Chapter 546 – The Sun Descending by Its Own Gravity

To foresee what is to come is a tale that belongs solely within the realm of fiction.

Who among us has not pondered this?
If I could traverse time back to my past and choose differently, could I not draw forth a more favorable outcome?

It is a captivating thought, loaded with impossibility and swathed in fantasy.

Over days and nights, the Demon of Trial and I, we peeled and dissected layers of conversation, neglecting slumber.
We had a surfeit of words to share, for I too had much to say to this man.

Before we are adversaries, we are ourselves.

The act of sharing our information, it was an intensely dramatic exchange.

For such a thing to transpire, it was necessary for the King to harbor attachments to this world.
Upon meeting Shiba, the King’s emotions underwent a transformation and, as a result, he accepted my dialogue.

In my conversation with the King, I sensed him preparing for his own terminus.
Should he perish, he wanted Shiba to endure till the very end.

‘…No.’

Absurdity.

‘Could he harbor such a noble thought?’

We were both preparing simultaneously.
To entrust my back to this fellow?
Neither of us harbors such a thought.
From the outset, we have been strategizing with victory in the final trial in mind.

Desperation. Who is more desperate?
You may feel there is no need to distinguish, but my resolve is much more potent.

This is the mindset, the approach I must adopt. It may seem contradictory, yet it is the truth. The unwavering belief we should possess must exclude the consideration of ‘what ifs’. What is required is conviction.

Perhaps Shiba will come to despise me.
I have lost count since Dongbaek, but whatever means I employ, the Demon of Trial must meet his end by my hand.

-Thud.

My discourse with the King spanned nearly four days.
Upon the completion of all dialogues, I discovered the future, and the structure and relationships of characters I had not previously comprehended.
I sought and found an opportunity to amend my plans.

Even though the information exchange became one-sided from the midway point…
It was a valuable time that required no assessment of gains or losses.

-Clink.

I infuse power into the fragment of the crown in my hand.
The profound realization I gleaned from this time, and the resolution I made, was this:

“Here, I must become even more ruthless.”

I felt the necessity to push myself further into the harshness.
I exerted more force into the piece of the crown, imbuing it with an even more profound magic.

-Hum!

The crown, reacting to my magic, began to tremble. Communication with the crown is a feat achievable only by those recognized by the crown.
The magic of the King of Trees and mine were akin, and just as I predicted,
The crown responded to my magic.

‘I’ll be able to extract my power soon.’

The process of merging with the crown is no simple task.

The moment Seong-Han allowed even the slightest relaxation, there was a risk of the crown seizing control, turning him into a mindless wooden spirit.

And that wasn’t all. His sexual desire intensified to the point of insanity, necessitating the use of drugs for management.

Consequently, he sought solitude in a secluded room, invisible to the prying eyes. The crown. He had no intention of yielding to an artifact, but precaution was necessary. He closed his eyes, gently immersing his consciousness into the crown.

Soon, the world was unrecognizable.

* * * * * * * * * * *

Blood trickled down the cave walls.

The realm of consciousness. It was the scene he always visited when conversing with the King’s Heir.

‘Different.’

With the crown’s ownership changed, perhaps the world was different too. Dark blood flowed down the twisted cave walls.

It felt like peering through a lens of a tiny camera, lodged within the entrails of a beast, butchered haphazardly. He lowered his gaze to look upon the ‘King’s Heir’.

Deep within the cave, the chained Heir looked back at him.

“We meet for the first time.”

His reflection stared back at him from the colorless pupils. The dry lips twitched. The two arms, devoid of any motivation, remained still even upon his sight.

The Heir’s appearance was vastly different from what he remembered. Although the visage had matured from that of a college freshman to a man in his mid-twenties, his condition was far from good.

“Hey.”

He called out louder to the ‘Heir’, but no response came.

“……”

The Heir seemed like a figure trapped in a freezing underground cell, enduring an eternity. His body was cold to the touch, and if one wasn’t careful, one might mistake him for a corpse.

It was a picture of slavery. Seong-Han approached the Heir, bending down to his face.

“Heir.”
“…Ah.”

Only when his face was up close, did the Heir react.

“Uh, Ah… Ahhhhh!”

The Heir suddenly let out a scream and started to scramble away, trying to put distance between them.

“Ah, Ah… Ahhhhhhh!”

-Clank, Clank!

The ‘Heir’ was pulling desperately on his shackles, straining his ankles. His own efforts began to tear the flesh around his ankles.

After attempting to flee for quite some time, it seemed he had realized he could not minimize the distance any further.

“…I’m sorry, so sorry…”
“You’ve been mistreated quite terribly.”

The King’s crown that Seong-Han had beheld was shattered and its color faded. This fragment had also come from the broken crown. Perhaps the King had awakened the power of the crown in a different way. Maybe the demon of trials had been controlling the crown.

‘This Heir is different from the one I knew.’

Indeed, a surprising revelation.

In the recesses of my mind, the child was still an impudent whelp.

[Be gone! I said, go away!]
[Ha, you fool, you imbecile!]

That child, now disheveled, lies on the brink of death.
I might mock her condition under ordinary circumstances, but the sight of her in such a deranged state leaves no room for laughter.
Perhaps a tender touch might be best under these circumstances.

I knelt down and moved closer to her.

“I am not the king you know.”
“…Ugh, oh! I apologize. I’m sorry!”
“Stay still.”
“……”

In response to my stern warning, she stiffens.
As I reach out, she holds her breath, timidly offering her chin.
It’s as if she has been conditioned to do so.

-Swishhhh.

There’s a dampness below.
Not urine, but a different sort of fluid.

I gently tapped her cheek and embraced her.

“I’ll repeat, I am not the king you know.”

Ignoring the moist sensation below, I continued to impart information to her.

“What misdeed led to your confinement here?”
“…Ah. Uh.”
“Calm yourself, and speak slowly.”

I stroke her disheveled hair. Gradually, as she absorbs the energy of the crown, the surrounding environment begins to shift.
Not to a blood-soaked space, but to a realm of my consciousness.
As the expansive, white lakeshore enters her view, her trembling hands seem to regain some composure.

“…Ah.”

After what felt like an eternity, she looked at me.

“…Mistake?”
“Yes.”
“A mistake, I, I didn’t make a mistake. I just stayed… me.”

Is this another bout of trauma?
She trembles, shaking her head vehemently.

‘Her mind is utterly shattered.’

Restoring her might take a significant amount of time.
Her hands wrapped around her head, she curls up and begins to weep.

“Sob.”

-Drop.

“I, I did nothing wrong… I didn’t…”

Her eyes, filled with a palpable sense of madness.
I look at her and ponder.

Having spent centuries with a king devoid of emotion, it stands to reason that her mental state would be far from healthy.

“What is your fault?”

I decided to delve a little deeper into her consciousness.
In response to my question, she cries out in a frenzy.

“No, I didn’t.”
“What was your mistake?”
“I didn’t make a mistake!!”

She rips at her hair in her agony.

“Why did I do wrong…!”

Her hysterical face turns a ghastly blue. Her jaw trembles, as if each word she pours out to me is a burden too heavy to bear.
Upon closer inspection, her nails are chipped, half-broken. Her arms, marked by bites, are sickly and discolored.

“I hate the pain. Why, why only me? I just… missed my father. I didn’t want to be with you…. Why only deny me?”
“….”
“You said you’ll take everything… everything. Take all of mine… I gave you what my father left. I gave you all my strength!”
“Calm down.”

“I remained motionless as I was instructed, and performed every demand… What is missing? What am I lacking?!”

The anguished cries rip from his throat, raw and torn. Indeed, it seems the mere sight of me triggers a traumatic response in him.

To what levels of severity must he have been subjected to leave him in such a state? Curiosity stirs within me, but regardless, I am compelled to approach this shattered soul.

A single snap of my fingers and I invoke my magic to elevate the room’s temperature. Warm air swirls around us, and I draw him into an embrace, his shoulders fragile under my touch. His nails dig into my skin, but his strength is too feeble to leave any mark.

“Let me clarify, I am not the king you know.”

I compel him to listen, to hear my words.

“Uh… uh…”

Gently, I tighten my hold on him. I pat his back, softening my voice to the best of my ability.

“You must have endured immense hardship.”

The King of Trees, like myself, had never been one to shy away from any means necessary. In some aspects, he was even more relentless than I, his methods having evolved to a drastic extreme.

Perhaps, just perhaps, he had inflicted the same cruelty onto the lovers of other realms as well.

The image of this tormented soul allowed me to perceive another facet of the King’s character. It fuelled my resolve to prevail.

I took my time, patiently guiding him towards understanding.

“Be calm.”
“…”
“What you see is a fragment of the crown’s influence. The man you knew does not exist here. As you’re aware, the King wanders through other worlds, leaving devastation in his wake. You may consider me a different iteration of that King.”

His body relaxes, the tension seeping out.

“Do you understand?”

He nods in response.

“Is there something you desire?”

He exhales a weary sigh. Upon hearing his lone wish, I give a single nod of acknowledgment.

“The situation is challenging at present. However, it seems what you want aligns with my own desires.”
“…”

I respond gently to his whispered words. Despite my best efforts to warm the surroundings with my magic, the pallor of his face, a face that has given up on everything, remains chillingly cold.

“Indeed.”

He continues to whisper.

“I can promise you one thing.”

I do not wipe away the tears trickling down his cheeks. His body, a map of scars and devoid of a single shred of modesty, harbors only one desire.

* * * * * * * * * * *

Deep-seated creases remain etched on his face.

-Kirihihik, hik?

The meaningless voice of the crown emerges, disturbing the quietude. The ‘branches’ manifest one after another, their incessant chattering echoing tiresomely.

【 ……. 】

A lone tree gazes at the king.

A solitary World Tree had carved out a corner for the king, its steadfast presence at his side offering respite.

The king slowly lifted his hardened gaze. The tremors in his hands were all too familiar to him.

“Dawn is upon us.”

The sun, succumbing to its own weight, falls without leaving even a trace of twilight behind. The cold moonlight shatters upon contact with the skin, plummeting down, and a dead insect is encased within the fruit of the tumbling pear tree.

A transient life lived without reckoning. There was none who would press their lips to the blood he had shed earlier.

For the king had forsaken it all. He cast aside his lover, executed me, and pursued me relentlessly to the brink.

Longing to hold the tender hand of a child who was prone to frequent tears, he had committed many a discomfiture.

Who, one might wonder, stands atop the emerging sun?

‘……’

Yet, the king could not conceal his grotesque heart.

If only for a fleeting moment,

its ultimate end.

The cheerful life of the child.

[The gentleman and I]

Upon a single sticker photograph, a small rabbit intricately drawn. The king, with a ruthless expression, swept away the photograph.