In the Amber Palace of the Yisu Imperial Palace, Yaxiu lay on the bed, opened the light screen, and looked at the risqué photos Felix had sent—and, most unusually for him, his mind was not on them at all.
That was hardly Felix's fault. After months of intensive shooting, she had become adept at using the beauty of light, and since she understood Yaxiu's tastes better with every passing day, she kept proposing strikingly original themes. Yaxiu had once simply enjoyed lowbrow things; now she had developed his tastes until they were no longer simple.
Today's theme, for instance, was "sleep." Felix asleep sprawled over the desk, curled up on the sofa, in all sorts of places. It looked utterly everyday and bland—but she had no sense of guarding herself: an open collar, shorts that had ridden down, and that sleeping face on top of it all. Looking at those photos, Yaxiu felt like a peeping pervert. What made his heart pound hardest was one shot of Felix asleep at the desk; through the sleeve of her T-shirt he could see the faint, half-hidden view inside, brimming with the hazy youthful beauty of student days.
While cursing Felix inwardly for thinking he harbored such urinal-foul voyeuristic desires, Yaxiu helplessly gave the photos the highest score—if he ever fell into ruin, it would be entirely Felix's fault!
After sending back his score, though, Yaxiu did not linger over them. He shut off the light screen and stared quietly at the patterns on the ceiling. A vast weariness welled up in him, like a fish just washed up and stranded on the beach, every hope dried out of it by the sun.
Perhaps, to Ouroboros who held the end in hand, they—these sorcerers who did not belong to this age—were the shadow that stood against the sunlight. Only two months left... maybe not even two. A little more than one month...
Yaxiu closed his eyes and tried to empty his mind, clearing space for pleasant expectations to fill: the beach, a barbecue, fireworks, travel... Since arriving in this world, he had finally been granted a stretch of vacation like this—nothing chasing him, no one's safety to worry about, free to experience the world without a care, to look at the sun, lie on the grass, walk down the street beside the people he loved.
Wasn't this the life he had dreamed of?
He ought to be happy, so he must not let the slightest crack show. They were all too clever; he had to deceive himself first if he was ever to deceive them.
Actually, he could look at it more kindly. Feelings, like apples, had a shelf life. Their love for each other now was sincere; if in the future their feelings cooled, or even curdled into mutual disgust, that too would be beyond anyone's control—no one would be at fault, only that even the sweetest apple eventually spoils.
Besides, their relationship would never last to that future anyway. Everyone was enduring now, all for the bigger picture, only because the Divine Lord of Stars—that ultimate enemy—still pressed on them until they could hardly breathe, and they had to smooth down every burr and stand together if they were to have any hope at all. Once Stars was defeated and the world lay in their grasp, with no fate left to stand above them, that would be the beginning of the rupture.
Even though they had shared life and death, had looked after one another, had laughed together... in the end they would grip blades slick with bloody light and point them at their most trusted comrades.
No eternal friends, only eternal interests.
This was not self-importance; Yaxiu did not think himself that important. At most he would be the fuse of the civil war—the true root was the power to rule the world.
As things stood, apart from Vichy, none of them showed any obvious appetite for power. But just as people who cannot fill their bellies never think about lust, once every trouble was resolved and a vast power vacuum lay before them, they would naturally develop the corresponding desire.
The clearest example was the six Divine Lords: the moment they sat in that seat, every one of them without exception imposed their will on all living beings. In the end, people seek self-actualization, and though not all self-actualization requires power, power can serve any of it. Take the ideal of pursuing supreme swordsmanship, which needs no outside help—if one made all living beings practice nothing but the sword, endlessly producing opponents capable of challenging you, wouldn't that be more efficient than seeking inward?
Even Yaxiu could not be certain he would not become a lone tyrant by that day, much less these genius sorceresses with their heavy desires.
Of course, if that day came, Yaxiu could use the overwhelming violence of the Supreme of Sorcery to crush any infighting. But power ultimately had to be held by someone; leaving it empty was the same as handing it down to the next ecological niche. There can be a throne without an owner, but there is never power without an owner—and no matter whom Yaxiu handed it to, someone would be dissatisfied.
Dissatisfaction bred conflict, conflict bred resentment, and what came next would be like the unwritten aftermath of so many beautiful stories: after sharing life and death came the same bed and different dreams, then the same house and drawn blades, then dying together; and after ten million years, perhaps they would become fan fiction.
And that was only strife among the few of them. If there were children... There were many things Yaxiu simply did not want to think about, and many that could not bear thinking about closely.
So perhaps ending it here was not such a bad outcome. Everything Yaxiu feared would never get the chance to happen; everyone would be frozen at their finest years. Wasn't it good to let the fireworks stop at their most brilliant instant? To keep watching the long night that followed would be bad manners.
Yaxiu pulled the blanket over his head and sighed softly. All that fretting had not lifted his mood; it had only weighed on him further. Sleep, sleep.
A demigod might not need sleep, but letting the mind rest was still a pleasure—just as people did not need a bath every day, yet a daily bath left one fresh and clear-headed.
How long passed, he did not know. Then he felt something off. He opened his eyes and saw a figure standing by the bed, bathed in the darkness, head lowered, staring fixedly at him without making a sound.
Waking in the dead of night to such a sight would frighten anyone out of their wits, but apart from a flicker of surprise, Yaxiu showed nothing unusual. He sat up and patted the bed beside him, gesturing for her to sit.
"Do you want the light on?" No answer.
"Can I hold you?"
No answer came from the darkness, but the bed creaked softly.
Yaxiu reached out and gathered her into his arms. She felt wonderfully good to hold, and he breathed in deeply: a scent of sweet milk.
"When I first came back from Hell, it felt like waking from a nightmare with my whole life in ruins. Then I woke and saw you lazily pestering me for a hug, and my heart relaxed in an instant."
Diya finally spoke. "Just now, I think I... met Black Demon."
"Mm." Yaxiu was not surprised in the least; he rubbed his cheek gently against hers, like two cats grooming each other. "Did she scare you a little?"
"A little." Diya's voice was soft. "But I also felt she was kind. Like... no matter who in this world betrayed me, she would stand on my side."
Still stroking her back, Yaxiu said, "Dead Frenzy and I both think she hates you, envies you. But since you say that, maybe she really does want to help you. After all, you are the same individual on different timelines; her feelings for you must be very complicated. She hates you when you are happy, and when you are sad she gets angry on your behalf... I think Black Demon is a very lonely person too. You don't need to be too afraid of her—if you meet her again, you could hug her a little more."
"I'm glad you told me this yourself. But since the personality drift has already happened, all we can do is accept it calmly. I'm here, and I won't let Black Demon replace you."
Diya murmured an "Mm," buried herself in his arms, and after a while asked, "Then do you know why I had a personality drift?"
"Probably because I broke your heart, right?" Yaxiu said frankly. "But I don't know the exact reason."
"How can you not know?" Diya lifted her head. Her eyes caught the faint light in the room like two stars about to go out, and her voice carried the edge of tears. "You promised!"
"I forgot."
"How could you—"
"It isn't only the promise," Yaxiu said calmly. "I have lost all of my memories of you. Even your name—I have to hear how the others address you before I dare try to say it."
Chapter 1242