, standing outside, could feel the loneliness and quiet.
A long time passed.
It felt as if the person in the room had undergone a very long period of reflection, or perhaps it was only a short time and the feeling of length was just Muen's illusion.
The voice spoke again, this time talking to itself.
"I'm sorry, everyone..."
"Forgive my weakness. This is the only way I can think of."
Muen's heart stirred. He suddenly raised his hand and pushed the door open with force.
Behind the door was the room he had already observed twice and was now entering for the third time—a very familiar room.
And opposite him stood the girl.
This time, along with some change in the atmosphere, she was no longer in that state of death. She stood there, watching Muen as he entered.
Muen looked at her as well.
She had a face Muen was incredibly familiar with, almost identical to An's. But as a certain doubt and ripple rose in Muen's heart, that familiar face instantly became blurred.
It was as if her face was meant to be blurry, and the familiarity and resemblance to An were merely Muen's illusions.
"You've come," the girl said softly.
"..."
Muen pondered for a moment before speaking cautiously. "That tiny will hidden within the branch of the Eternal Cycle that guided me here... was it you?"
"Yes."
The girl admitted it frankly. "It was me."
"Why?"
"..." The girl did not answer.
"You want me to know something, don't you?"
"..." The girl still did not answer.
It was as if she were merely a short, predetermined program, lacking the capacity to answer such complex questions.
Or perhaps... there was simply no need to answer.
"I see. I understand."
Muen lowered his eyes, looking at the girl's palm.
Above her palm floated a perfect circle constructed of simple lines. It had no physical form, appearing as if it were the manifestation of pure rules, filled with a breathtaking beauty.
It was originally pure white, but was now gradually being covered in red.
That red came from the girl's blood.
The red of the Eternal Cycle, the red of the entire Demon Race—it seemed they had all been dyed red by this girl's blood.
"I understand what you wanted me to know."
Three dreams.
In this final one, perhaps because the power of that will within the Eternal Cycle had strengthened, Muen saw more.
He saw the images of what was likely the descent of "The Divine One," he heard that argument, and he saw her "alive."
But none of that was actually important—or rather, it wasn't the core of what she wanted to convey.
What mattered was the part where the third dream overlapped with the first two.
It was the blood.
It was that clean, straight wound on her fair neck.
It was that lonely, silent death in a room with only one person.
"So... you committed suicide."