A brave man may not live, but he cannot die

Chapter 144 Lantern
My heart is pounding in my ears.

Emotions rose like bubbles from the girl's clear sky, displaying brilliant colors amidst the misty light, before finally bursting beside his ear, transforming into the clear, audible, rapid, and courageous beating of his heart.

His clumsy little hands were pulling at his composure and self-control, or perhaps he had drunk too much and his head was spinning. For a moment, Quinn even wanted to give up thinking and give in to his desires.

But his eyes quickly cleared.

Instead of immediately pushing Xia Dai'er away, he shifted his gaze from the snow-white cleavage and watery eyes to the doorway.

The little dress and the pure white strip of fabric were placed next to the sink.

The footprints on the ground were clearly visible in the mist.

Quinn was puzzled. Although the bathtub was as big as a bathing pool, why didn't he notice that Xia Dai'er was just an ordinary person from the moment she walked over until she went into the water?

Was it because I was spacing out, or was the Ancua wine so good that the alcohol impaired my perception of the outside world?
Very strange.

Feeling Xia Dai'er's clumsy movements, which she seemed to have learned from somewhere, she looked at him firmly, waiting for his response to her confession.

The steaming mist created a beautiful atmosphere, and Quinn had a pair of extraordinary eyes that could almost see the faint veins beneath his snow-white skin, like a verdant ancient path full of life among the mountain peaks.

What's wrong with her?
Quinn wasn't surprised at all that Chaldale would confess her feelings to him.

But
This behavior was highly unusual. Although she could be bold at times, Quinn still saw her as a naive young girl with the proper reserve befitting her upbringing and age. But now she seemed to have completely disregarded the world, acting utterly reckless.
This state of mind is more than just a confession.

"Right now, it's just using his hands," Quinn nodded, "but in ten months he'll probably become a father."

Has the extraordinary ability gone out of control?

The Hero's Path has its own unique characteristics, unlike other Paths. Perhaps due to the existence of the Hero's traits, the Thief's traits have never shown any signs of going out of control from Sequence Nine to Sequence Eight.

The early stages of losing control are when visual, auditory, and even hallucinations occur.

Quinn's gaze swept around again, and the wand and pistol were placed within easy reach of the bathtub—illusions were quite common in both supernatural abilities and arcane magic, and he had developed a set of methods for identifying illusions based on the academy's teachings and his own experience.

'System, identify this item—'

He quickly issued the command in his mind.

The blue box in the encyclopedia system immediately appeared.

Elder Wand

[Crafted by Messaka Workshop, this wand is made from the core of a 300-year-old elderwood tree. It features double engraving grooves, is exquisitely made, and can withstand up to seventh-order arcane spells.]

The staff's slots are engraved with the fourth-tier arcane spell 'Phantom Weapon,' and it is powered by bloodstone.

The staff tip is engraved with the miniature space magic 'Storage Spell,' storing a 1.5-meter-long tree branch.

[An expensive gift from a speculator to a newly promoted teaching assistant. A delicate wand meant for casting arcane spells is being carelessly smashed in the hands of a Muggle. Utterly inelegant; a barbaric act of recklessly using arcane magic.]

Quinn breathed a slight sigh of relief.

Not an illusion.

Based on past experiences, the system is not affected by reality; even Hermes' illusionary abilities cannot block Quinn's connection with the system.

Therefore, as long as he uses the encyclopedia system to identify an identifiable item, as long as it can be identified and the blue light is precisely aligned with the item, it means that the item is real and his line of sight is not interfered with, thus allowing him to deduce which items are real and which are fake.

That rules out the possibility that someone attacked me; it's not an enemy who came knocking on my door out of nowhere.

Although this mansion is not Ankuya's arcane workshop, it has all the necessary protections. For example, the garden outside the mansion is protected by a maze-like barrier, which will inevitably lead to a lost path for anyone who enters without permission, and is difficult for ordinary arcane sorcerers to break.

Could it be Ankuya's doing?
No, there's no need. Even if he lied and planned to do something, he wouldn't make a move just before the hunt for the hero. He'll need to bring Lin out then; the two of them will have to work together seamlessly throughout the mission.

Besides, there was absolutely no need for him to do such a thing. Elon had already cleared himself of suspicion as the hero, and he had already completed the setup of the Eye of Grindelwald. The Branson family was of no value, and there was no need to tie him and Shadelle together with this kind of relationship.

My thoughts were racing, and my head was inexplicably spinning.

This state is strange. It's not like the dizziness of being drunk, nor like the mental blockage of a headache. It's more like the feeling of lightheadedness after a long day of work, taking a relaxing bath, and then getting up after soaking for a while.

But one thing is true.

Your body's reactions don't lie.

Seeing that Quinn remained silent for a long time, Chaldie suddenly grabbed his hand.

She said softly, "Quinn, I know."

"Are you drunk?" Quinn asked helplessly.

Weren't we praying earlier?

"I am perfectly sober!"

Xia Dai'er stared straight at him, her charming blush a result of shyness, not drunkenness.

"So, I... I always knew."

"—You think the same way I do, don't you?"

Quinn instinctively wanted to say something, but the next second, Chaldale took his hand.

It was indescribable and incomparably beautiful.

The slight pressure feels like the softest touch of the world's most beautiful clouds and wind brushing against your fingertips.

A world shrouded in gray fog.

A girl with black hair and red eyes sat on a boulder atop a mountain peak, with an ancient lamp beside her. Apart from her, the landscape was desolate and filled with ruins.

This world has no sun, no day or night, and the stars have vanished.

Apart from a blood-red celestial body resembling a distant moon, all that remained was a vast, desolate, and lifeless sky and earth.

He swayed his feet and looked up at the shattered sky.

His delicate, masterpiece-like body was shrouded in a thin black robe, with a gold-threaded collar revealing half of his small, erect nipples, and his eyes were indifferent.

He saw nothing.

Yet it seemed as if it was looking at something.

After a long while, the only god in the ancient world stretched out his small hand, reached into his collar, and began to knead it as he had seen it.

Its beautiful pointed ears trembled slightly, like a butterfly gently fluttering its wings, but it did not react in any other way.

"Laughable humans."

He lowered his hand, muttering to himself, a hint of confusion on his face.

"What pleasure could there be in such a thing? Such shallow creatures, such utterly useless behavior, truly..."

The word 'stupid' was not uttered.

He fell silent.

He didn't understand.

Demons do not derive pleasure from reproduction; for them, reproduction is merely a means to ensure the continuation of their race.

And the Demon King is even more so.

Whether it was Him or His ancestors before Him, as noble beings who inherited His bloodline, they were born perfect. Even if they perished in war, their divine essence would give birth to new successors at the First Flame.

No parents are needed; as long as they grow up, their bloodline will instill all knowledge and skills, and even the memories of their ancestors.

The act of reproduction has nothing to do with the Demon King.

but
why.

A hint of confusion flashed in the young demon king's eyes.

He was not born from the First Fire.

Rather, it is the product of reproduction.

This may explain why He is not as powerful as His ancestors; His divine nature is still some time away from maturity.

When His mother was that age, she was already able to travel through time and space and descend upon Temuran without relying on a 'door' opened by natural disasters.

But He could only rely on a human who hid in Grindelwald every day, waiting for him to assassinate the hero for him.

However, He did not want to be compared to His mother.

Even looking back over thousands of years, Mother was the generation closest to "perfection." Her bloodline was so pure that it even replicated some of the authority from mythology, causing even the gods of the highest heavens to tremble. But...
but,

Why would a perfect mother give birth to herself?

The Demon King blinked, then suddenly turned to look at the ancient lamp beside him.

This is an oil-fired lantern.

The exquisite carving technique makes the lantern resemble a work of art. A piece of gray glass serves as the lid, and the base is made of silver with intricate and complex patterns on its surface.

At the bottom of the lantern was a brand-new nameplate engraved with four letters. These letters were neither Temurian nor ancient Terran, and even the Demon King could not understand their meaning. They seemed to be a language from another world.

He exhaled softly.

A wisp of glowing soul fragment was spat out of His mouth and flowed into the oil reservoir of the lantern. Then He turned the handle, and a chaotic flame ignited.

Under the firelight, the surrounding gray fog, like paint splashed with water, instantly faded into nothingness. The pervasive sense of death and loneliness in this world was also diluted by the firelight, and a warm color was cast over it.

"Mr. Ancient God".

He calmly opened his mouth and called out.

A moment later, accompanied by a series of noises, a response came from inside the oil lamp—

"Hey hey hey? Oh my Ruby-chan~!"

The voice was indistinct, as if it came from several worlds away, so much so that it was impossible to tell whether it was a man or a woman; one could only sense that the emotion was somewhat heightened.

"Oh dear, you haven't called me in three months—no, you haven't contacted me at all! I thought the Sun God had led the heroes to conquer the mortal world!"

"I'm not here to chat with you."

The Demon King frowned slightly. Every time he spoke to this lamp, he would end up rambling on about random and unrelated topics.

"Oh, is something bothering you? Teenage anxieties? You must tell me about it."

The joy in his voice remained undiminished.

"I want to know."

"Why would Mother do that?" He paused, unsure how to describe what the two people before him were doing.

"doing what?"

“...gave birth to me.”

"good question."

The lantern's light rose warmly. The "Ancient God" didn't answer immediately, but instead asked, "What's wrong with you today? Why are you suddenly asking this?"

“I just find it ridiculous that humans are so obsessed with reproduction.” He lowered his head, examining his own body, which was perfect from a human perspective. “I can’t find any reason why my mother did this.”

The lantern remained silent, as if deep in thought.

After a long silence, the muffled voice roared furiously, "Damn it, that BYD wouldn't be here—"

"Who?"

"The hero you've been looking for."

"At what?"

"Are they reproducing?" the ancient god asked politely.

"Correct."

"with who?"

The Demon King asked, puzzled, "Does this matter?"

"It's very important." The ancient god's focus on the issue was strange.

“A human woman named Chaldale Branson.”

"Something's not right," the voice from the lantern grew softer, muffled and distorted, unintelligible to anyone: "Damn it. Who's behind this now?"

The Demon King's tone grew impatient: "Answer my question."

“Oh, well. The reason your mother gave birth to you is very simple,” the lantern said simply. “Because of love.”

".like?"

The Demon King's voice was full of disdain.

"Do gods need such useless emotions?"

“No need.” The lantern-carrying woman changed the subject: “Although it’s not necessary, Her Majesty Tia still chose love. Do you know why?”

".Why?"

"Because He had a desire to love and be loved." The lantern's voice became inexplicably calm.

"It is a miracle born from the daily routine. So by the time He realized it, He was no longer perfect, which is why He failed."

Ruby's eyes narrowed slightly.

He disliked that statement.

But this was a keepsake left to Him by His mother. In the long time before Quinn arrived, only the 'ancient god' in this lamp could talk to Him from time to time, so He finally suppressed the urge to smash the lamp.

"I don't need such emotions, nor will I ever have them," He said calmly. "Although there were some problems, the plan to hunt down heroes is going to succeed."

"Oh, congratulations! Your Majesty will rule the world for eternity, and wherever you go, all things will welcome you with utmost sincerity—so, where are they now?"

"Which step?"

The Demon King was somewhat puzzled, as the ancient gods rarely asked such questions.

"So, how far have they progressed in their reproduction?"

How would I know?

This useless knowledge is not in our blood.

"So...did you go in?"

"Still touching it," the Demon King described truthfully.

"Oh, that sounds like a nice life! Wait—I forgot to turn off the gas, I'm going downstairs now!" the lantern suddenly said anxiously.

The Demon King nodded.

He wouldn't say things like "stay and chat with me a little longer," and He wouldn't light the lantern unless there was something important to say.

"My dearest Majesty." Before the lights went out, the ancient god bid farewell to Him as always:
Good morning, good afternoon, good evening, and goodbye.

Perhaps it was desire that overwhelmed my brain.

Or perhaps it's because they've been suppressing their feelings for too long.

Quinn did not refuse the hands that were gently kneading him. Perhaps this was unfamiliar to Chaldale, but it was not to him.

He applied force gently, simply following his instincts.

An incredible surge of emotion welled up inside him, filling him with warmth, like the temperature on a young girl's face, making him wish he could stay in this moment forever.

Xia Dai'er's pink lips were tightly bitten by her pearly teeth, making her look exceptionally alluring.

She chose not to take it any further and waited for an answer.

Quinn could even hear her slightly rapid breathing; the girl was very close to him, surrounded by the pleasant scent of sandalwood.

He slowly and tentatively placed his hand on her.

Warm, delicate, white as a freshly peeled egg, or like soft, transparent curd, so delicate it would break with the slightest touch—it's indescribably beautiful.

Xia Dai'er closed her eyes, her slender eyebrows trembling slightly, her pert nose and fair face blushing slightly with shyness.

My breathing seemed to freeze, and my heart was racing.

"Quinn, be my husband."

(End of this chapter)