Chapter 202: There Was Once a Man Who Could Not Die (II)

Chapter 202: There Was Once a Man Who Could Not Die (II)

Chapter 202This chapter is updated by nov(e)(l)biin.com

There Was Once a Man Who Could Not Die (II)

There was a peculiarity to living, Wyvenul had learned many years ago. Young were fearless, undaunted, willing to set themselves on fire in pursuit of whatever highs they were chasing. They feared neither death nor pain, accepting it as a byproduct of living. But those that outlive that scorching youth grew old and frail and cowardly, and death in due comes cold and unwanted. Sages wrote of wise men accepting death in their past-time years, but it was all a lie, Wyvenul learned.

There was no one more terrified of dying than someone who had livedand lived for many years at that. Hed witnessed it dozens, hundreds of timesbrave and strong whimpering and begging gods to give them just another year, another month, merely another dawn. Another sunup. It was the irony of life, truly, that those who outlive defying death grow to fear it the most.

King Wyvenul was no different. Even if his devotion to the cause was beyond bone-deep, there were nights he would wake up shaking, having dreamt of the end. He had accepted death would come for him and undo his merits, but even the acceptance couldnt help much. He still feared it, the day this all would come to an end. And if he, the greatest and the strongest, feared death, so did everyone. They had to. Short of those few beyond despondent with nothing to live for, who saw death as their only avenue of life, who but the legendary immortals did not fear death?

Before him now stood a man who could not die. He was cleaved and slashed and cut open and disembowelled and dismembered and pierced and pincered and even beheaded at one point. But each and every time, like a ghoul bereft of death, he would stand back up, a grin on his bedevilled, bloodied face beyond captivating. There was a man who didnt fear deathperchance a man who couldnt even contemplate death.

Once again, a spear of golden lightning suffused with energy pierced the mans heart and knocked him down, digging out a mile wide crater from which he walked out mere seconds later, bloodied by unharmed. He pulled back the wet hair from his forehead, his eyes piercingly empty and void of all emotions. Envy. Wyvenul felt ita feeling he hadnt experienced since his birth envy. He did not envy immortality so much as he envied that fearlessness. Soon, it would be his time to gobut he could not go in peace. His restless heart would not allow it.

Do you not fear dying? the King asked in the end.

Hm? Dying? the man tilted his head in confusion, as though Wyvenul asked the most moronic question in the world. Its the opposite for me, Im afraid.

The opposite?

He was shaking, and yet was stableat the deaths doorstep, and yet elusive still. There, in front of him, was a man who could not die, even if he extinguished his lifes candle forcibly.

If I had done this at the start, the man said in an even tone, entirely unbothered. Id have won, no? After all, that was merely twenty-two lives worth of myself. Expending it so quickly, though, sure is a bitch.

... how? the King asked as he urged energy to cauterise his massive wound, ignoring the burning pulses of pain.

How what?

How did you grow so strong? the King asked further. There is a tower in this world. An invisible, ethereal, intangible tower. All men and women in pursuit of godly means climb that tower, floor by floor, unlocking their potentials. But it is not an infinite tower. At some point, it stops. Humans can never become gods, after all. We are bound by chains and laws clasping down at us so tightly that effort, talent, will, call it whatever you want, will never break them. But you you did it. You broke past the tower. How?

Oh, that. The man chuckled lightly as his skin began to fall off like ash in the wind. Thats quite simple. I never began climbing the tower to begin with.

... h-huh?

I simply built a staircase of my own and climbed high enough to fuck a hole in the sky, he was vanishing in the wind, eerily so, and yet was beyond nonchalant about it. As though there was nothing wrong. Brick by brick, death by death, suffering by suffering, I stacked it through tens of thousands of lifetimes. And, at some point, I became what you see. I could have killed you quite easily, to be frank. That was the case hundreds of years ago.

...

But I want to kill you within the confines of your own coffin. I used that attack simply to show you that the story is done. The young Prince will become a King, and before I perish, I will give him the worthy throne. Its not me whos remarkable, however. But you. I simply abused my indifferent immortality to reach this point. But you you almost cracked the ceiling yourself, within those confines. And all that within a pathetic lifespan of a normal person. You have woven a remarkable story, King Wyvenul. Doesnt it infuriate you that the world will never know it? By now, the mans lower body was completely gone.

... no, the King replied. Id rather the world never learn of this old mans futile and pathetic attempts to unchain himself. All the talent in the world is worthless beneath the pang of indifference. Gods could still smite me as though punishing a child. But not you. Ha ha ha, haah, the King laughed freely, breathing out a storm that was building up in his lungs. I will wait for your return, Sylas.

... it wont be long, Sylas replied with a smile as the last of him began to perish like ash in the wind. See you soon.