Chapter 117: The Meaning of Survival

I stood atop the tower, clutching a half-collapsed wall, trembling as I cautiously leaned out with half my head. The tower was high, and a wave of dizziness washed over me. At the base of the tower lay the Black Knight’s once voluptuous and stunning form, now sprawled in an unprecedentedly pitiful pose upon the bricks. Her silver-white hair was disheveled, the tips stained a fiery, deathly red by the fresh blood pooling beneath her.

She was truly dead—the proud woman who had betrayed her own people because they had betrayed her, the woman who sought to enact her steadfast justice through desperate slaughter. Perhaps in other iterations she would revive countless times, endlessly recounting that dark tale to adventurers destined either to kill her or be killed by her. But here and now, in this place, her life had genuinely ended. We had succeeded in accomplishing the great mission to save the world.

“Carson, Carson? Are you still alive?” I suddenly remembered my accomplice in orchestrating this assassination. The Black Knight’s death did not entirely signify the success of our scheme. More than the demise of this desperate woman, our greater, more complete victory lay in having deceived the eyes of the gods.

“...If you really cared about my survival, you should have heeded my advice earlier and given up this mission...” came the gruff voice of the old troll beside me. “...What good is pretending to care now?”

“I suddenly felt that it might be quite satisfying to have the gods discover your trickery and straighten out your crooked back...” Hearing his reply, I felt a wave of relief.

“Shut your foul mouth; they have had chances to do so. Things happened too quickly earlier—I still made a few small mistakes,” Carson’s words tightened my chest.

“What happened?” I asked hastily.

“One linked field wasn’t handled properly. It wasn’t just your Black Knight attack that missed—thirty-seven Black Knights’ attacks failed simultaneously. If any god were to examine carefully, they might detect traces of alteration,” Carson said with evident frustration.

“Is it serious? Are you in danger?” I asked anxiously.

“Do you sit there counting how many hairs you have?” Carson suddenly asked out of nowhere.

“No, I don’t have time for that,” I answered instinctively, clueless as to why he asked such a question now.

“Exactly. You don’t have time, and neither do the gods. They have far more important matters to attend to. So rest assured, they won’t be able to count that one hair of ours. I’m only dissatisfied because I think I could have done it more elegantly.” Though he voiced dissatisfaction with his own work, his tone brimmed with the pride of having successfully deceived the gods.

“Calm down, perfectionist. Your grin’s so wide I can practically see the fangs beneath your lips.” Though I could not see his face, I could easily imagine his smug expression. I felt no relief for his safety—not even a little.

“Enough chatter. That elf woman behind you is coming. Her ears are decent, but all her teeth are inside her mouth. Such a creature called a woman? Wild boars look better than her. I don’t understand how elven men could be drawn to such a monster...” Carson’s uniquely trollish aesthetic judgments on the elven druid fairy’s earthly form faded from my ears as she approached.

I turned to see the elven druid girl, mouth slightly agape, walking toward me with a face full of shock.

“I can’t believe it! How could this happen? She’s really dead. What’s going on?”

Damn! I’d been so focused on confirming Carson’s safety that I’d forgotten something important: what kind of lie to tell to cover up the incredible fact that I had single-handedly killed the Black Knight. You know, as an honest and straightforward battle warrior, I was never good at deceit, let alone hastily concocting a lie without preparation. So I decided to speak the truth plainly:

“I... I don’t know how it happened. This... this was completely accidental. Maybe she just wanted to play hide-and-seek with us and accidentally...”

The fairy looked at me disdainfully. “Do you think the whole nation will believe that?”

I purely gazed up at the sky at a forty-five-degree angle, the sunset blush warming my cheeks...

Soon, the resurrected lives of Bull Million, Little Ge the Top, and Nocturne flickered back at the base of the tower. Their first sight upon revival was the Black Knight’s corpse. Bull Million’s eyes nearly popped out; he cautiously circled the body three times, ensuring she wouldn’t suddenly jump up and hammer him. This great paladin, specialized in escape and masterful at getting lost, finally arrived naturally at a reasonable explanation that he could accept:

“Brothers, I think we’ve entered the wrong instance...”

“Fine, after we grab the mission items, find four others to come back with you. I’m not dying in this damned place again...” I strolled leisurely out of the tower, addressing the stunned paladin.

“This... This can’t be! You two alone managed to kill the Black Knight?” The bass-voiced Nocturne clearly could not accept such a shocking fact.

“To be precise, I did it alone!” I crossed my arms and nodded proudly. Now I understood why so many people were passionate about adventuring—risking their precious lives to accomplish difficult tasks. The pride of bearing everyone’s amazed gaze was intoxicating beyond words.

“You alone? Shameless!” Carson’s faint reprimand reached my ears, but my mind instantly ignored it.

The fairy rushed out from behind me, babbling incoherently about what she had just witnessed. Listening to her account, the resurrected unlucky ones showed expressions ranging from awe to envy and even jealousy.

“Damn, I can’t believe this happened!” Bull Million shook his large head in frustration.

“If you want to admire my achievements, ‘damn’ isn’t the right word. If you don’t mind, I know a very fitting adjective: ‘wise and brave,’” I kindly suggested to the evidently limited-vocabulary minotaur.

“All I know is a fitting noun: ‘fluke’...” muttered the orc warlock Little Ge under his breath.

This is a common flaw among many intelligent beings—they like to attribute others’ successes to luck and fail to see the courage and wisdom behind what appears accidental... Well, okay, to be fair, it was Carson and me... or rather, if ranking by effort, it was Carson and me—can’t I sort by alphabetical order in the common tongue?

Though I didn’t receive the honor or respect I deserved from my companions, “luck” offered a convenient veil. I no longer needed to painstakingly fabricate lies to hide Carson’s involvement. Convincing these lazy, unthinking agnostics that everything was a miracle of luck was remarkably simple—believe me, for a minotaur favored by the supreme god who could find a stone of faith just by slaughtering rats in a broken house, explaining anything by “luck” was utterly acceptable.

Each of us took from the Black Knight’s corpse the symbol of mission completion—a silver lock of her hair—along with some impressive loot. Unfortunately, none of it suited a battle warrior. However, I did find “Fusion Device Part Three” on her—a double-helix structured pipe, with regular transverse tubes connecting the two spirals evenly. Along with this part came an alchemist-exclusive quest: collect all four Fusion Device parts and complete its assembly.

The battles had clearly matured each of us. When we first entered the fortress, even the gate guards gave us trouble. Now, as we withdrew, those foes no longer posed a threat.

Soon, we reached the edge of the inner city. Climbing the fractured, broken wall gap, we faced the plaza where we once fought the three-headed beast Meril. I remembered the young lord of the small manor who had accompanied us, the resolute priestess Miss Lemore, her brother, the brave Baron Bink, and his retainers resting there. With the Black Knight eliminated, they should have returned home by now. The sister could finally reunite with her long-awaited brother, and the soldiers could protect their loved ones once more. Everything would be back on the right and beautiful path. Only then would our perilous journey be truly worthwhile.

That was my thought.

Passing through the gap and turning past the shattered fountain, we saw Baron Bink and his retainers’ figures again.

Their young bodies lay scattered everywhere, each with a blade piercing their throats. Whether dagger or spear, these sharp weapons had been driven by immense force, pinning the bodies firmly in the soil, walls, and trees, snuffing out all life in an instant.

Most horrifyingly, the hands clutching these weapons were their own.

What had happened? What had driven them to end their young lives with such resolute force, more determined than fighting enemies?

“Cough, cough...” Under a tree burned to charcoal, painful coughing came. Following the sound, we saw Baron Bink’s dying face. His complexion was ghostly pale, with unsettling red tides in his eyes. After such a long time, his left leg’s wound showed no sign of healing and still bled heavily—who knew, that thick, foul-smelling yellow liquid might no longer be human blood.

“Cough, cough... brave ones, I no longer feel the Black Knight’s power. Have you... completed the great mission?” The baron gasped, struggling to speak.

“Yes.” Bull Million, closest to him, answered with a single word. These articulate adventurers seemed to favor such curt replies, steering conversations toward the needed information with one or two words no matter how complex the exchange.

“The supreme god’s mercy nurtures all... Fa... Falvie Continent is saved... Our sacrifice... has been... rewarded...”

“What’s going on here?” Little Ge asked.

“After... you left, we realized our wounds weren’t simple. Our priest said it was a toxin, silently devouring our souls, turning us into... mindless decayers, attacking all living souls. Our bodies became vessels spreading the toxin. Returning home would only harm our kin and others. No medicine could cure us. We lost all hope...”

“...But even so... my people never gave up fighting. Perhaps our lives were worthless, but death could be our final weapon of resistance. Before the toxin fully took hold, each ended their own life. To avoid becoming wandering zombies, they... nailed themselves to the ground...”

“...My... my time is near... honorable ones. May the supreme god have mercy and let me hear news of victory before I die. I... I... cough, cough...” Suddenly, the young baron coughed violently, expelling the same thick yellow fluid as from his wound. His facial muscles stiffened, serenity in his eyes giving way to hollow numbness.

“Kill me...” he shouted at us. “...This is my last request... For a human’s final dignity... kill me!”

What was this? Moments ago, we had brought his sister’s blessing to him. Now, must we witness his death? Could it be that in this world, the longing and blessing of loved ones were so powerless, that brave justice was so cheap, that kind lives were so fragile, that all combined still could not resist the claim of a tiny toxin?

Really? Is the meaning of life merely to await death? And all those noble, great qualities revealed in life are meaningless appendages?

How can one be willing? How can one be convinced?

“Save him! Carson, bring him home alive!” I called silently within, pleading with my alien friend who could see through divine power.

“It’s impossible, my friend. I cannot...” Carson’s voice was bleak. “He is destined to die here by the laws of the gods. No one can change this reality.”

“You can! Tell me you can! It’s just this little toxin. We’ve been wounded too, but we’re still alive! This is no fatal poison. He doesn’t have to die here!” I was on the verge of madness. I could not stand to see this handsome young man perish like this.

Yes, if this closed instance world were unique, if all things in this world followed a single logic, if every one of our actions was singular, then we had indeed saved this world. Honestly, after saving billions, the life of this young baron seemed negligible—I might not have cared about the fate of a few people.

But things were not so.

This was a parallel world, a repetitive world, a world where everything repeated, cycled, and futilely churned. All we did could only be measured mechanically by soul and gold gains, with no substantive effect on the world.

If we could not even prevent this single death before our eyes, we could save no one!

We were futile, powerless, superfluous—a blind, mediocre lot killing and fighting on this world, not knowing why or what we would become.

Never before had I so yearned for change, even if that meant defying the gods. Never before had I so desperately wished to save a life, for it largely determined whether our existence in this world had meaning.

“You’re crazy...” Carson shouted in my ear. “He’s not like you all, we understand that! We know what really killed him wasn’t some damn confiscation, some damn wound, or some damn toxin. What really killed him were those fields, you know? Fields that can’t be deleted, changed, or touched! Changing him means total collapse! You’re committing suicide, do you understand?”

“...Can’t we at least ‘really’ do something?” From my heart, a great sorrow swelled.

Carson’s roar fell silent instantly. After a long time, he said softly to me:

“Live on, my friend. Live well...”

Live on! Indeed, it seemed this was the only way for rebellious souls like us to prove our existence had meaning...

The baron still died in the end. The bass-voiced Nocturne drove his sword through him. No one could alter the laws of fate, not even those who escaped destiny.

“Tell... my sister, I... love... her, love them all. My soul will watch over them from the heavens, forever...”

In his final moments, he entrusted this task to us.