Don’t Look for the Resurrected Villainess - Chapter 86
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This chapter was translated by Lunox Team. To support us and help keep this series going, visit our website: LunoxScans.com
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Chapter 86
Golden eyes that shimmered mysteriously in the moonlight stared at me intently. Just as I was about to ask what he was doing there, I suddenly realized that his complexion was particularly pale and white even in the darkness.
“…What are you?”
“What do you mean?”
“Are you really a ghost?”
“I don’t understand what you’re saying.”
His innocent reply made me frown automatically.
“I won’t be fooled twice.”
I muttered coldly and glanced toward the tent where Jeon and Samuel would be sleeping. The other party, noticing that I was trying to wake them, spoke gently.
“They won’t wake up.”
“What did you do to them?”
“They are simply sleeping a little more deeply.”
“Nadab…!”
“Your familiars cannot see us, so calling them would be useless. We only wish to have a conversation. We have no ability to harm the creations.”
The thing that had taken Jeon’s form fully revealed itself under the moonlight. It was truly a perfect disguise. If I hadn’t been fooled once before, I would have been completely deceived.
“First, change that appearance. It’s unpleasant.”
“Since you are generous toward this one, we borrowed his form to seek mercy.”
I was momentarily speechless at the unexpected answer. Had I been generous toward Jeon?
My contemplation didn’t last long. It certainly seemed that way.
The goodwill he had shown was more than enough to draw out my generosity. The fact that I had begun to naturally accept his concern for me must have stemmed from such reasons.
I glanced toward Jeon’s tent and stared at the being before me.
“The one I’m generous toward is the real Jeon, not some unknown entity like you.”
“…That is correct.”
The other party readily agreed. His body seemed to blur for a moment, then transformed into a pitch-black figure. The facial features outlined on the black face were eerie.
[Our form is incomplete. We cannot materialize further than this.]
“You didn’t answer my earlier question. Are you a ghost?”
The opponent’s smile, which had been gracefully drawn like a painting, became blurred. After remaining silent for a moment with an ambiguous expression, the other party slowly nodded.
[That is most similar. We are records drifting through time, shadows of glory, and abandoned remnants.]
Jigol said there were remnants of power left in the statue. Tristan also said that at best, they would only be phantoms chattering away.
It seemed their explanation had been accurate.
“Are you remnants of power?”
[We are the will dwelling within the power of Birth.]
“Then you’re not the Prophet’s soul?”
[Prophet…]
A hint of mockery was embedded in the softly murmuring voice. The faintly smiling lips moved.
[Though it is an inappropriate title, we respect the effort to honor the primordial in such a way. We find it interesting.]
The faint smile soon disappeared. The ghost looked at me expressionlessly.
[But we are weary. Remembering eternity is a tedious punishment. Since the agent of Birth does not answer our call, we beseech you. Fulfill the incomplete power.]
“I don’t understand why you’re making such a request of me, but unfortunately, I don’t have the kind of power you’re talking about.”
[Please share the goddess’s mercy. We desire rest, oblivion, an end.]
The ghost seemed to not understand the concept of conversation.
“I’m telling you I have no idea what you’re talking about.”
[Death’s final power was not realized, and the world’s providence was not completed.]
I was gradually getting irritated. I swept back my bangs, took a deep breath, gritted my teeth, and suppressed my rising voice.
“Please, can’t we converse using direct and simple words?”
Stop going in circles with stories only you know!
[We are weary…]
“Instead of just spouting fancy words like weariness and mercy, deliver your point clearly. So you’re saying you’re a ghost who can’t die and is stuck living.”
When I snapped in a sharp tone, the ghost flinched and hunched its shoulders. Even with just the outline of facial features, the ghost’s bewilderment was evident.
[…Yes.]
“And you want to die now.”
[…That is correct.]
“And for you to die, some power or whatever needs to be realized.”
The ghost, who had been somewhat dejected, nodded with a much brighter expression.
[That’s right.]
“And you believe I can do it.”
[Of course.]
The ghost waited for my answer with anticipation. Looking at such a ghost, I fell into thought for a moment.
Since it couldn’t wait even a day and came to the tent in the middle of the night, it must be that desperate.
Since it would likely be swayed by my demands as much as it was desperate, it seemed suitable for extracting information.
As I pondered what to ask that would be helpful, I decided to ask what the Dura’han couldn’t answer.
“What am I?”
[Pardon?]
Even with the pitch-black features, the bewildered emotion came through clearly. Looking coldly at the dumbfounded ghost, I asked again.
“I’m asking who I am, as you know me.”
Wouldn’t this ghost know exactly who I was?
[Y-you are…]
The ghost was flustered. Clasping its hands together and hesitating, it spoke in an uncertain voice.
[You lead familiars. Though they have forgotten, we recognized them. They betrayed Birth and sought to spread death…]
“Did I ask about our Dura’han’s identity just now? I mean me, me. Are you begging for help without even knowing who I am?”
[We know! You are the Hand of Rest, Death’s agent.]
Starting with words that burst forth like a dam breaking, the ghost’s urgent explanation continued.
[Your fingers illuminate the end of life, your voice guides to the end of life, and your tears flow into the River of Oblivion. Because Death granted you power. No one could escape the threads of fate except through your power. You are the sole adversary of the agent chosen by Birth and…!]
“Wait, wait!”
I cut off the ghost’s breathless words and asked carefully.
“What is the Hand of Rest?”
[Death is a primordial being, the goddess of night who guides the end of all things. When she sought to eliminate the threads of fate and oppose Birth, you served as her agent.]
I blankly mulled over the ghost’s words and slowly frowned.
“…Are you saying I went around killing all things in that goddess’s place?”
At my serious question, the ghost sighed with a disappointed expression.
[That is a very undignified expression.]
“You called me the Hand of Rest.”
[Ah, the Hand of Rest we knew was more noble and magnificent than this.]
What are you saying? Is that what’s important right now?
“Did I really go around murdering people?”
When I asked again, the ghost drooped its shoulders and muttered gloomily.
[…The wise and steadfast appearance of the past is nowhere to be found. Is it because of the power’s failure? Or does everyone become this foolish after crossing the River of Oblivion? If so, whether our gaining freedom is truly good…]
I stared disapprovingly at the ghost muttering in a confused tone, crossed my arms, and made a cold expression.
“For someone who came to ask a favor, you don’t seem very desperate. I guess you don’t really need rest.”
[What? No, that’s not it. I’m sorry.]
The ghost scratched the back of its head and floundered. After imitating Jeon, it seems to have picked up his mannerisms too.
“If you’re sorry, continue the explanation you were giving. Why did Death’s final power fail?”
[Because Birth, the brilliant god of morning, protected the threads of fate. At the last moment, one of your familiars chose the god’s breath instead of the goddess’s mercy. Because of this, the other familiars were deprived of rest and you too were cast into the River of Oblivion. The battle entered a period of respite, and both gods fell into a long slumber.]
At those words, I recalled the Temple records Samuel had told me about.
Twelve prophets who were beheaded for the sin of challenging divine authority. But due to one person’s betrayal, the sinners failed at the last moment.
If everything this ghost said was true, this record would have been written from ‘Birth’s’ perspective.
Conversely, Jigol said the ‘boss’ had saved them. That they were liberated from the power that had been binding them, that she had respected them. Then it would be closer to ‘Death’s’ viewpoint.
The scattered puzzle pieces fit together, gradually drawing a single picture.
[The reawakened Birth wishes for this world to be placed under the threads of fate. When his agent fulfills the predetermined destiny, the lives of the creations bound to that fate will also be placed under his power. That will someday cover the entire world, falling into the yoke of eternal life without rest. But we desire rest. We wish for an end to this tedium.]
“In short… what I thought was one god is actually two, and those two fought but both fell asleep without determining victory or defeat, and now one of them woke up first and is trying to repeat the past.”
And one of the people those two gods appointed as their agent was me.
As I absentmindedly mulled over the ghost’s words, I reflexively furrowed my brow.
“Who is Birth’s agent?”
[We do not know. However, we sensed that the god’s will had manifested.]
“…Is that will really from a god? Not some rampant evil?”
[Good and evil are vague concepts. In the beginning, there existed only the mighty power of the two great gods.]
Left speechless, I grabbed my forehead. This was too much—the scale was far too overwhelming. I had simply been executed normally and then unintentionally came back to life.
[Rather than hearing it from us, it would be more accurate for you to see for yourself. The temple basement has been preserved.]
“The basement?”
[Yes, it was sealed after the two gods fell into slumber, and everything has been preserved as it was. We recommend that you visit that basement.]
I recalled the gaping hole that had opened in the chapel floor. The ghost dragging me toward that area seemed to have been its way of trying to guide me.
‘Would there be any useful records there?’
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This chapter was translated by Lunox Team. To support us and help keep this series going, visit our website: LunoxScans.com
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