Chapter 612 - Omniscient First-Person’s Viewpoint

It was a strike born of self-destruction. Merely evading or deflecting it would render Maximilien's attempt futile, and he would shatter from his own strength. "Yes, I understand. Your gears." Despite this awareness, the King of Humans extended his hand to meet it. "Amusing, but that's all it is." The gear blazing with flame clashed against the pale, gentle hand. Against the immense machinery, the human hand seemed so fragile. Yet, though the gear seemed poised to crush the King of Humans in an instant, the outcome was the opposite. Sparks flew between the fist and the gear. The gear was ground down as if rubbed against sandpaper. Merged and crushed metal fragments became explosives, causing small detonations. With iron melted and shattered metal shards caught in flames and sparks, the King of Humans remained unfazed, holding it all in his hand and withstanding the gear's relentless pounding without a hint of tremor as he spoke. "No matter how powerful the force you imagine in your mind, it's meaningless without a foundation to withstand it." The force created by the intertwined gears, in theory, approached that of the sun. Not even the Beast King could endure it. Yet, that power was merely a figment of Maximilien's imagination, a delusion born from greed without consideration for the limits of reality. "It won't work, you already know that. Why do such a reckless act and bring sadness upon yourself?" The King of Humans murmured sorrowfully, gently pushing away the halo of the sun. That was all. The King of Humans was the cold reality, and though Maximilien might have been the master of the gears, he could not become the master of the world. The wall of reality clashed against his entirety. Great force backfired. The gears strained to their limit, simultaneously broke apart. As all the gears' force was amassed, so too was the shock transmitted to them all. Hundreds of gears lost their assembly and scattered. Fragments drenched in blood rained down like a storm. "Graaaahhh!" Bones shattered, gear fragments burrowed through his flesh. The rotational force transformed into searing heat, weighing him down. Unable to withstand the backlash, the force returned to destroy Maximilien. Collapsed to his knees, he spewed blood from every opening in his body and murmured. "Ki... ki... is it all... chosen then...?" Retracting the energy that had permeated his hand, the King of Humans spoke. "It's useful. Unlike gears." Maximilien, having severely suffered from earlier battles, had modified his body with gears. With them now all destroyed, he was as good as dead. The fact he could even utter a word was thanks to a few remaining gears moving in place of his bones. Should he lose consciousness, he would drift into sleep from which he would never awaken again. Sensing this to be the end, Maximilien labored to form each word. "...Heh, strong and true. Different from him." Although he didn't specify who "him" referred to, the King of Humans understood and nodded. "Younger siblings might have been like that. The child was weak and ordinary, needing to use everything to survive." For those who have lost power, there is no time to choose their means. Thoroughly observing, understanding, and analyzing, only to strike unexpectedly at the last moment; that's where the chance lies. Yet, that perspective belongs to the weak. "...You are, exceedingly strong. Unneeded by you." The distant powerful do not bind themselves to such things. YW9peUx5cktZYXhyU2hzY1VsMkQ0Uk9qK1RPd0IyUURFQkEwT3ZYbFo0QXpSZ05sMytFaEF1WVdPZlBVN0ZXRw Though he was a notable alchemist and aforementioned as one of the nation's esteemed warriors, and although he was a general within the Honor of Creatures, even the mighty Maximilien stood as but an ordinary man before the King of Humans. "You knew, so why did you do it? You couldn't change me. You were fully aware of that." It was the kind of gentle yet emotionless question a parent might ask, unable to understand their child. As Maximilien received that gaze, he slowly lifted his head. "...Would you truly not know the reason? Even as the King of Humans?" "I don't know. The one who could tell me is gone." "Cough!" Maximilien laughed, blood-stained. Amidst his life flickering like a candle in the wind, having found something to burn for one last time, he gathered his remaining strength and opened his mouth. "Listen, O King of Humans who does not know humans. Humans live to leave something of themselves behind." Facing death, humans speak no falsehood. In the act of shedding the shell of life, there's no need to weave a shroud of lies. Maximilien had always been honest, but facing his end, he became even more so. "Whether it's children, achievements, teachings, or creations, they strive to leave a mark upon the world that testifies to their existence. Life is short, but what I leave will remain beyond my death." Some might disagree with this sentiment. Others might claim it is too broad to hold significance. However, to Maximilien, this was his truth and the fuel that drove him. "But it's not enough. Everything ends eventually. My descendants' line will break someday; my creations will wear away in the tide of history. Teachings will someday be forgotten, and achievements will lie buried." Clinging to the heart-gear mounted upon his chest, he forcibly detached it, feeling his body crumble as he drained the last of his strength to hold up the gear. "Only accomplishments comparable to a demon's will remain eternal, becoming a foundation of the world to extol my name." The blood-soaked silver gear spun on its own like a waterwheel. Handing over the gear that embodied his everything, Maximilien spoke with blood-laden words. "Take it. King of Humans. This desire you do not know, this human ambition you have not realized...! Even if I die here, even if I failed to etch a gear into you...! I'll leave at least the mark of a gear in your heart...!" The gear, filled with all his strength, never reached the King of Humans. Yet the gear, imbued with all his emotions, unmistakably reached her. The King of Humans, as if entranced, accepted the gear. "Remember me...!" With those final words, Maximilien's body crumbled away. The sight resembled disassembly rather than death, a fitting end for the engineered Maximilien. For a moment, the King of Humans gazed upon him before turning away. Soon after, red flames consumed Maximilien's remains. The flames, with tender warmth uncharacteristic of fire, seemed to gently embrace and cremate him. Silently, the King of Humans regarded the gear Maximilien had entrusted. Even though its owner had breathed his last, his keepsake continued to spin ceaselessly. Connected to other gears, it would likely keep turning without end. After all, it was the relic of Maximilien, the Gear Magician. "I would have remembered everyone, even without those words." She was the smallest mausoleum in the world, a library commemorating the forgotten. She read, remembered, and cherished every human, constructing herself from those memories, and thus, she was the Beast King, nostalgically reminiscing. A mausoleum does not grasp the lament of the remains; a library does not read the text of its tomes. They simply hold and preserve. There is no librarian to read from the books. The library merely stores them on the shelf, unable to turn the pages itself. With the gear in her possession, the King of Humans set out for where she was meant to go. A butterfly, fluttering from somewhere, alighted on Nevada's lifeless body. Realizing this was no flower, and tasting something strange, the butterfly unfolded its wings. It hesitated over drinking the bloody dew before exerting self-control and departing. Left behind was Nevada's body, transparent eyes now devoid of light. The star's flame, alongside the demon, had claimed Nevada's life. Her charred lower half had vanished, leaving only her upper body sprawled upon the ground. Though the finale of a demon bore no difference from an ordinary death... there was something more. From the freshly cut edge, roots sprouted. Like a parasite inhabiting a corpse, the roots ravenously extended from the remains of Nevada, fervently probing the earth. Reaching deep into the soil, the roots gradually touched upon the roots of various plants. Nevada’s roots, having diligently searched the terrain for quite some time, eventually reached the Tree of Origin. At that moment, a blossom on Nevada's corpse emerged. Like a flower sprouting from a corpse, or a fungus feeding and growing, it quickly expanded to devour her entirely. Encasing her remains, merging them with the earth, it left behind a solitary large fruit. This fruit closely resembled that from which a human would be born. Who knows how much time passed? Nourished by the Tree of Origin and feeding on Nevada's corpse, the fleshy fruit gradually matured fully. With a sharp crack, the fruit split open, releasing amniotic-like fluid. From the writhing interior, a small girl tumbled out. If Nevada were turned into a young adult, she would look much like that. The horns on her head were no larger than fingers, and her limbs resembled brittle winter branches. Coughing as if breathless, the girl mumbled incoherently. "Cough, cough. Ah. Ah." Newborn Nevada stood shakily on trembling legs. Glancing blankly at the fruit from whence she had emerged, she murmured. "Did I... die...?" Reversal of Origin. Nevada's technique cast immortal beings into the vast cycle of nature, eternally erasing their existence. A mortal power that could even slay the immortal God of Offering. She reversed that power, resurrecting herself from death. The Tree of Origin was both a demon and Nevada's unique magic. Leaving behind her consciousness within allowed for such an act. Even upon death, Nevada could contact the Tree of Origin to reconstruct her body. "What happened? Who... did this to... me?" Losing oneself in death was inevitable, even for Nevada. Memories reside within the body. Even if inscribed within the Tree of Origin, those memories can't rival the vividness and sensitivity of beast senses. Struggling to recall the memories she amassed before dying was akin to coaxing leaves from a withered old tree. Yet, even a barren tree holds onto something. Nevada recalled the desire she imprinted upon the demon. "...I must see him. I must reunite with him." This was everything to Nevada—her desire, her heart's yearning, her past. Though her body underwent reconstruction, the essence of Nevada's longing continued to drive her. "Where could he be? Surely, I served him. I cannot lose him again. I..." "Nevada. It's been a long time. Did you sleep well?" A voice as gentle as a dream echoed. Taken aback, Nevada held her breath in disbelief. Merely upon hearing that voice, her eyes, parched like an old tree, brimmed with dewdrops. There, standing where the voice arose, was the esteemed one she had longed to see. "Ah, Aah... " "You seem to have become younger? Were you reborn through the tree? Quite an ordeal you've been through, it seems." "My lord..." "And yet, Nevada. I am curious." Her king remained as tender, as inquisitive as ever. Yet, he was just as cold and indifferent. He did not wipe away her tears, nor embrace Nevada in her joy. Observing her only with gentle scrutiny, he asked: "Was reviving me truly worth transforming your body into a tree, enduring countless lives and deaths, braving eternal time?" For Nevada, this was the lord she longed to see. With tears flowing, she answered: "Yes! Indeed it is! I have lived every moment solely for that purpose!" "I see." Her truth was genuine, and thus, it was reality itself. Without need for comprehension, a heart's truth stands on its own. "I've kept you waiting for long, haven't I? But I won't apologize. If I repeatedly apologized for every unfulfilled wish, I'd become a doll endlessly saying sorry." "Such words could never be undeserving. How could I dare wish for such? I merely prayed for your return." "And then?" And then? Nevada had never considered what would come next. Meeting the King of Humans once more had been such a distant and unrealistic desire for her that she hadn’t taken the time to contemplate what would follow after that wish was fulfilled. Yet human desire knows no bounds, and once the wind of aspiration begins to blow, it doesn’t simply stop with a single gust. “Tell me your wish, Nevada. What do you desire?” The King of Humans commanded, and at his order, Nevada allowed the great burden in her heart to spill forth. “…May all humans revere you, never dare to criticize, slay, or scorn you. May you reign supreme!” “May you reign supreme!” “May you reign supreme!” “May you reign supreme!” Members of the Baskerville family. The Honor of Creatures. And countless ordinary citizens who had awaited the king's return. Drawn by the presence of the king, they gathered and began to chant in unison with Nevada's words.