Chương 58: Darwin's Demons

Darwin I sat and waited. I waited for what felt like an eternity. Waited beneath the trees. Waited beneath the cold water. Waited forever. Alone… Alone… Alone… Time gives one perspective. Time to think. I hadn't been a great man. Hell, many would argue I hadn't been a good man either. Still… I did my best. I remember being so excited when I was young to unlock my system. The rest of my life waited beyond that moment. I was a dutiful son. I'd prayed to each god to light a path forward for me.

One by one, my brothers and sisters unlocked their systems, each perfectly suited to who they were. One brother became a woodworker. Oh, the fineries he could make were simply breathtaking; polished wood shaped so smoothly that you could barely find where one piece joined another. My sister became a seamstress. An uncommon seamstress class at that. She could weave magic directly into silk, giving it unique qualities. Men and women came from all over to witness the beauty she could create.

Many men stayed far after to witness her beauty. Another sister worked with animals. And yet another joined the church. And me? I waited. Patiently. And then, like the breaking of the dawn, on the last day before I was to be declared classless, my system finally awoke. I remember my parents and siblings being so happy for me. They told me to wait before looking. We threw an enormous feast. Even many of the townsfolk came.

Tables filled the house and spilled outside, crowded with fresh bread and roasted meats—as well as stiff drinks. People laughed. My brothers slapped me on the back. My sisters cried and hugged me. We celebrated the life I was about to begin. And when the time came, I revealed my system to everyone. It was the worst day of my life— System Class: Palingenesis Description: … Die! One word… die. Everyone must have sensed something was wrong.

When my parents forced me to show them the message, my mother broke down in tears. My father cursed the gods—but one should never curse gods. Another battle began. Another war broke out. Demons… demons and their constant fighting for their paper thrones. My town became nothing more than an arena to them. Homes burned. Fields were trampled beneath marching feet. Smoke hung over places where children had once laughed played without a care in the world. My parents. My siblings. The townsfolk…

all nothing more than pieces on a game board—sacrifices. But what had they ever done? Why did they deserve it? It started with my mother. Then a sister. Then my father. Then a brother. Then another. And another. Slowly, shamefully, my entire family fell the the demon onslaught. Worse, they werten't even the target. Just bodies in the way. I remember holding a blade to my own throat. I prayed to the gods who had forsaken us to give me at least the strength to kill myself… but I failed. I was too weak.

Too attached to a life and a world that seemed to hate the very land I tread upon. And so I left. I ran. Abandoned the fight. And what was there to fight for? A cursed land? A broken home? Countless shattered dreams? No… not me. I am not that sort of hero. The sort that fought on when all hope was lost. That could never be me. Stolen content alert: this content belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences. And so I became a vagrant of sorts. I wandered from place to place, picking up odd jobs where I could.

Sleeping beneath roofs when someone was generous and beneath trees when they weren't. Until, one day, a barmaid—a simple barmaid—saw me. And for the first time, I felt seen. Eventually, I showed her my class. That one simple word: Die. She placed a soft hand against my face and whispered a word that would etch itself forever onto my heart.

"… Live!" And so I defied my system. I welcomed becoming classless. Yet it never came. Because my system knew that mortals had but one fate—it only had to wait for the inevitable. Eventually, I had a child. No… two. Perhaps three? So far away now, those memories. So distant. And then what always happened… happened. War came. Another demon war. More land to conquer. More land upon which to spew their hatred against one another. Why not bloody their own homes? Why not risk their own families? Their own land?

Their own cities? Why always someone else's? But this time was different. I had grown. Become a man. This time, weak as I was, I would fight. And so humanity took a stand and fought back against the demon onslaught, no longer content to live and die at their whims. My only talent was to die, but for some reason, that was the one thing I could not do. Countless one-sided battles, and I always came out alive. Battles that should have been lost, only for me to hold the one place that needed holding. A bridge. A gate.

A narrow road buried beneath bodies. Somehow, I remained. I came to earn respect. Admiration. A title— Theo the Undying. Heh… a class whose only command was to die, and here I was, to some, a god made flesh. A weapon against the demons. And so it went. The demons would come, and I would fight. Many would die. Some would not—because of me. They held parades in my honor. Banquets. Festivals. Eventually, there were one hundred men and women under my direct command.

An army whose sole purpose and goal was the eradication of demons. My class no longer mattered. I was undying. Not just in flesh, but in the hearts and minds of all who had come to know me—or any one of my Hundred Slayers. Life went on. The battles ended. Treaties were signed. The demons went home, leaving behind destruction in their wake. No matter; we rebuilt, the same as before. No better! The indomitable will of humans. My children grew up in safety that I carved for them with my own two hands.

I lived a life and I loved well… until it happened. I'd spent my entire life watching and fighting demonkind—I never expected the dagger in my back to come from a human. Especially one so close. Betrayal within the ranks of the Hundred Slayers. My crime? Caring about human life. There were those who believed I had grown soft. I hadn't wanted to march on demon lands. I was content with peace. But when you raise an army of children from boy to man, from girl to woman, with hate as their only purpose…

peace is smothered out of their hearts, and only rage remains. Three of my youngest and brightest Slayers. Three betrayed me. My wife lay dead in front of me, cut from ear to ear. I tried to fight, but my body, old and damaged from decades of battle, could do nothing. I could only watch. I can still smell the dirt from where I laid my head. Cold earth. Blood. I wished with all my heart that I could finally fulfill the promise of my system and just… die. And my wish was finally granted.

A sweet release as the dagger dragged across the flesh of my throat. It felt like being released into eternity. Everything became vivid. Bright. I felt myself rising, certain that I would finally be with my wife again… and then the cold abyss took me. Frigid. Arctic. It dragged me under. Smothered me. Suffocated me. Drowned me. Over and over and over again in an endless cycle. Days… Months… Years… Decades… My mind drifted… and I forgot. The pieces of my life scattered around me like broken glass.

And that was when, finally, the gods saw fit to speak to me. They whispered of prophecy. Of fate. Of a time when the world would need me… but I no longer cared for the world. They tried to convince me—I rebuked them. And then they showed me… my children. Their children. My line. They still lived. My curse had not followed them. They said that a choice I made—a choice between Theo and someone else—would ultimately bring salvation or ruin. And so… I agreed. I agreed to sever everything I was.

To become the thing that was needed. I found myself holding a single shard, its sharp edge cutting deeply into my very human hand. Yes… I was human. My name had been Theo the Undying. No—just Theo. I had given up the name. The memories. Everything. I had done what was asked of me. And now… I had that same choice once again. Did I collect the stained-glass tapestry of my life and piece it back together?

Or did I trust the gods—trust the system—and remain ignorant, molded into what they needed me to be in order to bring salvation? Thinking of my children and grandchildren, I realized there was no real choice at all.

"Congratulations," a voice rang out from everywhere at once.

"Given the choice, you remained true to your convictions. You are free to pass." The trees I had been clawing at disappeared. I tried to stand and found that I had no hands. No. Not hands. Four talons. Wings upon my back. A scorpion's tail. I was nothing and everything all at once. I stepped forward, past the mist.

"I'm… coming… Master…"