TBR CH58

Chapter 58: A Heaven-Sent Talent

There were many things Edwin didn’t forget to ask, but felt Tar had reasons for not wanting to tell him. For example, the reason for his escape, the true face of the enemy he was avoiding, the fragmented parts of the continuous narrative, and that contract that had inexplicably appeared in the depths of the Holy See’s library. The Bishop could no longer find it, and the demon frankly claimed responsibility for it.

“I don’t plan on letting anyone summon me again,” Tar said concisely.

But, this meant losing a way out. Edwin, on one hand, couldn’t understand Tar’s decision, and on the other, couldn’t restrain his sense of satisfaction at the possibility of exclusively possessing a certain treasure. He believed he could protect the low-level demon, even when he wasn’t present, with the help of spells and formations. Even if he were to die a long time from now.

Until the fear of loss swept over the Bishop’s heart so starkly that it almost made him unable to breathe.

He had to recognize himself.

In the scent of roses, Edwin haphazardly turned a blade on himself. Tar made a contract with him because he had the ability to protect him. Tar agreed to stay with him because he paid the price. His life was filled with transactions of interest. If he showed a lapse in ability, he would surely lose him, or even be replaced.

This was the natural law of things. And yet, and yet.

Edwin had to sadly admit that Tar always shattered the rules. The young demon seemed to regard equal exchange as nothing. Sometimes, he was very particular about gains and losses. For example, on the first rose-colored night, if Edwin hadn’t paid with his soul with trembling fingertips, the demon would not have stayed by his side. But more often, he was not a commodity with a price. His hugs and kisses were not, and they always came at unexpected moments. When he should have been punished, Edwin instead received a reward.

The reverse was also true. The Bishop would give the demon many things, such as jewels, containers filled with magical power, and his favorite foods and various trinkets he had gathered. Tar didn’t show much emotion towards these things. Most of the time, one could say he was indifferent. The demon would just smile brightly and then accept his gifts. Sometimes he would give him a quick hug, which wasn’t to say it lacked sincerity.

But the feeling of a transaction was too obvious and couldn’t be suppressed. Edwin was used to gaining a sense of security from transactions, but… But that wasn’t right. The Bishop felt lost.

Had his demands grown higher? But he couldn’t find a standard of measurement. There was something he couldn’t get from simple physical contact, something that couldn’t be satisfied by the real sense of possessing the demon. He gradually hoped to see himself truly reflected in Tar’s crystal-bright eyes. But sometimes, those eyes seemed to disappear, as if replaced by something cold and purely objective that scrutinized him. He knew that was also Tar.

So he realized how unwilling he was to accept it. He tried his best to prove himself, but all those things exchanged as benefits seemed unable to truly touch the demon’s core.

Tar was hiding things from him, but why did that feel important to him? If all he requested was companionship, desperately clutching the low-level demon in his hand, the result couldn’t possibly disappoint him. Edwin didn’t know what he was craving, but he was sinking deeper and deeper into the fear of loss, to an uncontrollable degree.

If it wasn’t a transaction—

The thought burned him. He felt ashamed of his absurd idea. In his decades of life, he had never craved something he could get without paying a price.

But, the Bishop wrung his fingers. He realized this thought came from the damp and fervent center of his body. It came from the most beautiful dreams.

In the dream, the demon just wouldn’t leave. Even if he had nothing, he had never felt so at ease. Edwin’s dreams all began with the rose-colored shadow cast by the demon’s palm. In the dream, he would curl up his body, ashamed of his imagination, yet craving it so much that even his fingertips trembled.

Tar stood before him, his eyes holding a color completely devoid of falsehood. “I love you,” he said lightly. “Just because of this, I won’t leave you.”

Dreams are bizarre and fantastical, but humans just can’t recognize a temporary illusion. Edwin murmured countless times in his dreams, unable to believe it, cautiously: “I… love you.”

And then the dream would end.

What is emotion? Edwin stared blankly at his fingertips. He knew there were people in this world willing to do anything for another without asking for anything in return. But wasn’t that a greedy, foolish sacrifice? He believed only a believer’s love for a god would be like that. He despised himself for having such a craving. He never showed this side of himself.

Even the demon didn’t know he had such dreams all night, beautiful dreams of getting something for nothing. During the day, he would doubly bring rewards to the demon: gold coins in exchange for candy, hugs, his sweetness. But Tar was sometimes very close, and sometimes seemed very distant. Often, Edwin felt he looked like he could not be owned by anyone, and could be lost at any moment. Strangely, he felt this way, even without any evidence to support it.

Edwin began to secretly arrange for people to investigate a certain demon who had once wandered at the world’s end. He desperately wanted to understand him, but lacked the courage to ask directly. It was as if once something was revealed, it could never go back to the way it was.

The God’s hesitation grew longer and longer. He would sometimes flip through the black book, but ignored the many suggestions proposed in it. Tarksius knew that the so-called system had already let the Child of Destiny carry out his capture plan on the God of Light. The situation was excellent, as if victory could be achieved tomorrow. The black book often urged the Dark God to take action.

And the God lowered his head in thought. His long black hair, unlike that of a weak demon, fell aggressively into the surrounding space, enclosing an undisturbed domain. He didn’t care about the black book’s daily nagging to stop Noah.

“…He can’t do it yet, for now.”

What can’t he do—the World Consciousness was about to go crazy with anxiety. Any discerning person could see how much this current Holy Son was favored by the God of Light. Miracles had repeatedly manifested on him, seemingly indicating that the God of Light’s gaze was on the youth and had never left. The black book always felt that this world was teetering precariously on the brink of destruction every day, on the verge of completely losing hope at any moment.

However, Tarksius was right.

In a certain part of the Holy See, the youth of indescribable beauty was bathing alone in a hot spring. Noah resentfully shook the water droplets off his arm, his skin as white as milk. He was annoyed, and the system chimed in at an inopportune moment: “Host, please note, you need to speed up your capture plan. It’s already—”

“Is there really nothing wrong with your system?”

The Holy Son found it incredible. Over the past month or so, the originally smooth capture mission had suddenly stagnated. Every one of the God of Light’s actions declared his exclusive favor and preference for him, not hesitating to kiss his body. It had already reached this point, yet the system told him the God was not yet moved.

Impossible.

Clearly the progress was so smooth, yet the result was the same as when he had fruitlessly spent time with the Dark God back then. Clearly the God of Light had responded to his devotion so quickly, a hundred times more passionate than the Dark God of that time, but…

“Yes, indeed, it’s very close.” The system replied tirelessly to Noah’s words, barely managing to provide a little comfort. The page always showed that the goal was just a little bit away. The capture of the Dark God back then had also nearly reached this stage, except it had taken much longer in the early phase than this time. But just this was not enough to satisfy the Child of Destiny.

“Shh.” Tarksius gently placed his index finger before his lips. His smile was not sincere, his eyes holding only a patch of dried blood color. “I’ve said it before, moving a god’s heart is very difficult.”

The Dark God had guessed what Noah was up to from the moment he shifted his target. It was nothing more than the God representing Light once again starting to show his affection for humans with abandon, to the point that the Child of Destiny thought he had found an easy target to move. But Tarksius knew that for a deity with many believers, favor and wrath were things that could be discarded at will. The initial easy affection for Noah was not actually affection; it was nothing more than finding a pleasing toy.

The compulsory effect of the charisma halo was the true key to Noah’s capture of people’s hearts. That went against a deity’s instincts and was bound to be a protracted war.

Noah’s attempt at a quick victory was an impossible plan. Even if the God of Light’s personality was easier to move than Tarksius’s, it was due to his power, and it still required the Holy Son to spend a great deal of time. The system felt this was contenting and reasonable. This pace was normal. If he continued, there was no doubt the day would come when the God would be captured.

But the Holy Son couldn’t wait. He had recently turned his gaze back to Tarksius, once again treating him as prey, trying to find an angle of attack.

The black book was a little bewildered by Tarksius’s words, but for some strange reason, what the Dark God said seemed to be right—although he had been staying by the Bishop’s side, seemingly doing nothing, things hadn’t gotten too bad.

But…

“So for you, is the Bishop of Light that kind of existence too?” It was strange for the World Consciousness to ask this question, but it wasn’t gossiping. It truly felt this matter was related to the success or failure of the system’s capture. You see, this is the best control group. Both are gods and humans. If what Tarksius said was true, then Edwin, for a god, was also just a somewhat special toy.

“…”

The God sat on the soft chair in the Holy See, and the owner of the chair was Edwin. A black silk thread was wrapped around his wrist, inlaid with a scarlet carnelian. It was the hair tie the Bishop had given the demon. He had listlessly untied it to play with, then wrapped it around his wrist. The hard stone pressed against Tarksius’s skin, leaving a slight red mark on the God’s body. He no longer showed a smile, nor did he immediately answer the question.

The room was very quiet, until the God spoke again.

“Edwin is a very special human,” Tarksius spoke very slowly, each sentence as if it had no follow-up. “I just can’t think of a suitable time to leave. I didn’t want to break him.”

“He loves you.” Such words appeared on the black book’s page.

“Mmm, I know.”

“I understand. So you’re unwilling to break a toy you like, but it’s still just a toy.”

The God raised his eyes, a mocking look in his dark red eyes, and his words were not pleasant: “Who gave you permission to do reading comprehension so casually?”

The word ‘toy’ didn’t make the God understand any better. Tarksius fell silent again for a while. Even if he could find many grandiose reasons, the God still couldn’t completely resolve this confusion, just as he realized he could no longer casually leave Edwin’s side.

The World Consciousness felt aggrieved. Clearly, it was Tarksius who first mentioned ‘toy.’ When it said it out loud, he looked rather unhappy. Indeed, not only humans, but even gods were terribly difficult to understand.

For a god, time was just something completely unimportant. So the sentence the black book heard in the long silence seemed like an illusion.

“…He needs me.” The God said this, not even very certain of this answer himself.

Tarksius is a god. A god does not lack people who need him. The black book had already begun to roll out ink, as if to object to this statement. Yes, the God of Light has countless believers, and these believers all need him, even willing to trade their lives for a single glance from the god. If it were only for this reason, the god’s previous theory would also be overturned. Even the Dark God did not lack believers. If he wanted them. There was no shortage of evil beings who, after a long journey, came to the Dark Temple, bowed their heads to him, and piously expressed their willingness to be loyal to the faith of the god, willing to spread his power and establish sects on the continent. A god could profit from faith; it was not an unprofitable business. But, Tarksius chose to pack these people up and throw them out of the temple.

“No,” the Dark God reached out and pressed against the book’s page. He didn’t want to answer the slew of meaningless questions the black book was about to ask, as if the World Consciousness had finally remembered to distribute a survey to the creatures living in the world. It was as if he had finally sorted out his thoughts, although that didn’t make things any easier to solve.

They both heard steady footsteps approaching the Bishop’s room, bit by bit.

The God, at this moment, suddenly transformed into another appearance. His black hair was soft, his pomegranate-colored eyes round and transparent, completely soft and harmless. He closed the black book in his hand, changed to his new name, and said softly before Edwin opened the door: “What Edwin needs is me.”

The word ‘me’ was stressed, not as the high and mighty god.

It is need, not faith. A god doesn’t care if a human needs to rely on him to live.

But Tar cares.

The little demon’s will, lost and found again, had been excavated from the long years by Edwin, finally lingering in the vivid ‘present.’ No one had ever needed him to this extent. He had been abandoned by everyone. It was a strange feeling. He was well aware of the broken result if he were to leave, which was why he couldn’t bear to make the decision.

But that was not enough, far from enough. Just as Tar was also just relying on an illusion to pretend he existed, the God was high above and would not be like this forever.

He was just still hesitating.

At the same time, he looked towards the opening door with his pomegranate-red eyes.

Today’s demon was not a very obedient demon. Edwin had carefully tied his hair for him in the morning, his fingers gently touching the back of Tar’s neck. He would laugh and dodge slightly. However, the hair tie was not on his hair now, but had been used by the demon as a bracelet. But it was surprisingly suitable.

As long as he likes it, Edwin thought. He was a little tired; there were too many things to deal with recently. But every time he returned to his room, it always made him feel an unprecedented sense of peace. Opening the door and seeing Tar. A smile couldn’t help but appear in his gray eyes.

The three defensive formations in front of the door operated ceaselessly, ensuring the demon’s safety.

“I’m back late,” the Bishop said. He quite liked the feeling of reporting such a sentence. “Today, the kingdom’s taxes have reached the counting stage. Angelo and the king are considering the total amount to offer to the Church. Under the bishop before my tenure, His Highness the Prince probably intended to pull many tricks, but now it’s me.”

This was said with a bit of arrogance and pride, but Edwin had the strength to back it up. Under his control, the Church became more and more solid. This behemoth that had spanned a thousand years even rarely showed new vitality. In just these few days, the things he held in his hands had grown more and more.

“The leader, before going to report to the prince, first privately handed me the account book.” His gray eyes lifted slightly, looking at Tar with some expectation. It was just like holding a report card with good grades, the look of wanting to be praised.

Tar found it a little amusing, and also inexplicably felt his heart soften. Perhaps it was because the God had just been carefully considering the relationship between humans and parting. He looked carefully at Edwin’s eyes, until the other began to feel uneasy under the demon’s scrutinizing gaze.

The Great Archbishop of the Church of Light, basically confirmed to be the future ruler of the Holy See. Edwin’s gray eyes were very beautiful. The demon had thought so since they met, because gray is the color best at concealing. In that kind of reserved and asceticism that erased everything, the human had carefully hidden his greed, ambition, and disrespect. It was these eyes that had made the God interested in the first place.

But it wasn’t like that now. The gray was like damp mist. Edwin looked at him, full of expectation. The damp mist lingered around the demon, proper and cautious, as if Tar were something that needed to be treasured. The human couldn’t hide his overflowing feelings of affection.

Tar couldn’t stand this kind of gaze. But the God didn’t know why, under such a gaze, he always couldn’t help but indulge the human he had already shown preference to. Edwin was stunned for a moment, because Tar had moved close to him and stroked his hair, which was soft and slightly cool.

“Congratulations,” the demon said. “Sounds very impressive.”

That was enough. That was the reward he wanted. Edwin closed his eyes and sighed silently, then opened them, feeling a tingling itch in his fingertips.

He changed the subject: “You know I have to make a move on the devil on the prince next.”

How long had it been—since the demon came to his side? Back then, he was still mired in rumors, with almost nothing, everything he held precarious, climbing only by his own strength. And now, he had walked through the dangerous trap. The bloodline in him was still a problem, but it no longer disgusted him so much, and there was no way to question it again in the short term. So…

It was time to break free from passivity and start to counterattack.

Letting others slaughter him was not Edwin’s style, nor would he be foolish enough to think that just because the current situation was excellent, he could ignore Angelo’s future threat. Moreover, he could not bear the feeling of his things being coveted by others. Attacks and probing directed at himself were no problem, but when it involved Tar, there was no room for maneuver.

Edwin possessed weapons. On the night of the transformation, the torn corner of the demon’s robe from the royal palace was stained with the devil’s blood. The Bishop once again began to work day and night. He studied magic. From the most complex scriptures, he knew the danger of confronting a devil alone, but the good news was that he could now draw on the power of the entire Holy See. In these days, even the most minor and marginal sections of the scriptures were used by Edwin as material for his notes.

One night, Tar smelled blood.

Half of the Bishop’s robe was soaked with gushing blood, the wound still open. One of Edwin’s hands rested on the Light staff. He turned his head and gave Tar a reassuring look. He looked covered in wounds, yet he revealed a satisfied, reserved smile. “Look,” he said, while raising his other hand, which was dripping with fresh blood. His knuckles were long, the blood dripping down his pale finger bones, yet it was fixed in the air by invisible traces of magic.

At the end of the blood, like a spider trapped in a sticky, scarlet web, something was forced to stagnate in mid-air, unable to escape.

The malicious seed the devil had once sown in his blood.

The human had just forcibly pulled it out. The actual operation was not as simple as it looked or sounded. First, it required extremely precise control of magical power, involving various control spells, probing the blood vessels throughout the body without causing too much harm to oneself. Then, one had to have enough strength. The seed was very cunning; it would wander in the blood vessels, hiding and taking deep root in complex corners of the network. It required great effort to pull it out quickly.

And, it was very, very painful.

Any of the above steps was not an achievement a human could accomplish alone. But Edwin did it, even with a pale face, his hair soaked with sweat, and his lips bitten white.

In that moment, even the God couldn’t look away from the incredible achievement.

He was definitely a genius.

A certain indescribable feeling made the God feel pleased. Perhaps it could be called pride, but not for himself, but for the person he had chosen who had shown such incredible ability. Or perhaps it was because the Bishop had first looked at him in this situation.

Edwin was definitely not feeling well. Sharp pangs of pain scraped at his every nerve. The demon’s seed seemed to be alive. The moment it was exposed to the air, it began to struggle desperately, until it was completely trapped in the container the Bishop had prepared in advance.

Only then did he begin to treat the wound. Edwin’s gaze calmed, as if he had only been pricked by a rose. He stopped the bleeding, bandaged it, and used Light magic to heal himself. But after the surface wound healed, the damage caused by the seed deep in his blood vessels, which carried a demonic attack power, could not be cured and continued to blatantly transmit pain to the Bishop.

The demon walked over silently, pretending not to see Edwin’s eyes, which had brightened for a moment upon sensing him.

“Does it hurt?” Tar reached out from behind, wrapped an arm around his shoulder, and nestled his head in the crook of his neck.

“No…” Edwin hesitated for a moment. “A little.”

The pain was within his tolerance, but he couldn’t bear to part with the warm atmosphere that was spreading at this moment. Tar had come over on his own initiative because he was concerned about him, and had asked because he was worried he was uncomfortable. In that case, showing a little weakness was acceptable.

This time, he had not misjudged the law of equal exchange.

The demon’s lips ambiguously and vaguely brushed against his neck. Edwin felt the touched area begin to burn from the inside out, then was bitten bit by bit by Tar’s sharp teeth. He was like a small beast full of curiosity about its prey, thinking about where would be the best place to bite.

Edwin let out a soft hiss. Even when enduring the pain just now, the Bishop hadn’t done this. All his senses were focused on his neck. Even the pain could not occupy too much of his mind under this ambiguous and playful nibbling. The Bishop didn’t move much. At this time, he should not use any strength, and leave the task of repairing himself to his body. Then, sell his soul to the demon.

“Let me help you get distracted,” Tar said, and his hands also began to move softly yet unquestionably, as if stroking the strings of a lyre.

Edwin vaguely remembered that he had told him he was also an excellent musician. This was not surprising. After all, the demon knew everything.

And the rest of the matter undoubtedly proved that he did it very well.

The demon lord’s blood-stained cloth and his magic seed—behind these weapons was a sharp malice directed at Edwin. Some had pierced his bones and blood, but he had struggled to pull them out.

Edwin lowered his eyes to look at these things. It wasn’t enough.

At the very least, he still needed the fresh blood of a certain royal favorite, and an occasion sufficient to verify everything. Sometimes, everyone would gather together, talking and laughing as if nothing were wrong. Behind the laughter, there would always be bloody secrets happening, and he was very skilled at these things. Then, he still had to obtain the power to defeat a lord-level devil. As a human himself, reaching his limit might still not be enough to fight a devil head-on, but human cunning could sometimes make even devils feel ashamed.

This had to be a perfect plan, although it was not yet mature.

Sometimes he would feel a little tired of this self, and the environment he was in. The environment was like a cage. From birth, he was destined to walk this path, or walk towards death. A while ago, that gray-eyed man often lingered in front of the Holy See’s gate like a ghost, painfully repenting, desperately begging, and sharply cursing.

“He’s your brother,” the man would sometimes just sit dejectedly on the ground, telling Edwin, “You should save him. You shouldn’t stand by and watch him die.”

The Bishop’s silence spell was always in effect. What the prince said about being able to lift the spell actually only served to delay it, and they were both well aware of this. It was just that, when Prince Angelo came to the door, the life of one boy and the lives of the whole family, when placed on a scale, had weight. It was the word ‘abandon’ again. Although it was understandable, and everything could be forgiven, it was still too heavy to fall on the boy’s head. At this moment, the man could only place all his hopes on the Bishop retracting the spell.

“Even I cannot lift an established forbidden spell.” Saying more would be meaningless.

Edwin was a little tired. He ordered the Holy Knights to no longer allow the man to approach the Holy See. ‘Inhumane, cold and selfish, child of a demon’—these were the final descriptions he received.

But, the Bishop had never regretted his ambition. And his current path had finally brightened again. He had already cleared most of the thorns. He would continue to walk forward, walk higher, to achieve all his previous ambitions.

—Including taming a demon.

It was just that the things the demon described were too magnificent and hard to put into words. Sometimes he felt his greed had quietly grown a little, towards a direction he had never thought of, towards a direction he seemed unable to obtain. He was born with his direction of growth constrained, so all this was like looking out from a certain window, a miracle falling upon him like a shower of rain.

He didn’t know how to coexist harmoniously with these brand new wishes.

But Edwin was certain, he wanted to achieve them.

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