Arnolo blinked, “You say it’s just gentleness, so why do so people always get bewitched by such boring qualities? Ha, that’s from your perspective. Such a person is rare even among humans, especially in that environnt where everyone was tense and fearful.”
“However, Arnold ultimately fell into anxiety. Because he felt the person who should have helped him did not help him.”
“I had no opinion. Whatever Arnold did was fine. But that day, I saw my father’s shadow on him.”
Upon saying this, Arnolo’s face contorted, his eyes revealing a venomous hatred. “Ah, how could such a despicable shadow appear? My observational thoughts imdiately ceased. I could not tolerate His appearance or His related beings before , so I killed him, while also following Arnold’s heart.”
“Arnold certainly did not resent the other party to the point of wanting death, but what of it? I wanted to kill.”
Arnolo candidly spoke of past events, exactly as Beelzebub initially presud. He had not thought too deeply at first.
The ergence of murderous intent had no elaborate sche, rely stemming from hatred toward that father. Wasn’t this reason enough?
Secondly, He believed soone among the seven heroes must die to motivate the remaining ones to cultivate diligently and complete their hero mission. After all, anyone could see Xiu Si’s importance to the hero group. He was not greatly interested in this human line but would not hesitate to assist. What if it could succeed?
Heroes without upper limits would be excellent chess pieces, wouldn’t they?
So he killed.
The thod was simple: make him unfortunately fall into the abyss. Even if he miraculously survived, with his strength then, he absolutely could not survive walking out of the abyss, let alone as a Creator, such a marginal profession.
Arnolo’s gaze turned cold. “I truly did not expect him to survive, and even create so many extraordinary beings.”
“Hmm? You think I did it intentionally? How could I be intentional? Not all actions have hidden sches. Though I admit, I was blind not to notice the Demon God Baal and Agares.”
ntioning Agares made Arnolo involuntarily shudder, seemingly recalling the terrifying experience of being dominated by “omniscience”.
“…Ah, continuing. After he fell into the abyss, I no longer paid attention. But Arnold from that day onward completely collapsed, his ntality utterly broken, ultimately seeking death. Thus, Arnold’s soul rged with mine, causing
to be influenced more or less.”
“At that ti, I did not know whether I was influenced by Arnold or sothing else. I often felt uneasy, sensing sothing unusual in the abyss. I went to look several tis, searched multiple tis, but never discovered anything.”
Not discovering did not an nothing existed. He only later learned that Agares had shielded his search. Shielding for over three years, rarely exposing a flaw, which finally allowed him to discover.
Arnolo’s gaze deepened as he continued, “After discovering, of course I had to kill again. That ti I manipulated the abyss, used the God of Luck’s power. I should have succeeded, but unexpectedly, he was still alive.”
The air was subtly quiet for a few seconds.
Arnolo continued, “You ask why I gave up so quickly? I thought after his death, his creations would disappear, so I stopped caring. Never expecting they would all survive to now. Was I negligent? Not taking it seriously enough? You could say that. Indeed negligent, but perhaps my negligence was a result of ‘cognitive tampering’? Abyss Lord Agares is the most cognitive manipulation expert in history. My father might feel inferior in comparison.”
“Anyway, that’s roughly it. You can say this was all brought about by my stupidity, but I want to remind you, cognitive tampering is extrely easy to fall for. Once realized, it’s too late. More troubleso than illusory power abilities.”
Arnolo seed to have spoken enough, his gaze dark, cast toward the opposite space.
It was then that his conversation partner finally revealed their form. A tall, silver humanoid, androgynous, with sharp eyebrows and beautiful features.
On the continent, They were called Otherworld God No. 005, also the God of Transformation, controlling all property changes and partially governing ti’s principles.
Over three thousand years ago, Arnolo thought They had no consciousness and attempted to usurp, unexpectedly discovering They suddenly revived consciousness, counterattacking imdiately and almost taking his life.
Over three thousand years later, this God of Transformation, puzzled by recent events, especially Demon God Baal’s sudden return, caught him to understand the situation.
They were the planet’s omniscient being, knowing almost everything past and present, as long as They could rember.
After understanding the story, the silver eyes narrowed, offering no comnt. Perhaps because the matter was too complex, beginning to feel they should not entangle further.
“So, do They already know about your matters?” the God of Transformation fixed their gaze on Arnolo.
The “They” unequivocally referred to the Abyss Lords.
Arnolo affird. “Pretty much. Can’t help it. They almost perceived it anyway.”
The God of Transformation remained silent, then asked, “Why did you take the initiative to go.”
Arnolo: “Do I look like I went on my own initiative?”
The God of Transformation paused, suddenly recalling the previously ntioned “cognitive tampering”.
Arnolo lowered his eyes, slowly saying, “Since truly seeing Agares last ti, my brain has not been quite right. I cannot say I was controlled by Him, but I was definitely influenced.”
The God of Transformation’s eyes flashed with a bit of shock, imdiately avoiding risk, changing the subject. “But your ultimate purpose.”
“Elimination?”
Arnolo gave a strange laugh, “Yes, They know now.”
Perhaps, only Those who had been in such a situation might think—about “Existence is a curse, Destruction is a blessing”.
He was designed as the collection place of universal filth, born as the ugliest existence in the universe, awakening to the sound of countless curses, establishing Himself within the universe’s sins.
At that ti, He knew nothing, had not a hint of doubt about His way of existing or Himself, feeling He was born this way, and bearing sins was His inherent responsibility.
Approximately several hundred thousand years, He had forgotten the exact ti.
Later, He realized. Not all existences were like Him, and even those in the worst circumstances were far better off than Him.
Yes, He learned comparison, comparing Himself with other existences in the universe, and gradually discovered that the universe was vast and should have everything, while He was the lowest, most ugly existence in the entire universal system.
He was designed this way by His Creator God.
When He first beca aware of this, He actually didn’t feel much, just thought it was sowhat incomprehensible.
Perhaps there was a reason? Existence is reasonable, and the wise Father would not be wrong. That Father must have created Him to better maintain the universe and make the world more peaceful. If He were not at the bottom, soone else would be; He just happened to be that soone.
In those days, He earnestly explained to Himself like this. In an infinite cycle of explanations, He endured that situation until He finally collapsed.
It was a very ordinary day, everything was so ordinary. He casually went to a planet, wearing a human appearance.
He thought He had disguised Himself so perfectly that no one could recognize Him, that He would definitely be able to perfectly integrate into humanity. However, He was still worried, so He prepared for more than ten years, observing them, learning about them, their civilization, thoughts, living habits… and many other things.
His life was too long, and He needed so diversion. That period was a kind of diversion for Him. It should have been so. However, the ti invested and the heart spent gradually beca extraordinarily aningful to Him.
Finally, one day, He ended His observation, determined to integrate into the human race. Everything was prepared—language, skin, clothing, and so on. But before He could approach the village, stones were thrown at Him. Several human children glared at Him viciously, as if seeing the most ugly and twisted monster in the world, frantically cursing Him, telling Him to die, to get lost.
His existence was so foul that several human children even vomited.
—What kind of filthy existence would provoke such a reaction?
He was stunned at the ti, not expecting this outco, frozen in place for a long ti without reacting. The human children would not let Him go; they brought adults who were even more cruel, treating Him like so wild beast, stabbing Him with knives and swords, chopping at His neck with an axe, wanting to chop Him into pieces.
When He finally reacted, He had already killed them all and casually destroyed the entire planet.
Looking back, that day was probably His day of awakening. It should have been marked in His ntal calendar—when the ti ca, wishing Himself a happy birthday, pain would begin.
Once He began questioning His own existence, everything beca unmanageable. The pain He could previously endure beca gradually unbearable. He couldn’t even go numb. More ridiculously, He could not abandon His “duty” because it was “preset”. He would be useless even if He died. As long as His consciousness existed, the world’s filth would rush to Him. With a body, He could still disperse it; without a body, the disgust would only multiply.
Finally, He rebelled against His Father, and failed countless tis. Before His Father, He was like a foolish rebellious child, naively challenging and then miserably defeated. Yet, even so, that Father would not destroy Him because the universe could not exist without Him—like a household cannot exist without a trash can.
So… truly desperate.
Whoever it was, any existence would do, as long as they could bring Him destruction, He would definitely welco it.
However, no one had ever appeared. No one could erase the setting of His Father.
Arnolo lowered His eyes, with a gaze of despair and exhaustion, revealing an imasurable darkness. After ten minutes of silence, He continued. “Discovery is discovery. It won’t make much difference.”
The God of Transformation seed to have so feelings about the word “change” and said, “It’s hard to say.”
Arnolo: “Is that so?”
The God of Transformation: “They would have wanted to kill you before, but now they only want you to keep living.”
“…”
Arnolo’s gaze darkened. His body trembled violently, whether from anger or fear, and He whispered. “I can’t live anymore.”
—He could no longer bear it.
He thought of sothing, a flash of jealousy passing through His eyes—why was His father so cruel, while Their father was so gentle?
The God of Transformation said nothing, finally asking two questions. “Where is your Father, and what is He doing now?”
Arnolo paused, remaining silent for a long ti.
****
At the sa ti, in the study of the Oedipus Empire in the middle of the night.
Xiu Si was deeply studying, his gaze almost fixed on the desk, motionless for several hours, seeming to be in a daze, but his eyes were bright. His overflowing magic power spread throughout the study space, repeatedly changing in nature—sotis fire, sotis water, even various mixtures.
He had improved, clearly gaining a higher level of control over his magic power, but he felt it was still not enough and had to push himself harder. Although he had always known the principle of balancing work and rest, an inexplicable sense of anxiety forced him to seize every mont.
He didn’t know that the door was slightly ajar, revealing four pairs of green eyes of varying shades.
The four cats were worried. The gray cat, being more sensitive to magic power, could better sense the mood within his father’s magic.
They could no longer ignore this!
They exchanged glances, simultaneously deciding to take action, with even the Devon Rex cat raising its paws.
Xiu Si seed to finally co to his senses, about to turn a page, when suddenly a gray cat head popped out of the desk drawer.
He was startled, “Inpos?”
Before he could react, a ow ca from the floor. Looking down, he saw a cow-patterned cat looking at him with sparkling eyes.
“Ayni…” Xiu Si was stunned. Another ow sounded, and when he turned his head, he saw the Devon cat serving him hot tea.
“Lelagin…”
His pupils trembled slightly, and hearing another ow, he turned to see a short-legged cat sitting on the book page.
Its short paws reached out, scratching the air. “Is Father tired, ow?”
Xiu Si was montarily stunned, involuntarily grasping its paw, unable to suppress the happiness welling up from the bottom of his heart.
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