Chapter 18: Chapter 18: The Immortal’s Curse
"That’s... really a bit bizarre," Zelir said, shaking his head with a smile.
For some reason, their actions reminded him of monkeys at a typewriter, trying to find the one correct answer through infinite attempts.
"Bizarre is an understatement. They’ve had a hugely negative impact on the world! ’Haphazardly scribbling’ means you have no idea what kind of Magic you’re creating. The circuit structures could conflict with each other, which is an extremely fatal mistake!"
"Three years ago, there was a Fantasy Mage in the Royal Capital. The Magic he created sucked all the moisture from the bodies of four people, including himself. Four living, breathing people turned into desiccated corpses in an instant. And one of them was a member of the royal Nobility!"
Bev spoke with grim familiarity.
"Then there was last year. A Fantasy Mage accidentally concocted a spell that permanently salinized the soil. Unfortunately for him, his testing ground was right next to a huge wheat field, which happened to be the town’s main source of food... I don’t need to spell out the consequences. Let’s just say his head is still hanging on the city walls."
"The examples are endless. People accidentally placing a Curse on someone, transforming themselves into something neither human nor ghost, or just blowing themselves up on the spot because their Magic Power was unstable... I can’t even be bothered to list them all."
"Doesn’t the Mage’s Guild do anything about it?" Zelir was aghast.
"Sigh... It’s not that simple. Most sensible Mages boycott the Fantasy Faction, but you can’t stop some people from believing in it. Some of them even hold high-ranking, powerful positions in the Guild."
Bev shook her head.
"Plus, with all their haphazard scribbling, some members of the Fantasy Faction *have* gotten lucky and created some genuinely useful Magic. So the leadership can’t just exterminate them. They just strictly forbid them from conducting experiments in densely populated areas."
"I guess that makes sense..."
"Anyway, just remember that Fantasy Mages are a bunch of lunatics. Don’t you ever get involved with them." Bev’s expression was grave.
"Got it..."
After listening to Bev’s explanation, Zelir’s mind couldn’t help but start racing.
’First, I can confirm that the Great Creation Skill exists. The legend is real.’
’That also explains why the Great Creation Skill was added to the analysis queue the moment I chose Technique Celestial Calculation. This world itself was made by the Great Creation Skill.’
’Everything I see is a part of the Great Creation Skill.’
’Second, I’m also quite interested in how to replicate the Great Creation Skill.’
’If the Creator God really was like the Fantasy Faction, and just stumbled upon the Great Creation Skill by accident, then his Lucky Attribute must have been 99999.’
’Wait a minute...’
’The way to replicate the Great Creation Skill... don’t I already have it?’
Zelir suddenly froze.
Just then, a scene from what felt like another time and place materialized before his eyes.
Zelir’s perspective was pulled back into the third person, allowing him to see himself clearly.
Images flashed by, frame by frame, as a cold narration began to echo in his mind:
Zelir realized something.
He already held the final script to this game of fate.
Yes. The Great Creation Skill.
With it, all his efforts were meaningless. Even struggling seemed laughable.
It was the answer to all questions, the end of all journeys. It was like a stone monument, standing silently at the end of time.
Zelir no longer needed to explore anything else. From this moment on, he only had to think about one thing.
"Survive."
Yes, all he had to do was survive.
No matter the means, no matter the cost, no matter what he became—as long as he lived, he could wait for the analysis of the Great Creation Skill to reach 100%.
The process would be incredibly long, but that day would eventually come.
And so, Zelir chose this path.
He abandoned all emotion and morality, making survival his only creed.
He began to feverishly study ancient tomes of Dark Magic. He learned how to draw Life Energy from the screams of the living and how to transfuse fresh blood into his own aging body.
He performed the cruelest sacrificial rites, offering up one innocent life after another to an Evil God, all just to buy himself a little more time.
Zelir was no longer human.
After countless modifications with Flesh Magic, Zelir had become a constantly writhing, malevolent mass of flesh.
He sealed himself away in the deepest caverns of the earth.
Wriggling, writhing.
His form had long since changed; even his personality was lost.
But it didn’t matter.
Wriggling, writhing.
As long as he lived, he could reach the finish line.
As long as he lived.
The analysis of the Great Creation Skill was agonizingly slow, but before the sheer expanse of time, it eventually reached its conclusion.
Great Creation Skill—Analysis Complete.
Zelir grasped the ultimate power. All things would grovel and kneel before him.
How much time had passed? Ten thousand years? A hundred thousand? Or an even longer span?
The seas had turned to dust and the stars had shifted in their courses.
None of it mattered, because Zelir had won the final victory.
Under his twisted consciousness, the Great Creation Skill transformed the entire world into a land of flesh and blood. Masses of flesh and pus spread across the earth, covering every last corner.
In this deathly silent space, the individual consciousness of every living being was snuffed out. Only newborn buds of flesh grew strong beneath a blood-red moon, reveling in the gift Zelir had given them—eternal life.
[Ending One: The Immortal’s Curse.]
"Hey, Zelir, are you listening?"
Bev waved a hand in front of his face, pulling Zelir from his reverie.
Zelir shuddered violently as if waking from a Nightmare, his back instantly drenched in cold sweat.
’What was that vision just now...?’
He touched his cheek, his fingers trembling slightly. His breathing grew ragged.
’[Ending One: The Immortal’s Curse]?’
’Is that a path I might one day walk?’
"I... How do I look right now?" Zelir asked, looking at Bev in a panic.
"How do you look? Fine... You don’t have food stuck to the corner of your mouth or anything."
Bev stared at Zelir intently for a moment. "Are you fishing for a compliment? Want me to tell you how handsome you are?"
"No, it’s nothing... That’s good..."
’As long as I’m not a lump of flesh, that’s good enough.’ Zelir breathed a sigh of relief.
’I’d rather be dead than become... that... just for the sake of immortality.’
’Those images... they were just my imagination running wild, right?’
"What’s gotten into you? You suddenly look so pale. Are you not feeling well?" Bev asked with concern.
"I’m fine... I just zoned out for a moment."
Zelir shook his head. "It’s nothing."
They had been at the Mage’s Guild for so long that, before he knew it, evening had arrived.
Zelir had finished up most of what he needed to do. After saying goodbye to Bev and promising to see her again, he left the Mage’s Guild.
