Chapter 85 - A Reader's Heart (1)

1

I held Master for a long time.

Even after a person's breathing stops, their body remains.

That was what made death so harsh and cruel.

"Sir."

After a long while, I heard a voice calling me. Martial artists in black martial robes—the elite of the Demonic Cult—had gathered around me.

Even as I silently held Master, the Great War Between Orthodox and Demonic Forces had continued. In the end, the Demonic Cult had won.

"We were occupied with the fighting at the time, but several followers overheard our leader calling you her [disciple]."

The martial artist asked with a tense expression,

"Might you have inherited the Heavenly Demon's rightful succession?"

"..."

I looked around.

Every follower who had survived the war was watching me. So were the demonic masters whom Master had called the Four Demon Lords. Some had bloody noses, split lips, or an arm severed. All were drenched in blood, and all waited for my answer with bated breath.

"... I don't know whether I've inherited her rightful succession."

"Did our leader not take you as her disciple?"

"She did."

I held Master's cold body a little closer.

"I am Master's disciple."

"..."

The martial artist's face grew still more rigid.

"If our leader truly took a disciple to inherit her teachings, she must have taught you the Divine Art of the Demonic Heaven. Forgive the impertinence of my request. Sir, please demonstrate a small portion of that art before us."

His tone was courteous, but it amounted to [We find it difficult to believe you really are the Heavenly Demon's disciple, so show us proof].

'Just being Master's disciple makes them treat me as her successor.'

I understood why Master had been so reluctant to accept me. Becoming the Heavenly Demon's inheriting disciple meant inheriting the rightful succession of the Demonic Cult itself.

Now that Master had withdrawn her last warmth from this world, the Cult's spiritual succession rested with me.

"... All right. Will demonstrating the Flowing Sword of Death by Starvation suffice?"

"Yes. Our leader often said, ["If they fall short by so much as a hair, I shall not acknowledge them as my successor"]. We are mere nameless swordsmen, but we possess enough discernment to judge a single sword stroke of yours."

Other followers murmured nearby.

"Hey, what the hell is that Blood Demon bastard babbling about?"

"You can't even understand that? He means we'll know whether this is the Heavenly Demon's disciple by seeing the first form of the Divine Art of the Demonic Heaven."

"Yeah? Then why's he representing us?"

"Because he at least knows how to behave politely. He's from the Murong family. An illegitimate child, admittedly."

"What? That fucker is one of those Murong bastards' brats?"

"Why are you acting as if this is news? We've talked about this dozens of times before... Never mind. Rivers are rivers, mountains are mountains, and no matter what you teach a blockhead, a rock remains a rock."

"What's that mean?"

"It means your very existence is a cancer rivaling the Sichuan Tang Clan's poison arts, Sword Demon. As proof, you're giving me cancer as we speak. Considering I've mastered Immunity to a Thousand Poisons, you truly are an astonishing being."

"Oh? Is that a compliment?"

"Fucking blockheaded bastard."

"Ahem."

The martial artist cleared his throat, then glared at the followers whispering behind him. His gaze was quite imposing. It seemed to be a silent demand that they shut up.

But the Sword Demon and the Ghost-Soul Flame Demon merely tilted their heads.

"What're you looking at? Want a fight?"

"How unpleasant. Look somewhere else, please. You're making me queasy."

"..."

The martial artist turned back to me. His eyes seemed to insist, [Nothing whatsoever just happened].

"Aha."

I couldn't help laughing a little.

'Right. Of course this is what the place would be like.'

The Demonic Cult was, by nature, a refuge for the uneducated. Master herself had been refined; it was only natural that most followers knew nothing of etiquette.

"Hunger, in its essence..."

I did not draw my sword. I didn't want to wield a blade while holding Master's body. I merely filled my left hand with aura and gestured.

A strike was carved into the snow.

"...is children waiting for sunlight."

They flinched.

Both the martial artist representing the followers and those who had been whispering fell silent. Where my sword strike had swept across the snow, a deep ravine lay gouged like someone's wound.

I didn't stop with the first form. The second. The third. The fourth. I unleashed every form I had mastered to its utmost through my fingertips.

Silence settled around me.

Was it because I had witnessed Master's fierce duel with the attendant spirit? Before I knew it, each strike had grown sharper and more powerful than before. This, too, was something Master had arranged for me.

"I haven't attained much understanding of the remaining forms yet. I'd be embarrassed to show them."

"..."

"Will this be enough?"

CRUNCH!

The martial artist knelt in the snow.

"We greet the rightful heir to demonic rule over the world. O new Heavenly Demon."

The Ghost-Soul Flame Demon, Moonshadow Demon Lord, and Sword Demon prostrated themselves in turn. Snow crunched and crackled beneath their knees. Soon, every follower who had survived the Great War Between Orthodox and Demonic Forces was bowing on the snowfield.

"We greet the rightful heir to demonic rule over the world! O leader of our Cult!"

"..."

Slowly, I began to speak.

"The title Heavenly Demon is too much. I already have the epithet Death King, and I want Master's epithet to remain hers alone forever."

"Then..."

"Being called Cult leader is also more than I can bear."

I turned my head. Opposite me, the attendant spirit stood silently with his arms folded and eyes closed. He was probably reviewing his duel with Master in his mind. After studying his face, I spoke to the followers.

"I still have a great deal to learn. I have nothing to teach any of you, so how can I be the head of your teachings? It would be a title for a title's sake."

The martial artist looked troubled.

"... In her lifetime, the Heavenly Demon never erred in choosing people. Since she accepted you as her inheriting disciple, you must surely be worthy of leading the Cult."

"Thank you. But as someone worthy of leading the Cult, my judgment is that I'm not yet ready to inherit its spiritual succession."

The followers murmured.

"Th-then we will be at a loss as to how to address you! We cannot simply keep calling you 'sir'..."

"Young Cult Leader."

Someone spoke casually.

"Why not address him as Young Cult Leader?"

It was the Ghost-Soul Flame Demon—the follower who had bullshitted a Shaolin monk about yielding three moves. His broken nose hadn't fully healed, and dried blood remained above his upper lip.

"In the martial world, titles like young master and young family head are common. If he merely feels unready to become our leader, rather than rejecting the position altogether, there is no harm in honoring him as Young Cult Leader."

"Hmm."

I nodded. That much I could accept.

"Yes, please do."

The followers sighed in relief. Their expressions were considerably more relaxed as they looked at me.

"Young Cult Leader, allow us to formally express our gratitude. We have no way of knowing what wondrous sorcery you employed, but we all remember being bitten by living corpses. Without you, we could neither have brought the Great War to its conclusion nor offered our loyalty to the Heavenly Demon!"

The martial artist cupped his fist in his palm.

"I am the Blood Demon, one of the Demonic Cult's Four Demon Lords. Along with every member of the Blood Demon Corps under my command, I pledge my loyalty to you, Young Cult Leader."

A dozen or so followers followed his lead and cupped their fists.

"I'm the Ghost-Soul Flame Demon, one of the Demonic Cult's Four Demon Lords. With every member of the Spirit Consolation Unit under my command, I swear loyalty to you, Young Cult Leader."

"Moonshadow Demon Lord, one of the Four Demon Lords. Every member of the Corpse Shadow Unit under my command shall be loyal to you, Young Cult Leader."

"Sword Demon! Together with the Assassination Unit under my command, I promise you my loyalty."

Dozens more followed.

"..."

I slowly laid Master down.

She belonged amid the white snow, like a flower that had always bloomed on the snowfield.

Leaving that single peony there, I cupped my fist toward the followers.

"This is my wish: so long as my life does not end, the doctrine of the shadows shall remain immortal."

It happened at that moment.

[Stage clear.]

[You have cleared the quest, 'Remake the World, Volume 1'!]

How long had it been since I'd heard that voice?

[Today, the Floor 22 stage has been cleared.]

[Announcing once again to everyone.]

[Today, the Floor 22 stage has been cleared.]

It really did seem like a long time.

[Calculating participants.]

[Calculation complete.]

Without lowering my cupped fist, I said,

"I'll entrust Master's funeral to all of you."

[Announcing the four who cleared the stage.]

The snowy mountain split in two by Master's gesture.

Letters appeared in the sky above its peak.

+

[Clear Contribution Rankings]

1st. Death King

2nd. Apothecary

3rd. Viper

4th. Medicine King

+

"Don't make it an extravagant funeral. Master wouldn't want that. She'll be happy if you simply stay until the very end. Please, Master..."

Please. I did not voice the words that would have followed.

I had no need to, and I could not.

By the time I blinked, my body was no longer on the snowfield.

"Welcome, Death King."

The Great Library of Myriad Thoughts.

"I've been waiting so anxiously—each day felt like three autumns!"

The constellation, the Librarian, gazed at me with smiling eyes.

2

"Congratulations!"

The Librarian floated in midair.

Five-meter sleeves undulated like a goldfish's fins.

"Hmm. The final word of [Chronicles of the Heavenly Demon] has turned out to be 'please.' Hmm. 'Please' expresses a wish for someone. A wish, a prayer. In the Demonic Cult, they chant it as 'Baraya.' You could consider 'please' and 'Baraya' to mean the same thing. In that sense, what a fitting closing phrase..."

"Wait a moment."

I cut the Librarian's lengthy speech short.

I felt [something was off].

This was my second visit to the Great Library. I had even spent several nights here reading. I was quite familiar with the place.

But something that had changed since last time stood out starkly.

"... Why are all the other hunters unconscious?"

The hunters participating in the apocalypse quests.

All 250 hunters with epithets lay collapsed on the floor.

"Hmm."

The corners of the Librarian's mouth lifted.

"Please don't worry. I merely put them to sleep for a little while."

"Put them to sleep...?"

"Yes. I burned a fragrance harmless to the human body."

The Librarian reached out. Dozens of books floated around the constellation. One bore the title [Tales of the City of Drifting Fragrance].

"Many worlds communicate through speech as yours does, but some communicate through song, and others through scents. In this apocalypse, people converse through the scents of anger, sadness, and joy."

"..."

"Naturally, there's a sleep scent, too."

I tensed, raising my guard.

"Ah, please don't look at me like that. I only quieted our surroundings for a moment because I wished to speak with you, Death King."

Speak.

"What could you want to discuss that required knocking out my companions?"

"Ah, [companions]. Just as I would expect from you! You could think of them as troublesome, useless burdens, yet you naturally regard them as companions. Your noble heart brings tears to my eyes once again."

"..."

"We could see everything your party did from here. Like a film. It was truly a torrent of emotion. The people here would have welcomed you enthusiastically."

The Librarian giggled.

"But if I left things as they were, wouldn't I have to wait ages before I could talk with you? My turn would be so far down the line."

The Librarian shrugged.

"To make room for our conversation, I had no choice but to calm everyone down briefly. Don't worry. Despite appearances, I used the mildest means available to put them to sleep."

I couldn't readily believe that.

I quickly scanned my surroundings. I spotted the Witch. She was leaning against a bookshelf, her long hair hanging down. I approached her and lightly checked her pulse.

A beat.

Another beat.

'Thank goodness.'

Her face was peaceful, and her breathing was normal.

Having confirmed that my companion was safe, I looked up at the Librarian.

"... If you have something to say, finish quickly and wake everyone up."

"Aren't you rushing a little too much? I'd like the two of us to have a more leisurely conversation. I deliberately summoned only you, leaving out the others who cleared the stage."

"I'm not finished with my work on Floor 22 yet. There's a sword I need to find..."

"Later."

The Librarian's smiling eyes looked like upside-down crescent moons.

"That is something you can search for later."

"..."

Tension hung in the air.

The Librarian only looked ridiculous because of that small stature. This being could summon bizarre monsters from other worlds at will. Hadn't fifty hunters been swallowed up in an instant last time?

'Even with the Divine Art of the Demonic Heaven, I'd definitely lose if I fought now.'

I swallowed.

"... What do you want to discuss?"

The Librarian's smile deepened.

"Something very intimate."

With sleeves fluttering, the Librarian landed on the floor. Approaching me, the Librarian took something out from inside a sleeve.

"Hmm."

Scissors.

"Why the scissors all of a sudden...?"

"Your hair is rather long, Death King. Let me trim it for you."

The Librarian stood on tiptoe and snipped at my hair. Not much was cut. About half a handspan from the back? The Librarian put the clippings in a red silk pouch.

"..."

"Your nails are long, too. Someone who calls himself a martial artist really must take care of his nails. I'll clip them for you."

The Librarian took another object out.

Nail clippers.

Taking my right hand, the Librarian clipped every nail, from my little finger to my thumb, then placed each finger's clippings in a separate silk pouch.

Hmm.

"Um, Librarian?"

"Yes?"

"What exactly are you doing?"

"Death King."

The Librarian bent down, kneeling on the floor, then removed my shoes as if it were perfectly natural.

"Suppose you liked someone very, very, very much. Very much."

"... I'll suppose that. Why?"

"There's not a single part of them you don't adore, from the tips of their toes to the top of their head. It's love. The purest, most devoted love. The problem is that this person doesn't exist in reality, only on the page. Only as a character in a novel."

The Librarian removed my socks.

"But then, ta-da! What miracle is this? The fictional character who is my ideal match appears before my eyes."

"Uh..."

"Now, Death King, how would you feel in that situation?"

The Librarian spoke seriously.

While holding toenail clippers.

"Yes, that's how it is."

"..."

"That's how it is."

How what is?

"A-ah! Don't move! What are you doing? If you move, my toenail clippers might leave an ugly wound on your marble-like toes! That would be terrible!"

"Why are you getting angry at me? Get the hell away!"

"Wait! Just a moment! I'll stop after clipping one little toenail! Just one! Surely that's enough of a concession!"

"Why is this damned star freak doing this to me?!"

"Ah! Ah! If a toenail is out of the question, I'm willing to negotiate for three eyebrow hairs!"

Only then did I realize what had felt [off].

"You never used to speak this deferentially!"

That's right.

The constellation Librarian hadn't used deferential speech. There had always been that insistence on a formal, old-fashioned manner. That was certainly how it had been, yet now, for some reason, the Librarian was addressing me with deference. That was what had felt off.

"Speak in your usual old-fashioned way!"

The Librarian's lips trembled violently.

"Impossible! H-how could a lowly, insignificant creature like me dare address Lord Radiant Gongja that way!"

Insane.

[The Shut-In Librarian wants your little toenail.]

Absolutely insane.

'Character window!'

As I struggled desperately to keep the Librarian from getting my toenail, letters appeared before my eyes.

+

Name: Shut-In Librarian

Affinity: 95

Preferred Genres: [Fusion], [Romance], [Mystery], [Adventure], [Horror], [History], [War], [Sports], [SF], [Myths], [Fairy Tales]...

Disliked Genres: None

Preferred Characters: [Characters], [Heaven-Slaying Star]

Disliked Characters: None

Preferred Plots: [Stories]

Disliked Plots: [Discontinuation]

Mental State: 'A toenail! I must acquire eyebrow hairs as well, if possible! Ah, I would like to ask him to grow a beard and pluck some hairs for me, but even I can see that will likely not be possible. Ah, Radiant Gongja. Radiance, radiance, radiance! O shining protagonist! I wish to make thee into a bookmark and preserve thee forever!'

+

Fucking insane.