Chapter 32

102

Humans: carbon-based life-forms lacking criteria for distinguishing individuals. Sapient entities.

Simply constructed bodies, almost identical from one individual to the next, made of simple raw materials as well. Bones and the skin on the surface determined differences in their outward appearance. Humans distinguished individuals by appearance, despite their interiors differing far more greatly. A stratum corneum enclosed flesh and blood; flesh and blood concealed vessels and nerves. An inefficient method of energy conversion, a primitive method of energy intake. Far too crude. I hardly knew where to begin. If I had not had a ready-made soul to imitate, I might have needed much longer to observe human civilization.

"Hello? Fellow countryman?" This peculiar human waved his hand before my eyes. I did not know what the gesture meant. "Mister? What are you spacing out for? Am I too handsome? You've been staring at me for five whole minutes!"

"No, not at all. Of course, you are indeed very handsome," I said. "A pleasure to meet you, Roselle Gustav, my fellow countryman."

Handsome-good-looking, attractive. Words humans invented to express their aesthetic preferences, synonymous with ■■■■ and ■■-■.

I understood what the word meant. What baffled me was how humans distinguished between "handsome" and "ugly." My databank contained an ancient joke from the Old Earth Era: "When Westerners first set foot in the East, they were surprised to discover that every yellow-skinned person looked the same. Did they distinguish one another by smell?" Clearly, even different races within the same species experienced perceptual barriers, let alone a being whose form of life differed from theirs as radically as mine did.

Besides, I was not currently my complete self. Although I possessed authority over the "decay" of matter, I could only employ the powers of the Devil Pathway. My true body was beyond reach, and I could only rely on myself to understand human civilization.

"Nice to meet you!"

He said excitedly, "What's your name? Where are you from? My old life was incredibly boring. Transmigrating here is so much fun! What did you do before coming here? How old are you? Do you play games? What rank?..."

Roselle was a male human with relatively little melanin in his skin and slightly curly, dark brown hair on his head. The textile tying his hair into a bundle was blue. He wrapped his body in various textiles made from different raw materials. He preferred relatively bright color combinations.

Good. I had committed that to memory.

I bade him farewell and went outside. I discovered Roselles everywhere.

103

The joy of killing Lanevus, the satisfaction of taking revenge with his own hands, the pain of longing for the past, and the extraordinarily complicated feelings of meeting a compatriot in a foreign land at this very moment all mingled together. For a time, Klein could not speak.

At two in the morning, beneath a gas lamp on a secluded Backlund street, a Remnant of the Old Days and an Outer Deity pretending to be one faced each other. None of the patrolling police officers noticed them; even those passing two meters away acted as though they had seen nothing. But rather than saying they were staring at one another, it would have been more accurate to say that Klein had temporarily stopped thinking from information overload, while Edward studied him and waited for him to speak first, making it easier to tailor his deception to the situation.

The portion of his consciousness implanted with information about "Edward Vaughan" to imitate his speech and behavior spoke with considerable interest. "Although we have read all of Roselle's memories, we still do not understand the Old Earth Civilization. I think we can establish friendly relations with this survivor, find an opportunity to acquire his memories, and imitate humans as closely as possible."

"I like this child. He carries the aura of death and the protection of concealment. He is frightened, delighted, and alarmed. He looks very interesting."

Meanwhile, the Monarch of Decay's consciousness, which occupied eighty percent of this vessel's mental processing capacity but ordinarily never displayed a personality of its own, responded rather coldly to the other twenty percent of himself:

"Exploring the Old Earth Civilization through humans is extremely inefficient."

He said, "As long as I establish contact with Earth, I can instantly collect information on every social structure and form of social consciousness humans have possessed up to the present, including knowledge from the Old Earth Era. Rather than obtaining knowledge of the old era from him, we should prioritize analyzing how he survived the Oldest One's awakening. Once we determine the cause, we can trace it to its source and capture more survivors of the old era. We can then further determine whether their existence really is because of Him."

"Unlike the True Creator, Roselle has already been abandoned by that very cause. I can sense no residual traces of any hidden being placing a stake on him. But he certainly should not be merely a soul that happened to cross time and dimensions. He may be the first, but he is very likely not the last."

The other twenty percent said, "In any case, we have reached a consensus on making contact with him. We can discuss our priorities later."

"Correct. Continue."

Their brief internal exchange concluded, and the two portions of consciousness worked together once more to construct the human individual named Edward Vaughan. Klein happened to have gathered his thoughts and emotions as well. With a hint of anticipation, he took the initiative and asked in Chinese, "Um, hello. My name is Zhou Mingrui. May I ask who you are?"

"I see. You come from the same place as Roselle."

The Devil introduced Roselle as a foundation for drawing closer, quite naturally weaving an influence into his words that amplified the other man's desire to converse with a compatriot. He extended his hand. "I am Edward Vaughan. Perhaps you have heard of me. That has always been my name, even before."

Just as Klein was about to shake his hand, he nearly jerked his own back in shock-of course he knew that name! Or rather, to him, that name was every bit as famous and unforgettable as Roselle's. The Abyss Angel, Emperor Roselle's friend and subject, probably one of only two senior transmigrators in this world! Emperor Roselle had died more than a century ago, but this man had disappeared from public view ever since. Historians suspected that he, too, had been quietly eliminated by enemies during that assassination or the ensuing turmoil. Klein occasionally reflected that, though Roselle had been in a foreign land, at least he had a companion; from time to time, he also calculated how much free mysticism knowledge Roselle could have obtained from him. He had never expected to encounter the man himself just like this-most importantly, this was a genuine Angel! A Sequence 2 powerhouse who had lived for centuries!

In certain ancient records and myths, someone at this level could already be called a god-both an Angel and a Subordinate Deity!

Surely this isn't a coincidence? Or does it have something to do with the mysterious gray fog I possess? Klein grew wary, but remained elated. After carefully shaking the other man's hand, he eagerly asked:

"How did you transmigrate to this world?"

Klein switched back to Loenese. He could not tell whether this foreign compatriot was willing to converse with him in Chinese. In any case, Klein certainly was not foolish enough to use his pre-transmigration patchwork English to speak with this proper British Angel!

Transmigration... Roselle counts as one case, and now I have a comparison group. Still, without having communicated with each other, both survivors from the East consider this "transmigration" rather than "awakening." That is an interesting cultural commonality as well. No, he looked very surprised when he heard my name just now. He knows me. Where did he learn about me? History books? Textbooks? Edward pondered with interest. Indeed, according to the memories he had read from Roselle, transmigration novels had been very popular in that land.

"I was once a mysticism enthusiast as well. One day, after practicing divination with an old crystal pendulum I had picked up, I arrived in this world."

"I see. I tried a Luck Enhancement Ritual recorded in a book, and then somehow ended up here."

Klein frowned slightly, puzzled and curious. "Both involved mysticism. Does that mean doing something like that gives you a chance of transmigrating? Or is there a specific time? What year did you transmigrate?"

Edward considered the question seriously, discovered that those memories had deteriorated too severely to be read, and gave an answer that offered a useful point of reference. "I don't remember, but around that time, the young people around me were all complaining about how disappointing Avengers: Endgame was."

"Then we transmigrated at fairly close times."

Klein relaxed slightly. Learning it from the diary was one thing; hearing another transmigrator confirm it in person was another. He eagerly asked, "How long have you been in this world?"

"This year marks exactly fourteen hundred years."

"...What?" Klein thought he had misheard.

"This year marks exactly fourteen hundred years," Edward patiently repeated. "I arrived at the end of the Fourth Epoch, witnessed the establishment of the Church System and the proclamation of the Fifth Epoch's beginning, and have lived through the Fifth Epoch to this day."

Th-this-

Klein was too shocked to speak. His first reaction was, That's absurd! How could a human live for fourteen hundred years?! Only afterward did he remember that the other man was an Angel, and there was nothing strange about an Angel living for over a millennium. He was no longer even human, given that his pathway was "Devil," which changed one's race. But fourteen hundred years? Fourteen hundred years? That was a span so long Klein could not imagine it. Too vast for him to comprehend, it lost its weight and meaning, becoming nothing more than a cold number.

Roselle's Diary had told him that Roselle had transmigrated only a few years apart from him in their original world, yet their arrivals here had been separated by nearly two centuries. That had given Klein some comfort. Perhaps even if he spent centuries here, he would only have been missing for a few years when he returned.

-But this senior's answer instantly demolished the reassurance he had built for himself! He suddenly realized that his thinking had been wrong!

This senior had transmigrated at a time close to his own, and presumably not far from Roselle's, either, yet their arrivals had been separated by a full fourteen hundred years. Optimistically, perhaps the difference in the two worlds' rates of time had increased further. Perhaps he could spend a thousand years struggling here and return to find that only a few years had passed-as long as he could live for a thousand years. But pessimistically... it meant the theory of a time differential did not hold water at all... Transmigration simply sent people to random times, with no way to predict their arrival. Perhaps decades or centuries after him, another transmigrator would arrive...

But why would they all happen to transmigrate to this world?

Klein's face turned deathly pale, and his breathing gradually quickened. He shook his head and cut off that line of thought in time, lest cold reality destroy the one conviction that had sustained him all along. He had wanted to ask, "Do you have any leads on how to return?" After all, the other man was an Angel. But on second thought, an Angel who had already spent fourteen hundred years in this world and still remained here had either found no way back or no longer wished to return. A millennium was far too long, long enough for an ordinary person to begin a dozen new lives. Klein could not be certain whether the other man still felt any longing for Earth.

Besides, he himself had just said, "I don't remember."

Edward truly was an excellent listener. He said nothing, quietly waiting for Klein to regain his composure. He watched Klein suddenly panic at his answer, his emotions sliding from joy and necessary wariness into dread and unease, skirting the edge of despair before settling into caution and lingering fear. Edward did not know what he was thinking, because Roselle had never displayed such emotional shifts.

"Sorry. I lost my composure just now." Klein pulled himself together and managed a smile, hoping to find an interesting topic that would help him recover quickly. "Emperor Roselle mentioned you many times in his diary. He said you were very interesting, but also stiff and old-fashioned."

"...I knew he must have been bad-mouthing me in there."

Edward followed Klein's wording and changed how he referred to Roselle. On this subject, he too showed a hint of nostalgia. "He had no skill himself, so every few days he would reproduce a recipe for me to learn. Roselle's help amounted to making a fuss in the kitchen, getting the first taste of the soup, and constantly clicking his tongue to make me adjust the seasoning. Several times, I finally finished making the noodles or dumplings, only to discover he had drunk all the broth. Now those dishes have become the court cuisine he popularized in Intis... heh. But after being adapted to local tastes, they have developed in increasingly outrageous directions. When I went thirty years ago, I had cherry dumpling pudding and pineapple-filled soup dumplings served with fruit dumpling soup."

...What on earth? Klein nearly choked on his own saliva.

Edward understood completely. When he had seen those dish names, beyond respecting and marveling at human creativity, he had all but given up thinking. He also decided to visit Intis to see whether they had developed any new mysterious court dishes and sacrifice some to Roselle to help him maintain his humanity.

"You two were really close." Absurd as the reality was, imagining those scenes made Klein feel a little envious.

"Yes. Roselle is my best friend." Edward said this earnestly, then looked away.

"But it seems I'm the only one who thinks so."

The atmosphere suddenly grew sad and heavy. Klein felt chagrined and wanted to lighten the mood, but somehow his mouth moved faster than his brain. "Emperor Roselle also had a famous saying: 'The taste of a Demoness isn't bad!'"

Edward thought for a second. "Demonesses do taste quite good."

...Th-this... I really didn't expect that... To think such a thing happened... No, that is very Roselle. That is very Intis! That cesspool of Intis can corrupt even a stiff British gentleman... How terrifying. You're over a thousand years old! Beyond his utter astonishment, Klein was deeply pained and resolved never to contribute a single penny to Intis's tourism revenue.

TBC

*They were talking past each other. Edward really was saying that Demonesses tasted good.

I'm sure everyone remembers who the lucky victim was.

Don't let Edward's clumsy attempts at playing human fool you. Decay's own authority over acquiring information about civilizations is extremely useful. When Decay comes online, you'll discover that this fellow is a hundred-percent pure Outer Deity who nevertheless understands Earth's civilization completely-the sort of being who, as long as he wants to, can use memes, tell groan-worthy jokes, and play games. Give him a phone, and he can seamlessly join human society in the Old Earth Era.

He can be more local than the locals.

As long as he wants to.

Decay: Roselle, have a seat.

Oh, incidentally, the civilization that interests him most is Transformers.