Chapter 1314 Saint Emperor [12]

It was quiet.

The pieces of existence slowly put themselves back together, and the Ancient Battlefield returned to its dull and dreary appearance.

It was beautiful.

That scene, where reality itself was pieced together like glass shattering in reverse, where mountains rose and valleys grew, where the sky itself found its place in the world, was beautiful.

However, nobody was there to see it.

There were two figures in the midst of the great restructuring, but neither of them paid it any mind.

It was lonely.

Damien felt the Saint Emperor's body turning colder in his grasp. Unlike other Nox, he didn't liquefy upon death.

The energy of [Heal] kept flowing into his body. Damien was doing everything he could to give the Saint Emperor even one more moment of life.

He already knew.

It was impossible.

"Please," he said, his words reaching no ears but his own, "let's just talk a little more before you go."

The Saint Emperor smiled slightly, his expression hidden as he had no way to raise his head.

He wanted to speak, to say some words to this child who was acting unlike himself, but he couldn't.

No matter what Damien did, he wouldn't live.

It was not a matter of fate.

He resented fate to his very core, and he had no intention of letting fate take his life.

So he chose this place as his grave.

He chose to die here, and with that decision, he made absolutely sure he wouldn't live no matter what was done.

But how was he supposed to tell Damien? He didn't even have mana left to transmit his thoughts, let alone a mouth that could speak.

No, in the first place, there was no need for him to say anything.

Damien already knew.

He just didn't want to accept it.

He was a man who experienced a lot of death. Whether he was the one spreading death or being forced to see it, he'd been around it since he was young.

Several seniors he respected, several young people who could've been the future of this universe, and several others who might not have had any real value at all, had died before him.

But none of them really had any connection to them.

None of them made him feel this way.

Because while he respected those seniors, he didn't spend enough time with them to truly become close.

The only time Damien truly experienced death so viscerally was when Iris shattered her soul, but even then, he had a solution.

This time, there was nothing.

There was no title, no magical effect, no impossibility that could change the Saint Emperor's fate. historical

So he sat there, trying fruitlessly to breathe life into that man's dying body.

The Saint Emperor..well, he didn't feel bad about it.

It had been a long time since he was born. In that time, he'd lived so many lives that even he'd forgotten his true name.

The name that was given to him, his emperor title, was the only thing he could use to define himself.

And what did that give him?

Frankly, it gave him nothing.

He never expected to die surrounded by people.

He knew what kind of life he'd lived. He knew that those who visited his grave would do so to celebrate his passing, to spit on his tombstone.

So the fact that there was a man here who mourned him, that was enough for him.

It was a warmth he'd never felt before.

It was a warmth he didn't know he was capable of feeling.

'This child..'

Damien Void.

There was a lot he wanted to say to this man.

Damien was the successor he'd been eagerly awaiting for so long.

The "protagonist" position he tried to take for himself, he got extremely caught up in its nuances. At some point, he started to believe that the position was truly made for him.

However, it never was.

The Saint Emperor was just a "dreamer." He was there to set up the plot, to create a world that could support it, and to watch as the protagonist was born into it and fulfilled his glorious destiny.

His lunacy caught up to him.

When he saw the protagonist, he saw him as a source of entertainment. He toyed with his life for the sake of that measly desire, and when the time came, he tried to steal his position.

Naturally, he failed.

When he arrived on the Ancient Battlefield and realized nothing had changed, he felt a devastating impact like no other.

It made him lose all will to continue living. He sat in the corner of the battlefield and drowned in his own thoughts, trying his best to find a path forward.

He killed the protagonist with his own hands, and he didn't have the capabilities to fill the hole he'd left.

What would happen in the future?

Didn't he ruin everything he spent a billion years setting up in a single move?

When Damien reappeared on the Ancient Battlefield, the Saint Emperor realized what it truly meant to be a protagonist.

And the light Damien cast over the darkness cleared away his chaotic thoughts.

He understood his role.

He understood what he had to do.

He had to become a catalyst for his hero's growth.

He saw the ending of this plot.

There was a beautiful ending, a beautifully twisted story that would take place as a result of his actions.

That ending would be a battle against fate, a battle against suffering, a battle that would achieve everything he wished to see achieved.

But for that ending to take place, he had to die.

He had to become fuel for his protagonist, so the outcome he wanted to see would come to fruition.

He smiled sadly.

It was just a shame that he wouldn't be there to see it.

At least his will wouldn't go unknown.

At least all these thoughts would reach that man, everything that represented him, not the Saint Emperor, but his true self hidden underneath all the walls he put up around his heart, would be understood by the one person he wanted to understand it.

Those thoughts gave him closure. He could leave this world in peace, and he could close his eyes without regretting the end of his life.

It was a long life, it was a torturous life, it was a life better off not living..

..but it was his life.

It was a life he used to do what he wanted to do without being dragged around by the wills of others.

It was a shameful life, but he was a shameless man.

It was a life he took pride in.

Therefore, in the arms of the man who would continue his legacy and make sure he never truly died, he took his last breath.

The Saint Emperor existed no longer.

However–

"–Arahan..."

A word Damien learned as the Saint Emperor's existence became part of his own.

A word that meant "freedom" in an ancient language that had long been eroded in the rivers of time.

A word that was once the name of the man who became the Saint Emperor.

"...rest well," he said.

"That world you envisioned.."

"...I will create the world you wished to see."