Chapter 37: The Fear of Immortality

Chapter 37

In a world where the only cruel sights one might encounter were detailed descriptions in books or the execution of criminals, the grotesque revival of a disfigured man inflicted an unforgettable terror upon Anel.

That memory shackled her, making it difficult to look Erich directly in the eye.

“I didn’t know if I could bear the child of such a person, and I was terrified at the thought of doing so. A chill ran through me, though I couldn’t even pinpoint what exactly I feared.”

To people who treated anyone with different skin or slightly more prominent bones as a foreigner, a man who could not die simply did not feel human.

Most of the animosity directed towards Erich stemmed from this profound sense of alienation.

This instinctive revulsion was so fierce that it compelled people to challenge an absolute imperial authority that felt as though it would endure for hundreds of years.

“So, to tolerate me, one must be either a soldier or a doctor? I understand now why Evening, being from the borderlands, doesn’t fear me.”

Evening had witnessed his death twice, yet remained completely unfazed.

Erich had attributed this to her having seen many harsh sights in the border regions, but the reality was quite different.

He could not possibly know it now, but Evening, having grown up in a world overflowing with brutal content, perceived the sight of a corpse reviving as if it were a scene from a movie.

Though she knew it was real, she found it comparable to CGI, making it a sight she could readily overlook.

“No.”

Anel, who rarely challenged his opinions, inadvertently interrupted Erich.

She closed her mouth with a flustered expression, but the words were already out.

After a moment of contemplation, Anel spoke again.

“It was a truly horrific sight, but that wasn’t what troubled me the most. Such things… one can get used to them, can’t they? I could have overcome it someday.”

“Then what was it?”

“It’s your attitude towards death that frightens me. You treat your own life so lightly and envy the deaths of others, as if you’re not one of us.”

Erich listened to Anel in silence. Her words did not easily resonate with him.

It had been too long since he worried about death; he could no longer recall what that feeling was like.

A life promised eternity lacks stimulation.

A life of continuously dying and reviving could never be the same as a life lived only once.

It always felt detached, moderately uninteresting, and at times, he simply wanted to give up entirely.

Though he didn’t know what or how things had gone wrong, he was acutely aware that he was treading a path different from others.

“I couldn’t live an ordinary life beside someone who would live for a thousand years.”

“……”

“Perhaps those who wish to kill Your Majesty are the ones who see you most humanly.”

Indeed, the gaze of those who sought his eternal death seemed more human than the fear or worship of those who couldn’t die.

Anel, observing Erich’s hardened expression, closed her eyes and clasped her hands together.

“If there is someone who can regard Your Majesty as an ordinary person, then that person might even be able to love Your Majesty.”

Anel spoke with a reverence, as if reciting a divine revelation.

Her long hair fluttered gently, impeccably clean.

****

Having departed from the Winb Northern Protection Convent in the Northern Mountains, Erich made his way towards a more bustling locale.

Moving alone in a simple robe with his hood pulled up, no one suspected him to be the Emperor.

Appearing at most like a fallen noble or the son of a wealthy household, he entered a small shop, drawing neither hindrance nor attention.

The shop owner, who had been dusting cobwebs, offered a slight bow of greeting.

Erich placed a pouch of coins on the counter.

“I’m here to pick up a commissioned painting.”

“What painting did you commission?”

“The Emperor’s portrait.”

The shop owner’s gaze turned serious. Setting down a pile of goods, he retrieved a canvas roughly a handspan in height.

The canvas depicted a figure resembling Erich, rendered in a playful and charming style.

Erich accepted the modest painting, wrapped in silk, without even a proper glance, as it had been painted with hardly any color.

The true purpose of this outing, having shed his guards, was not the ring but this painting.

The ring was merely a disguise to conceal his real intention of retrieving the painting, yet he had ended up hearing a much more serious story than he anticipated.

Displeased by this feeling of the tables having turned, Erich roughly shoved the painting into his bag.

The diamond ring inside a leather pouch was pressed against the canvas, crumpled into a corner.

Neither the painting nor the ring held much importance.

What truly mattered was that the exorbitant payment, utterly disproportionate to the humble painting, safely reached the noble hunters.

[Flam]

Erich inscribed his next target onto the signature line of the bill presented by the shop owner.

The greatest benefactor of the noble hunters, he left the bill behind and departed the shop with an air of nonchalance.

****

Erich rode his horse alone along the winding mountain path.

One advantage of his immortality was the lack of significant opposition when he traveled alone.

While the noble knights were fastidious, the mercenary-turned-guards readily left his side without complaint.

This made it convenient for him to meet with the noble hunters or deliver patronage funds discreetly, away from prying eyes.

They weren’t assassins, so they wouldn’t kill someone simply because Erich pointed them out, but they would consider it if their interests aligned.

‘Well, that’s about it.’

His animosity towards Margrave Flam was precisely that much.

A thorn-in-his-side rival. An annoying old man. Someone he suspected disliked him, and thus someone he wished to drag down and trample into the dust.

He would be relieved and pleased if someone else dealt with him, yet he would also regret not having done it himself.

He disliked him without a shred of doubt, but not uniquely so. His feelings towards the Margrave were not significantly different from his disdain for other nobles.

Therefore, there was no need to rush.

‘If I had wanted to kill him, I would have simply done it.’

A rival was not someone to be summarily assassinated, but rather someone whose weaknesses should be exploited, shaken, and ultimately subjugated.

Perhaps the noble hunters’ investigations or raids could provide the leverage needed to control Flam.

Erich continued his thoughts.

Or perhaps Flam himself might uncover who the noble hunters were truly colluding with.

When her fiancé and her father inevitably clashed head-on, before whom would Evening prostrate herself?

“My dearest Eve.”

Erich addressed Evening affectionately, laced with a hint of mockery, even though no one was listening.

Perhaps because he had called her ‘Eve’ from the very beginning, the tender nickname had become utterly ingrained in his speech.

Calling Evening ‘my Eve’ so tenderly made it feel as though he were gently manipulating her in the palm of his hand.

‘Could she still smile in front of me then?’

Erich was curious about Evening’s ultimate fate—would she be ruthless enough to conceal her contempt for him, or would she be a social climber, abandoning her pride and groveling, captivated by the Empress’s throne?

Before he knew it, Evening had become a subject of Erich’s keen interest.

The woman who had merely been bait to draw out the Margrave had, in the interim, risen to stand by his side.

Erich was as curious about the expression Evening would wear as he was about how the Margrave would attempt to destroy him.

He couldn’t forget her ridiculous declaration of wanting to become a loyal sycophant.

The term ‘sycophant’ itself was open to interpretation.

When difficult times arrived, would she, like a cunning sycophant, betray him? Or would she, like a sycophant prioritizing her own survival, abandon her father and fawn over him?

Lost in thought, Erich heard the distant howl of a beast from deeper within the mountain path.

He recalled hearing that magical beasts residing deep in the mountains occasionally ventured onto the paths.

“Aaaargh!”

A chorus of screams, a thick masculine voice mingling with a thinner one, erupted.

The beast’s roars remained largely unchanged, but the human shrieks grew steadily louder, indicating someone was fleeing towards Erich.

“Don’t come this way! Run!”

People fleeing from the opposite direction of the path shouted at Erich.

Their disheveled appearance, clutching weapons and scrambling in panic, made them resemble bandits.

Yet, the fact that they worried about him, a stranger they’d encountered, struck him as rather amusing.

Erich did not turn his horse around; instead, he pressed forward.

It was a path he had to take anyway, and he was curious about the appearance of the magical beast rumored to lurk in the mountains. Perhaps there were people who hadn’t managed to escape.

As he approached the cacophony of roars and screams, a cloud of dust lay like a mist over the path.

His horse hesitated for a moment before plunging its head into the thick dust.

Entering the hazy, mist-like dust, his vision gradually cleared.

Pushing through the dust, Erich was confronted with a bizarre catastrophe.

A colossal magical beast, covered in shaggy white fur, blocked a slightly wider section of the path.

Peering past its shoulder, he saw bandits, soldiers, and servants scattered across the ground, grotesquely disfigured from the beast’s attack.

Some were clawed by its massive talons, others had been seized and flung by its powerful hands.

The ground, splattered with crimson blood and torn flesh, was a gruesome sight.

“…What is this?”

However, the most peculiar aspect was the beast’s own appearance.

Its entire right half, which should have been planted on the ground as it tore at the dead, was utterly gone.

It wasn’t crushed, nor was it torn. The right half had vanished as if excised, yet no blood flowed from the severed surface.

Instead, the cut appeared cauterized, as if it had been sliced clean by a scorching hot blade from the very beginning.

The ground where its right half should have been was also strangely hollowed out.

It was a perfectly scooped-out pit, as if someone had used a spoon to remove a portion of clay.

It was an utterly bizarre spectacle.

Erich realized that the trajectory of destruction formed a spherical shape.

Considering the hollowed ground and the remaining body of the beast, it seemed a massive sphere had obliterated both the beast’s right half and the ground beneath it in a single strike.

Or perhaps, it had simply swallowed them whole.

It was magic of an incredibly potent and grotesque nature.

He couldn’t precisely identify the spell, but as far as he knew, no one possessed magic of such immense power.