Chapter 1510
Is Chapter 1510 correct?
A difference of just one word makes a huge difference, both in fact and in emotion.
Pereira fell silent.
In the realm where her physical form had dissipated, at the boundary between existence and nothingness, she felt for the first time a silence deeper than death. It was not an external pressure, but an emptiness welling up from the depths of her soul, a wound easily opened by someone's thoughtless question. It had never widened, but as we know, it had never healed either.
Why do we have to do this?
She heard the question echoing in her mind, like someone falling into bottomless darkness, waiting endlessly for the sound of hitting the bottom. This ambiguous emptiness reminded her of a long time ago, of the time when the wood elf boy lay on the lab table. She stood in the teacher's shadow, watching the boy's breathing gradually weaken, watching the light in his eyes slowly fade. She could have done something—secretly let him go, gave him some painkillers, or even just held his hand and told him, "You are not alone. At least I am willing to mourn for you."
But she did nothing; she simply stood there, like a statue frozen in fear, watching a life slip through her fingers. At that moment, she told herself: I can't do it, because I am just the teacher's assistant, a mortal he saved from a dead end, and his only, yet most vulnerable, student.
Later, for thousands of years in the human world, she repeated this excuse countless times. I can't do it, because I'm just a witch hated by everyone; I can't do it, because Tentis's plan requires sacrifice; I can't do it, because Sister Caraboss has already gone ahead, and I can't back down.
Every excuse seemed so reasonable, so irreproachable. She almost believed it, believed that she had always been a prisoner of fate, a pitiful person relentlessly pushed along by the real world, a victim who had never truly had a choice.
But as Ovira said, these excuses are not enough to explain why the Plague Witch always makes the weakest choices at every important juncture in her life. Remaining aloof is weakness, going with the flow is weakness, and even choosing to end her own life now, pushing the story to its cruelest conclusion in the most decisive way, is, in fact, weakness.
The oldest proverbs say that those who dare to face death are never weak, but that's only because people in ancient times didn't realize the vast discrepancy between the world and human nature. It's based on instinct yet transcends logic; therefore, sometimes those who face death aren't necessarily brave, or perhaps they're afraid to face things more terrifying than death. Just as she could have continued fighting but chose death prematurely, it wasn't because this was the only path, or the only path to turn the tide, but because it was the fastest.
Once she chose this path, she would immediately see the ending of the story, and the Plague Witch breathed a sigh of relief: finally, she wouldn't have to make a choice anymore. She could no longer bear the inner torment, the guilt that tormented her constantly, or the fear of being caught between fighting and fleeing. She couldn't wait to escape this vortex, even if it was in the most wretched way.
This would have been fine; death was the only way to escape reality, and there was nothing better in the world. But Ovira insisted on exposing it. Perhaps she couldn't stand Perec's passive and escapist nature, or perhaps she simply wanted to know the answer. For the Mysterious Kingdom, the unknown mystery was the most alluring, especially when it was based on human nature rather than objective facts. Mysteries based on human nature often branch out in many directions, and bystanders, no matter how hard they try, can only touch one branch of this invisible tree. Only those involved can clearly tell you what it is, what it does, and why.
For Pereke, the answer to this question was simply those two words, which were also the ultimate answers to all mysteries, truths, and unknown phenomena in the universe.
"The essence of the plague monarchy is the shears of cosmic evolution. It prunes weak branches and trims crowded jungles, allowing more resilient, complex, and adaptable life to continue within limited resources. This should be the greatest, most just, most ruthless, and most silent law, but surging emotions have overflowed my mission, making it impossible for me to control them. Someone once said that genuine emotions don't hurt anyone, and you and I both know that's true, but it's not a good thing."
Perec reached out and gently pressed her hand to her chest. Could her already fading heart still be beating? It burned as fiercely as a volcano, yet she could only speak in the calmest tone: "When Tientes met me, I only had a broken soul. She told me that I could save anyone in the way I wanted. Sister Caraboss was always worried about my indecisiveness, feeling that this weakness would one day lead me to a dilemma with no choice. The members of the Society, some were fanatical, some were open-minded, some were crazy, some were full of lofty ideals, some couldn't even save themselves, yet they were determined to save others... including me."
The withered wings breathed slowly, like a butterfly that lives only a day: "When I walked among humans, I saw many things."
I saw villages ravaged by plague, survivors kneeling before the corpses of their loved ones, not in prayer, but simply kneeling. The light in their eyes had been extinguished, yet they continued to breathe, to eat, and to push open their doors the next morning to step into the sunlight, continuing their lives as before. I saw soldiers on the battlefield, fighting fearlessly, only to end up battered and bruised, their intestines and lungs spilling out, yet seemingly oblivious, still brandishing their swords at the enemy. I saw doctors in hospitals, who, having witnessed countless moments of despair, separation, and death, could still receive the next patient with an expressionless face, their uneasy expressions, anxious heartbeats, and the way they swallowed revealing a glimpse of their fate…
However, there is no need to elaborate on these points, because Perec knows that as the Mysterious King, Ovira sees far more than she does.
“Perhaps you have noticed it as well.” Pereike’s voice was even softer, as if it came from a very distant place. “In every scene I’ve seen, people are always struggling, persevering, and choosing to move forward even when there is no hope. At first, I couldn’t understand why ordinary people could have such resilient lives, as if the thought of giving up never existed. Later I realized that they just couldn’t stop.”
Once you stop, you have to start thinking, and once you start thinking, you will face even greater despair. For these people, knowledge is not necessary; on the contrary, the more they know, the more unhappy they become.
"but--"
Pereira chuckled softly, a hint of self-mockery in her voice: "Isn't it time to stop?"
Because I'm already very tired.
When you get tired, you stop. Isn't that a choice everyone makes? It has nothing to do with experience, personality, or even emotions. If you insist on asking why, it's as strange as asking why the world exists, why life dies, or why civilization develops.
Essentially, everyone is just being pushed along, and even the young queen is no exception.
Unfortunately... A sigh flashed through my mind.
In her final moments, the wind passed through the dissolving remains without lingering. Perec suddenly realized that she had never felt this way before in her life—death felt more like freedom. Was it because she had never truly felt the wind before? Perhaps it was because she had never had the opportunity. In her teacher's laboratory, the wind was deathly still; at the headquarters of the Witch Society, the wind was withered; in the hospitals where life and death were separated, the wind was suffocating, faintly carrying the smell of disinfectant; and in those initial millennia of wandering, the witch always wrapped herself tightly in her robes, head bowed, hurrying through the streets where the wind blew, never stopping to feel it, lest she hear the cries and wails carried on the wind.
The wind is blowing through her right now.
Passing through her fading chest, through the place where her once-beating heart had been, through those long-cracked, self-loathing wounds that had finally ceased to hurt, it brought a final greeting, like an old friend. Because of this strange feeling, Pereira recalled a day many years ago when her teacher decided to take her as a student, and thus took her out of the laboratory for the first time to the nearest city to buy supplies. But that was also the last time; from then on, the girl never escaped the cage her teacher had set for her throughout her life.
He bought a huge amount at once, an extravagant quantity. These supplies accompanied the girl through the tedious years of studying and waiting, and remained unused until her departure. Perhaps it was then that Pereike's inhuman qualities began to subtly emerge; she needed no rest, ate very little each day, and always stayed up late yet remained energetic. But the teacher didn't take it seriously, telling her that similar symptoms had occurred in the Moria tribe—a plague called "insomnia" that had once claimed three thousand lives, all by suicide.
He spoke of it casually, as if only three thousand moths had died because they failed to fly into the fire and thus brought about their own destruction.
What were I thinking at that time?
Pere tried hard to recall, but found she couldn't remember anything. Perhaps she wasn't thinking anything at all, just standing there like a young animal just awakened from a long hibernation, completely ignorant of the world, listening to the teachings of her elders, learning some common sense necessary to survive in a cruel world. Those were some of the few times she hadn't thought, felt guilty, or judged herself.
"What a pity..." She heard her own voice again, the sigh that had just ended, as light as a breath.
Only now did the witch truly realize what she was lamenting. She had thought it was for her own weak, unproductive life? For a tragic, unavoidable ending? For her sisters, destined for sorrow after losing their elder sister? But none of these were true. The answer was far more absurd than she had imagined, so she had always avoided it, unwilling to admit it. But if someone is unwilling to acknowledge their true feelings even on their deathbed, then they are far too stubborn.
Therefore, Perec must admit that her lament was actually for...
Her teacher.
The man named Metanzo.
The answer is absurd, but the reason, once you get to the bottom of it, is actually not complicated at all, so simple that it seems like a child throwing a tantrum.
Because she never felt any pity for him.
As a witch, passively spreading the plague and constantly harming others, Pereira felt pity for the innocent victims and always tried to avoid them to prevent harming more lives. Later, as the saint of the Garden of Plants and the Grand Master of the Hospitallers, she also felt deep sorrow for the patients lying in their beds, regardless of their severity, hoping for their speedy recovery. For this, she was willing to go against her mission and lend a helping hand. Even the wood elf boy she only met once and didn't even exchange a word with left a deep impression on her. It might even have been the beginning of her reflection and guilt. She pitied his plight but didn't lend a helping hand. In the years that followed, she imagined countless times, and just now she was imagining, what if she hadn't run away, but had bravely gone up to him and let him go, or even killed him... Wouldn't that have been a kind of relief?
She had never felt this way about her teacher.
That day, Tiss barged into her life and casually told the girl, "Your teacher is dead, and I killed him." At that moment, Perec's only reaction was a calm "Oh." Sadness was nonexistent, and anger was absurd. The emptiness in her heart was due to an unfilled loneliness and a bewilderment about fate. And all of this had nothing to do with the man named Metatron.
For thousands of years afterward, she almost never recalled the scene of that day, never thought about questions related to her teacher, never thought about what the last words her teacher said to her were before he died, and never even made assumptions: what if she had been sad at the time, what if she had actually missed him, or what if she had refused to become her teacher's student in the first place, and perhaps he wouldn't have died at the hands of the Witch of Reality?
The final assumption was actually made once before she heard the news of her teacher's death and decided to leave with Tientis, but it was also the only time.
These feelings were sown long ago, and only today have they manifested as that sigh—
Unfortunately, I'm just like my teacher.
They all use high-sounding names to do the most despicable things in the world, so even in death they will not receive anyone's pity, only self-loathing, self-mockery, and the consequences of their own actions. No one will give them genuine feelings, and no one will be willing to exchange a hypothetical scenario for their emotion.
and so.
Actually, the teacher was right... (End of Chapter)