WeTried Translations

Translator: Hydrogen B

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◈ Omniscient First-Person's Viewpoint

Chapter 533

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Just a Feeling

The Mountain Lord left only after filling his belly, and at my expense no less. Thanks to him, I found myself doing delivery work I had never once signed up for. The bedridden regressor and one gluttonous dog — I hauled food for both of them in a pack frame and trudged back to the manor.

When I stepped into the yard, Azzy came barreling out barefoot.

"Woof! Food! Food!"

"You're happy to see the food but not me?"

"Happy to see you bringing food!"

"Well, thanks for making the effort."

With Azzy spinning circles around me, tongue hanging out, I headed inside. Normally I would have tossed her a piece of meat and eaten at the table, but with the regressor bedridden and unable to get up on her own, I had nursing duties on top of everything else.

I grabbed a few utensils and made my way to the inner room where she was lying down.

"Are you going to eat or not? Just so you know, if you skip this meal you'll be waiting until the next one. Azzy won't leave you anything."

"...I'll eat."

Fancy that — she was actually going to eat this commoner's cooking without a fuss. Well, the regressor insisting on the Manhan Quanxi was never really about being picky. It was just convenient and safe. Even so, this was the first time I had seen her this compliant.

I tossed Azzy a chunk of meat and started laying out the food. While I did, the regressor stared at me and sank into thought.

'...Hughes likes me?'

Excuse me? What? Where is this sudden nonsense coming from? I almost turned and looked at her with all the contempt I could muster, then caught myself. She had only thought it, not said it, so if I reacted with a sour expression and our eyes met, she would figure out I could read minds.

'Not in that way, obviously. But I never really felt it either. He helped, but it was always mutual use, or things I pushed him into.'

Oh, please. Whether you mean it "in that way" or not, how about questioning the premise that I like you at all? And the only reason I cooperate with you is because you're a regressor. Who picks a fight with someone who can rewind time itself if things go sideways? If you can't beat them, join them.

'...But. Tyrkanzyaka was friendly to me in the previous cycle, and yet in this one she treated me as an enemy. Had she changed so much facing the End? Or maybe she put her hopes in my regression?'

So she told Tyr about the regression in the previous cycle. That makes sense. Even Tyrkanzyaka, standing at the edge of the End, would want to reach for any hope she could find.

'Compared to that, Hughes cooperates even without knowing I'm a regressor. Though he has tried to shake me off at times.'

I know! That's the whole point! I cooperate because I know, and I try to shake you off because I know!

'Right. It makes no sense. Azzy must have read it wrong. I'm not as kind as she made me out to be.'

At least her self-assessment was grounded. If she had actually believed herself to be warm and gentle, there would have been no hope for her at all.

Wait, hold on. What did Azzy say while I was gone? Something about me being kind, so I must like her?

This is why animals are no good. They can only gauge whether you're being nice to them; they cannot see what's underneath. You could fatten a dog up planning to make stew out of it, and it would wag its tail at all the extra food.

The reason I was keeping the regressor fed was because she was my only link to the Sanctum. I was helping her to use her. Simple as that.

Salt, spices, a rich broth with onions, carrots, and cabbage simmered down into a thick soup. Plain, yes, but anything that has survived thousands of years of culinary history has earned its place. One bowl that covered both nutrition and fullness. I set it down in front of the regressor.

"Ngh. Thank you... Ugh!"

She tried to sit up, winced, and collapsed back down. She had downed precious elixirs like water and received treatment from Azzy, but the internal injuries the Mountain Lord had dealt were still holding on.

Azzy, who had been nose-deep in her own bowl, looked up with a worried expression.

"Woof? Does it hurt?"

"Ugh, I think I'll be better in a little while..."

"Eat! You have to eat to get better!"

"I'd like to, but..."

The Mountain Lord had certainly given her a thorough lesson in humility. I had never seen the regressor this weakened before. They say illness makes people think too much, and sure enough, she had been lost in her head all day — more than usual.

Wait. Let me think about this differently.

Whatever my reasons, it would serve me well to stay in the regressor's good graces. Since I could not read her memories from before the regression, if she never chose to tell me herself, I had no active way to pull that information out of her.

And right now, as it happened, she had opened up to me considerably. Goodwill is like a sale item: buy plenty while the discount lasts. Especially with someone as guarded and suspicious as her. If not now, there might never be another real chance to connect.

I tore the meat with the spoon, piled on the vegetables, and loaded it all into one heaping bite. Then I held it out carefully, one hand cupped underneath.

"There you go, Shei-ssi."

"Huh?"

"Open up."

"Ah...?"

I angled the spoon toward her open mouth. She started to take the food without thinking, then startled and clamped her mouth shut.

"Wha — what are you doing?"

"What does it look like? I'm nursing a patient who can't move her hands or feet."

"Why are you suddenly nursing me? It doesn't suit you at all!"

"What's so strange about it. When someone is sick and hurting, you help them a little. Even dogs share their food when a friend is struggling."

"Woof...?"

Azzy jerked her head up, eyes darting between her meat and the regressor. She crept forward like a guilty puppy, squeezed her eyes shut, and nudged her plate toward the regressor. She was trembling as though she were sacrificing an arm.

"No, no, Azzy, it's fine."

"Woof? Fine? Then I won't hold back!"

You could stand to hold back a little. You reject the offer and go right on eating in her face.

"Anyway. Think about it. To build your strength back up, you need to eat. That's basic common sense."

"That's true, but..."

'When a person does something out of character... is that supposed to be a bad sign? What's going on? Why is he suddenly being kind?'

"Oh, stop muttering. When someone offers you kindness, accept it graciously. Once you're better, I won't be doing this anymore."

"Mm!"

I pushed the spoon in. She looked startled for a moment, then gave up and took the food. Chewing seemed to hurt a little — she was frowning — but her injuries were not bad enough to stop her from swallowing. She made a grumpy face and chewed slowly.

"Keep going. You're finishing this bowl."

"Chew, gulp... No, you really don't have to. Mf."

"You were talking, which means your mouth was empty."

Spoonful by spoonful, the bowl was nearly empty before I knew it.

"I'm actually full now. That's enough."

"That's an illusion. Your body's tricking you. Here."

"Ah..."

'Something is really off. He's not the type to be this kind... or is he? Have I been too harsh in my view of Hughes?'

At last she had arrived at that thought.

'Hughes is rough. Brutal, more precisely. But in reality he hasn't done anything notably wicked. Not in the military state, not in the Lesser States, not in Ende. Far from being steeped in sin, he's helped people. Wild, but not evil. As if savagery and evil aren't the same thing at all.'

The plan was working. People are animals in the end. When someone is hungry and hurting and you stay by them, they feel gratitude. This was well worth the effort.

'...Could Hughes actually like me?'

Oh, for the love of — I nearly upended the bowl.

'My goal is to defeat the King of Sin and stop the End. In the end, Hughes is the King of Humanity, so he might want to help someone who's trying to save humanity.'

Then think that way from the start! Don't make even someone with mind reading jump to the wrong conclusion!

The regressor was not slow to act, exactly. She just had no fixed lines. Flashes of insight would interrupt her mid-thought and reset everything from scratch. A way of thinking that was almost animal in nature.

My natural predator, practically speaking. Right — better to be on the same side than fight a natural predator. Stay calm. Just stay calm.

"I'm done."

"How long do you think recovery will take?"

"Three days should have me moving around. The rest I can take at my own pace."

"Three days? For injuries that bad? Are you actually human?"

"Please. I'm more human than someone who got torn apart by the Mountain Lord and walked it off."

Fair point. Now that I had grasped the full weight of being a Demon God, my life was considerably more durable than the regressor's. Which meant I could stop using fragility as an excuse to look out for myself.

"By the way — you're the King of Humanity. Is it really fine that you've become a vampire?"

"Why wouldn't it be. Vampires are human too."

"You've been turning down the Elder offers all this time, haven't you?"

"Becoming an Elder would put my thoughts and will entirely under Tyr's dominion. Neither of us wants that. What Tyr truly wanted was for me not to die or be hurt for nothing — not to turn me into a puppet."

"That almost sounds like you're saying you're different from a vampire now."

"I am. This isn't vampirism. It's a Demon God's power."

"Demon God...?"

"Yes. Oh, did I not mention that? Tyr ended up reaching Demon God. There's no huge difference from before, though."

The regressor, lying flat on her back, went wide-eyed.

"Something that important and you're only telling me now?!"

"Oh? Did I not say?"

"No, you didn't! This is the first I'm hearing of it!"

"Well, better late than never. Keep that in mind going forward. Still, even with Tyr becoming a Demon God, vampires already exist in the world. Maybe no enormous change will come of it."

"How could that possibly be true? It absolutely will!"

"What do you mean?"

'If Tyrkanzyaka becomes a Demon God, what happens? The good news is that she's still alive — unlike Nevida — so her power won't be unleashed without a will to direct it. But there's one problem. Those two despise the Sanctum with everything they have.'

A living Demon God is less of a threat than a dead one. Not because they are weaker. Because they are still bound to life.

A Demon God reduced to a tool, with nothing left but the power itself, will exert any force its user demands. Even in death, a Demon God who reached that state is carved into the fabric of the world, so the power never fades. But a Demon God who is still alive will hesitate to unleash that immense power, because the innate arcane that sways the very world will sweep up themselves and everyone around them along with it.

As it had been with the Golden Mirror. As it had been with the Great Master. There is no one more unstoppable than someone already dead — except someone ready to die.

But what if two Demon Gods resolved to destroy the Sanctum, even at the cost of their own lives? Demon Gods with clear intent and burning hatred would not leave the Sanctum standing.

'Those two would hold off on destroying the Sanctum even if the opportunity came. They would want to drag the Holy Maiden and the Celestial God through every possible humiliation first. And if they're Demon Gods... they have the means to do it. The Root Tree and bloodcraft, of all things.'

Listening to her thoughts, I had to admit those two Demon Gods made for quite a pairing. At this rate they might end up as allies. Not that an alliance between them would cause me any particular trouble.

'Ngh. If that's the case, what comes later... what do I do. When the Grand Crossing happens, the Empire and the Sanctum will form a complete front line... war is going to break out immediately.'

Grand Crossing? Front line? Another string of thoughts I had no context for.

I decided to stop analyzing everything I pulled from the regressor's mind. Puzzle it all together, and in a few days she would have a new idea that threw everything out. Better to feed her, apply her medicine, and build goodwill. The direct path was always the fastest.

While the regressor fretted through her thoughts, I took out my own share of the food. I had finished feeding her, so now it was my turn.

Spoonful after spoonful, I filled my empty stomach. The warm broth seeped into me, and the satisfaction was as complete as anything I could ask for. Even with an immortal body, hunger was apparently still something I felt.

A Demon God carves their innate arcane into the world. Through Tyr's will, I was now etched into the world as "Hughes." I doubted starving would kill me, but there was no reason to test it. Hunger was pain, and pain was pain.

They say a ghost that died on a full stomach looks better for it. I would eat regardless. I was scraping the last of the soup from the bowl when it happened.

"Hey! What — what are you doing?!"

The regressor shouted out of nowhere. I nearly dropped the spoon. I wiped the corner of my mouth and said:

"Whoa, you startled me. What's wrong, all of a sudden? Can't a person eat in peace!"

"Woof? I'm a dog and you poke me all the time."

"You're right. So humans set up a proverb and don't even follow it themselves. A perfect illustration of how little integrity the human race has. I apologize on behalf of all humanity."

"Woof! It's fine! You can poke me all you want as long as you give me food!"

While Azzy and I arrived at a dramatic understanding, the neglected regressor shrieked.

"Not that! That — that's the spoon I was using!"

"So? Using a spoon to eat is perfectly natural."

"Use a different one! There are plenty of spoons! Why are you putting the one I used straight into your mouth!"

"Oh, that was the problem? Come on. It's just a spoon."

She had seen worse than this and she was going to lecture me about hygiene over a spoon. There was no predicting this person. She came across as someone who had been through a great deal, but her defenses crumbled in the strangest places.

"If a little saliva is that offensive, then Azzy — who drools everywhere she goes — is a walking epidemic. You're being ridiculous."

"It feels gross when someone else uses the same one!"

"It shouldn't bother Shei-ssi at all. The spoon was clean when it went into your mouth. If anyone should be upset, it's me. Why are you the one making a fuss. And getting worked up over a bit of saliva is strange, isn't it? What harm does it actually do? Oh no! Someone else's bodily fluid entered my body! I might get pregnant!"

The regressor's face went red.

"Preg—?! Are you out of your mind!"

"I was being sarcastic. And I'm a man, so pregnancy isn't exactly on the table for me."

"There's a limit to what you can joke about!"

"Which shows that your reaction was just as excessive. An ordinary animal wouldn't give it a second thought. Here, I'll demonstrate. Azzy."

I scooped up some meat and held it out to Azzy as an example. She had already cleaned out her own bowl and was licking her lips, and she snapped at the spoon in an instant. Someone else's spoon, and she could not have cared less.

Slurp, slurp, slurp, slurp.

Her long tongue swept over the spoon again and again. Azzy chewed and sucked and savored it, determined not to leave a single drop of broth.

...Could you at least think about whose spoon you were about to leave this as. This was too much. The spoon was soaked. I stared down at it, pooled with Azzy's saliva.

The regressor noticed my distress and smirked.

"Ha. I thought saliva was nothing to you. Go on and eat it."

"...I think you may have had a point, Shei-ssi. This does produce a specific revulsion that calls pregnancy to mind."

"Why is that always the comparison you reach for?! There are other options!"

"I'll go get another spoon."

Tch. I never thought the day would come when I admitted the regressor was right. But do not think this is over.

I was going to set this spoon aside and use it on her tomorrow when I fed her. We would see whether she could tell the difference between a saliva-soaked spoon and a clean one.

The next day. After feeding the regressor and finishing my own meal, I remembered that I had kept the spoon from the day before. Remembered that I had, in fact, brought it with me.

Which spoon it was was never determined.

But that made one thing clearer than ever.

It really was all in your head. I spent the meal at fifty-fifty odds on whether I was eating off a compromised utensil, and shared this precious emotional experience with the regressor.

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