Chapter 113: That Which Should Not Be Seen

So that’s how it was.

Wiping away the crimson that had seeped from the corner of his lips with calm composure, the young man’s mouth curved into a smile—thanks to that recent brush with death, he finally understood the true nature of his opponent’s power.

—Something not meant to be gazed upon.

In myths of uncertain origin, the world is said to harbor things mankind should never behold. Whether it’s Orpheus turning back against warnings on the path to death, Eurydice lost to the underworld once more, or Rhodope’s wife who defied divine will as told in sacred texts—these stand as archetypes. Either they fall back into the realm of the dead or, having gazed upon the forbidden, they turn to salt.

Their fates are undeniably tragic; compared to them, having his throat slit seemed a far more fortunate end.

Yet symbolically, there are many parallels—the core being that they all saw something they ought not to have seen, something that must never be seen. Though the exact harbinger of doom in those myths remains unknown, it must be of the same nature as the “Death God” he had just witnessed.

Indeed, he... had seen the “Death God.”

Not a deity from myth, but a direct embodiment of death itself.

Once one’s eyes meet those blood-red, ominous orbs behind him, the death god of folklore—clad in a black cloak and wielding a rusted scythe—will manifest before them. Before anyone can react, the scythe, the unmistakable symbol of death, descends, stealing life and bringing demise.

Though he suspected this fate might not be absolute, lacking the means to evade it, he could only treat it as a fatal power and respond as such. In fact, this was the first time Amy Ulysses encountered someone whose power was linked to death, one of the world’s most enigmatic forces.

No, more precisely, it was a divine prerogative.

The powers of the Dark Lords stem from the blind folly of chaos, yet curiously, despite their obscure origins, their nature corresponds closely with ancient myths and legends left by our ancestors. This raises the question: is the deep darkness beyond the Evernight Wall truly blind and foolish? Does it, as legend says, lack the wisdom that humans or other intelligent beings should possess?

This remains an unprovable conjecture to the Order, which has never ventured beyond the Evernight Wall. Many suspect these myths and legends are merely historical layers—human interpretations of the powers revealed by the Dark Lords, retroactively attributed to ancestors who now seem more myth than reality.

Amy remained noncommittal on the matter.

He felt these stories might not be as simple as people believed.

Take... Prometheus, for instance.

The young Radiant squinted slightly, refusing to dwell further as the Dark Lord behind him clung like a curse. No matter how fast he ran, how swiftly he dashed, or how complex the terrain, he could not shake off the gloomy man with raven-black hair and crimson eyes—an aura as repugnant as a crow’s.

No, not just unable to shake him off...

The distance was visibly shrinking. In less than three minutes, the Dark Lord would overtake him, forcing him into battle.

Normally, with his death premonitions and heightened instincts, he would not fear an opponent whose fatal power required eyesight to activate—even if that foe were a renowned Dark Lord. But things were different now. The nascent fire of Hemtika blazed fiercely within his chest. No matter how fierce his spirit or how passionate his heart, failure and death were outcomes he must avoid.

As the newly appointed High Priest of Hemtika City, his life no longer belonged solely to himself. Willingly or not, he bore the lives of over a hundred thousand citizens, the fate and survival of the entire city resting on his shoulders.

Thus, he could not afford even a single mistake.

Pressing his lips tightly, the young man’s mind raced at full speed—he never ceased searching for a way to turn the tide. But no matter how hard he strained, no breakthrough appeared out of thin air.

In other words, no choice remained?

Instinctively narrowing his eyes, Amy Ulysses still refused to turn and face his pursuer.

Perhaps this battle was inevitable, yet he could not allow himself to be ensnared by his enemy. Not only because the Dark Lord, possibly wielding multiple powers, was stronger than him, but also because... Edgar could not delay Pandora much longer.

After all... while the title of High Priest carried great honor, it rarely granted opportunities to engage in true combat. Perhaps he had trained against imagined foes, but the gap between training and real battle was unfathomable. Even the initial moments when he could directly communicate with the fire seed, his fight with Pandora had been brief.

Undoubtedly, this was partly due to the overwhelming strength of the Dark Lord pursuing him, but also likely because the High Priest, seldom leaving the Hephaestus Temple, was inexperienced in battle. At least, that was what he believed to be one of the decisive factors determining life and death.

If he let pride or bloodlust take hold, engaging in endless struggle with the Dark Lord whose powers he barely contained, Pandora—the one rumored to have single-handedly razed an entire city—would surely catch up. Even with his death premonition, so far his greatest asset in escape, surviving encirclement by two Dark Lords would be near impossible.

So, he could not stop.

Even in battle, he could not halt his steps.

With that resolve, the young man drew his sword!

The crimson-black blade flashed free from its sheath. Upon glimpsing a faint reflection on its surface, his eyes instinctively closed. With a perfect turn, he blocked a dagger thrust from behind.

No counterattack—no retaliation. Amy ignored the threat behind him and pressed on.

“Chance?”

The gloomy man with black hair and red eyes halted instead of pursuing. He stared at the dagger just parried, recalling the youth’s fluid, graceful movements. A shadow passed over his crimson eyes, heavy with ill omen, before he shook his head.

“Not likely.”

Looking up, he refocused on the retreating Radiant. His scarlet eyes narrowed slightly, and in a low, hoarse voice, he uttered an eerie sound beyond human vocal cords.

Then—

Flesh twisted, form shifted.

Within mere breaths, he transformed from man to crow. Reflected in the glass windows lining the street, his blood-red pupils swept over the surroundings with uncanny human awareness. Suddenly, the black crow, nearly a man’s height, flapped fiercely, stirring a gust that kicked up dust.

He—or it—soared into the air!

Then dove down!

Instinctively, Amy sensed imminent danger... from above?

Though he had heard the earlier rush of wind, wary of his enemy’s power, he dared not open his eyes to survey his surroundings. He could only infer from sound that something had changed on the enemy’s side behind him, but what exactly, he could not tell.

Until the gale struck abruptly—then he realized.

In this deadly gamble, the enemy had revealed a second trump card, another power beyond the “unbeholdable.”

What could it be? Unknown.

The most important thing now was... to evade!

Though he could not see it, the violent, life-piercing wind and his intuition—tested countless times in life-or-death situations—told him the impending strike would be earth-shattering.

Without hesitation or concern for grace, the young Radiant rolled on the ground.

Almost immediately, the massive talons of the diving giant crow brushed his scalp—just a step or half step later, he might have experienced an entirely new, unfamiliar death.

Some large bird... an eagle or falcon?

Still keeping his eyes closed, the boy knew nothing of his foe’s true identity, relying only on basic knowledge and deduction to deepen his understanding of the enemy’s powers before the next attack.

Powers, after all, hold few secrets once analyzed repeatedly. The only worry was that such repeated observation was a luxury rarely afforded in real combat—who would give you the time or chance to find their weakness?

Unrealistic.

Even wielder of multiple powers and Dark Lords would not be so careless.

Naturally, Amy’s enemy did not grant him this chance—on the road ahead, he reverted to human form, blocking the path like a gatekeeper.

Hands crossed, sword drawn!

Two streaks of black light sealed the passage, rudely splitting the air in front of him.

Still with eyes shut as if foreseeing everything, the Radiant met the charge without fear, weaving a dense web of crimson-black sword strikes that decisively blocked all attacks.

And he pressed to break through.

This guy... his power must be precognition, right?

Though his face betrayed no emotion, the Dark Lord known as the “Death Messenger” was inwardly troubled. The Radiant before him was like a slippery eel—closing his eyes to lock down his deadliest power, wielding extraordinary instincts and blind combat skills, not to mention solid close-quarters fighting ability, making their match highly unfavorable.

Difficult to handle.

He judged so in his heart, yet felt no despair.

Because his task was not to kill, only to slow the escape.

Everything would end with Pandora.

The white-robed High Priest, and the city’s fire seed—the time they had left...

Was running out.