Chapter 682: Silencing

“I never thought... I’d actually lose to a mere human...”

Chiheniro lay on the ground. Blood kept spraying from his mouth and nose. A massive wound pierced straight through his chest, so large that even the shattered heart that had been cleaved open was clearly visible.

The heart’s valves were still struggling to beat, but even more blood poured out from that jagged gash.

“What do you mean, ‘a mere human’? You say it like we’re the ones crushed under the Abyss with no way out.”

Muen’s body swayed. He staggered a few steps, braced himself against the wall, and only then managed to steady his posture.

His injuries were just as severe. Several deep holes had pierced through his body and internal organs, and blood had already dyed his shirt red.

These were wounds severe enough that an ordinary person would have died at least ten times over. After all, he’d fought to the death with a demon general who was a whole major realm above him. Even if he won, it was still only a narrow victory.

Thankfully, he could take hits a little better than an ordinary person.

“That was close. If it were me from before that sparring match, I probably wouldn’t have been your match.”

And now, Muen could only say...

Ariel, your moves are seriously way too useful.

Muen patted his wounds with relief. Black flame flickered, and the wounds healed at a speed visible to the naked eye—but only roughly. He didn’t have the spare strength to heal completely anymore.

“Any last words?”

Muen walked up to Chiheniro.

Even though what he’d done just now was a little underhanded, Muen still had to admire the courage it took for Chiheniro to enter this fortress alone.

“Last... words?”

“As long as it’s not something nauseating like ‘I still love you,’ I’ve got the patience to listen to any other last words.”

“Heh... I told you. I’m not some gay man.”

Chiheniro smiled. His scarlet pupils, already drifting out of focus, looked up at the Abyss sky—covered year-round by dust haze that never dispersed.

“Last words? Heh heh. We mighty demonfolk... we don’t leave behind something that weak...”

“Is that so?”

Muen looked at him expressionlessly, then raised his hand.

“Then there’s nothing to say.”

In Muen’s palm, an eerie black flame began to flow. Like a nimble sprite, it ran along Chiheniro’s broken body, surged into him, and began to devour his soul at high speed.

Muen rarely used such a cruel method—swallowing even the other party’s soul completely—but in this special situation, compared to the trivial pangs of conscience, he wanted more useful information out of Chiheniro.

“Hopefully it’ll be of some help to me.”

Muen closed his eyes.

From the depths of his consciousness, the Black Book rose. Its pages flipped, and countless fragments recorded within a soul began to piece themselves together into images.

These were records from Chiheniro’s soul. With his identity as a demon general, it should have been easy to get useful intel through these records.

But... that was only “should.”

Muen opened his eyes slightly, startled.

Because what entered his sight was not the scenes he’d imagined—memories from Chiheniro’s life.

No, these were indeed his memory scenes, but...

“Way too fragmented.”

Muen frowned.

After a person dies, even if you use black flame to devour them as fast as possible, the soul won’t be complete. Muen could say he’d never once obtained a complete soul record... and he didn’t have any hope for a “complete record” to begin with.

But the information he was getting from Chiheniro’s soul right now... it wasn’t just “broken into messy scenes.” Even each individual scene looked like it had been stitched together out of countless shards.

Muen felt like he wasn’t looking at a soul record so much as staring into kaleidoscopes of all kinds of shapes.

Sure, they were pretty...

But they were completely useless for his purpose.

“What’s going on? I’ve never run into this before... Black Book.”

Muen couldn’t help asking, “What is this?”

Rustle.

The pages turned, and text surfaced on the Black Book.

【Because his soul itself is incomplete and shattered, after reading it, it will become even more shattered.】

“Shattered?”

Muen was even more confused.

“You mean before I killed him, Chiheniro’s soul was already shattered?”

【Yes.】

The text changed again.

【Or rather, on the verge of shattering.】

“On the verge...?”

Muen thought for a moment, then said, “Is it because of the aftereffects of praying to the Love God for that so-called ‘love’?”

No matter how he thought about it, that seemed like the only possibility.

Otherwise, if even his soul had been injured that badly, there was no way he wouldn’t have shown it externally. And when he fought Muen, he wouldn’t have been so composed.

Unfortunately, the Black Book didn’t answer Muen’s question again. Either it didn’t know, or Muen’s guess was simply the correct answer.

The Black Book sank back into the depths of Muen’s consciousness—just like always, with the kind of presence that felt like it was holding up a sign that read “single resentment.”

Muen opened his eyes again and looked at Chiheniro.

Chiheniro on the ground had had even his soul devoured by the black flame. Yet at this moment, on that pale face, there was a look of relief.

As if someone who had always been in the Abyss...

had finally seen the real sun.

...

...

“Immortality?”

After dealing with the aftermath of Chiheniro, Muen also came over ◆ Nоvеlіgһt ◆ (Only on Nоvеlіgһt) to Old Robert’s side. Baring his teeth, he rubbed his chest—mostly healed by now—while looking for a place to sit down.

“That word really surprises me.”

“You alright, son?”

Lorne’s eyes widened. Seeing Muen covered in blood, he hurriedly called to someone nearby, “Hurry, hurry—go get a healing-type mage—”

“Forget it. No need, Father. I’m fine.”

Muen took out a handkerchief, wiped the blood off his face, and waved his hand. “This kind of injury is nothing to me. I’m used to it. Look, I’m basically healed already.”

“Is that so...”

Lorne’s gaze flickered slightly. After confirming Muen really wasn’t in serious trouble, he let out a quiet sigh without drawing attention—feeling, for no reason, that his son had quietly grown up when he wasn’t looking.

“Ugh. If your mother finds out you’re out here constantly fighting to the death with people, I’m scared I’ll kneel through a washboard.”

“Then don’t let Mother find out. Besides, with Father’s skill, are you really afraid of a mere washboard?” Muen laughed.

“You have no idea what kind of ‘skill’ your mother has when she’s angry. That’s the kind even a Crowned One couldn’t withstand...”

Lorne shook his head and bobbed it around. Just thinking about the terrifying might of the lady of the house made his poor heart tremble.

“...”

Muen remembered his mother’s overly doting manner and got a headache too, so he quickly changed the subject.

“Back to the point. Mr. Robert—what exactly do you mean by ‘immortality’? Can you explain it to me in detail?”

“Immortality... immortality is immortality. Do I really need to explain that much?”

Old Robert pulled his mouth into a miserable grin.

“Yes. I want to know what it is.”

Muen stared into Old Robert’s eyes and said seriously, “Because personally, I absolutely do not believe there’s any such thing as ‘immortality’ in this world.”

After all, even that scammy teacher—Old Lolita—despite having something like the Eternal Clock, a man-made embryonic time authority, still needed long periods of sleep to extend that life. Muen didn’t believe that mere demonfolk could casually grant someone so-called immortality.

Not to mention, demonfolk themselves were already stuck in a predicament where they could barely protect themselves. Just like Muen had said earlier—if demonfolk could so easily do things humans couldn’t, it would make humans look like the useless ones locked down in the Abyss.

“It does sound ridiculous and hard to believe, but... but I saw it...”

Old Robert recalled it. He remembered that last time he marched out with the army—at the moment he was about to die—when the demonman who appeared before him showed him something.

Something unbelievable, yet truly real...

That’s right. Immortality truly existed! It wasn’t his delusion, and it wasn’t demonfolk deception—because that kind of thing couldn’t lie!

That strange fanaticism surfaced on Old Robert’s face again.

“I saw it with my own eyes. I saw the demonfolk’s method of immortality... It works. It absolutely works. You might not understand, but I know. I know that as long as I help demonfolk, I can obtain true immortality, because... because the entire demonfolk—”

“Gah.”

Old Robert’s words cut off abruptly.

The zeal of someone testifying to faith turned into extreme pain. His lips parted, but no words came out.

Instead...

From his body—out of that shriveled flesh—came an eerie chewing sound.

Crunch, crunch, like someone chewing on bone. Every crisp echo made your scalp go numb.

“Damn it!”

Lorne reacted first. He grabbed Old Robert by the throat. A terrifying pressure burst out of him instantly as he tried to suppress the abnormality inside Old Robert.

But something deeper—something acting directly on Old Robert’s soul—was not something brute force could break.

At best, it could only slow it down.

“Fuck, a blood curse. He really did have that hellish thing planted in him.”

“To keep him from leaking secrets?”

“Yes. A common demonfolk method to prevent leaks. Once a blood curse is triggered, it will chew up his entire soul too, leaving not a trace. That’s one of the reasons we’ve fought demonfolk for so long, and still know so little about their secrets.”

Lorne looked vicious. He’d guessed it would be this, but there was nothing he could do.

To this day, no one had ever broken demonfolk blood curses.

“Chewing up even the soul...”

Muen touched his chin. For some reason, he thought again of Chiheniro.

His intuition told him that among the secrets demonfolk wanted to hide, there might also be a piece connected to Chiheniro’s soul—on the verge of shattering.

It might not have been an aftereffect of the “love” granted by the Love God. Because based on what Muen knew about that Love God...

it wasn’t the kind of existence that was picky about food.

“No. Now’s not the time to think about that.”

Muen hurried forward, pressed a hand down on Old Robert’s shoulder, and asked quickly:

“Answer me. The magic materials you sent to the Abyss—was it only that one batch?!”

“Guh... guh...”

Old Robert stared at Muen. Tears leaked out from the corners of his eyes.

“N-no... not... There were... there were three batches...”

Good. It seemed this information still wasn’t severe enough for demonfolk to immediately silence him over it.

“And?”

Muen hurriedly kept asking. “Where did the other two batches go?”

“I... I’m not very sure... I only heard... heard... they’d be sent first to...”

Old Robert’s voice grew weaker and weaker. Muen almost had to put his ear to Old Robert’s mouth to hear the words that followed.

“Gutongs Fortress...”

“Gutongs Fortress?”

Muen memorized the term and thought rapidly.

At this time, the light in Old Robert’s eyes finally scattered completely. He grabbed Lorne’s arm one last time, still murmuring nonstop:

“I’m sorry... I’m sorry... I didn’t want to betray... I really didn’t want to betray... I just... I was... too scared...”

“Crunch.”

Finally, even the chewing sounds stopped.

Old Robert slipped from Lorne’s hand. His whole body collapsed limply into a heap, as if now—apart from that outer layer of shriveled skin and flesh—there was nothing left inside.

His spine and his soul had already been eaten clean the moment he chose betrayal.

“...Sigh. If you knew it would come to this, why do it in the first place?”

Lorne let out a long sigh in the end. Still, he reached out and lowered the eyelids of that former comrade.

Even though he could no longer rest in peace, and could no longer return to the Goddess’s embrace.