How to Survive as the Second Son of a Mage Family - Chapter 481

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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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So only the brain remains here, and perhaps there was nothing below the head.

All phenomena assault perception, pretending to know in countless moments. When running in a state of ecstasy, sometimes the legs won’t stop. The brain’s workings never cease, even in deep sleep, and with all their might—just as thoughts racing in all directions cannot be gathered with two hands, they cannot be severed either. Thought is truly a survival method that breathing has imitated: the most primordial thing. Perhaps it may be humanity’s final thing as well. It exists yet does not exist. Thought can only barely express a semblance that doesn’t even amount to half of half, using means that are utterly chaotic compared to its own essence—words, writing, pictures, and actions. It even becomes distorted and transformed in the process of emergence, sometimes destroying the original. Robert Musil wrote thus—und niemand in aller Welt kann seine Gedanken von der Art befrein, in der seine Zeit das Sprachkleid trägt. Kein Mensch weiß darum, wieviel er von dem, was er schreibt, auch genau so meint, und beim Schreiben verdrehn die Menschen beiweitem nicht so die Worte wie die Worte den Menschen. (And no one in all the world can free their thoughts from the way their time wears the garment of language. Therefore no one knows whether what they write corresponds exactly to what they intended, and when writing, people distort words far less than words distort people.) Whether this means that humanity’s infinite thought is trapped within the narrow confines of language, or that language actually limits human thought itself is unclear, but what stimulating words for the experimental spirit! Indeed it is so. Regardless of whether I formulate this thought in English, Français oder Deutsch, stelle ich fest, dass es mir unmöglich ist, die Essenz meiner Gedanken direkt zu extrahieren. Ach, soll ich es so ausdrücken, um meinen Gedanken vollständiger Ausdruck zu verleihen: Es bleibt eine unüberwindliche Unmöglichkeit, dessen Essenz aus den Windungen des Geistes zu extrahieren. (Whether I compose these words in English, German, or French, I cannot extract anything intact from the thoughts in my head. Ah, or should I say it this way to express my thoughts more completely: It remains an insurmountable impossibility to extract such essence from the convolutions of the mind.) Damn it, it’s all the same. In the end, Musil is right, and Yourcenar’s Hadrian was right when he showed admirable honesty by saying that words distort truth. In general, the world of thought is nothing but the brain’s workings / therefore it exists / it exists only within the skull / therefore it appears not to exist—extracting thought from outside the skull is fundamentally impossible! Plato is the pioneer of all ages. Human frail sensory organs cannot see the Ideas. Each brain on Earth contains its own trapped world. Is time terrible, or is the differentiating world terrible? I panic that despite worlds erupting in human minds, there is no way to transfer them completely intact. Whether in a diary or in words spoken to others. So the only historian who can record a world that exists once and will disappear forever is oneself. The only prophet who can hear revelation is also oneself. Because only oneself can come closest to oneself. When we go out on the road, we can encounter the creator of a world. The warlike wonder about life thus rises once again above the surface of perception. At the same time, one becomes aware of being alone. Breathing is either inferior or superior to thought in that it can be voluntarily stopped, unlike the thought it has taken as its textbook. Thought, being both a component and the entirety of the world itself, cannot be cut off at my discretion. I had no control device. God probably couldn’t control humans either. Only destroying the world—that alone remained in God’s hands. I understand Yahweh who rained fire upon irreversibly flawed humans. When too many thoughts operate at once, the body automatically shuts everything down—that too must be the brain’s doing—and it’s obvious that the sensation at such times is unpleasant. In the middle of a blazing desert, I stand with drooping shoulders. Heat shimmer scorches the eyes while there was nothing at all. And I thought that human skulls are too heavy. Too many memories intermingle and too many thoughts bite each other’s nothingness, stretching out like a net. Then I become like someone whose power has been cut off, staring blankly ahead.

Are you listening?

It feels like I had a very long dream. I might be dreaming that I became a butterfly. I might still be there as I was, but I might soon reach Zhuangzi’s conclusion. Time cannot stop. And I cannot be like others, nor can there be books containing unknown worlds. So to speak, I have returned to the me I knew well. Yes, it’s fortunate that at least you’re here. I think I managed things well and cremated properly, but my memory is hazy. Or maybe that’s a good thing. As I’ve said repeatedly, you said I went wrong, but I think I made a rather proud discovery. I just had to dump memories in unused areas. That way I could implement forgetting. Usually the scenario flows like this: someone digs up memories I clearly buried in the back and brings them to the front yard, and I open them, get surprised, and carefully bury them in the back again. This is how human forgetting was operating—everyone except me knew and everyone was skilled at it. Only I hadn’t yet undergone the brain’s evolution regarding forgetting. How much confusion and how much time it took until I learned this! Imitating it is nothing at all. Now that I know, I’m no different from others. I became someone who can forget. I knew what I was thinking and couldn’t know and knew again, but in the end everything mixed together so I can’t know anything. Actually, it’s clear that nothing is clear. This isn’t me, is what I mean. My stomach seemed to burn. And it stiffens. As if only the stabbed muscle had died.

* * *

What have you done.

Elias felt himself being sucked into the air before his eyes. Everything flowed slowly while devouring him, and it was the same for objects. Blade-sharp, menacingly blue pillars and books, old oak bookcases surrounding all sides in a circle were charging forward. He even felt the sensation of parched saliva under his tongue. He became aware of the subtle stickiness and pain between the fingers gripping his wand. Hair pricked his eyelids. Right now he was concentrating on everything. Not of his own will, so this must be the ability of this Duke, this old man. Unique ability? Or a magic formula? What did that old man say earlier? Concentration? God? Damn it, I should have studied Italian more diligently. If it were a unique ability, there would be no need to chant a magic formula, but ah, is there a law that it must be so? Let me think carefully. It could mean reinforcing his unique ability with a magic formula… No, I need to get a grip. While light was slowly rushing to cut his throat, Elias was only concentrating on thinking. Damn, Elias intuited. This old man’s magic is optimal for rendering opponents unable to fight. Right now he was concentrating on everything in this world. Even Leo and Julia’s safety, which he might not have known he was thinking about—what they might be doing now—rose like a center in his mind, and above all, the bewilderment and sense of crisis he felt ‘now’ amplified and obscured his vision. In this moment, Elias greatly understood how his thoughtful friend must have lived normally. He already knew they had much in common even without experiencing this kind of thing. Eyes that had been following only the opponent’s movements move to the left. Luca—he couldn’t call that name. His alias, what was it, he’d know whatever he called him, but the most recent one he’d heard was…

“Theo!”

The moment he uttered the words, Elias was shocked again by the strangeness he perceived. His voice stretched endlessly. Simultaneously, an explosive sound that persistently tormented his auditory cells could be heard. No, nothing had exploded. It was an impact sound. The bookcase before his eyes shattered and collapsed. Wood fragments slowly flying toward his nose unfolded over several seconds. Even the twisting and sharpness of the wood grain was etched in his mind. Debris collapsed over Luca who had fallen at the bottom of the bookcase. His limbs, confirmed through slow vision, were rigid yet loose like a corpse, making his heart start pounding as if standing before a dead body. Though he couldn’t properly confirm the face due to the mask, just seeing how he had collapsed made it impossible not to know his consciousness had disappeared. The old man must know too. Elias barely deflected the magic flying toward him. Soon the remaining divine power traveled up his fingers and wrist to his shoulder. Blood seemed to harden like white stone and crumble. If he changes the opponent’s mana composition with divine power, creating distance becomes meaningless. Elias leaped toward the old man and swung his arm. Since even the texture of air became an object of concentration, his speed was still no faster than a snail’s, but he had to do it.

[If you remain in me and my words remain in you, ask whatever you wish…]

“It was there.”

Ask and it will be given to you… Elias realized he heard strange words instead of an incantation from his opponent. Slowly, his vision that had been curled up returned to normal. Elias shook his head, feeling the gap between body and mind wavering. The old man waved both hands with a face half terrified and half relieved, as if he would soon shout ‘Eureka’ or something. In the end, that expression made the normal old man look like a madman. Elias quickly embraced his friend and slapped his cheek, feeling a sudden cold rushing in. The old man trembled all over, alone consumed by unknowable emotions.

“I knew it would be there. Didn’t I say it was here!”

No matter how much he shook him, Luca wouldn’t wake up. When he checked his mana, it was all running wild as if his core wasn’t functioning properly. Even when he channeled mana, he wouldn’t wake up. Instead, he only produced uniform trembling at the ends of his limbs as if receiving electrical stimulation. While the old man was consumed by madness, Elias couldn’t collect himself at a sight he was seeing with a clear mind for the first time. Had the old man used a different ability on me and him? That couldn’t be. Had he been devoured by thoughts? Elias knew well that this made sense. However, he didn’t know what to do if that were the case. Because he himself often couldn’t escape from the saturation of thoughts.

A sudden thought crossed his mind. Blood. Should I feed him blood? A thought that would make his friend turn pale if he heard it rose to consciousness without any concern. There was no guarantee it would improve the current situation, but it seemed like the only thing to believe in. Or…

Elias looked at the old man with force in his eyes.

“Come out. I have no intention of harming someone completely unrelated.”

He had to bring down this old man. Just as insight ability could be directed at one person, this person was clearly continuing to use his own ability on Luca. Elias stared blankly at the old man’s face and moved his lips.

“Completely mad. Tower of Babel and whatnot…”

“You know nothing.”

“We have no connection whatsoever! Yes, you’d have to be this mad to join hands with Terminus Yukairya. Isn’t that right? Why, did they tell you to capture us while spouting crazy nonsense?”

Even seeing his angry expression, the old man wasn’t shaken. He wasn’t young enough to be flustered by a young man’s anger, nor thoughtful enough, and was simply blind to his own goal. Elias thought so. The old man spoke with solemn madness.

“You know nothing. The young man you now believe to be your friend is one who knows what was before the Tower of Babel.”

“I’m generous with mad people, but I don’t converse with those mad about religion. Especially if that religion is a cult.”

Elias cast protective magic on his friend and stood up with a cold smile. Even though he aimed his wand, the old man raised his hands as if he had no will to fight.

“Please understand that I’m trying to open your closed eyes. One who can approach what should not be touched is a disaster in itself!”

“The only disaster is you.”

Elias replied bleakly.

Where is there someone who can approach what should not be touched? If you say there is, it’s precisely this old man who approached Terminus Yukairya. Elias now understood why Pleroma showed special interest in his friend. It was because Luca truly had Pleroma’s temperament as rumored, and if there was such a strong mage, he would certainly be of great help to Pleroma’s forces. He could never tell him even if he died and came back to life, but Luca was truly a perfect Pleroma, an existence like Pleroma’s ideal. Does Terminus Yukairya also know this friend’s importance? Listening to this old man’s words, they seem to have learned now. Even if they didn’t know his temperament, at least his importance. However, there was something unsettling about why they called it a ‘disaster.’ Did they mean to take Luca and make him like Ishmailov? He couldn’t tell yet.

Anyway, whether knowing that Elias glared and sneered, the old man cried out.

“To see that state and still know nothing—how dull. Ah, how pitiful! That he falls under this magic and can’t regain his senses and shows such a reaction means a weak soul has settled in a frail body! Unless a corrupt Malak-like being killed a pitiful human and is impersonating him, this cannot be explained, and also God told me today’s events in advance—”

[Do not lift up your horn on high, do not speak with a proud neck!]

KWAAAAANG—!!

Shouting loudly makes me taste blood in my throat. Blue mana bursts out and gets pushed back by white light shooting from the opposite side. Elias quickly spread his mana wide and poured more mana over it. Strange sounds like “kkeegik, kkak” and flashes exploded in his vision—white light touched the blue barrier, scraping away the barrier. He was gritting his teeth and reinforcing the barrier, but the hand gripping the wand trembled mercilessly, and even his legs full of strength trembled, shaking the floor. Even the bookcase behind seemed to lose its center. Elias stretched his wand long and gripped it with both hands in the same position he’d made the barrier and said.

“Know nothing, you say. I know well.”

“That’s—”

“At least better than an old man I met for the first time today and haven’t even had a proper conversation with!”

KWANG—!

Catching his breath, blue mana drawn from his heart pushed the divine power back about a meter. The old man was pushed back a step or two. Each time Elias shot magic back, the old man deflected it with resolute hand gestures, waving his wand, and shouted with conviction.

“I agree that I seem mad, but I don’t agree that ‘I’m a madman who believes I must harm people.’ Look even now. Am I not striving to save you, an innocent young man? Ah! The source was here! Why don’t you know that all this chaos came from this! We must prevent the end times, the end times!”

At those words, Elias abruptly stopped the wand he’d been swinging indiscriminately. Elias’s eyes grew as big as lanterns and his mouth fell open. The old man passionately argued to Elias with a face like someone trying to persuade a dull child.

“We have found the starting point of the great calamity and can now end all this chaos of today. If you step aside, no one need be harmed!”

“That won’t do.”

Elias moved his lips while staring only at the old man’s eyes as if entranced. Could he not know what the old man was trying to do to his friend right now?

“That won’t do… Where would you kill a person?”

“Does that look like a person to you? It does not! This is a living calamity and an empty shell. Knowing everything means being the universe itself—it’s the same as being unable to serve any function as a human.”

“How many times must I say it? That friend doesn’t know everything!”

Once again Elias tasted blood in his throat. At the sound he made so loud his eardrums rang, the old man returned to a calm expression. Even in this situation, Elias calculated whether he could catch an opening if he attacked now. He felt sorry.

“Can you truly be certain? Are you confident that he has hidden nothing from you?”

“…”

“You know nothing. You say you know but you know nothing. Come now, what can you confidently claim to know and to what extent? Is what you know truly knowing? Wasn’t that person usually quite displeasing to you? Or wasn’t he far from ordinary? Can you confidently say you never felt awe or shock seeing some unusual aspect? You know nothing about who he is or what he came to do. Please help me not have to kill innocent you. If that’s difficult, I’ll help you.”

The old man spread his hand. Pure white divine power was gathered in his hand. Elias narrowed his brow and looked at the rippling divine power, then stared into the old man’s firm eyes. The divine power gathered in the old man’s hand began to grow like fire.

“I will now give you a chance to know this person.”

Silence flowed.

Elias silently stared into the old man’s bloodshot eyes. It wasn’t difficult to guess what was on his wrinkled palm. Whether it made sense or not wasn’t even worth considering. Even if it was an untrustworthy fantastical matter, when a 0.0001% low possibility actually occurs, everything becomes irreversible. It was proper not to take risks, and before that, he didn’t even want to touch that lump of divine power.

“If I refuse?”

Elias answered with a crooked smile and bulging eyes.

The old man nodded peacefully with a face that said he expected as much. The moment Elias gripped his wand tightly and closed his eyes once then opened them, the staff of the old man who had stepped back a few paces cut through the air.

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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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