TBR CH64

Chapter 64: The Deadline

After morning prayers, Edwin walked back to his room in the white tower alone.

His steps were light, as if afraid of startling something. The Bishop counted the number of steps one by one, until he realized there were no more steps to take. He stood before that door.

The defensive formations at the doorway had not been removed, perhaps because he had spent a lot of effort on them and it would be a waste to remove them, or perhaps because he could not now touch anything related to Tar.

Edwin’s eyes were downcast. He quietly closed the door to the room, intentionally avoiding everything—there were too many things that could remind him of something. Tar always sat by the desk, his legs dangling; Tar reached out to touch him on the bed, his eyes as bright as jewels; Tar hid in the closet, and later the clothes had a lingering scent of roses. He lowered his gaze and saw the carpet again.

Many things were already different.

The carpet had been changed not long after they met, because there had been a corpse in the room, and Edwin was trying to at least maintain a good relationship with his new roommate. They had picked the color together. Edwin thought the color was too bright, while Tar felt it was a bit dark, but in the end, the demon reluctantly agreed.

It took some time to get used to the new carpet. It took even longer to get used to the demon staying by his side.

And the cost of losing was higher than both.

Edwin knew he couldn’t think anymore. He lit the lamps in the room. The light illuminated everything before his eyes. Before Tar came here, the Bishop had lived in this room alone and didn’t feel there was any problem. But now it seemed large and empty, like a hollow tomb bed, filled with grave goods.

Even objects had a lifespan.

The rose had withered. Edwin saw the rose. This rose had slowly gone from full bloom to withering. Without the demon, there was no one to maintain its freshness. It was now completely withered, about to start rotting. The stem had already turned black, and half of the petals had fallen.

The Bishop knew he should throw it away, perhaps replace it with another one, but he never did.

…This was the fifth day of losing Tar.

The Church’s interrogation ritual was proceeding in an orderly manner. The demon was about to be judged. This was not a difficult process. If not for the special location where he was found, there was really no need to make such a big fuss about disposing of a low-level demon.

However, even so, the ending was already written. Tar was scheduled to be executed on the seventh day of the process, in full public view, right in the Holy See’s square, where there was a cage for burning evil creatures.

He had tried his best, but the time was still too short.

The situation was very sensitive. A demon had appeared in the Holy See. This news had been quickly released. People were surprised and concerned about it. Even if the demon itself posed no threat, the Church had to handle this situation properly.

If he wanted to prove his innocence, he could not interfere too much. Power sometimes becomes a shackle. There seemed to be another force, a force that held no malice towards him, targeting only the demon, determined to isolate Tar and then kill him.

The time was too short.

Edwin did not believe that anything was absolutely impossible. He had not given up for a moment, using the power at his disposal as much as possible to find a solution, until late this night. The candlelight flickered beside him. He looked up from the pages, feeling his head was muddled, but the sharp pain of thinking prevented him from making any decision, nor could he get any rest.

The Bishop subconsciously called out, “Tar.”

It was as if glass had finally shattered. Edwin’s light gray pupils were suddenly filled with panic and confusion. He felt a great sense of foreboding crawl up his spine. It was quiet all around, not a single sound. From a distance, the Bishop was still sitting in his chair, just that he seemed tired, so he very slowly lowered his head.

He knew everything could not be undone.

If he could have avoided this problem before, then now it was time to make a decision.

Do you want to save him, or do you want to give up on him? Are you willing to treat the power you have chased for so many years as mere dust, or will you follow the path of every great ruler and use sacrifice as the final step to your high position?

The thoughts were trembling. Edwin remembered Tar blinking in the tavern, handing him the honey mead, telling him “You’re not greedy enough.” At that moment, for an instant, he felt he could do anything, could hold everything firmly in his palm.

But the world did not work that way. You always had to choose one of two.

He had to recognize that human ability has its limits.

In that instant, all the suppressed emotions surged in like a tide. Edwin was almost drowning in the deep sea of emotions. He propped his hands on the table, his face low, blending with the shadow cast on the tabletop.

But his mind was still sharp and thinking ceaselessly, against his own will, still making rational decisions at a time like this.

Give up on him.

You cannot be destroyed.

Giving up the demon would have no obstacles. He knew the method to break the contract. Even if he didn’t use it, the demon’s death was not directly caused by him. He might also be able to hide the injuries caused by the contract. The Holy Knights had told him the demon had not confessed anything, so Tar clearly did not intend to reveal everything—

He knew this thought was cutting his heart so sharply, but at this moment he could only choose to ignore it and continue thinking.

He could not possibly give up everything he now held in his hands. It had started from childhood. With every step, Edwin would firmly grasp everything in his hands. His path to the highest point was constituted by his repeated cruel destruction of others or himself.

He had to have a blade in his hand. That was the only way he could feel at ease.

And betraying the Holy See would undoubtedly make him lose everything, not just the supreme power and fame, but also all his strength, because this power was provided by the God of Light through faith, and taking it away would be easy.

He would be disgraced, have nothing. Even if by a stroke of luck he could escape death, he would embark on a bumpy road of escape.

Poets praised love, thinking that before the gold of love, power was like dust. But poets had never possessed power.

For Edwin, ambition was his bones and flesh, spread out bloodily before him. To take away his status as a great archbishop was like taking away his ribs. He could not continue to live under that premise.

“I…” Edwin made himself be cruel. He knew he had to make a decision. There was only one day left. “I should give him up.”

On one side was a low-level demon, on the other was the revered and supreme position of Pope. This was the only correct choice.

The Bishop told himself so. He reached out to touch his eyes. There were no tears, like a dry well. Sacrifice and death looked at him darkly from the bottom of the well. He futilely opened his fingers, trying to catch the tears, but his hands were empty.

The candle burned to the end, making a crackling sound. The candlelight flickered, and the room fell into darkness. The light from outside was completely blocked by the heavy velvet curtains, which caused everything in the room to be once again covered in a hazy shadow.

“Tar.”

Edwin murmured. He couldn’t help but call the demon’s name again, even before he realized it himself. He knew this was wrong. Since he had already made a decision, he should forget this name.

Forget. The thought of this made his already open hands suddenly tighten, as if wanting to capture something. The Bishop couldn’t control his expression until he revealed a contemptuous and mocking smile. This was his soul abandoning himself. He opened his lips, a weak stream of air flowing from between them. He whispered, over and over, like both crying and laughing, “Tar, Tar, Tar, Tar.”

In the end, his voice was almost inaudible, and different notes appeared like a breath, “…My Tar.”

Tar opened his eyes from the almost blinding brightness.

The Holy See, by rights, would not torture a captured demon. Of course, this did not include the final execution by fire, and the Holy Light that was constantly projected onto his body. The Holy Light could both reduce the power of evil creatures and make their skin sting unbearably.

To highlight the hard-won nature of redemption, Noah had specifically requested the captain of the Holy Knights to light two holy candles at the same time. This would force the demon to endure double the torment.

The restraints on his body all had sharp thorns. They were originally tools used to restrain higher-level demons, able to pierce deep into a demon’s blood vessels and inject holy power into them.

Anyway, it was a small request from the Holy Son. The captain of the knights carried it out without hesitation. Noah looked at him, with a soft gaze and a smile covering his mouth, which made him feel dizzy. He had already lost the ability to judge right from wrong, completely reduced to a puppet under beauty.

Noah said he wanted to visit this special prisoner and had specifically requested the knight captain not to mention any role he had played in this matter in front of the demon. The young and vigorous knight of course could not raise any objections, only fearing that this lowly demon would speak disrespectfully to the Holy Son, so he had specifically increased the level of the torture instruments.

He lit three candles, so that the demon would be in extreme pain under the pure brilliance, lose the strength to resist, and even be too weak to speak. The effect was also satisfactory to him.

When Noah walked alone to the cell where the demon was being held, the demon had his head down, his pure black hair covering his face. The exposed skin was pale, firmly suppressed on the seat by the restraining chains. Hearing the movement, he did not look up.

This made the Holy Son a little embarrassed at the very beginning. Fortunately, he was prepared for this situation. “Are you okay?” he said kindly. “I… feel that you are not in a good situation right now. If you don’t mind, I think I can help you.”

Noah slowly approached until he felt the demon’s gaze fall on him. So he smiled generously at him, and in front of him, extinguished the two candles that were constantly torturing him. There was still one left; he couldn’t overdo it for now. The demon seemed to struggle a little. His strength had finally returned to his body, but it was far from enough.

“Are you still uncomfortable?”

It worked. Noah felt the other’s expression change from hostile to a little confused. This was his chance. He slowly walked over, his tone deliberately soft and innocent. He presented his face with the charisma halo completely before the other’s eyes. “My name is Noah. I have no ill intentions. I just want to help you.”

“Why…” the demon’s voice was hoarse. He looked like he had suffered a lot. The youth’s arrival gave him a brief respite. Noah wanted to know if he looked like a descending angel at this moment. That was the effect he wanted. “I don’t think you’re a bad person,” Noah recited his lines fluently. “So I believe you. No one will come to save you. You have never been trusted by others, but that’s not your fault. I will—”

Tar managed a smile, full of mockery. “Save me?” he said. “A demon who is about to die on a pyre. I don’t even know you.”

The Holy Son showed a hurt expression. “I’ve seen you, I’ve seen you a long time ago.”

This was a small gamble. However, the demon had traveled to so many places and at so many times, he probably couldn’t remember every person he had met. And the Holy Son happened to be nominally traveling everywhere. Noah looked at the silent demon and rejoiced in his heart.

“What did you say would happen to you in the end?”

As expected, his gamble was right.

Noah bit his lip, pretending to be very uneasy, but then mustered up his courage. “Even if everyone gives up on you, I will definitely save you and let you live.”

Perfect. He almost wanted to applaud himself in his heart. All the procedures were as he had expected. The demon was very wary at first, but his speech at this moment, in his worst situation, must have deeply moved him. Even if the demon didn’t show it for the time being, as long as he pushed a little more, until the end, he would be able to appear from on high to save him.

Then, saving a person in their most desperate situation, plus his charisma halo and the Dark God’s current state, capturing him would be a piece of cake.

Noah calculated the time. He couldn’t stay for too long, nor could he let the demon relax for too long at once. Torture and shackles were the path to the climax of the plot. Looking very troubled, he explained his lack of ability to the demon, promised to see him next time, and then re-lit the candles.

He would become the only comfort in the demon’s suffering.

And he would also succeed in capturing the other’s love.

Soon, he thought, then walked out of the cell. Tar was once again firmly suppressed in place by shackles and holy light. Noah wanted him to understand that only his arrival symbolized salvation, and his departure symbolized the painful abandonment.

Until the Holy Son’s last step disappeared from the God’s sight. All expression on the God’s face silently disappeared.

Tarksius’s scarlet eyes were like dried bloodstains, inside was indifference and coldness, like the pupils of a snake, with the ruthless hunting posture of a cold-blooded animal. He knew that Noah had just left, and no one was watching yet. The God easily took off the chains. The holy light shone on his skin, but it couldn’t cause him any substantial harm, not even a feeling.

The Holy Son’s arrival was full of schemes in every word.

Noah repeatedly emphasized the demon’s being unsaved by anyone. His acting was very good. These words didn’t seem like a script, but very sincere. But the Holy Son’s arrival always had the opposite effect, making Tarksius remember that he was a god, not really the demon from a thousand years ago.

Noah was staring at this shell of his. He definitely did not treat him as a low-level demon. He valued the divine power and destiny behind him. Every word tried to make him feel grateful, and he carefully controlled the sweetness of each arrival, so that he would play a docile role in the grand drama he had rehearsed, be redeemed, and then fall madly in love with the person who redeemed him.

Redemption without a price.

If Noah continued to grind away, he would probably be able to take down the God of Light after some more time. Although this time was much longer than he had originally expected. So at this time, the Holy Son had turned his gaze to him, relaxed his guard, and desperately hoped to use some means to capture the Dark God’s heart within this period of time.

The Holy Son believed everything was going smoothly.

And the God smiled gently and slowly.

He quietly waited for the arranged drama to be staged, waiting for that moment.

He only needed to find a moment, a moment when his move could bring Noah the greatest loss.

Love scorches your soul, like being set on fire. Love makes you vulnerable.

There were twenty-four hours left before Tar would walk up to the pyre. Edwin walked into the Holy See’s chapel, his behavior appropriate. No one thought he had any emotional fluctuations.

There were sixteen hours left before the demon’s life would be sacrificed to the Light. The heir of the most powerful noble family in the kingdom personally came to the Holy See to visit the Bishop, offering loyalty, cooperation, and money to the new ruler.

There were nine hours left. Now Edwin’s enemies had lost all hope. Even if the demon incident was related to Edwin, he could clearly stay out of it.

There were six hours left. The night was already deep. There was still a faint light in the room.

Crystalline tears of wax rolled down the pure white candle.

Edwin cut his arm with a dagger. The dagger was as bright as snow. Blood trickled down, falling on the long-lost characters, blooming into blood-colored flowers. The wound was not deep, but it began to burn from the inside out. A part of his soul also seemed to be torn out, leaving his body with the blood.

The dagger in the Bishop’s left hand clattered to the ground. He pressed his heart with this empty hand. The heartbeat was clear and hollow. He felt as if he had become a container, an empty cup. At this time, he could no longer feel the connection established from the depths of his soul. The contract had once connected two lives, until the words were erased, and you were no longer declared responsible for another life.

There were six hours left, which was half a night. The demon raised his eyes. The cell was always filled with a constant light because the holy candles were always lit.

The light reminded him of Edwin, but it was not really like that. It was because he knew the thread of fate connecting him and the Bishop had finally been cut.

Finally.

Tar’s thoughts were like an imperceptible sigh. It was too late for Edwin to make this decision.

In his usual state, he should have quickly realized that cutting losses in time was the choice of a smart person. The Bishop knew how to break the contract. Tar had more or less read this from his gray eyes. And the Holy Son would also provide the Bishop with a way out, perhaps through the Pope, or some other channel.

He had been waiting for this moment.

Edwin had the brightest soul Tarksius had ever seen and deserved to achieve great things. And the secret to the success of every ambitious person, the unchanging truth through the ages, was sacrifice.

He believed Edwin would not choose to escape. He would surely face the cruel choice. He knew Edwin could not give up power. His arrogance and pride made it impossible for him to lose everything and embark on a path of escape. He understood that Edwin would be uneasy, would hesitate, would be in pain. It was just that, love, this word was still too light.

He knew Edwin loved him.

In such a late night, Tarksius finally had time to recall his father and mother. The Saintess and the Demon King, an epic love and a promise of lifelong companionship. They had had a sweet, beautiful time, as brilliant as gold. Everything easily dissolved before their love.

Even at the end, when they had many resentments and tried to kill each other, they still loved each other.

When he was locked in the bottle by the Saintess’s own hands, Tar believed he had no resentment. She had not done anything wrong. In fact, at that time, the Holy See was putting pressure on her, and she had to take risks. If she had not made that choice, she would not have come out on top in the end, would not have been able to clear the innocent reputation of the Saintess, and of course, would not have been able to become the winner in the end, personally cutting off the head of the most powerful demon at that time—that is, her lover—and offering it before God.

Now, for Edwin, Tar also thought so.

Facing the Bishop, the God knew he was prone to indulgence. Even if Edwin chose to escape in the end, Tarksius would have untied the shackles himself. His upward path should no longer be hindered.

The Bishop was a qualified ruler, but a qualified ruler should not have weaknesses. The God looked back at the door and finally looked at everything in the room.

He would certainly be sad, but he shouldn’t be sad for too long.

The last lesson was named sacrifice.

“Goodbye, Edwin.”

Before the encirclement of the Holy Knights finally closed in, the black-haired demon finally looked at the room with his jewel-like eyes and said this softly, as if someone were listening.

At this moment, Tar sat on the chair, feeling the contract retreat from his soul like a tide. He remembered that he had not said a proper goodbye to Edwin. Partings in the mortal world were just so hasty. Being abandoned was the same. Everything happened quickly, before you had time to react.

He had done it intentionally, at ease, until now.

It was just that this time, the God, for some reason, felt a strange emotion.

Just a little, even he couldn’t identify it. This was something he had never experienced before, not even when he was abandoned by his own mother. It was as if in the few days he had been confined here, he had unrealistically imagined that there might be another ending. This emotion was very light, almost like a butterfly wing lightly brushing past Tar’s heart.

Fortunately, it was fleeting. The demon closed his eyes.

Edwin closed his eyes.

Darkness was familiar to him. Darkness enveloped him from all directions. He counted the ledgers as usual at night, as if it were a time for normal office work.

The night was already deep. Stars studded the dome of the sky, shining like silver buttons. This predicted that tomorrow would be a good day.

There were five hours left before the demon would be burned in the square.

He took off his own robe, the silver cross, the ruby scepter. He took off the boots that hid a dagger, lifted the curtain, and got into bed. The quilt did not give any warmth, it was cold and dry, and when it rubbed against his skin, it made a hissing sound like sand rubbing against each other in the desert.

The ceremony of purifying the demon tomorrow would not be held by him.

At that time, he would be in the Grand Sanctuary. His Majesty the Emperor had scheduled a time to come for worship, with a group of terrified nobles, like sheep who had lost their leader, eager to send themselves into the mouth of a wolf.

Edwin felt he had never been so calm. He let himself accept the coldness of the bedding, and every beat of his heart at this moment. His soul was empty, in desperate need of something greedy and huge to fill it, and he enjoyed this feeling of emptiness. The torn contract was like a wound.

He smiled lightly, then arched his body on the soft bed, burying his cheeks in the light and dry smells. He had found what he wanted. The pillow still had the imprint of a rose, which one had to be very careful to smell. Scent was such an unstable thing, easy to lose control of.

Having taken off his clothes, the Bishop knew he was completely vulnerable and soft at this moment.

As if in an embrace, he extended his arms into the air, but that couldn’t fill the emptiness in his chest at all.

You will have to bear this sin for the rest of your life, he thought disjointedly, but did not feel ashamed. Without him, having lost him, your steps are destined not to leave the Holy See. The Holy See is square, like a cage.

Edwin thought of everything. He again began to think about giving up power and choosing to flee with the demon. If they could successfully escape from the Holy See, perhaps they could sit in a noisy tavern and drink a glass of honey mead together. That must be in a place far from the capital, far from ambition. He would look into the demon’s eyes and tell him he needed kisses and hugs.

This thought was too childish.

Edwin smiled. He knew he was not a dreamer. It was just that he had to think, to think through all the possibilities, but he had already made a decision. He just wanted to look at these other options.

In all those options—

He knelt in the sanctuary, and God bestowed the papal crown. He wore the crown of thorns on his head. He began to explore how to resurrect the dead. This road had no end, no result. He would plant many, many roses in the Holy See, and then never leave for the rest of his life. He would stand with Tar on the Dragon’s Ridge watching the meteors fall, until the thunderous divine punishment finally descended. He would be excommunicated from the Church, reviled by the masses, stripped of his position as Bishop, deprived of all his power…

Each possibility was fixed in his gray eyes, and then dissipated like mist.

Time also passed.

Four hours, three hours… two hours, and finally one hour.

The early morning arrived quietly on pale white dew. The sky was the color of opal. On the distant horizon, a little rose-colored morning glow melted. Edwin was dressed again. The room was a silent room. Someone offered him a large, crystal-clear gem, as red as pigeon’s blood. He kept the gem, carefully and meticulously threading it onto a black silk ribbon, as a gift that could never be given.

He stood at the door, examining this room. Later he realized he didn’t want to see anything else. It was just that he suddenly felt he needed a hug, any kind would do.

Edwin held his scepter and closed the door.

Why didn’t I kiss him one more time? the Bishop thought countless times, and this time was the same.

He should have kissed him one more time then. Even if he was a little late, it wouldn’t have mattered.

He began to walk forward. His steps were firm, walking towards his destiny, as if destiny were naked before him, with no need for prying.

The demon’s arms were twisted. He came out of the cell and then walked into a new cage. The cage was forged from refined mithril, extremely hard, with very small gaps, absolutely no possibility of escape.

The lock on the cage made a crisp sound.

The cage was placed in the square of the Holy See. Smoke had already been lit in the square. The smoke was clean, a milky-white pillar of smoke connecting heaven and earth, giving birth to flames. The pyre was huge, with chains attached to it. The chains were covered with old bloodstains.

The people Noah had arranged would wait until the last moment. Despair increased with time. Without pushing the demon’s despair to the highest point, how could the most thorough effect be achieved? The mechanism he had set up in advance, the connections he had made, would allow him to activate it at the very moment the flames licked Tar, and then, he would appear before the demon like an angel.

The demon in the cage had an indifferent expression. He had a pair of beautiful eyes. The priests avoided his gaze and all began to pray, ‘Oh God, sinful creatures always have a bewitching appearance.’

Tar looked at the platform at the very front of the square. The one presiding over this purification ceremony was a priest he had never seen before. At this moment, he was also looking at him with angry eyes, as if he had committed some unforgivable sin. He had made some preparations, memorizing the articles of condemnation. He also had a staff at hand, which was more than enough to deal with a low-level demon.

Tar looked away.

There was nothing worth paying attention to. Pigeons circled in the sky. The overlapping clouds occasionally cracked open, revealing the blue sky behind. The bell of the Holy See struck for the seventh time. The bell sound was dull and authoritative. The Holy Knights moved silently and solemnly around. The purification ceremony required them all to be present, even though this time, the low-level demon didn’t seem to pose much of a threat.

“Do you confess your sins? Do you repent?”

Tar actually hadn’t listened carefully to the first half of this speech, but listening or not didn’t affect his answer to this question. He curled his lips into a smile, his satin-like black hair scattered on his shoulders. “I do not confess my sins, so what is there to repent?”

The priest shook his head. This kind of sinful creature was always stubborn. Only destruction could truly make their sins disappear. What’s more, the demon was found in the Holy See. He was disrespectful to God. There was no need to try to save a soul that was already deep in the mire.

So he prepared to announce the start of the ceremony, raising his chin high towards the Holy Knights waiting below the stage. This ceremony was open to the outside crowd. People watched everything silently from the stands specially prepared for them, discussing in low voices, full of expectation and some fear for what was about to happen.

The demon began to feel bored. He stood nonchalantly in the cage.

Until the surroundings were suddenly drowned out by a greater noise.

People suddenly began to discuss animatedly, even moving confusedly, trying to get a clearer view.

It wasn’t just the spectating believers. Even the priests couldn’t help but stop their actions, hesitating and confirming with their companions. The Holy Knights had not yet reached the cage when they suddenly stopped their steps, as if they had seen something strange. They looked up in unison, not yet understanding what this situation represented.

…What?

As if sensing something, the demon suddenly felt his heart being gripped by something. He abruptly shifted his gaze, down from the sky. It was a very high place, it was—

The white tower of the Holy See. On top of the white tower, there was a small and solemn platform. It was used for presiding and swearing oaths during grand ceremonies. Only the Pope and the Bishop were qualified to use this position, like the heart of the white tower. Every word spoken in this position could be heard clearly throughout the entire square.

This was just an ordinary Sunday.

What was being held now was not a grand ceremony, but the ceremony of burning a demon.

But, there was a figure on the white tower.

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