Chapter 386: 3. The Logic of Death (6.5k)
“The Unconscious God Heya?”
Fisher keenly grasped the key term from the Death Lord’s words. He quickly realized that the death of this world was also constructed by a deity similar to Dalasgon and Ramastia, but according to the other party’s words, this deity was very likely quite special.
“That’s right. Since you have a rough understanding of these deities, you must know that the structure of this world is closely related to them. They build the rules that govern the operation of the world, allowing it to function in a stable and predictable manner. In this sense, all beings created by the God of All Forms are born seekers of order.”
“The deities exert their respective authorities to carefully construct a flawless operational system for this world. The propagation and iteration of life, the composition and properties of matter, the measurement of time and the guiding of fate, the ebb and flow of consciousness—everything is perfect. However, if all we had were the powers I just mentioned, this world would soon become lifeless due to expansion. There is another important power that plays an extremely vital role in this world: the power representing demise and cycle.”
“The deities follow the ironclad law of ‘absolutely not relying on their powers to interfere with the operation of the world’ because that would lead to serious consequences. No matter how much they may care about a matter, they must never employ the power that symbolizes their own strength. All deities must abide by this ironclad rule, allowing the world to operate according to the rules they initially set. Heya is no exception; He is the beginning and end of all rules and the key to the world being able to form a perpetual cycle, hence called ‘The Ultimate of All Things.'”
The Death Lord took out a cigarette from his pocket and lit it. As he inhaled and exhaled the smoke, his voice grew a bit hoarse.
“Death connects the powers of all deities together. Death presents an inevitable end to life, which only knows how to give vitality, enabling the transformation between life and matter, allowing the deep spiritual realm and the reality of the world to constantly exchange consciousness, making the measurement of time meaningful. This is the eternal rule established by Heya, having the same force as the other deities.”
Fisher considered this for a moment and suddenly understood something. After a cough, he said, “Cough. I think I understand what you mean, but according to what you said, ‘deities must absolutely not rely on their powers to interfere with the operation of the world,’ and since Heya is an unconscious deity, does that mean He is different from the other deities, existing outside the operation of the world, and is constantly using His powers to interfere with the world?”
The Death Lord curled his lips slightly and snapped his fingers.
“That’s right. You are indeed very clever, Mr. Fisher. The difference between Heya and the other deities lies here. The reason He is so special can be attributed to the excessive compassion of the God of All Forms. The rules of demise established by Heya are entirely sufficient for weaker beings and matter, just like humans and other similar beings. Even if He does not personally intervene with His powers, after a hundred years, those who are supposed to die will inevitably die.”
“But the God of All Forms granted excessive compassion to certain beings He created, resulting in the only outcome: they, to a certain extent, could resonate with and even distort the rules of this world. For example, the Phoenix Race, which can sense future fates, and the Whale Folk, which can use blessing and curse abilities, possess powers that normal life should not have—they have exceeded their limits.”
“And even these are still considered manageable. The subsequent mythical beings and the three higher-level existences are even more formidable. They are powerful enough to distort and alter the rules set by the deities. Their lives and souls intertwine, becoming ‘the unity of body and soul.’ They are immensely powerful, capable of effortlessly obliterating matter and perishing permanently. Time and fate appear particularly sluggish before their extraordinarily sharp souls and perceptions, and their bodies are so strong and healthy that they can escape the limitations of lifespan and live for a very long time.”
“Although the God of All Forms later came to his senses in time and placed a lock called ‘Reproduction’ on all powerful lives except for the three special existences, it still wasn’t enough.”
“Thus, Heya personally sealed His consciousness and entered the fray, transforming into the most terrifying presence in this world: ‘Death.’ Instinctively, He bestows all beings with an unresistible, inevitable outcome. Even though He no longer has any consciousness now, He can precisely control all deaths within this realm simply by relying on instinct.”
The Death Lord smiled slightly and gestured with his hand, forming a stair-like shape before continuing, “He strictly assigns ‘corresponding deaths’ based on the ranks of beings. While from our third-party perspective, all beings ultimately face a common death, you don’t want to confuse the two concepts, as this closely relates to what I am about to say. You are clever and should understand it well enough, after all, I’m quite drunk and my mind is not very clear, so I don’t want to repeat it again.”
“The so-called ‘corresponding death’ refers to the fact that to avoid wasting His own powers, while also preventing life from using its own strength to break free from death, Heya’s instinct sets a death escape interval, about twenty ranks higher than the racially defined life level of the being assigned death. If you are a zero-rank human, then the existence that can help you escape death must be at least twenty ranks higher, and there must be advanced means regarding this; if you are a fifteen-rank mythical being, then what can help you escape death would be a thirty-five-rank existence—such a level can already be compared to a deity and can largely be ignored.”
Fisher opened his mouth, his brows furrowing little by little. He was following the Death Lord’s line of thought forward and quickly discovered a loophole. Although hope was slim, it was indeed a loophole.
Just as he was about to speak, the Death Lord interrupted him while smoking.
“I know what you are thinking. You want to say that the life level is not fixed, and even humans can leap ranks. So you speculate that even if the probability is minuscule, if a human truly leaps from zero rank to twenty rank, will they soon be exempt from death? Ha, if the deities’ planning could be so easily breached, that would be fantastic. In addition to the ‘corresponding death’ I just mentioned, Heya has other insurances.”
“First, the twenty ranks of life levels is a generalized concept defined by humans, and its specific meaning is actually [the limit of beings]. In other words, as long as your rank is above zero rank, only deities can help you evade death; secondly, don’t you want to know why since you have been targeted by death, your rank has been continuously falling? You can combat with the Life Lord, so you definitely cannot be a zero-rank human mage; otherwise, a single breath would turn you to ash.”
Hearing this, Fisher glanced down at his thin hands, that emaciated appearance starkly contrasting with his previous thirteen-rank body. Meanwhile, the Death Lord’s voice continued to resonate.
“Let me remind you again, this world is a world bound by rules, and any phenomenon is traceable. The reason your life level has dropped is based on Heya long having considered that life might achieve rank leaps, thus the preliminary step in executing the death authority involves restoring life to the [lowest rank] of its affiliated race. If it’s a half-blood, it would take the lowest value.”
Fisher’s pupils slightly contracted, and the logic in his mind suddenly became clear. The Death Lord continued to vocalize his current thoughts.
“Thus, according to Heya’s authority, your rank will first be restored to the lowest rank of humans, which is zero rank among zero ranks, and then Heya will bestow you with [human death]; and the reason you are still being pursued by death and have not yet died is that you seem to have ingested a certain miraculous substance that keeps pushing your body to restore and elevate your rank to [one rank].”
“The unconscious characteristic of Heya has fully revealed itself. He is continuously repeating this process of restoring your rank to zero. This process will exhibit exponential growth with the passage of time until no matter what divine medicine you take in the world, it cannot keep up with how fast He lowers your rank. After that, the inevitable death will finally descend upon you.”
“According to this logic of death, as long as the deities do not interfere, even those few powerful existences at twenty ranks cannot escape the pursuit of death.”
Upon hearing the Death Lord’s words, Fisher felt as if enlightenment had struck him; breathing heavily, he looked down at his hands while countless strategies and thoughts collided within his mind. After a pause of two to three seconds, he raised his head to look at the Death Lord, who still had a cigarette half smoked in his hand, and asked, “How do you know so much? And why are you exempt from death?”
The Death Lord, with a cigarette in his mouth, shrugged his shoulders and looked at Fisher.
“Let me first answer the latter question: I also don’t know why; I can only roughly tell you about my experiences.”
“You know, the beliefs of beings are very complex. Most humans worship the Mother Goddess; in the Northern Region, some believe in the Frost Phoenix, while people in the Southern Continent worship Feima Baharon—there are all sorts of things. Among them, there are fewer beings who directly worship the True God, such as those who believe in the God of All Forms, the Gate, etc.”
“When I was young and ignorant, hundreds of small countries on the east side of the Western Continent were waging war every day. I was displaced like most people, with no place to eat, so I joined a death cult in a small country in the eastern part of Cardu. Damn, these guys chose to believe in Heya, a deity without consciousness. Every day’s activities in the cult involved various suicidal acts: jumping off cliffs, self-immolation, hanging oneself, whatever came up, claiming that they could reach the paradise they longed for through death. I just went along with them, thinking that if I died, I would die—at least they provided food and shelter before kicking the bucket.”
“Who could have imagined that I survived every one of these rituals? At first, I thought it was just luck, but as time passed, the higher-ups in that death cult actually suspected I was not sincerely following them and was trying to avoid death. They wanted to execute me publicly! They directly arranged for an executioner to chop my head off. At that moment, I really thought it was over, but I had no choice but to obediently await my fate. Who would have thought that, after a ‘crack,’ my flying head would come back to me the same way!?”
The Death Lord described the situation with animated gestures while taking a drag from his cigarette, exclaiming, “Guess what, the executioner was scared to death on the spot, and the cult leaders scattered everywhere, leaving the cult right then and there! From that moment on, I realized I seemed to have become a very special existence. It seemed Heya had overlooked me or something, anyway, I just couldn’t die no matter what—I figured I might as well live well. However, after a few years, life became unbearable. It was just too damn苦!”
“Everyone I knew back home was blown to bits by the soldiers from those small countries. The girl I liked was beaten to death by her husband after getting married. I cried and stabbed him with a knife, only to get caught by his family and beaten to death again, then I came back to life, got up and fought with his family, then I died again, and then I came to life again, getting up to fight with his family’s servants! Fight, fight! I don’t even know how many times I’ve fought, but in any case, I killed all of them, and I still couldn’t die.”
The Death Lord exhaled the last puff of his cigarette and stepped on it, distressedly lowering his head as he pulled at his hair as if trying to tear his scalp away.
“I was initially quite happy when I realized I couldn’t die; I wanted to do everything, driven by many desires. But later I found it truly exhausting; I just couldn’t die. I started to become more and more like those cult members, turning all my wishes into hope for early relief from this life. So, I ended up joining this bizarre society, got one of those odd manuals, and from the lips of that leader, the Fate Lord, learned a lot of things, hoping to extricate myself from the sea of suffering that is this mortal world, which is also why I know so much.”
The Death Lord sneered, kicking the “Death Completion Manual” onto the ground. As the book flipped open, the first few pages turned, but to Fisher’s eyes, the pages held no text, since he was not yet the owner of the Death Completion Manual.
“In the end, what I eagerly awaited was that the first page of this damn manual actually said, ‘This manual will teach you the secrets to escape from death.’ Ha, I was left speechless. A scam! This is just absolute fraud! I was being juggled by that dead woman, the Fate Lord, like a monkey! This time she said, ‘You might have a death rune on you, an item that can definitely bring death. Even if it has been used, there is still a high probability that you will gain clues related to death afterward, which is why I’m here.'”
In other words, the Death Lord also did not know how he was exempt from death, but it was likely a mistake by Heya, because Heya, being the most unique and unconscious deity, should not particularly favor a life. The only possible reason could be that someone else intervened.
And at that very moment, Fisher’s previously lethargic mind, dulled by death, suddenly began to function at full speed again as he realized something.
Eil mentioned that this death rune was created by the Demon God Ag, and from her vague description, it sounded like that demon directly stole a small portion of Heya’s authority over death.
So, the question arose: All demons are locked in the abyss, severely limited in power. Even Eil could only walk the world as a fourteen-rank soul, and according to the Death Lord’s description, Heya’s authority was difficult to contend with. Even if Ag were to push hard, he couldn’t possibly remain at full strength; how could he steal death and manufacture a death rune?
The only possibility was that someone else helped him in the abyss, such as a true mythical being that managed to avoid the war’s retribution: Baemon. But Baemon is only nineteen ranks—could he really manage to do that?
This topic once again returned to the demon kinds that instilled deep fear in Emhart’s heart. Fisher recalled the incidents in the North; was it the base they formed when calculating the Phoenix Race?
However, he vaguely felt something was off. For instance, why did Baemon gift the Moon Princess that painting? Was it really just to keep her from getting angry? What deeper logic and purpose did Baemon’s retrieval of the base hold? Having hidden for so many years within the Turan Family, he couldn’t possibly have done nothing. Otherwise, where would Valentina’s mother have come up with that peculiar dream magic?
In just those few fleeting thoughts, he finally recognized for the first time how terrifying the Demon God Baemon, who instilled such fear in Emhart, truly is. He arrived at no answers, lacking proper clues to grasp anything, and could only set aside these thoughts for the moment and return to the predicament at hand.
“Cough. So, the death that is currently affecting me is for humans, and as long as I find an existence that reaches twenty ranks, I can escape it, right?”
The Death Lord raised his head and spoke in a hoarse voice, “Yes, and it must be an existence skilled in this field. This is what the Fate Lord and I emphasized repeatedly; it seems she knew we would have this conversation. Anyway, if you encounter such an existence later, could you perhaps ask if they can help me leave? Or if you meet the one who created the death rune, could you ask him if he could make another one for me to use?”
Fisher speechlessly pinched the bridge of his nose. Whether it was just his illusion or not, this guy seemed to start feeling tipsy after drinking so much. The Death Lord appeared unaffected by any other functions apart from being exempt from death; he was no different from any other human.
Just then, he recalled what Erwind had said to him before dying: to be careful of the Creation Society. He paused for a moment and asked, “By the way, can you tell me everything you know about the Creation Society? This should be permitted by the Fate Lord, right?”
“Hmm, well, there’s not much to say anyway.”
The Death Lord pouted, looking a bit disinterested compared to the previous discussion on death.
“I can’t disclose the location of the society’s headquarters; the Fate Lord told me that you’ll know when the time comes. As for the inside situation, it’s quite simple—there are very few true members at the headquarters, and they usually operate and research independently outside, occasionally having remote meetings and such. Besides them, there are also some scholars in society who secretly joined us; they don’t have the Completion Manual and only engage with corresponding positions separately.”
“The positions will reserve some results at the headquarters. Every time an outside position dies and the Completion Manual changes hands to unknown destinations, it will be the Fate Lord responsible for retrieving it; if the manual has already been bound, she will also invite those people to join the society. However, since you began killing and stealing treasures and the Life Lord betrayed the society, exposing its research to the eyes of beings, there has been little to no communication within the society. Only the Fate Lord and the Mechanism remain.”
Hearing the Death Lord’s comment about “killing and stealing treasures,” Fisher felt a bit helpless and was uncertain how he appeared in the eyes of this being.
“The Mechanism? Is he still alive?”
“More or less, or should I say he’s never really lived? He’s always resided within the Mechanism. He used to communicate smoothly with me, but ever since the Life Lord acted against him, he no longer recognizes me—only the Fate Lord now. He’s become a bit dim-witted and will even主动帮我扫地 someday. The Fate Lord said he would need to ‘learn’ again to recover. He doesn’t look like a real person and doesn’t have a Completion Manual.”
“What about the Magic Lord?”
The Death Lord had a slight pause after hearing Fisher’s words. He tapped his temple and shook his head, replying to Fisher, “I’ve heard of that name from the Fate Lord. She said the Magic Lord is the founder of our Creation Society and the former president, but she has been missing for a long time with the Magic Completion Manual, and no one knows where she went. By the way, you almost made me forget to mention this: the Fate Lord entrusted me to give you some related clues regarding the former president since she said you might need them later.”
“She said the Magic Lord’s true name is ‘唐沢あすか’ (Tang Zeming Asuka), a woman with black hair and black eyes. She looks quite different from the Cardu people, with a gentler appearance; she’s really beautiful.”
The name “唐沢あすか” pronounced by the Death Lord was a term Fisher was extremely familiar with. He had heard this name before when he was in dire straits within the Parasol Tree. When he recited this name, the circles of his dream magic began to rise at an extremely terrifying speed until it enveloped everyone, including the base.
So, this was the true name of the Trans who founded the Creation Society. If he wasn’t mistaken, the female voice that reminded him of this name was the one who had been talking to Emhart, which was Baemon. Did she also have a connection to the Magic Lord?
Wait, it’s Baemon again?
How had she gotten involved with the Magic Lord of the Creation Society again?
Feeling weak, Fisher’s head throbbed intensely as he could not conceive what Baemon’s role was in all these events. He could only temporarily set aside those thoughts in his heart for later consideration.
“Alright, I’ve shared everything I know with you. I won’t be able to help with anything in the future; if you have divine powers, just bear it. Just don’t forget to let me know when you find a way to help me die. Here’s my number. Hey, aren’t you a mage? Can’t you carve a messenger or something?”
Fisher glanced at his frail appearance. If he tried to carve magic now, he might really drop dead on the spot. Seeing this, the Death Lord looked disappointed, pouted, and slowly stood up while swaying, waving goodbye to Fisher.
“Forget it then. Hic. Just keep the number safe. We will meet again later. I only hope that by then we won’t be so unlucky; if you can’t live on, I want to die but can’t.” Hahaha, goodbye, Mr. Fisher.”
The Death Lord, hunched over and supporting himself on nearby furniture, slowly moved toward the exit until he pushed open the door and gradually vanished into the vast snow.
In the church, Fisher, who was being relentlessly pursued by death, was once again chilled by the cold wind as the door opened, causing him to cough. Emhart in his arms immediately flew out again, having obviously overheard everything the Death Lord had just said.
“Oh my god! This is the first time I’ve ever heard such a magical thing! Heya, wait! What you just mentioned about the Creation Society—what is that? How do you know so much? And you now have hope to live on; this is just amazing!”
“Mr. Fisher, has he left?”
“. For now.”
Ilos, who had hidden upstairs, cautiously stepped down when she heard the sound of the door opening and spoke up as well. But Fisher didn’t say much; he just kept his head down in thought, as if a problem like an unremovable shadow was bothering him.
The giant bell on the second floor of the Healing Rot Church reached the time to ring again, booming its low sound in the cold ice and snow.
“Boom! Boom! Boom!”
