Ch.249Three Monstrosities (7)

The Future.

Llewellyn contemplated those words with an unfamiliar feeling.

Netel had clearly said they should talk about the future, and there was no room for misunderstanding in that statement.

It wasn’t because Netel was eloquent or had explained the context well, nor was it because Netel had a well-known personality. Rather, if anything, Llewellyn himself couldn’t quite grasp Netel’s true nature.

At times, she had seemed gentle. Especially regarding the fate of the world, she had shown an unusually finite response.

Normally, one might consider cutting away a festering wound, but Netel had chosen to suture it, even at great personal cost. She had done the same right after fighting the transcendent being who had impersonated the God of Night.

It would have been more efficient to completely destroy the already fractured world. Llewellyn, whose divinity was rising and whose senses were becoming increasingly different from humans, knew this.

But Netel hadn’t done that. She had forcibly closed the wound, to a degree that could be considered excessive.

How much status she had lost because of it, what level of power she needed to recover—he wasn’t sure.

But he sensed it wasn’t insignificant. At the very least, Llewellyn thought that even if he had the same status, he couldn’t have even attempted it without equivalent power.

And now this Netel was discussing the future.

In a way that couldn’t be misinterpreted, her exact meaning and intention flooded Llewellyn’s mind.

Others couldn’t hear those words. They were only audible to those permitted, those qualified.

The Prophet seemed to want to throw a fit but couldn’t. Even though her presence was down below, on the podium elaborately carved by the Prophet and the Emperor.

For one standing above ‘Netel’ cannot avoid ‘Netel’s’ gaze.

With that thought, Llewellyn glanced at the ground and then looked at the Emperor.

The Emperor stood there like a doll.

No expression. Mouth closed. In fact, not even breathing.

But that didn’t matter since he was a homunculus. Llewellyn, Lucilla, and the Emperor were all beings who could survive without breathing.

If there were no transcendent beings outside the universe, they might have survived even if they had been thrown out of the ground by a sudden volcanic eruption.

Perhaps they would have had to maintain a state that was neither dead nor alive, abandoning thought, but at least Llewellyn knew this to be true.

So he wasn’t worried about the Emperor. While looking at the face that resembled his sister, Llewellyn felt an increasing internal intimacy building inside him, yet he deliberately turned his eyes away.

Well then, what should he look at?

Llewellyn looked up at the sky.

“When you say the future, what kind of future do you mean?”

After a beat of silence came the answer. Llewellyn closed his eyes, as there was no difference whether they were open or closed.

Netel answered. Her answer still reached Llewellyn not as a voice but as pure meaning.

The future Netel envisioned was… something uncertain.

In reality, Llewellyn was confused about whether the future she depicted was truly about this planet.

On the ground lived creatures unfamiliar even to Llewellyn.

Not beast-people, shapeshifters, or necromancers, not even humans or blood kin.

Not elves or dwarves, and quite different from dragonfolk—a strange race.

Creatures covered in fur all over their bodies, yet they looked less like animals and more like humans draped in shaggy fur, were living there.

At their feet lay the ruins of a once-flourishing civilization, and their primitive culture bloomed on newly sprouted soil.

The future.

An incredibly distant future. He wasn’t even sure how far ahead it was.

Perhaps it was a new continent even farther away than the New Continent beneath the Fruit where Llewellyn now stood.

If so, it might not be that far into the future, but he couldn’t be certain.

Netel had no intention of explaining such details. Only one thing was clear:

Netel wanted life to persist.

She wanted the various forms of life that lived, died, were born, and interacted with each other on this land to continue.

She wanted it to remain the same no matter how much time passed. No, perhaps “the same” wasn’t quite right.

‘Survival… in whatever form.’

That’s what Netel wanted. Llewellyn was at a loss for words at the immense status and power, yet the subtle difference in perception that he felt.

It wasn’t ordinary.

She didn’t wish for humans or the three clans to dominate, nor did she want to be worshipped.

Rather, in the “future” scene shown to Llewellyn, there was no trace of such things.

If Netel hadn’t shown it to him, and if she hadn’t intended to convey her intentions, he would have been utterly confused about what he was seeing.

If it had been a dream, he would have dismissed it as nonsense.

To that extent, Netel wasn’t attached to form. She didn’t care who was leading or what was happening to the world.

If the hairy humans in the scene she showed had been killing each other in a demonic realm, a dark fantasy worse than Grim Darker’s world, Netel’s desire would have remained unchanged.

Even though humans destroy, hate, and kill each other.

They rarely fight to the point of uprooting each other’s foundations.

Usually, there are beings that intervene before that happens.

After weapons capable of shaking the world were created, it might be different, but Llewellyn knew that in this world, only “Lucilla” was at that level.

Wasn’t she called the “Death of Stars”?

The embodiment of madness beyond madness, willing to burn planets to ashes for love and family.

Such things could only be created by Lucilla, who came from another world, so Netel’s goal was bound to be achieved one way or another.

Except for the fact that the world was destined to perish.

“So that’s why you want me.”

Netel read Llewellyn’s thoughts completely and affirmed. A pleasant current spread with a humming sound, instilling an inexplicable sense of affirmation in everyone except Llewellyn.

It would feel like having bipolar disorder. Llewellyn thought this while focusing on Netel.

“To prevent the world from perishing, you need me… that’s why you’ve been so desperately wanting me.”

Of course, there was some inaccuracy.

What Netel needed wasn’t the homunculus Yoon Sejin, who had neither the power nor the divinity when possessed.

What Netel needed was Llewellyn.

The final god who would someday reach the future, wielding constellations as swords and making divinity pulse.

One who had acquired the qualification, power, and method to do so.

Llewellyn looked at the Emperor again.

He was a creation made by Netel of the distant past after seeing Lucilla of the distant future. For Netel, the distinction between past and future was meaningless.

Fighting such a being was absurd. At least, victory was impossible. Mutual destruction, perhaps.

If Netel had wanted, Llewellyn would have died with his throat cut while still being Yoon Sejin. That’s how fearsome a being who had mastered time was.

But she hadn’t done that. Because it would have severed the possibility of the future.

In fact, even without that reason, it was questionable whether she would have done so.

Although Netel could become cruel beyond human expectation when necessary…

‘What happened to Selma… was it really intended as punishment?’

That cruelty didn’t feel like it was out of necessity or intention.

There was suspicion that even this might be part of Netel’s charm, but such suspicion didn’t turn into certainty.

Rather, it was the opposite. There was no malice in Netel’s actions.

She committed evil acts without malice. In some ways, that made it worse, but…

It was like a human accidentally stepping on an insect.

One couldn’t say it wasn’t wrong, but it wasn’t intentional.

It was like the “comfortable position” he had felt earlier when looking at the Emperor.

Netel sees and judges fate, the world itself.

Her will reads the curves of fate. She rests her arms and places her feet along the curves she reads by transcending time and space.

That’s how she brings about change in the world.

As Llewellyn sensed Netel, he felt his awareness expanding. He understood what she saw and judged.

For her, the Emperor was a suitable curve of fate to rest her arm on.

The place where Selma had been was a bump that needed to be pressed down with her foot.

That’s why Selma died.

‘…That’s fucked up.’

The will of a planet that doesn’t understand humans, doesn’t recognize humans, yet has a huge impact on humans.

How cruel a being is that? As a sigh escaped him, Llewellyn reaffirmed his plan.

Indeed, Netel shouldn’t exist. It’s only tragic when the one managing the world doesn’t recognize those who exist in it.

“What exactly do you intend to use me for?”

The moment he asked, the answer came. As if it was a moment long awaited, the “method” flowed into Llewellyn’s mind.

A veil curved along the shape of the planet, at the curve of fate that touches the universe.

That “wall,” set up to prevent external transcendent beings from entering, was why they had only been able to send their power through but not penetrate.

But even that has its limits. The wall is gradually thinning, and someday it will collapse, allowing the bite of the predator lurking outside.

When that happens, everything will end. Everything in the world will be torn apart, and even time and space will be reduced to a palatable meal.

The method Netel chose to prevent this was simple.

In reality, it wasn’t much different from what the transcendent being handling the God of Night was doing.

But it was a more sophisticated approach.

‘This is… a brush?’

Llewellyn’s form was already gone. But held in Netel’s hand that was not a hand, Llewellyn painted over the universe.

What he vaguely felt as “outside the universe” was not false.

The transcendent beings were outside the universe. If not, the Fruit where the three clans resided would have already been devoured.

But it had thinned. After the Great Ascension, the continuously thinning universe was now imminent.

Painting over the universe as if drawing a picture was why.

By painting a completely new boundary, this new boundary would continue to function like Llewellyn’s pulse, expanding its horizon.

So that no transcendent being could penetrate it.

“…So this is what you saw.”

Netel wanted Llewellyn to become like this.

After overcoming Selma and growing.

Following a third path that rejected both his father’s temptation and her own, fighting ceaselessly to increase his divinity.

She wanted him to finally reach this point.

“You… needed the current me?”

She wanted Llewellyn, who had fully awakened his potential, to reach this point and have a sincere conversation with her.

That’s why her temptation during the fight with Selma had felt almost insincere.

That’s why she had given Llewellyn barriers to overcome, trials that had to be surmounted.

Even when fighting the subjugation force summoned by the Emperor, she could have “interfered” if she wanted to, but she didn’t.

So that Llewellyn could overcome with his own strength and grow.

To fully awaken his potential and become the key to saving the world.

Llewellyn let out a hollow laugh and disarmed himself.

The cluster of stars that had bloomed in his hand disappeared.

The sacred blood and armor that covered his body vanished, and even his cloak disappeared, leaving only his casual clothes.

Netel had one thing left:

What choice would Llewellyn make?

Netel didn’t rush even that. Just a vague gaze was felt. A warm gaze that felt like it was coming from right in front, neither above nor below.

Mother Netel. For the first time, Llewellyn received the impression of a “mother” from her.

A kind of gaze he had never felt before, having lived as an orphan all his life—a gaze hoping that Llewellyn would choose for himself.

After a long moment of moving his lips, Llewellyn finally squeezed out an answer.

“I understand your thoughts. What you wanted, what you wanted to do. But…”

Feeling various emotions under Netel’s gaze, Llewellyn spoke.

“My thoughts haven’t changed. I still believe… that it should be me, not you, who manages this world.”

Llewellyn didn’t think he was a perfect being.

He didn’t think he truly possessed the knowledge or wisdom befitting divinity.

After all, Llewellyn was just a snot-nosed kid who had barely reached adulthood, with much still to experience.

But, because he was such a Llewellyn, there were things he could do.

“You don’t care for people.”

Llewellyn was different. Llewellyn deeply empathized with the suffering of those around him and mourned even his enemies.

“You don’t take interest in people.”

But Llewellyn was so soft that he couldn’t even push away people who liked him.

“Because you are complete in yourself, you don’t seek advice.”

Why would a being that transcends time and space need such things?

In contrast, Llewellyn, knowing his imperfection, was willing to listen to the opinions of those around him.

“Neither I nor you… are suitable to be gods. But at least I can be a king.”

A king of people.

A being to fill Netel’s vacancy and care for the world.

A being who would grieve over human deaths, but not try to twist the providence because of it.

A human yet not human who had seen and experienced the failures of both Mother Netel and Father Steward.

That’s why Llewellyn voiced his thoughts.

“I’ll say it again. My thoughts haven’t changed.”

As will gradually returned to the Emperor’s eyes, Llewellyn gazed at the vague presence he sensed beyond the face that resembled his sister.

“I still think you should step down from that position and close the world.”

Netel was a being who existed throughout past and future.

Did she know Llewellyn would respond like this?

Netel didn’t get angry at Llewellyn or attack him for ruining her plan.

Rather, as if she had known all along that it would come to this, she quietly disappeared.

In the ensuing silence, Llewellyn knew what he had to do.

To prepare to close the world.