Ch.250Three Monstrosities (8)

The homunculus, created in the past after seeing the future, regained consciousness and quietly gazed at the being that “Mother” had so desperately desired.

It couldn’t be called a perfect being.

It looked similar to itself, but that was all.

Its rank was high. Its power was strong. It possessed many talents, but that was the extent of it.

It wasn’t something that could be called overwhelming. There was nothing overwhelming about it at all. If anything was high, it was its rank, but even that didn’t seem to be an insurmountable difference—it felt like something that could be caught up to.

Nevertheless, “Mother” chose Llewellyn over the Emperor. Knowing that it had to be Llewellyn, she had waited only for Llewellyn to reach this moment since creating her in ancient times.

The Emperor was jealous of Llewellyn.

She was disgusted that this monstrosity was taking her place, that she herself was the same kind of monstrosity.

But she revealed nothing, neither in expression nor words. Mother Netel couldn’t even read such displeasure.

To Netel, the Emperor was merely a convenient foothold when stepping down, like a handrail to hold when descending stairs.

To Netel, the only one recognized, acknowledged, and treated as an equal besides the gods was Llewellyn.

Even then, there was a difference like that between beast and human.

Did Llewellyn know that? Did he truly understand how glorious and grateful he should be?

The Emperor looked at the young man who claimed to be her brother.

He seemed foolish for someone who dared to call himself that. He probably was foolish in reality. He seemed to know that Netel’s silence was permission, but didn’t seem to understand that it was also abandonment.

Whatever happened after this, the resolution would be entirely Llewellyn’s responsibility.

Setting aside whether Llewellyn could accomplish it, the Emperor doubted whether Llewellyn truly deserved it.

Having merely arrived here by chance, she couldn’t believe he was prepared to handle and resolve everything.

So she looked at Llewellyn with doubt, but Llewellyn, regardless of her gaze, stared blankly at the sky.

Actually, to say he was regardless would be inaccurate.

He was so focused that he couldn’t look around.

Among the three homunculi created in the past, present, and future, he was the closest to the future and the most successful monstrosity.

Human yet not human, divine yet not divine.

Nevertheless, a being similar in nature to the transcendent ones.

Such a Llewellyn was staring blankly at the sky, following with his eyes the trajectory that Mother Netel had traced.

Now he could understand. He was grasping the trajectory Netel drew, learning how to twist fate and transcend time and space.

Though grasping it didn’t mean he could put it into practice, Llewellyn needed to take Netel’s place.

Sooner or later, if he was to fill Netel’s vacancy, that’s what he would have to do.

Though Netel hadn’t yet vacated her place in the world, no one knew how long it would take, so there was no harm in hurrying.

“…I cannot accept this.”

Between the two monstrosities stood yet another.

Unlike the two manufactured monstrosities, this one had chosen to become so of its own volition.

A being who, avoiding death, had led its entire race to become like itself.

The head of the necromancers and the originator of a new magic that could rightfully be called necromancy.

The Necromancer, the Prophet.

Its eyes glowed golden.

“Because you received Mother’s permission, because Mother can only recognize you.”

Its voice didn’t tremble, nor did its hands shake.

It was glaring at Llewellyn with golden eyes that conveyed only silent anger.

“That’s why you were chosen. Do you think I can accept that?”

The opportunity wasn’t fair. Since she could only recognize one person, she had no choice but to pass it on.

That’s what he seemed to want to say, but the reality was slightly different.

“If it were about equal qualification, she would have chosen someone wiser than an ignorant commoner like you. Whether it be that false Emperor over there, or me, or even the Empress… there would have been better options.”

Slowly rising anger. Llewellyn glanced at Lorian standing behind him and repeatedly clenched and unclenched his fist.

“Is that so.”

Fighting here wouldn’t be good. He hadn’t expected Netel to let things pass so peacefully, but…

Llewellyn knew that fighting wasn’t what he needed to do right now.

He might have to fight an even greater, more powerful enemy, so he couldn’t waste his strength needlessly.

Naturally, his response was indifferent. He didn’t even feel angry.

Perhaps it was unexpected that he didn’t get angry or irritated when the Prophet thought he would. The Prophet stood quietly for a moment, seemingly at a loss for words at Llewellyn’s response.

“Then who do you think should ascend?”

A counter-question in return. The Prophet found it difficult to answer readily.

Thinking about an answer, various thoughts came to mind.

The one who stands above should be strong. Like Netel, they should be incomprehensible, he thought.

But from the conversation Llewellyn and Netel had just had—

More precisely, judging from what he could hear of Llewellyn’s words alone, Llewellyn didn’t seem to desire that.

He seemed to believe that if a ruler is incomprehensible, they cannot grasp or understand what they must rule.

This was just a guess based on fragmented information heard one-sidedly, so it was hard to know for certain.

And that wasn’t all. A ruler should create answers that encompass all beings with overwhelming intellect and lead all life with those answers.

But… could he himself do that?

The ideal grows ever larger. And as the ideal grows, the Prophet thought that neither he nor even Netel were vessels fit for such a role.

He was refuted. Between an answer that could be realized and an impossible answer that was nothing more than a dream, it was clear which one he should give.

At least if the Prophet declared himself a scholar, there was no choice.

Llewellyn was looking at the Prophet with what seemed like an innocent expression.

“Will you tell me?”

It wasn’t a demand.

Even the initial question wasn’t meant to silence the Prophet.

The Prophet knew this. It was absurd.

To come to this place, to obtain such qualification, and yet to ask such a question.

He showed no lust for power, nor did he express his ideals or reveal his beliefs.

He was pure. In both good and bad ways.

The Prophet let out a chuckle of disbelief, and Llewellyn, seemingly reading the Prophet’s smile, smiled awkwardly.

“To be honest, I didn’t really like you because you were annoying.”

The Prophet raised an eyebrow and lifted his head.

“Well, no. That’s not all. Actually, I don’t really like the three races.”

Wide-eyed Lorian, Elimul, and the Prophet. Llewellyn let out a hollow laugh as he received the gazes of all three races, all three species.

“At first, I thought of you as three monstrosities. Those who don’t hesitate to take lives to survive… I thought you were vile creatures with blind and evil purposes.”

That wasn’t too different even now.

“You’ve certainly done many wrong things. Maybe you still do… But, I.”

Llewellyn said.

“I think you were led down the wrong path.”

Llewellyn, Yoon Se-jin, was an orphan.

But unlike most other orphans, Llewellyn had a sister.

A sister who, even if she couldn’t provide proper education, could at least guide him somewhat.

He had seen well what happens to people when they don’t have someone like that.

Talk of human nature was too difficult for someone like Llewellyn, but even someone as simple as him knew the result.

People easily lose their way without someone to guide them.

And one cannot condemn those who have lost their way.

Although hurting others while wandering is certainly unforgivable and requires atonement.

Llewellyn thought it was excessively childish to believe the world should end for such atonement.

“I’m not a child. Even if I don’t like you, and you’re not good… even if I’ve been wronged by you and want revenge. If the world has to end because of those feelings, I can set them aside for a while or.”

Llewellyn’s gray eyes moved slightly toward the Prophet.

The Prophet held his breath at the indefinable quality in those eyes.

“I could even forgive.”

There was an omitted statement.

That forgiveness is only given to those who seek it.

It was clear the Prophet wouldn’t ask for forgiveness. So all punishment and revenge could be postponed.

There was something that had to be done now.

If the world were to end for revenge and punishment, what kind of farce would that be?

So Llewellyn said.

“So tell me. What form should the right god take, in your view?”

The Prophet found himself opening his mouth without realizing it.

From the blood bag before him, he could feel a mercy similar to what he once felt from “Father.”

A mercy similar to what he felt then, but in a very different form.

*

“You came back quickly.”

A familiar voice greeted them as they retraced the path Llewellyn had broken through, emerging from the blocked tunnel.

A woman with snow-white hair hidden in a veil, characterized by her eyes swirling with all kinds of colors.

It was the Empress. Llewellyn nodded at the familiar face.

“It ended quickly. I didn’t expect it either.”

“The atmosphere has improved too. I like the feeling, grandson.”

What’s with ‘grandson’? Llewellyn chuckled as he walked, with the Prophet following behind with a dazed expression.

Though he still occasionally looked at Llewellyn with doubtful eyes, he wasn’t hostile.

That alone was enough for the Empress to vaguely understand what had happened.

After all, she couldn’t not know when “Mother’s” presence had been felt so intensely.

The fact that he came down intact after such an event implied a lot.

The Empress only began to follow beside Llewellyn as he was about to pass her, walking lightly.

She chattered cheerfully.

“Shall we go to the center, grandson?”

“The center?”

The Empress smiled brightly. Not her usual sly smile that seemed to hide many things, but a purely joyful and expectant expression.

With such an expression, she said in a singing voice:

“A very long time ago, before ‘Father’ willingly abandoned us and fled in despair. The throne where he sat even on the last day.”

The throne that the Court Count had been staring at flashed in Llewellyn’s mind.

To Llewellyn, who was wondering if that was it, the Empress slightly bent her upper body to meet his eyes, then glanced behind him.

The Prophet, receiving her gaze, naturally continued:

“It’s not just a throne. It’s… a device that ‘Father’ himself made and shaped, one that only divine kin like ‘Father’ can access.”

Every device has a purpose. The Empress naturally picked up the Prophet’s words and smiled with her eyes.

“It is also the rudder that can freely control this fruit that has protected the race for a long time.”

A rudder.

Perhaps the only way to move this fruit hanging from Netel’s massive branch.

The only way to guide this fruit to the pantheon.

When Llewellyn looked at the Empress, she walked firmly toward Llewellyn with a joyful smile.

“It is the corridor where you will be crowned and prove that you are our king and… father.”

The Empress bowed elegantly and respectfully before Llewellyn.

As his steps halted, Llewellyn read one emotion in both the Empress’s chaotic, colorful eyes and the Prophet’s bright yellow eyes.

“Please lead the race to glory.”

That emotion was expectation.

With such expectation, they led Llewellyn.

To the place where the three races began.