TBR CH38

Chapter 38: Yesterday Once More

The Time Torrent?

The World Consciousness was dazed for a moment, only then remembering that this small world had such a special existence, almost a characteristic natural disaster of this continent. Although its frequency was not high, there were witnesses to it everywhere.

Someone said the Time Torrent was like a hole, and through the hole, one could see a bright, silvery-white river. Just as he was about to take a closer look, he was swallowed by this hole.

However, this was only from his perspective. From an outsider’s perspective, it was just a flash of white light passing by, with almost no discernible anomaly.

The old man who said this had already passed his final recovery period and was smiling cheerfully at his wife beside him. “She was scared to death when she saw me gradually turning into a child. And me, I was yelling at her, telling that old woman to give me back my parents. Oh my, it’s so funny to think about. It’s a good thing I was by her side.”

In other words, this fissure-like existence, born from the instability of the world, would randomly update any existence it swallowed to a version of themselves from any previous point in time.

The first thing to change was memory, followed by appearance.

After a period of time, the affected person would gradually return to their original state. As for how long, it could be as short as a few hours or as long as several millennia, far exceeding a human’s lifespan, depending on the race and left to the arrangement of fate.

“Although it doesn’t sound like a good idea, but—” Tarksius tapped the black book before him with the back of his fingers. “According to the prophecy in your book, at this time, the Holy Son’s conquest of me is almost halfway through. I absolutely cannot harm him at a time like this.”

“If I didn’t wake up because of your influence, then something must have interfered with my thoughts, causing me to suddenly lose my sanity.”

Although at first it felt too outrageous to create such a coincidence, the Heavenly Dao couldn’t help but fall into deep thought.

It seemed… there was some truth to it?

The Time Torrent appeared under the influence of the world’s origin power, so it could be said to treat all things equally.

In the most famous incident, the former Sun God, Herlis, had his memory disordered by the influence of the Time Torrent, to the point that he personally killed his spouse, the then Elf Queen, Ladina.

This directly led the desperate god to his own demise after recovering, and the opposition between the light and dark elves also arose from this.

After all, even a god could not escape the arrangements of fate.

And at this time, fate, which balanced everything in the unseen, appeared before the Dark God in the form of the black book. The World Consciousness thought it over and over, and the more it thought, the more it felt that using the Time Torrent as an excuse, everything could be considered to have a reasonable explanation.

Seeing no more refuting words appear on the black book, Tarksius knew that it might have agreed to this method.

“Of course,” new ink marks appeared, “your memory must be preserved.”

“Nonsense.” Tarksius smiled. “And my power. I don’t want to go back to the past for no reason.”

“But can you… really make the Holy Son and the system believe it?”

“You should be clear on this point as well,” Tarksius lowered his head, the god’s pure black hair falling, covering his dark red eyes. He looked like the standard of evil itself, without mercy, without any benevolent emotions, high and mighty. That was the gaze of a superior being. “What I used to be like, don’t you, who sees everything, know?”

To fake that the Dark God had his brain scrambled by a sudden Time Torrent was not a simple matter.

Not to mention whether the other party would believe it after the disguise.

But the way Tarksius calmly walked out of the Time Torrent still made even the black book a little incredulous.

If his god form was like a sharp, dark piece of obsidian, then he now was a…

Liqueur-filled chocolate? Beautiful on the surface but with a hidden danger.

The dangerous aura seemed to have been completely washed away. The flowing black hair that once made one think of spreading darkness now had a hint of softness, obediently draping over the young demon’s shoulders, complementing his eyes, which sparkled like the best quality garnets, infused with the color of a rich, mellow wine.

What flowed in those eyes at this moment was cunning and nostalgia.

“I never thought I’d see the day I’d change back to my demon form,” Tarksius sighed. “Indeed, the past is forever past, even for a god.”

His temperament at this time was completely different from before. Only on close inspection could one feel the divine resemblance in the dark red pupils that were identical to the Dark God’s.

The young demon looked like the kind of smart and cunning customer, very likable, often appearing in various taverns in the demon world, charming and dangerous, with the scent of roses on him.

His power couldn’t be said to be strong; on the contrary, he was of the weaker first rank among demons. But if one wanted to catch him, it would definitely not be simple.

Was this what the Dark God looked like a thousand years ago?

However… it was very convincing, almost a great success of the Time Torrent. With such a shell, acting would probably be much easier.

The black book composed itself.

It wrote the italicized divine name “Tarksius” on the paper, but was stopped by the demon’s hand pressing on the page. The Dark God, wearing this appearance, had not diminished in strength at all, and his malicious personality had not changed one bit. Dark power surged under his hand, forcefully stopping the ink that the World Consciousness was about to write.

This dark power also came from the world’s origin, yet it could already be used by him to defy the origin in return.

His other hand lightly touched his lips, making a shushing gesture. “From now on, I am the demon Tar.”

This name had been forgotten for a thousand years, but was now spoken again, with a slight sweetness, in a tone that Tarksius would no longer use, yet on the demon, it was dangerous and attractive.

O-okay.

After a short while, he moved his finger, and ink fell on the black book again, with the expected title: “Tar, next you need to let the Holy Son see you in this state.” The World Consciousness then thought of something and began to feel a little troubled. “But the Holy Son is currently at the Church of Light in the center of the continent. How can you possibly go there with such an identity…”

“Don’t worry,” role-playing was addictive. Tarksius quickly adapted to his new… or rather, old identity. When he curled his lips, his pupils would also slightly turn vertical. The horns symbolizing his demon identity swayed slightly, and his smile was like honey. “The contract book has seen the light of day again. I think, before long, I will appear before someone in the Holy See. How absurd, how ambitious. His soul must already be on the verge of collapse, waiting to be dragged into the abyss.”

“Contract book?”

A god would not casually bind his own fate to a certain summoning spell. This sounded like a trick that demons liked to play.

“Yes,” Tar’s smile deepened. He lowered his eyes and said in a low voice, “The one that summons the me from several thousand years ago… the contract book.”

The Holy See was located in the center of the capital, a place where white doves circled. Every day, the faint light of early morning accompanied the high-ranking priests as they ascended to the top of the white tower, leading the clergy to pray and give blessings for the Light together.

Looking down, one could see the square imprinted with the rose seal. Here, holy candles burned inextinguishably all year round, suffused with a clean scent. The fountain in the center of the square splashed diamond-bright water droplets under the scorching sun.

However, on this day, no one was in the mood to appreciate such a scene.

People whispered. Rumors, like crows with wings, not only flew within the Church of Light but also circled throughout the entire country, letting out hoarse and unpleasant strange cries.

It was said that the Holy Son of Light had suddenly teleported to the church’s morning prayer scene, covered in blood and breathing faintly.

It was said that the priests had initiated a ceremony rarely seen in hundreds of years, pleading with the God of Light to send down divine grace to save the Holy Son.

It was said that the Pope’s wrath was like thunder and lightning, vowing to investigate this matter to the end.

The mithril-cast great gate, entwined with roses, was now tightly locked. The Holy See forbade all outsiders from entering, but the related discussions only intensified over the course of a morning.

People had various opinions, and all rumors spread wildly at this moment, whether or not they were related to the event.

For some reason, a statement that had never been noticed before was gradually pushed to the forefront: Great Archbishop Edwin of the Holy See was a fraud. He had concealed his不堪 origins and despicable bloodline, which had angered the gods and brought about this disaster.

People shared what they had seen and heard with nervous excitement. The pious gathered to pray, begging the God of Light to forgive the sins of these slanderers and to bless the Holy Son’s peace. But the smart ones could faintly feel a greater power standing behind these people.

“Sir,” they would smile profoundly, piquing your interest but not continuing, just waving a finger at you. “I dare not say more, but the matter of our good Bishop will soon be known to the world.”

Edwin was currently kneeling before the statue of the God of Light. Behind him knelt a large group of clergy, either fiddling with rose rosaries or holding mithril crosses, all praying devoutly.

Prayer was definitely not the priority at this moment. After all, the urgent task for the Holy See was to hold a ceremony to request divine grace.

But as the Great Archbishop of the capital, he was excluded from the ceremony.

The Pope looked at him with a complex gaze, tinged with a hint of pity, yet he still ordered him to leave the ceremony site without question. He had said that the ceremony to request divine grace must be pure and flawless, allowing no filth.

“Although…” the Pope paused, softening his tone a little. “The rumors have not yet been confirmed, we cannot take the risk. The God of Light will also see your contributions to the Holy See.”

At the center of the storm, Edwin’s hand remained steady. He knelt before the statue of the God of Light in the great hall, his eyes closed, turning the rose beads in his hand one by one, feeling the rough friction of the beads in his hand, leaving the scent of balm.

He wore a pure white bishop’s cloak, symbolizing nobility and purity. The scepter was not needed at this time and lay across his knees. The pigeon’s-blood-red ruby on the scepter still shone brightly.

It was not until the bell rang at five in the evening, the white doves returned to their nests, and the sky gradually darkened, that only the flickering candlelight remained in the temple.

Only then did he open his eyes for a moment. His gray pupils were like the deepest mist, showing no emotion.

“Everyone,” he announced to the congregation kneeling behind him in a low voice, “The prayer can end now. If there are any who wish to leave, you may do so now.”

This group of people were not core figures of the church to begin with. Now that the Bishop had spoken, a few left one after another, but many still remained.

Pious, obedient, unreserved. These were their characteristics.

Edwin did not leave either. He glanced around, and seeing that no one else was looking up, he knelt down again properly.

The Holy Son had not yet woken up. He had to keep kneeling.

It was not until midnight that someone came to the holy hall to report.

The ceremony was a success. The divine power of the God of Light had healed most of the Holy Son Noah’s wounds. But the Holy Son was still weak at this time. What had caused his injuries was an unusually powerful dark force, which even divine power could not dispel in one go.

But all in all, there was no longer a need to pray for the Holy Son’s life.

“May my God protect us.”

People clasped their palms together, sincerely thanking the Light for its grace once again in front of their chests. The Bishop, of course, did the same. Under the gaze of the crowd, he raised his scepter, and the surging power of the Light swept away most of his fatigue.

However, he did not heal himself.

This was also understandable.

Regardless of whether the outside rumors were true or not, the heavy fault of not ensuring the Holy Son’s safety still fell on the Great Archbishop’s shoulders. He was now considered a person awaiting punishment, silently accepting all the blame placed upon him, waiting for the verdict.

Some people looked at Edwin with pity, while others looked with naked suspicion.

The Bishop, however, seemed to have not perceived these gazes at all. He had knelt for a full day, his legs numb, and now sharp pains were flaring up. Yet his expression remained calm, his eyes a gray mist undisturbed by any wind.

It was not until he returned to his resting chamber, sat by the bright red velvet curtains, and pulled out an old book from a pile of books.

The book was opened, and a dark yellow piece of paper lay quietly inside.

A summoning formation was recorded on it.

No matter the cost…

The thick mist in his eyes finally surged. His deep ambition was finally revealed. The so-called calm and acceptance of punishment were all illusions.

In fact, starting from the lowest point, he had already come this far, obtaining unbelievable authority.

He would continue to climb upwards, and would never be content to fall.

Even the soul was not an unsacrificeable thing.

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