Chapter 97: Farewell

“I have a message from Sevi,” Ion said.

“Speak,” Teacher replied.

“‘Tell him I miss him. Thank him for loving a residue like me… He was my only family. I’ll live hundreds of times longer, but I’ll remember our time forever. Please tell him that.’”

As Ion relayed Sevi’s words, Teacher’s face twisted in pain. Wrinkles creased his brow, and his cheeks trembled. He shut his eyes tightly, his voice anguished. “That child… isn’t residue.”

Such words from Teacher were unthinkable.

“Sevi wasn’t in <hunter and hero>. Not even an NPC, just an egg meant to rot away. A dragon, no less—too disruptive to the balance. But I couldn’t let it go. I raised it with care for years…”

“…”

“If the Apostle saw Sevi, they’d ‘correct’ it immediately. So I had to drill into Sevi that they were residue, to keep them from interfering in the world…”

Ion wanted to ask, Didn’t you do the same to me? Call me residue for the same reason? The question lingered on his tongue, but he didn’t voice it. Without Vegetable Consciousness, what would he feel now? He’d find out once he left and dispelled the magic.

“Any message for Sevi?” Ion asked.

Teacher didn’t hesitate long. “Tell them we weren’t family. You were just one of my many pupils, the most troublesome and annoying. I’m relieved to be free of cleaning up after you. Say that.”

“I won’t,” Ion replied.

“What?”

“I’ll make something up instead,” Ion said.

“Dam Ion, my pupil. Even dying, I’ve strength to punish you.”

The threat didn’t faze Ion. Knowing Teacher left such a pained message as “Forget a bad mentor like me”—how could he be scary? Teacher glared. Ion didn’t care.

“Teacher,” Ion said, raising his hand. His fingers were dissolving—mana flow, Celestials, Apostles—so many questions, so little time.

“Before I’m digested, tell me quick. To escape the Apostle, what do I do? Gain power to fight them?”

“Don’t be absurd. Fighting an Apostle is like facing Ulte bare-handed.”

“Then tell me the real story,” Ion pressed.

“I can’t reveal the true future. If you act against the plot, the Apostle will notice. Act naturally. Plans must be made here, beyond their gaze.”

“If nothing works, what do I do?” Ion asked.

“Contact another Apostle.”

Teacher explained. Seven Apostles—Joy, Anger, Sadness, Pleasure, Love, Hatred, Desire—exist to offer God these essential emotions. Equal in power, they don’t fight for dominance, blindly devoted to God. Knowing each emotion is vital, conflicts are rare. They’re not allies, though—just bound by a truce for God’s peace, wary and distrustful due to intense jealousy.

“<hunter and hero> is Pleasure’s solo script. For a thousand years, they’ve entertained God with various stories,” Teacher said. Other Apostles contribute emotions, but God’s addicted to Pleasure, like a dopamine junkie, causing discontent among the others. Teacher urged Ion to exploit this.

“How do I contact them?” Ion asked.

“You don’t know, but beyond this world lies the Sacred Realm, where Apostles watch over us.”

“I know. The white space with only voices, where you existed immaturely,” Ion said.

“How do you know that?” Teacher was shocked.

Ion recounted using Mine’s teleportation artifact. Teacher’s face hardened. “You nearly got caught. You mustn’t be seen. You’re different…”

“Because I’m part Celestial?” Ion asked.

“How’d you know that?”

“The World Tree said I’m tasty, that Sanse’s rapid spiritualization is because I’m Celestial,” Ion replied.

“I was about to say. You were given to me by the Sadness Apostle, not Pleasure. I don’t know why—neither did Sadness. I suspect it’s a check on Pleasure.”

Learning he was an Apostle’s child, an unimaginable origin, Ion’s expression didn’t change.

“Go to the Celestial Realm. Pleasure is busy with scripts across many worlds. While no major events occur here, they’re occupied elsewhere. Sneak to the Celestial Realm and meet Sadness in the Sacred Realm.”

Ion’s mission shifted from killing Idea’s Breeder to contacting another Apostle beyond Pleasure’s gaze.

“Will Sadness help a world escape the Apostles?” Ion asked.

“Likely. A saga of ‘creatures escaping Apostles’ would let Sadness present God with profound sorrow.”

Ion noted the Apostles’ obsession with God. “Which god do they worship—Lord Elida or Demon God Hegis?”

“They’re the same. God descends to worlds to escape boredom, using many names but having none. Just God.”

God’s creations fought over Elida and Hegis, unaware they were one. A singular being needs no name—just God. Ion learned how to evade Apostles’ gazes and reach the Celestial Realm. His finger was nearly gone. Teacher noticed.

“I need to leave,” Ion said.

Leaving was simple: will it. “Ion.” Teacher pressed his temples, mirroring Ion’s headaches.

“To Sevi…” Teacher hadn’t asked about other pupils—orphans or the second group—but lingered on Sevi. “No, never mind. What’s the point of a dying man’s words?”

“I’m going,” Ion said.

“Dam Ion.” Teacher placed a hand on Ion’s head, stroking it like rare, happy moments from childhood, like the day before the upheaval two years ago. “This is truly the end.”

His gaze was kind, maybe wistful—impossible, yet… “Have you nothing to say to me?”

Ion didn’t know what to say, even without Vegetable Consciousness. “Do you have anything to say to me?” he asked instead.

Teacher smiled bitterly. “Emotions are precious. Never lose them. That’s all.”

He stepped back, nodding for Ion to go, his face stern as ever. Ion bowed slightly and left the mental realm.

“…!” Ion opened his eyes to a small, cute bat nose. “Dam Ion’s awake! Sevi! Sanse! He’s awake!” Baba shouted, flapping wildly.

“Quiet…” Ion’s throat was scratchy, unused. Clearing it, he looked around. His last memory was a lush forest, but now he was in a cozy villa, on a soft bed, wearing a white shirt, not his mage robe. The diverse plants outside confirmed he was still in the World Tree’s core.

“Dam Ion’s awake! Where’s Sevi?” Baba flew out the window, still shouting.

Such a fuss. Ion sat up, aching, and hugged Sanse on the nightstand. Why’s it so prickly? No pests, still vibrant green, but… The reason appeared with a crash as a silver hatchling burst through the wooden door.

“Dam Ion! You’re awake? You didn’t wake for a week—I thought you died!” Sevi wailed, leaping into Ion’s arms.

Ion stroked Sanse with one hand, Sevi’s round body with the other. “A week?”

“Yes! A whole week! We were so worried. Are you hurt? I should’ve gone instead!” Sevi’s tears soaked Ion’s shirt.

If a week passed, it was October 17, 2025. Time flew in the mental realm, and the connection dungeon to Earth was two weeks away. Ion had to reach the Celestial Realm, contact Sadness, and get to the dungeon—a tight schedule made tighter. No time to comfort a crying dragon.

“Oh, you broke the door. Kids…” The World Tree hopped over the debris, holding a bowl of soup. “You must be hungry. Eat. I’ve never felt hunger, but humans suffer without food.”

“No, I have too much to do—” Ion began, but a sting stopped him. Sanse’s leaves were sharp, radiating anger. If it had eyes, they’d be blazing; if it had a mouth, it’d be cursing.

“As you see, that child’s furious. Getting up?” the World Tree asked.

“…No. I’ll eat. Thanks,” Ion said, taking the spoon. Baba flew up, sniffing the soup. “What’re you doing?” Ion snapped.

“Bad World Tree might’ve poisoned it. No poison. Tasty. Eat, Dam Ion,” Baba said boldly, landing on the World Tree’s head.

The World Tree just smiled, unfazed. Ion ate under the gaze of Baba, Sevi, Sanse, and the World Tree. The soup was perfectly warm.