Chapter 488
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Chapter 488: All the Mistakes Are Mine to Bear!
"I’ve turned myself into the likeness I once detested."
"When did it start…"
"Was it when Gul’dan pushed me into the grave, or when I witnessed the destruction of the empire with my own eyes?"
"The weak cannot become kings, the kind-hearted suffer hardships, and those who hesitate will be eliminated quickly."
"If you fear losing, you will only end up losing."
"Those who cannot give up anything, cannot change anything, and those who want everything end up with nothing in the end."
"。。。"
Remember, it was during a warm and blossoming spring…
Countless skeletons crawled up from the ground, as Malthus stared dumbfounded at the young boy before him.
"I did it, teacher, look!"
"Am I very talented?"
"One day, I will become a powerful Undead Sorcerer like you!"
。。。
It was around the beginning of that spring when I started to remember gradually what I wanted to do when I grew up.
I once had dreams but lacked the ability to make any changes.
Now that I have the ability to change, I seem to have forgotten those dreams.
No, perhaps not forgotten, but I know that if that person were here, the world would definitely move towards a better future.
As long as he is there.
I believed so strongly until that year when the Forsaken Kingdom launched its final counterattack, using children as the front line in a war that lacked all humanity.
I hesitated because of the children in front of me.
But it seems there is no need to hesitate at all, a great reform will surely be written by blood and tears.
For a lasting change, temporary sacrifices are necessary.
I made the dead rise, I made the living fall.
They called me the undead disaster, but what does this name really mean?
Or rather, does anything at all have any meaning?
Watching them charge forward without hesitation, my heart remained calm.
Maybe I no longer have a heart.
My hand pierced the chests of those children, tore apart the bodies of those warriors,
My least favorite color is red, or simply put, I just don’t want to see blood.
But now, I can’t see it anymore.
All colors, in my eyes, have turned into a delicate shade of gray.
The world is black, and it is white, but I prefer to call it gray.
The only colors shining in my eyes are the colors of the soul.
The war has ended, and the soldiers’ corpses invaded their own capital. Those brave rebels are now wielding swords to slaughter the very people they were supposed to protect.
Perhaps they still don’t know who is behind all of this.
But this is the fate of the majority of people.
To start a brand new era, we must eliminate, one by one, those things belonging to the past.
Maybe that person didn’t think like that.
He was both cruel and kind, humans are such contradictory creatures.
After the war ended, I saw a glimmer of hope among the corpses on the battlefield engulfed in flames.
There was a flickering light in a dark world.
It was a child only six years old.
His life was like that flickering light, sometimes bright, sometimes dim, about to disappear completely.
I reached out my hand, a sharp bone spike appeared in my palm.
I aimed the bone spike at the child, ready to end his painful life.
But he reached out his hand to me…
"Help me…"
"…I don’t want to die, please…"
The voice was so fragile, yet filled with a strong desire for life and fear of death.
He was pleading with his enemy for help, maybe not even knowing who he was asking for help, let alone why there was a war.
Yes, just a six-year-old child.
He had only been in this world for so long, what could be his fault?
But if they are not at fault, then who is wrong, is it me?
Well, it can only be me then.
I hesitated.
I thought for a long time, then picked up the child.
Maybe, for me, this could be considered a form of redemption.
It was not him who was redeemed, but me.
I brought the child back with me; he was a pure-blood human child, with no parents, born into slavery.
The term "earthling" actually means slave, it’s just called different things in different places.
This is very common.
Where there are social classes and oppression, there will be slaves, no matter what fancy names they are given. Slaves will always be slaves, the reality will never change because of a name.
His name is Xiulura, a name that is not often heard.
He did not hate me, instead, he wanted me to teach him magic, I agreed.
He was very talented, or maybe it wasn’t talent at all, but a unique, unparalleled ability that belonged only to him!
He was simply a born magician!
Whether it was the life-and-death Undead Spirit magic, the six elements magic, or summoning magic, he could easily grasp and understand them all!
I had never seen a child with such talent before!
I had a feeling that, given time, this child would surpass all magicians of the past and present!
Yes, yes…
He did it.
Just like Som warned me at the beginning, what could be more foolish than adopting a child from an enemy country?
He had reminded me since then that this child had an extraordinary future.
His growth may change the world.
And when I realized this, it was already twenty years later.
At the same time, I am clear that I have to personally kill him now.
"Why are you treating me like this, teacher?!"
"Am I just killing a few civilians?!"
"I am a royal wizard, your student, you are one of the top ten wizards of the Round Table, and as your student, am I worth less than a few civilians?!"
"Now, for the sake of a few civilians, you want to kill me?!"
"And besides, the Undead Sorcerer, was raised on dead bodies, what’s wrong with what I did?!"
"Are you saying I disregard life?"
"Then, aren’t you the same too?"
From that moment on, I understood.
If he were to gain the power to change the world, it would be an absolute nightmare.
I have never taught him the ways of being a good person, I know it’s my fault, the mistake is not his.
I was just avoiding responsibility, avoiding myself.
Yes, I can no longer face my current self, seeing him is like seeing myself now.
He is mimicking me, I have always known.
At that moment, it felt like a layer of shame was torn away from me.
I want to kill him, not just for this world, but for myself.
I killed him with my own hands. Once, I thought teaching this child would be a way to redeem myself. But now, my soul feels even more empty and wounded.
Why did this happen…?
What is missing…?
How did I end up like this?
That is my biggest regret.
I always wonder, if I had taught him the right way to behave from the beginning, would the outcome have been completely different?
It’s all my fault, why did I make him bear the burden…?
If only I could have another chance, please, grant me another chance…?
Who am I pleading to?
Hehe, I don’t know either.
I don’t remember much about what happened next.
I dug a grave for myself and left a body inside.
That was the old me, and I buried it in the grave.
Maybe I am waiting for someone to make up for past regrets.
Or maybe, I simply want to completely forget this memory.
I have no idea what I was thinking.
All I know is that many years later, a group of gravediggers found that tomb.
From their mouths, I heard the name Xiulura.
Oh, so that child didn’t die…
Should I kill him again?
No, enough…
Enough.
I killed those grave robbers, buried them again, and pretended I never heard about this.
。。。
