Chapter 777: Half-Mad
Translator: RaidenTL
Chapter 777: Half-Mad
The sky above the Abyss had plunged into total darkness.
It was still daytime—high noon, in fact, when the light should have been at its peak—but by the time the sun’s rays pierced through the distorted regions of chaotic space, they had already lost most of their brilliance and heat. By the time they filtered through the endless yellow sands swirling over this barren land, the light had become nothing more than a blurred shadow, like a lamp shining through thick parchment.
The creatures of the Abyss had long since grown accustomed to this dim, hazy world. Most magical beasts living here relied on senses far sharper than their eyesight.
But now, even they were bewildered by this unprecedented, pitch-black day—a darkness that rivaled the deepest night.
For blocking the light now was a layer of cold, iron constructs.
They were chains. Crimson chains, looking as though they had been soaked in blood for a thousand years.
Countless chains, packed so densely they blotted out the sun, were arranged in perfect, orderly rows, forming a massive Styx to ferry the souls of the dead.
That Styx stretched from the very peak of Gutons Fortress to the horizon, where it unraveled like a black waterfall cascading from an inverted Milky Way.
And on the other side of that Styx were the souls... those newly stripped from dead flesh.
These souls did not wail; they had long since grown used to this violent tugging. For them, death was not the end. They knew that what awaited them at the end of those chains was the same twisted, thousand-year-old cycle of reincarnation.
What they did not know was that this time, there would be no more reincarnation.
"Even such a massive amount of soul power cannot resurrect someone who is truly dead. Such are the rules of this world. Once something is shattered, no matter how much effort you expend, it is nearly impossible to fully restore it."
Mela Domir paced through the hundred statues until she reached the Obsidian Throne. She looked up at the Crown of Thorns suspended above the head of the feather-robed skeleton.
"Salvation is always ten thousand times harder than destruction. It was true a thousand years ago, and it is true... now."
"...What do you intend to do?"
Divine Will’s voice was raspy, like a rotting corpse speaking from within a coffin.
"What do I intend? It’s simple. I’m taking the Eternal Cycle."
Mela Domir said, "A thousand years have passed. The corruption within you all has long since been purged; there is no longer any need for this cycle to exist. So, be happy, Divine Will. You are about to witness the final fall of the Demon Race, their final afterglow. From this day forth, they will vanish along with that light.
"But for the Demon Race, this disappearance isn't necessarily a bad thing. It isn't the end of everything, but the beginning of a new life."
"..."
"Not happy? I suppose that makes sense. You aren't who you used to be. Now, you are a 'Ruler.' Losing the slaves you've oppressed for a millennium would naturally make you unhappy."
Mela Domir turned around and said leisurely:
"But if you truly still care for her, if you truly wish to inherit her will, you should understand that this is the right thing to do."
Having said her piece, Mela Domir paid no more mind to the silent Divine Will. Her petite figure suddenly floated into the air as she reached out toward the crown atop the skull.
It wasn't truly a crown; it was merely a ring entwined with thorns.
It could not represent the title of "Demon King." Even the word "King" was a desecration of this ancient artifact, which was saturated with the themes of salvation and sacrifice.
That desecration had lasted for a thousand years. It was time to set things right.
Hum.
But just as Mela Domir was about to touch the Eternal Cycle, it suddenly shuddered, emitting a piercing drone.
Mela Domir’s expression darkened, and her outstretched hand was forced to stop mid-air.
She had been rejected.
The reason for the rejection wasn't the Eternal Cycle itself... but its current controller.
"I cannot let you take it."
After an agonizingly long silence, Divine Will finally spoke.
His tone was no longer as manic as before; he sounded remarkably calm.
But when Mela Domir turned to look at him again, she saw that within those crimson eyes—eyes that had seen a thousand years of weariness and age—shadows were now dancing in a frantic, chaotic rhythm.
The flickering candlelight cast a cold glimmer. Divine Will’s face was as pale as paper, and those shadows leaped and flashed deep within his pupils, eventually congealing into a resolve that defied comprehension.
After experiencing a revelation that had nearly rewritten his entire perception of reality, Divine Will had finally managed to convince himself.
"You won't deceive me, Mela Domir."
It was a conviction born of a different kind of madness.
"Did you think you could use such a petty trick to trick me into abandoning a plan a thousand years in the making?"
The corners of Divine Will’s mouth pulled back inch by inch, his shriveled, gaunt cheeks bunching up against his eye sockets.
One corner of his eye twitched while the other eye strained wide open...
It was a deeply unsettling smile.
It was eerie enough to make one's skin crawl—like a circus joker facing an empty audience, wearing a bizarre grin that mocked no one in particular.
"Mela Domir, I will not fall for your schemes, nor will I be fooled by you. Do you think a few words from you can compare to what I have spent an entire millennium listening to?"
"You're mad, Divine Will."
"I am not mad!"
Divine Will raised his voice. "I am sober! Soberer than I have ever been! The one who is raving mad... is you!"
A dark gray curtain expanded instantly, completely blocking Mela Domir’s path.
His intent was clear. All of Mela Domir’s earnest advice... he hadn't listened to a single word.
No, perhaps he had heard them, but to a madman... Mela Domir’s logical, evidence-backed truths were nothing more than the senseless ramblings of a lunatic.
"...Sigh."
Mela Domir let out a soft, sudden sigh.
"I suppose words really are pale and powerless against someone who has completely lost their mind. It seems talking is useless at this stage, but..."
Mela Domir’s tone suddenly grew heavy. She floated in mid-air, her pink pajamas swaying gently. She didn't release any terrifying aura, yet her petite frame alone seemed enough to exert an incomparable pressure.
"Do you really intend to raise a hand against me? Divine Will!"
Mela Domir tilted her porcelain chin up haughtily, looking down at Divine Will with amber eyes. To her, this old man who had led the Demon Race for a thousand years was still nothing more than a laughable "brat."
She was Mela Domir, the only Origin-Tier Grand Magister in this world. No matter how powerful an expert was, simply entertaining the thought of fighting her required immense courage and extremely cautious deliberation!
"Do you wish to fight me, the strongest person in the world today? Divine Will, you brat!"
A massive roar suddenly erupted. Under Mela Domir’s pressure, all the statues began to tremble violently, and even the Obsidian Throne started to shake!
Even if you tied the former Judgment Archbishop of the Life Church, the Second Seat of the Salvation Society, the puppet of the Love God, and that other brat together... they wouldn't come close to the terror of this pressure...
Divine Will’s body froze, seemingly pinned in place by this horrific presence.
However, in the next instant, the dark gray curtain flashed...
Mela Domir’s petite body, floating in the air, flickered for a moment. Then, a fine head... fell right off.
"Ah..."
The head rolled several times across the floor, stopping not far from Divine Will. Mela Domir’s face was covered by her own hair. She could only stare up at the pitch-black ceiling of the chamber and mutter helplessly:
"How rude..."
The atmosphere froze. It seemed even the statues that had been trembling a moment ago were shocked by this turn of events.
In that breathless silence, Divine Will walked over to Mela Domir’s head.
"As I thought."
He looked down at her severed head with an expressionless face.
"You are merely a powerless projection."
"...When did you realize?"
"The more one is a remnant from a thousand years ago, the more one understands how terrifying you are. However, fear does not equate to stupidity. I have lived for a thousand years, after all. If I were to be deceived by a mere projection, it would be far too embarrassing," Divine Will said coldly.
At the entrance to this space, the passage hiding countless terrifying shadows remained perfectly still.
Earlier, Divine Will had thought Mela Domir’s power had intimidated those shadows. Now it was clear... it was simply because this powerless projection didn't meet the criteria to trigger them.
"I suppose I was too naive. However..."
Since her head couldn't move, Mela Domir could only roll her eyes. Fortunately, Divine Will was standing close enough that she could still see his hideous old face clearly.
"Even if it's a projection, this one of mine is seamless. Unless your magical attainment is higher than mine, it should have been impossible to see through it before I actually made a move... Divine Will, can you use the Illumination Spell?"
"...Why do you ask that?"
"Hehe, it seems that after a thousand years, your magical skill still isn't as good as my stupid disciple's. So, here's the question..."
Mela Domir looked puzzled. "If you can't even use an Illumination Spell, how could you possibly distinguish whether my projection was real or fake? I'm certain you couldn't have done it on your own."
"...You truly are something. Even as a mere projection, you are still so sharp."
Divine Will’s tone was strange as he gave a raspy laugh. "But for all your sharpness, you still cannot hear her voice. No wonder you spoke so much nonsense."
"Her?"
Mela Domir frowned. "Who?"
"Oh? We've been talking for so long, and you still ask such a stupid question?"
Divine Will said in astonishment, "Her, of course! Our Queen! The Queen whose very existence you tried to negate with your honeyed words!"
Divine Will tilted his head as if listening, his face full of rapturous devotion. "Do you hear it? Her voice. She was weeping before, and then she was angry at your deception. And just now, it was she who whispered to me that you are but a projection, nothing to be feared!"
"..."
Divine Will turned toward the skeleton on the Obsidian Throne, returning to the state of a fanatical, pious believer he had been before Mela Domir had tried to reason with him.
But Mela Domir was no longer looking at the skeleton on the throne. She was looking at Divine Will’s side.
There was nothing beside him.
But now, reflected in Mela Domir’s amber pupils, a faint, ethereal shadow suddenly appeared. It was hiding in the deepest part of Divine Will’s own shadow, leaning in and whispering something to him.
That shadow was profoundly deep, like a gathering of some dark fluid. But the moment Mela Domir looked at it, she felt a cold, indifferent gaze staring back at her from within that shadow.
"I see..."
Mela Domir murmured expressionlessly.
Divine Will was indeed mad, but not entirely in the way she thought.
At least a part of his "mad ramblings"... was real.
He really was hearing a voice. For a thousand years, that voice had been ringing in his ear.
However, that voice did not come from the woman he sought to save, nor did it come from the skeleton that had long since truly died.
It was something that had been hiding by his side... since who knows when.
"It seems my preparations were justified. This was never going to end easily."
"What nonsense are you spouting now, 'Great Mela Domir' who no longer commands respect?"
Divine Will leaned over, looking down mockingly at Mela Domir’s head on the floor.
"You are just a powerless projection that has even lost its head. What... no, what can Your Excellency possibly do?"
"A projection really can't do much."
Mela Domir suddenly flashed a sweet, perfectly innocent smile.
"That's why I went ahead and found someone who can beat the crap out of you~"
"Hmm?"
BOOM!
In the instant Divine Will faltered, a violent roar tore through the space above his head.
Divine Will looked up blankly to see a massive, jagged rift instantly spanning the sky from one end to the other.
Light flooded in, but it was not the warmth of the sun.
Instead, a single golden vertical pupil, more dazzling than the sun itself, was staring down at him through the rift with cold indifference.