Chapter 95: The Path of Redemption |
The moon hung high, the night sky low.
There was almost no light in this East District alley, only the faint glow of Sereia as she consumed a soul.
However, as a Soul-Essence Creature, as long as she didn't actively reveal herself, the light she emitted was invisible to ordinary humans.
But Celt could see it, and by this light, he could also see the surrounding things.
Very unscientific, but very occult.
Sereia gently swayed, emitting a faint, satisfied hum.
For some reason, her spirituality had begun to produce sounds audible to the human ear.
Celt's ears twitched, but he didn't pay it much mind.
His understanding of Soul-Essence Creatures was limited; he didn't know that before stepping onto the path of Law, they could barely produce sounds audible to normal people.
After all, she was a mid-to-high-risk extraordinary being; Sereia was certainly not as pure and innocent as she usually appeared to be in front of Celt.
But at this moment, Celt's gaze wasn't on Sereia, but on the "corpse" lying on the cold stone pavement a few steps away.
He lay on the ground, his eye sockets hollow, but the corners of his mouth were upturned, blankly facing the dim sky.
His expression wasn't pained, but instead held a calm, slightly happy contentment.
Walking over to the body, Celt slowly crouched down.
Sereia would take a few minutes to eat the soul, giving him time for a good look.
Calling it a "corpse," but he wasn't completely dead yet.
He had merely lost his soul; his body was still breathing faintly, and from time to time, he would instinctively blink.
Celt rested his chin on one hand, tilting his head as he scrutinized the "corpse."
He would die completely after Sereia finished eating the soul.
For now, he could be barely considered dead.
He died peacefully, happily, and contentedly.
There was no doubt about that.
Looking at this shell, which symbolized the end of suffering, Celt couldn't suppress the upward curve forming at the corners of his mouth.
Looking at the homeless man's "corpse," Celt suddenly felt an inexplicable urge to laugh.
He felt a joy that came from deep within his heart.
"Hmph hmph..." He clenched his left fist and pressed it to his lips, letting out a quiet chuckle.
It wasn't the smile he habitually wore on his face, but a genuine, liberated laugh.
He felt an indescribable sense of pleasure, as if he had done a hundred good deeds.
"Haha..."
He started laughing, a slight flush of excitement rising on his face.
"How wonderful..."
He was genuinely happy.
After doing something like this, being thanked wasn't important, being respected wasn't important. What mattered was that he had "done it."
A hundred-year life, illusory yet flawless.
A perfect life this homeless man could never have dreamed of achieving on his own.
He believed the homeless man was suffering, so he "redeemed" him. Whether or not he was thanked wasn't important; whether or not the redeemed homeless man was willing wasn't important either.
Those worldly considerations became so insignificant in that moment, like dust swept away.
What mattered was that he had done it, that he had followed the "gospel" in his heart to complete this "act of kindness."
This was the benevolence of the "Angel of Redemption," and also the arrogance of "Royal Blood."
I came, I saw, I conquered, I bore the condemnation, I bestowed eternal happiness.
Accompanied by this laughter emanating from the depths of his soul, Celt felt his body suddenly become light, as if an invisible lead weight had been lifted. A strange sensation spread through him.
Celt felt his body become a little lighter, and sensed that several transparent feathers seemed to have appeared around him.
These feathers, Celt could neither see nor touch, but intuitively knew they existed.
The air itself seemed to have become a bit clearer.
In that moment, Celt finally felt a deeper grasp on the "Angel of Redemption," a clearer understanding of its abstract ability.
Besides the vague, nonsensical "elimination of sin," he now had another, slightly clearer ability.
That was the ability to open his own "Path of Redemption."
Simply put, whatever he believed to be redemption, he could achieve. But not from the start; it required a slow, accumulative process.
Take the previous example: from the bottom of his heart, he had determined that letting a soul trapped in illusory suffering, despairing and rotting in reality, drift away peacefully within a long, supremely happy dream, was the most merciful "redemption."
Thus, he had taken the first step on this "Path of Redemption." Even though the power of this first step was minuscule.
Consequently, he had accumulated a portion of the ability to create dreams, enabling him to create a happy dream with a different flow of time compared to reality.
The effect was not obvious at first, just a tiny bit.
But as he performed this act more and more, his ability would grow stronger and stronger.
Theoretically, there was no upper limit; only the limit of his mana pool constrained him.
However, this ability also had a limitation: he must truly believe from the bottom of his heart that his actions were "redeeming" others. Thoughts obtained through actions that went against his heart, or through methods like hypnosis or suggestion, were not valid.
Any pretense, deception, or self-hypnosis was futile.
The Path of Redemption begins in the heart and is fulfilled through action. If the heart is not sincere, the path does not exist.
Moreover, he couldn't possess two abilities at once; he could only accumulate one "Path of Redemption" at a time. If he later wanted to change his "Path," he would have to start over from the beginning, gradually accumulating his own "redemption" once more.
Having taken the first step on his own "Path of Redemption," Celt felt an unprecedented lightness and clarity.
It was as if the filth that had long stagnated in his heart had been washed away, and a peaceful ripple spread through the depths of his soul.
This wasn't a sense of moral superiority; Celt himself knew this probably wasn't the "redemption" recognized by the masses.
This was the "unity of knowledge and action" brought by the firmness of having a clear goal and a clear path.
With that genuine smile at the corner of his mouth, he stood up, supporting himself with one hand on his knee. He turned his head, his gaze shifting to Sereia not far away.
Not far off, the faint blue light was pulsing gently, and Sereia was gradually finishing the soul.
It was a soul that had dissipated peacefully in happiness, without pain, without resentment, only with the lingering aftertaste of contentment.
Sereia indicated it tasted very good.
If souls that died in agony were chili peppers, then this homeless man's soul was sweet, sugary water.
More suited to a sweet-toothed baby's constitution.
As the soul was consumed, the homeless man's heart, which had still been beating, beat slower and slower, finally coming to a gentle stop.
No one knew what principle was at work.
Perhaps it was something special about human souls. Maybe because humans were more intelligent, their souls were more complex, more "nutritious."
Celt noticed that Sereia had changed a bit.
From the spirituality Sereia unconsciously emitted, Celt could sense that her thinking had become slightly more complex, and he could perceive that the soul-essence composing her body had become a bit more solid.
Celt didn't know if this was a good thing, but he felt it should be an evolution.
Growth from the inside out.
Now that was a true, well-rounded development in virtue, intelligence, physique, aesthetics, and labor.
A model jellyfish.
It was only a tiny bit; Sereia herself might not even be aware of it, but Celt could barely sense it with his perception.
However, Sereia hadn't fully digested the soul within her body yet; she was simply storing it, absorbing it slowly.
So, once Sereia completely absorbed this soul, Celt guessed her change would be a little more noticeable.
Perhaps because being full led to tiredness, Sereia's floating height dropped slightly, the edge of her bell drooping a little, gently swaying in the air.
Satisfied and content.
She looked like she was drunk, spinning in place.
Then, dazedly, she drifted toward Celt. Her soft, cool bell-body bumped gently, without any force, against Celt's chest.
Sereia's Q-shaped body slightly dented upon impact, then quickly bounced back.
Celt didn't budge, but she rebounded from the collision with him, sending ripples spreading across her bouncy, soft bell.
Several tentacles unconsciously coiled up, loosely wrapping around Celt's arm.
Celt snapped back to reality, noticing Sereia, who seemed a bit sluggish from being overfull.
He didn't understand why eating something as weightless as a soul could make her unable to float properly.
But he still raised his hands to make it easier for Sereia to wrap her tentacles around him, then gently hugged her.
The smile on Celt's face became even gentler.
He lowered his head, his voice, infused with spirituality, dropped to an extremely soft whisper.
"Don't want to wander around anymore?"
Counting the time they spent walking from the West District to the East District and then strolling around, they had been out for about two hours.
Though almost the entire time, Celt had been the one doing the walking.
Sereia had probably served as a one-person palanquin for two hours.
Sereia just weakly moved her tentacles, coiling tighter around Celt, indicating she really didn't want to stroll anymore.
Nether-Floating Jellyfish were quite laid-back creatures, naturally inclined towards ease and stillness.
Usually, after a full meal, they would find a safe corner to float quietly and digest.
And being able to eat so much was a first for Sereia since she was born; usually, it was a case of a few jellyfish sharing a single bird.
Celt, holding Sereia with a smile, turned and walked towards the West District.
He took a step, softly humming a tune he had just made up on the spot.
…………
Liant Town.
The next day, the sun rose.
Samuel was woken up by a cold wind.
Opening his eyes, he sat up from the bed and glanced at the large hole blown out in the wall not far away.
He had deliberately not repaired this house, not one bit.
It was all to experience the local flavor of the "battle damage" style.
Since this city had indeed been destroyed in history, it was fair to say it had a battle-damaged aesthetic.
"Mmm..."
He stretched his body lazily, giving a vigorous yawn.
He managed to keep his balance perfectly on the chair, which now only had three legs. This wasn't difficult for an Absurdity Clown.
It wasn't like he had never cosplayed as Little Dragon Girl sleeping on a rope.
As he had said before, he didn't mind cross-dressing.
Sometimes it actually felt pretty great.
Lying casually on the rickety bed, Samuel casually summoned the Travel Guide, flipping it open without any particular destination in mind.
On it, he could see the message Celt had left for him.
Celt's message said the experiment was very successful; the homeless man he had saved had received true redemption. He also said he wanted a few more dream bubbles to save more people.
This was good. Samuel didn't care whether people were saved or not, but he thought this kind of "redemption" was quite amusing.
There was a risk of playing the villain, of being taken down by the protagonist's group shouting things like justice, bonds, love, friendship, and maybe even getting hit in the face by a big train.
But Samuel didn't mind being a villain.
Being a villain was fun; you weren't bound by all sorts of rules, didn't have to worry about being called cold-blooded for not saving someone or a saint for doing good deeds. Whether doing good or bad, you only had to answer with a single "depends on my mood."
After all, if you get criticized no matter what you do, then you've never really been criticized at all.
In the next part of the message, Celt briefly recounted his encounter with the two Security Officers and described his plan to establish an organization.
The name would be [The Troupe]; as for the theater's name, location, and opening time, none were decided yet.
This aligned with Samuel's own ideas.
Since they were the same person, it was normal to think of the same thing.
But... well...
There was one issue...
A very serious issue.
Um... so why leave a message?
Why leave a message?
If they were the same person, couldn't they just contact each other directly?
Right?
Come on, man, why so formal?
It wasn't even just a "bro" situation; they were literally "the same person," so why the formality?
Truly, the feelings were fading.
But...
Was he worried about disturbing his rest?
Samuel remembered the Travel Guide mentioning that Law Marks affected a person's thinking, and Law Rhymes even more so affected a person's soul, experiences, and destiny.
If that was the case...
Samuel thought back.
Part of Celt's Law Marks and Law Rhymes came from the Fifth Prince, Allenay Odius, and the other part from the Priest of the Continuity Church, Ethen Avalon.
Hmm...
Both of them were the gentle type.
One was gentle and elegant, the other peaceful and benevolent.
Add to that the fact that Celt was originally his "good" side...
This...
Wasn't he going to end up fusing into a super male mommy?
It seemed he really needed to find a chance to cook up an "evil" counterpart for balance.
Though he didn't know if Celt would end up influencing him in return, he still needed to balance good and evil.
The Tiger Talisman situation.
Speaking of the Tiger Talisman...
Samuel lowered his head and asked the Travel Guide.
"Hey, do you think using the Tiger Talisman on a little loli would let me get both a demonic brat and a gentle little angel at the same time?"
The Travel Guide was silent for a moment, then gave its answer.
"I really should use the Goat Talisman to separate your soul from your body and electrocute you."