Chapter 32

The Lord of the Abyss, Saimond, had maintained a neutral stance for over a century—neither taking part, helping, nor opposing. His favorite pastime was watching from the sidelines and stirring the pot.

All within the limits permitted by the Monarch.

But oftentimes, he couldn’t quite grasp what Deritz was thinking. The arrogant Monarch appeared young on the outside, and when He deliberately restrained His presence, He could seem deceptively harmless—not like a blood-soaked blade seasoned by countless battles, but a slightly dull sword fresh from the forge.

Saimond himself had almost been deceived by that appearance once. In his understanding, gods were supposed to be aloof, solemn, indifferent to mortals, and sparing with their words. But Deritz’s signature expression was a smile. Despite His cold detachment and arrogance, He would still smile while slashing down an enemy, even as they knelt and clutched desperately at His hands, begging for mercy.

The Crimson Witch once told him: “It’s a habit. A terrifying habit. No demon who survived the endless, brutal struggle of the Nine Powers over the millennia could be anything good. They use an approachable smile to lure prey, and capture it with filthy, bloodstained hands… That smile—it’s the smile of a predator, a herald of death.”

Using a smile to mask laziness and contempt, rage and coldness, disdain and filth—such was the usual tactic of a demon.

The smile was like a false skin plastered onto His face.

So, the first time Saimond saw Deritz facing something without that usual smile, he was genuinely surprised.

That human girl… perhaps she wasn’t as ordinary as he’d thought.

Talli obediently followed behind Him. The young man walked ahead, and the corridor’s cold stone floor stretched their shadows long. Talli’s shadow overlapped with His.

“I found the address of the temple,” Talli spoke first. “I’ll go in a few days.”

“What did he say to you?” Deritz asked instead.

Talli paused for a moment, then slowly replied, “He said with certainty… I’m a half-blood. My elven bloodline has been suppressed. If I want, I can go to him—he said he can help lift the suppression.”

“……”

Talli asked, “Is something wrong with that?”

While they spoke, they had already left the corridor and stepped outside. The palace’s rear garden was filled with a sea of purple flowers swaying in the wind, struggling to soak up the faint and dim sunlight that filtered down through the thick cloud cover. That broken light flickered across the young man’s long hair, as if time itself were swaying.

He stopped walking, turned, and ruffled Talli’s hair.

Talli looked up and saw the young man showing a slightly helpless smile. “Removing the suppression would benefit you in many ways. You might want to consider his offer.”

Seeing his familiar smile, Talli suddenly felt a strange sense of relief.

“Then… will you be staying here?” Talli asked.

“Most likely.” He turned slightly, as if gazing at the swaying flower sea. “I’ll be staying here for a while. Even though My powers have been weakened, those people wouldn’t dare overstep their bounds for now.”

“Then… after I return from the temple, we’ll have to part ways.”

“Mm.”

Talli felt a tinge of regret and an empty feeling in her heart.

She followed the path they came from, and her small figure quickly vanished into the sea of flowers. Deritz turned his head, watching her leave. A wisp of flame shot out, wrapped around her wrist, and quietly faded away, merging into the air around her skin.

—

When Talli went to see the Lord of the Abyss to have her bloodline suppression removed, he was pacing back and forth in the vast hall, looking slightly troubled.

“Killed three of my magical beasts… I’m actually kind of mad about it. If I’d known, I wouldn’t have…”

Talli, who had just had her bloodline suppression lifted, still found it a bit difficult to use magic:
“Who’s mad?”

The Lord of the Abyss replied, “The Monarch.”

Talli asked, “You mean the Arrogant Monarch?”

“…Yes.”

“Why is He angry?”

Saimond sat down on his bone throne and muttered, “…Who knows? Maybe because something novel He had His eye on got touched by someone else.”

Talli didn’t quite understand either. She said her goodbyes to the Lord of the Abyss, and before leaving, reminded him to treat Dusk well.

“He’s not like other magical beasts—he’s very intelligent,” Talli said. “That’s almost a kind of talent. There are many powerful magical beasts, but not many smart ones. I think he might even be worth promoting further.”

Saimond: “……”

He asked, “Are you two very close?”

Talli answered, “We’re just temporary companions. But he has helped me a lot. If he’s ever in trouble, I’d be willing to help him too.”

After thanking and bidding farewell to the Lord of the Abyss, she left.

Following the address from memory, she found the Guardian Temple. It was protected by members of the Abyss race. She showed them the Lord’s written permission, and they opened the gate for her.

She stepped onto the stone altar, and the flame coiled around her wrist quietly changed form. The platform collapsed again, but this time Talli was prepared—she opened a glider and gently descended into the darkness below.

—

This time, the place where she woke up made her feel deeply uncomfortable. She sensed an intense magical aura all around her, so thick it almost felt like it had taken form and was coiling near her.

She was still an elf, with two wings on her back that could flap. However, this time, the wings were useless—two heavy iron shackles were clamped around her ankles. Looking to both sides, she saw several other elves just like her, all kneeling in unison at the side of the road.

She quietly lifted her head.

The sky was dim. In the distance, wind and rain roared, black clouds pressing down from above. The endless plains ahead were swallowed in darkness, so heavy it felt like it pressed against one’s spine, making it hard to even lift your head.

On the opposite side of the road, a row of young mens stood silently, covered in dust and dirt. Their bodies were littered with wounds and scars. Some still had blood trickling steadily down their skin. Among them was one particularly quiet young man—he had long blue hair, his eyes closed, his face deathly pale. He looked seriously injured, swaying on his feet, barely able to stand.

A few minutes later, a fierce wind blew in from the horizon, sweeping rapidly toward them. From the center of the storm came a sedan carriage. It glowed faintly red, like a luminous pearl emitting a soft light in the dark of night.

Several horses pulled the carriage along the narrow road.

As it passed by Talli, the wind lifted the curtain of the carriage. She caught a glimpse of the lower half of a face inside—before she could get a good look, a hand suddenly reached out and yanked her in.

Talli’s forehead smacked into the carriage beam. She clutched her head in pain, letting out a groan. When she opened her eyes, she saw that the person inside the carriage was wearing a thin veil over their head—Talli couldn’t make out their face.

The person behind the veil seemed to breathe a sigh of relief. She grabbed Talli’s wrist and said, “You’re really lucky this time. The dream you landed in happens to be at this exact point in time.”

“A dream at this point in time… does that make a difference?”

“At this moment, Deritz is still very weak,” said the Crimson Witch. “So we have plenty of time to talk.”

Talli lifted the curtain and glanced out the window, just in time to see the carriage passing by that blue-haired youth. The storm clouds in the distance were moving fast and had already blanketed the area. He could no longer hold on and collapsed in the rain. His chest barely rose and fell—it looked like he was dead.

As the carriage passed and moved on, the young man’s figure quickly disappeared from view.

“Is he dead?” Talli lowered the curtain and asked.

“He won’t die,” the Crimson Witch replied flatly. “Those with authority possess the power of the ‘Curse of Undeath.’ No matter how many times they’re killed, they will come back to life. Unless that power is stripped away—which is extremely difficult.”

Talli had read about the “Curse of Undeath” in books before.

“Then how many times has he been killed?” she asked again.

“I can’t quite remember. It’s been many years,” the Crimson Witch said after a brief moment of recollection. “Probably more than three hundred times. He’s been killed in every imaginable way—drowned, crushed, poisoned… and then brought back to life.”

“And this time?”

“Greed tricked him into cooperating, but secretly turned the Four Knights against him. Unfortunately, Greed acted too hastily—his intent in sending the knights to kill Deritz was too obvious, and Deritz caught on. When he was hanging on by a thread, he stabbed himself to speed up his own death. A powerholder that’s already dead can’t have the Curse of Undeath stripped from them—you have to wait for them to resurrect first.”

The Crimson Witch paused, then continued, “Although it’s a brilliant tactic, it takes incredible courage. You know—even when people are cornered, most don’t have the resolve to kill themselves so ruthlessly.”

“…It’s exactly because he has that kind of resolve that I say Deritz is a terrifying being. He’s a fiend—completely lacking the compassion that a god ought to possess.”

Listening to the sound of rain pouring outside, Talli asked, “And you?”

“I only come to the wasteland once a week to divine for them,” the Crimson Witch said.

Then, suddenly pressing down on Talli’s wrist, she stared at her through the thin veil and asked, “Talli, you’ve recovered your magic?”

Talli nodded and briefly explained what had happened, leaving out many details.

“That’s great,” the Crimson Witch said joyfully. “With your magic and the bloodline of the elves restored, your chances of surviving under Deritz’s command are much higher.”

Talli said, “I’m about to leave the dream soon. At that time, the Witch House will hold a sacrificial ceremony, and I’ll meet Deritz then… But you understand, I’m not confident I can win him over. If what you say is true—if he’s cold-blooded and suspicious, a ruler shaped by so much betrayal and hardship—then… he probably won’t trust me easily.”

The Crimson Witch held her hand and said, “I’ll help you.”

Talli looked at her, then slowly withdrew her hand: “…Crimson Witch, I need you to tell me why you’re helping me. Otherwise, I won’t feel at ease.”

Everyone has a reason. Talli didn’t believe that a high-ranking witch from the center of the world would help her return home for free.

The old woman gazed into her violet eyes, silent for a moment, then said, “You’re just as stubborn as ever, Talli.”

She stretched out a finger and flicked Talli’s forehead. With a soft pop, a white mist burst forth, and Talli realized she had turned into a butterfly.

The Crimson Witch cast a tracking spell on her, then lifted the curtain and said, “Go see it for yourself. Witness that child’s cruelty and ruthlessness. Then you’ll understand—when such terrifying power lies in the hands of a fiend, how deeply the world will fear him.”

“This world should not be ruled by a fiend.”

Talli fluttered her wings and flew into the torrential rain.

—

The frail young man was dragged through the heavy rain, two knights bringing him to a cave to shelter from the storm, where they lit a fire at the entrance.

They sat down by the fire, warming themselves: “Let’s wait here until he wakes up.”

The Plague Knight asked, “Did you throw away all the weapons on him?”

The Hunger Knight replied, “Mm. I even removed his chin strap. He won’t be able to kill himself. When Greed comes back, he can just strip him of his authority directly.”

After a while, the other two knights returned, bringing some beast meat and wild fruit. They stomped their feet at the cave entrance to shake off the dampness.

The War Knight was in a bad mood: “…The Crimson Witch’s divination said this storm will last for three days. By then, this small patch of land will be flooded. When that happens, we might as well just throw the kid out to feed the ancient creatures.”

“He shouldn’t have come,” the Hunger Knight sighed. “…We should’ve stayed neutral, like the Crimson Witch. But now we’re mixed up in the power struggle. Not only are we making things messier, but we don’t know how long we’ll have to stay in this damned place.”

“What about Greed?” someone asked.

“He went to steal the Curse of Undeath from Jealousy,” the Plague Knight said. “He’ll probably be back tonight or tomorrow.”

The wind over the plains howled like a wild beast, hot and foul.

In the dead of night, everyone slept amidst the howling wind and pounding rain. Only the young man’s eyelashes fluttered slightly.

His fatal wound on the neck had already healed on its own, but he still couldn’t muster much strength. His arms and legs were bound with ropes, and his breathing was shallow and irregular.

He struggled toward the fire, seemingly trying to warm himself, but he woke the Undying Knight, who had been vigilantly guarding the fire.

The Undying Knight bent down, took a tree fruit in his skeletal hand, and slowly offered it to the young man.

The youth bit the fruit with his teeth.

He had been hungry and thirsty all day, exhausted and dehydrated, with nothing to eat.

“I’m sorry.”

The Undying Knight lowered his head. “We betrayed you.”

He saw the youth turn his face away, burying it in the shadows.

“…We just wanted to end this conflict quickly. The world has been decaying for so long, and every few years we have to go to the human realm to reduce their numbers… To be honest, we’re all tired of it. Tired of the endless fighting, tired of death. The world needs a new ruler. We need stability and peace.”

“So, you chose Greed,” the youth said, breaking his silence and turning his head.

In this moment, he could still choose to smile.

“I’m sorry.”

The Undying Knight was stung by the smile at the corner of the youth’s lips. His shoulders slumped in defeat as he lowered his head once more.

However, when he lifted his head again, a leg bone had already pierced through the Undying Knight’s skull, with the other end deeply embedded in a rock fissure.

The Undying Knight’s head was now hanging from the bone, unable to break free.

The youth smiled at him and waved his hands, now free from their bindings. His hands, torn from struggling against the ropes, were nearly raw to the bone, blood flowing freely, deep enough to see the bones beneath.

“Such a shame. If you had come just a little earlier, you would’ve heard them say that my jaw had been removed, so I couldn’t speak,” Deritz said as he reached up and dislocated the other person’s jaw.

He smiled cheerfully. His messy blue hair clung to his pale cheeks and neck from the damp, with the pitch-black night and endless rain behind him.

In that moment, compared to the knight before him, he looked more like the one who brought death—with a smile.

“The feeling of having your eye socket pierced by your own leg bone must not be pleasant.”

Deritz turned around. “Thanks for the lesson. But there’s no need to say things like ‘I’m sorry.’“

He walked into the rain without hesitation:

“It sounds disgusting to me.”

—

Talli struggled to flap her wings as she flew through the storm sweeping the plains. When she finally followed the tracking spell to Deritz, this was the scene she saw.

A horde of ancient creatures was stampeding across the wilderness. One of the terrifying monsters—a black goat-shaped beast wreathed in dark mist—had a person impaled on its horn. The person’s chest was pierced through, and as the creature charged forward, the wound only tore wider and deeper.

Talli’s heart nearly stopped from the sight of so many ancient beasts. She barely managed to spot the figure of the young man amidst the rain—just in time to see him leap onto the back of the creature, grabbing hold of its horns to steady himself.

Talli flew in closer.

She saw the young man smiling as he reached his hand into the hole in the impaled person’s chest and pulled out a glowing, floating blue cube. He held it tightly in his palm.

“Thanks for the authority.”

Deritz smiled as he gently brushed away the wet hair from the person’s forehead, revealing eyes filled with hatred and fear beneath.

“…Please, just make it quick…”

Blood frothed continuously from the person’s mouth, only to be washed away by the rain.

Deritz had taken his authority but hadn’t removed his Curse of Undeath. That meant he would die in agony, only to revive again—caught in an endless cycle of suffering.

“If you’re lucky, maybe someone else will come and put you out of your misery.”

The young man gave a faint smile. It hovered at the corners of his lips, though his eyes were as emotionless as lifeless glass. His voice, still hoarse from a repeatedly torn and healing throat, wasn’t clear, but it carried through the rain into Talli’s ears.

His figure looked incredibly fragile, drenched in the downpour, as if he too might dissolve into a flood and vanish into the endless darkness.

After a while, the person hanging from the horn seemed to have died. Talli cautiously flew closer but was so nauseated by the gruesome sight that she nearly retched.

She knew he would revive soon, only to endure the same torment again.

Terrified, she flew off in a shaky panic. But her wings ached from strain, and a sudden rush of rain knocked her off course—sending her crashing right into the young man’s chest. Amid the storm, his heartbeat sounded steady and clear, pounding so strongly it made Talli’s head spin.

A hand pinched her wing.

Talli saw the young man’s wrist—where the skin had turned white and necrotic from the tight bindings and was now stripped away by the rain, exposing pale bone.

Her wings trembled uncontrollably with fear.

“He doesn’t have the slightest bit of compassion. A cold-blooded demon like him is unworthy of becoming a god.”

It’s over, it’s over, it’s all over.

She remembered what the Crimson Witch had told her: if you die in a dream, your consciousness would be trapped in that wretched place forever.

She didn’t want to stay here for the rest of her life.

But the young man was holding her wing, placing her on the tip of his finger. The skin on the back of his hand was cold, clammy, crisscrossed with purplish-blue veins.

Talli slipped on his almost translucent skin, flailing her wings in a pathetic struggle. She finally managed to peel her wings free from his pale, rain-soaked hand. When she looked up, she was met with the sight of the young man’s beautiful red eyes.

They looked like freshly unearthed red gemstones, washed by the rain on the desolate plains—some of their arrogance and madness rinsed away, leaving behind a bit of innocent and pure curiosity, as if he was seeing something for the first time.

He stared at her seriously.

Even the sound of the rain around them seemed to quiet down.

After a while,

Talli heard the young man softly murmur:

“…Such a beautiful butterfly.”