TBR CH81

“Left over from the near seas of Russia? In ancient documents, it was called ‘Dolimentote’, meaning ‘King of the Spear’, because people at the time believed that its massive tentacles spreading out from the water were like dazzling divine spears that could pierce through everything. Later on? Another name gradually replaced the old one: ‘steloj’, meaning? ‘star’, or rather, ‘black star’.”

—Excerpt from a book stored in the Kaluso Church on the east coast of Russia, more than half the pages are lost, title and author unknown

“I understand now.”

The Black Book was a book that foresaw everything. Fine and dense traces of ink seeped through its pages. The monster’s hand paused for a moment, then turned the page.

Dark seawater leapt upward, forming the shape of a chair with thorn-like spikes. Upon closer look, the support structure of the chair was made up of twisted, coiling tentacles. A man with pitch-black pupils sat on this nightmare-like chair, seemingly seriously reading every single word in the book.

He blinked his eyes.

“You came to tell me that a human known as the ‘Child of Fate’ deceived me and is about to bring disaster to this world? I remember the person you wrote about — ever since I saw him, I truly have had difficulty controlling my own mind.”

“Yes. The system’s goal is to steal the fortune of small worlds, and I must stop all of this from happening, so—”

“You need my help,” the monster said with certainty.

He seemed to relax a lot, leaning back into the chair formed from a part of his own body, practically merging with it. Clearly, in the monster’s understanding, the Heavenly Dao did not need to hide its true form from him, nor would he be frightened by it, since, after all, he himself was a creation of this world. He looked less and less human.

“…Yes.”

This was the most headache-inducing part. The world consciousness hesitated, unsure how to begin writing to persuade the greatest villain of this world.

This level of power had already surpassed its control, let alone the fact that its negotiation partner this time was a fundamentally inhuman monster. It was hideous and dangerous, without basic human concepts — getting it to help itself would clearly not be easy.

The previous two worlds were already difficult enough — it was like squeezing out all it had to sign an unfair contract. The Black Book hesitated for a moment and finally decided to let the other party name their price:

“What do you want? As the world consciousness, I can do my best to fulfill your request.”

“Hmm?”

The other party let out a confused syllable, “Isn’t stopping disaster the right thing? Why do you need an extra reward as payment? Of course I’ll help you — it’s not difficult for me.”

How… how could there be such a cooperative villain?

The world consciousness could hardly believe its own ears — even though a book technically didn’t have ears. It gently slipped free from the monster’s hand and flapped its pages until it hovered at his eye level. Words appeared rapidly on the swiftly flipping, snowy-white pages:

“You’re really willing to help me?”

“Of course.” The monster’s voice was hoarse, yet it gave a sense of gentleness and warmth. He curved his lips into an inhuman smile — eerie, but very beautiful. This judgment might have come from the emotional influence of the world consciousness.

“If I can give my strength, I would feel deeply honored.”

Though the man’s lower half had already completely melted into a mass of writhing tentacles, he was sunk into the chair, his pitch-black pupils slightly shifting. His hair, soaked with seawater, seemed to be moving on its own, making him appear even less human, but at this moment, the more the Black Book looked at him, the more pleasing he seemed. He was practically the most compassionate villain.

“Then… let’s first come up with a plan!”

The Black Book had never had things go this smoothly before, so it hadn’t even thought ahead to the next step. Even the words it produced were stuttering, “I’ll give you a reward — just take it as a gift, maybe something like extra good luck—”

The monster’s smile deepened. He reached out his hand, and the Black Book fluttered down into his palm. Now this hand also gave off a strange feeling — human hands weren’t this slender, nor this cold and slick.

But so what? It was like a teacher finally finding a well-behaved good student among a group of delinquents — the world consciousness was deeply moved, almost wanting to award him a Best Villain Trophy.

Right, it was suddenly pulled back slightly to a state of judgment by those two words — villain.

Just then, the monster opposite also spoke in a soft, hoarse voice:

“I don’t really want anything, I’m just very interested in the story you told. Your story isn’t finished yet. If possible, can you tell me the ending of this world?”

The Black Book’s prophecy ultimately stopped at the point when everyone lost their sanity, crazily falling in love with the youth blessed by the “beloved-by-all” aura — even the monsters were no exception. The monster with terrifying power satisfied all the human youth’s requests, indulged his every extravagant and depraved desire, and killed anyone he disliked — even if they had done nothing wrong.

Even if that wasn’t the ending, it was already close. Not even the Heavenly Dao bothered to check the final result of this world — it was surely already a mess wrecked by the Child of Fate.

But this time, the villain was unexpectedly so easy to talk to and only had this one request, so the world consciousness decided to fulfill it.

“Let me take a look…”

The words on the Black Book ended there. The monster waited patiently for a while — it knew the existence calling itself world consciousness was currently spending time and energy to consult the records of fate.

However, it was taking too long.

It gently stroked the cover, eyes unmoving — that was a cold, damp gaze utterly unlike a human’s. The deep-black pupils locked onto the pages, and the cover of the Black Book seemed to harden slightly compared to before, as if it had stiffened from shock.

And in fact, that was exactly what happened.

The world consciousness had already seen the final fate of this world. Precisely because of this, it now suddenly realized it might have gotten something wrong.

Such a gentle existence — he really didn’t look like a villain. That was the impression the Black Book had just gotten from the monster. So why was the fortune of the small world so distinctly aligned to place him among the villains, and why did the Child of Fate target him as the primary capture target?

A villain should be like this:

Evil, cruel, cold, aloof…

And forming a sharp contrast with those words, was this monster who seemed gentle, courteous, and concerned about this world.

The Black Book didn’t understand before, but now it did.

Precisely because of this, the world consciousness didn’t know how to reply to the monster in front of it, frozen in place.

Because in the fate that had already been written, it was this monster before it, using thunderous means and terrifying, beautiful power, who completely destroyed this world, bringing about the final calamity.

The monster’s pitch-black pupils were like an abyss. He sat upon a throne made of seawater, idly moving his fingers out of boredom. With his motion, the entire sea trembled like the surface of a drum being struck — ink green, deep blue, the dark red of coral cliffs — his tentacles hid beneath these disguises, each one like a sharp spear, flexible enough to twist and snap a creature’s neck, yet capable of piercing through anything that came before him.

“It’s been a long time. If you…”

His voice and the words on the Black Book appeared simultaneously, and so he curled his lips into a smile, did not continue speaking, merely quietly waited for the writing to appear on the pages.

Very normal handwriting, even too normal.

The monster had… already realized that the consciousness of the world before it was a little livelier than expected? For example, when it confirmed its cooperative attitude just now, the words that appeared on the pages looked messy, and the strokes at the end of the characters lifted lightly and cheerfully; when it felt everything was going smoothly, the ink faintly showed signs of becoming heavier—clearly, the one leaving the writing was emotionally stirred. Since that was the case…

“No problem.”

Neatly written at the top of the white paper in front of the monster: “The ending of this world isn’t any different from what you just read. Don’t dwell on it.”

The world’s consciousness hadn’t expected it would one day fall so low as to have to lie to a villain. While thinking about how it had sunk to this point, it racked its brain trying to figure out how not to arouse the suspicion of the terrifying monster before it. “Terrifying”—this word had become naturally associated with the polite man in front of it, in the eyes of the system that had once witnessed the world’s destruction in a prophecy.

Just like how, although he wore a human skin, he still gave off an eerie, inhuman feeling—

His gaze fell upon the characters it had left behind. For the first time, the world’s consciousness was facing a situation where it had no choice but to lie, and it was extremely nervous. Had the monster already intended to destroy everything, and that’s why it asked this question? If it found something off, would it reveal its true nature—and would it be even worse than the villains in the previous two worlds?

The black book didn’t realize that its clumsy lie could practically be seen through at a glance.

“I see,” the monster lowered its head to look at the ink marks on the white paper. Its expression showed no change, as if it accepted the explanation at face value, which made the world’s consciousness let out a breath of relief. “No need to worry. I’ll help you no matter what. If not for you, I wouldn’t have been able to break free from the haze clouding my heart. Even if it’s just to prevent this world from falling into a miserable delusion, I will help as much as I can.”

…That really didn’t sound like something a world-destroying villain would say.

The world’s consciousness found itself shaken again. Once it started talking to the monster, the soft and calm tone in his speech naturally made people want to trust him. That wouldn’t do. It made a judgment: this was a villain extremely skilled at confusing people’s hearts.

“However…” The monster’s words were cut off halfway.

The black book silently closed. The world’s consciousness still clung to the pages, but at that very moment, it heard the sound of a door being opened. For beings of their level, the sense of a door wasn’t limited to the five senses—it was more about a shift in atmosphere. The manmade sea was so vast that the end couldn’t be seen, but the monster still turned its head precisely toward the location of the door. Wind from the outside leaked into the space.

Something else had entered.

“He’s here.” The monster wasn’t so much speaking to the black book as it was murmuring to itself. Now, it had no reason to maintain a humanoid form. The pitch-black book was tightly wrapped by a few tendrils extended from who-knows-where, forming a secure preservation space—after all, you couldn’t reasonably expect a bookshelf underwater.

“Wait,” the black book suddenly felt something was wrong, like a flash, but it couldn’t explain what it sensed. Its pages flapped under the sea breeze like a white seabird. It was said that centuries ago, fishermen used to write messages on seabirds to send letters—whether true or not, this scene was very reminiscent of that legend.

The monster’s humanoid form was already collapsing. Most of its body sank into the seawater. The eyes on its tentacles and those human eyes were both dark, now politely waiting for the black book to express its final thoughts.

“…He… who is he?”

This wasn’t the question the world’s consciousness wanted to ask, but it was so nervous that it foolishly repeated the monster’s words. Apparently, the monster in front of it also found the grand setup for such a question a bit… exasperating:

“A friend of mine.” It seemed to pause. “A friend I need to apologize to.”

Of course the Heavenly Dao wouldn’t fail to discern the person’s identity—perhaps it even knew more about the visitor than the monster did. However, the black book immediately erased the question from the page, clearly deciding to go back and rephrase its last statement.

“You were cut off halfway just now… what did you mean by ‘however’?”

Only after asking did it realize this wasn’t a particularly clever question. It had merely been prompted by an incomplete sigh from the monster—a sigh that lingered faintly in the black book’s consciousness, stirring a persistent curiosity. The monster looked at it a bit surprised. Its entire form had melted away, so that one glance meant being stared at by countless eyes in the murky seawater—an image no normal person could handle.

The eyes under the sea blinked. From high above, they looked like countless black stars glittering on the ocean floor.

“It’s nothing. I just meant… There’s no need to be so afraid of me.”

The world’s consciousness was stunned by this line. Only then did it realize it had just shown signs of fear—and what it thought it had hidden well had been clearly perceived by the other party. The conversation had finally reached the point where it could no longer continue. Fortunately, the tentacles wound gently around the black book, like a bird being captured, and pulled it under the surface.

“Captured” was too strong a word—the force wasn’t heavy. It was gentle and thorough. The black book was tightly wrapped; not even seawater could seep in. Even though it didn’t need to worry about being soaked, it suddenly felt like it was being carefully stored away.

What a strange creation.

Isidor walked along the beach. Every sight here was as familiar to him as something carved into his eyes.

Today’s sea breeze was just right. The temperature and salinity of the seawater were also pretty good—it was the kind of weather it would like. He decided he would go to the control room later to add some minerals and calcium to the sea. The monster always disliked sunlight, even though it had been proven to have many benefits. It still preferred hiding deep underwater. So these extra supplements were necessary…

While thinking this, he suddenly felt a bit dizzy. Sunlight filtered through the artificial dome and cast specks of light in his emerald green pupils. Isidor realized he wouldn’t be able to open the control room door—his ID card had already been de-authorized.

This wasn’t fair. But he knew fairness was something only the naïve sought after.

This was his last chance.

Truly, his very last chance. If he lost it, it would never come again. Situations like this seemed to pop up repeatedly throughout his life. Isidor ruthlessly suppressed his thoughts and started thinking about it again.

The soft soles of his sneakers left shallow footprints on the sand. A human approached the monster feared by the entire institute, dressed in the simplest uniform the research facility had, without a single extra layer of protection.

He walked to the point where the seawater gently lapped at and soaked the sand. Waves crawled across the fine beach, spreading out like a layer of snowy-white lace. Right there, the human squatted down. The heavy bag thudded into the sand, creating a shallow dent. The plastic bag soaked in the wet sand, and Isidor pried open the seal.

Though it had gone cold, the bread still smelled delicious.

Would it come to see him? Or would it be like the previous times… Isidor hesitated, not even calling out to the monster right away. In those few minutes, he let his thoughts wander messily. It had been seven years—by now, it was a part of his life. And no one knew just how important a part it was.

…If it had found a human it liked more, replacing him would be acceptable too.

But the new handler wouldn’t be able to remember the monster’s preferred water temperature or the chemical composition of the seawater even in their sleep like he did. They wouldn’t have greedily read every scrap of information and research about the monster like he had. The new handler would have to start from scratch, slowly learning all of the monster’s needs and traits. Even so, they would never do it better than he could.

This was just baseless jealousy and irrational possessiveness. He told himself that, yet he couldn’t help letting those thoughts flow through his mind like venom. He was the one who should be the one to stay by its side.

But, but, but—

Isidor suddenly lifted his eyes. He had been here so long that he could sense even the slightest movement on the sea’s surface. Beneath the dark sea in the distance, something seemed to be lurking, swiftly approaching.

At that moment, the human felt a bit relieved.

No matter what came next—even if he ended up like others had predicted, killed by the monster that had grown tired of him during this time—it didn’t matter. Because next… he would see it again. The spear from the seafloor, the stars in the sea—those stars that had once spent time with him. Tentacles gently crept up the wet coast.

Isidor watched as the tentacles rapidly climbed up the wet sand. He didn’t notice the way the corners of his mouth quietly curved up.

The tentacles moved toward him. They were beautiful. Sometimes, eyes even grew on them—but that clearly wasn’t necessary now. The tentacles deftly pried open the already-loosened plastic bag, and their soft tips coiled around the contents:

—A large croissant filled to the brim with cream.