Chapter 339: River of Blood, Mountain of Screams (2)

The first emotion Keter felt upon seeing Akrah’s face was curiosity.

She looks exactly like what I imagined.

She had refined features, deep eyes that seemed to have a long story behind them, and an air that felt pure and gentle, yet carried deep maternal warmth.

Before Keter could finish observing her, Akrah opened her mouth.

“Keter,” she said. “It is late... but at last, I can see you.”

Her voice held a mixture of emotions—longing, regret, joy. She cautiously reached out a hand, yet did not step closer, as if afraid he might reject her.

Keter studied her for a moment before asking, “Are you the one who gave birth to me?”

Akrah answered with a small nod.

Keter strode toward her first, then spoke with a sharp edge in his voice. “You took your time showing up.”

No kindnesscould come from Keter. Akrah looked at Keter with sorrowful eyes, as if she understood why he felt that way.

“I had no choice. As you have likely guessed, I am not human.”

“Personal matters later. Explain the situation first, starting with where we are.”

“This is your mental world. You were dying, and I could not bear to watch, so I came to see you.”

“Hm.”

Keter stroked his chin. It wasn’t wrong that he wasn’t dying, since his heart had stopped functioning. But that was by ordinary human standards. Keter was a disciple of Franken, the greatest healer of the generation. As such, Keter could create an artificial heart. He even knew how to construct a formless heart made purely of mana and transcend humanity.

He had plans, but he simply hadn’t needed them because the dragon heart appeared and took his heart’s place.

Yet Akrah acted as if his death was certain, which felt strange. As if sensing his thoughts, she continued.

“Keter. The dragons are also called the divine race. They possess inherent immortality. Though you cannot see them in this era, they are not extinct. They sleep, rest, or wait for the proper time. And the dragon heart you carry is targeting you.”

“In other words, the dragon heart didn’t try to save me—it tried to take over my body.”

“Yes. And you cannot resist it. Dragons are one of the seven primordial races. Humanity, which was created last, cannot oppose them.”

“So you appeared before I lost my body to the dragon.”

“You understand well.”

“So what happens now?”

Akrah, who had already extended her hand slightly, opened her palm toward him. Even without touching it, it looked soft and delicate as down feathers.

“I came not only to save you, but also to correct my past mistakes.”

“A mistake?”

“Abandoning you. It is the greatest regret of my life. Though late, I wish to set it right now. Come back with me, Keter.”

“Come back... What do you mean?”

“Yes. Return with me nineteen years into the past, to the moment I gave birth to you and abandoned you. But it will be different this time. I will never abandon you again.”

That was what Keter had most longed to hear, and it was a wish beyond his dreams. He had always wondered if his life had been entirely different if he had never been abandoned or if he had been born and raised in Sefira—the Masters of Archery.

What Akrah offered was no different from granting him his deepest wish, and Keter’s answer came almost immediately.

“Yeah, right. What a load of crap.”

“...?”

Akrah stiffened, clearly not expecting that response.

Keter placed a hand on her shoulder.

“There’s no way something that convenient would ever happen to me.”

Gripping her shoulder tightly so she could not pull away, Keter clenched his fist.

“Get ready, Mother.”

* * *

Still, Akrah was his biological mother. Nobody would punch their mother in the face... except Keter would. And he swung with full force.

Tap.

However, Akrah blocked it. Her slender index finger stopped Keter’s fist, a blow strong enough to crush steel.

With an expression as though suppressing tears, she said, “Keter. I understand your suspicion and anger, but...:

“Ailos...” Keter cut in. “I like his songs, but do you know why I killed him?”

Ailos, the crazy bastard who sang, was currently a Lich and collecting the Dark Pages.

“He’s great when he sings just the first verse, but he keeps trying to sing the second. You’re the same. I humored you once, so why keep going into the second verse?”

“...What do you mean?”

“The moment you appeared exactly as I imagined my mother would, it was strange. Then you offered to grant my deepest wish. That’s when I became certain. You’re not my real mother—you’re something trying to tempt me.”

“I understand. Such coincidences are rare, but it is precisely what gods can make possible.”

“How frustrating. Even if that were true—even if you really were Akrah—it doesn’t matter. I have no intention of returning to the past.”

“...Why? You are suffering greatly now. I know this because this is your mental world. You defeated Eslow only by creating those conditions; a head-on battle would have been impossible. Will the other Four Lords make the same mistake? Even if they hold some goodwill toward you, the world of combat is merciless. Keter, I am not saying you are weak. You simply need more time.”

She gently embraced him.

“I know, my child. Growing up in a place like Liqueur, suspicion and vigilance are natural. But you know this as well: I can turn back time, and you can retain your memories. If you return to the past as you are now, Keter... you could become anything. Do anything.”

“...I suppose so.”

With just one regression, Keter had grown faster than ever before. If he returned once more and started again as an infant? The Four Lords would be no obstacle. Sefira’s problems could be solved in a day, and he could prevent the political attacks against Sefira before they ever began. He could forget the suffering of Liqueur and live peacefully in Sefira, loved by Besil and Akrah.

It was the life he had once longed for—the life that the young, fragile, and tearful Keter had wanted. He wouldn’t have to rummage through garbage to avoid starvation, wander until his feet bled searching for a safe place to sleep, or lie awake in fear.

“Liqueur really was a hellhole.”

Gently, Keter pushed Akrah away. A faint smile formed on his face.

“But that hell made me who I am. I endured, and I endured, and I won. Start over? Even if that creates a perfect life...”

He closed his eyes, recalling his life in Liqueur. He could never call it good. Yet even within the pain, there had been joy. Without Liqueur, he would never have met the benefactors who saved him.

“I’ll live an imperfect, finite life. So get lost.”

Crack.

The world fractured. The background melted like dissolving paint.

“....”

Akrah shattered like glass. She had been fake. Keter felt relieved... and yet, strangely disappointed.

Gently, the crumbling Akrah stroked his cheek.

“You grew up well.”

“...!”

Keter tried to grab her hand but grasped only empty air. She vanished instantly.

“...Damn it.”

The streets of Liqueur disappeared. Only complete darkness remained. It was a silent, infinite void designed to amplify human terror. But Keter had experienced worse. Compared to the abyss of the Mad Saint King, where the Malignant Gods were sealed, this place was paradise.

He lifted his head and shouted, “Quit stalling and get out of here.”

“Whether this is pointless or not is not for you to decide.”

The voice came from directly behind him. Keter immediately threw a punch, but there was nothing there.

“Keter. You pretend otherwise, but you are like all humans. You feel fear. You simply try to resolve it with violence.”

“Got a problem with that?”

Again, the voice came from behind him, yet no one was there when he turned. It was frustrating. Even sensing presence was useless.

“This is what ‘pointless’ truly means, Keter. You cannot control me.”

“Says the thing that tried to tempt me.”

“That was the greatest mercy I could offer you.”

“Let’s exchange names before I start calling you crap.”

“Paratul Uramag Yeban Quaraia Momun. Your kind calls us dragons. You fear and revere us.”

“That’s ridiculously long. I’ll call you Paratul.”

“As you wish. You are a being destined to disappear.”

“If that were possible, you’d have done it already.”

Even facing a dragon, Keter showed no agitation.

Like he knew everything, Paratul answered, “...You truly are insane. In this situation, you are anticipating what I will do.”

“You can read my mind? Then do whatever you want. I’ll counter it all. I’m looking forward to seeing what you try.”

Paratul knew everything about Keter, but Keter knew nothing about Paratul except that he was a dragon.

“Are you not curious how this came to be? Why I am doing this to you?”

“You were sleeping inside the dragon heart, and you intend to take my body and resurrect yourself. That’s the script, right?”

“That is not incorrect, but this is a destined fate, Keter.”

“Fate?”

“Alter having my heart, giving it to you, losing your heart fighting Eslow: do you believe all of this to be a coincidence?”

“Interesting. Keep talking.”

“You are the sacrifice Akrah offers to me.”

“Predictable.”

“Consider it an honor. Through your sacrifice, this world will be liberated. The filthy material realm will be erased, and a pure world will arrive. Then true equality will begin—a world without division between species.”

“Yeah, yeah. Sure. Got more? If so, save it. I’m taking a nap.”

“Your arrogance has its reasons. From the heavens, you are but a speck. From the cosmos, this world is but a pale blue dot. From beyond the universe, this planet is...”

When Keter flopped onto his back and closed his eyes, Paratul had no choice but to stop speaking.

“Keter, you are correct. I cannot simply take your body. You must permit it, or your mind must collapse.”

“Then hurry up. I want to wake up and mess with Hissop.”

“Heh. Keter, you misunderstand. This is not a test. This is a contest to determine who will claim this body.”

Rumble.

The darkness trembled, then the environment changed. Keter now stood atop a narrow pillar barely wide enough for his feet. Wind howled below, and the bottom could not be seen.

“Let us see who tires and falls first after tens, hundreds, thousands, tens of thousands of years.”

Paratul was confident. Humans, who lived mere centuries at most, could never endure tens of thousands of years. Time flowed differently here. Tens of thousands of years inside equaled barely an hour outside.

There’s no need to wait tens of thousands of years. After just a thousand, a human mind will collapse. He’ll be begging to be released from this place.

This was not a guess.

Paratul had conducted countless experiments on humans. Ordinary humans went mad within ten years, Masters broke within five, Grandmasters endured seventy, and Primes lasted two hundred. The longest survivor endured eight hundred. No human could endure a thousand years. And in a place where one could do nothing, the mind would collapse even faster.

For a dragon, however, a thousand years was a brief nap.

“Tens of thousands of years?!” As expected, even Keter reacted in shock. “That’s way too long. I can’t stand boredom.”

“Heh. As you would say, that is not my concern.”

“Huh? Strange. If you know me that well, you should know what I’ll do next. Guess you can’t read my mind that fast.”

This was not only Keter’s mental world. It was Paratul’s as well. So reading Keter’s thoughts was not instantaneous.

But before Paratul could react—without even a second of hesitation—Keter leaped off the pillar into the bottomless abyss.