Chapter 67: The True Meaning of Despair

Chapter 67: The True Meaning of Despair

I was currently standing over Artorias' soon-to-be corpse. I contemplated over my choices, I could try saving Artorias.

/But why should I?/

He tried to kill me. He may have come here with a noble cause to save the princess but died trying. Now he tried to murder me because of his own mistake. Causing me a large inconvenience. Why should I try saving some weak loser that tried killing me after his own failure?

It's not my job to save his life. Nor do I have any responsibility to. If I held the responsibility to try and save any valiant warrior with honorable conviction I saw then I would probably kill myself permanently.

No matter how noble Artorias seemed, honorable fools like him are not too rare in my version of lordran. He wanted to fight the big bad evil and save the princess. A story that is a dime a dozen in Lordran.

They all wanted to fight the big bad evil and save the world. If I felt like it was my responsibility to save Artorias' life then why didn't I go out of my way to save them too? What makes him special exactly?

A sob story did not make him deserve anything. Sympathy points do not get you saved, nor does it make you special.

You had a good life, a prestigious knight of Gwyn, had a lover(?) had fame, had friends. You were born as a lord, had everything. Yet you threw everything away because of your retardedness.

Now people cry over you as a "Valiant hero who sacrificed his life to kill Manus". You left your shield behind to save your best friend? Left behind a weeping lover?

Cry me a fucking river.

If a sob story like that got you salvation then I would be in heaven right now.

By all means, it is more reasonable to just absorb his soul for power. The moment he tried to attack me his life was already over in my eyes. I could also give his soul to his grieving partner for a funeral.

But what made me this strong wasn't charity.

I got here by being ruthless. The door was up in the sky so I built a mountain of my own corpses to reach it.

Whatever was possible I did it. All for the sake of power. I killed and let people die for power when I could try talking. If it was a threat to me then it had to die.

Then why am I hesitating?

A weak sob story isn't enough to move. I have heard and personally seen far, far worse. But then why...?

A knight who had a righteous cause and lost his life trying to achieve it. The source of this content nov(el)bi((n))

It felt like I was looking at a disgusting mirror of myself. A resemblance so uncanny that it unnerved me greatly. A failed version of myself.

/Could I even call myself the successful version though?/

Tsk. Lucky bastard.

I put my hand over his chest and reached into his soul with my own. His soul was nearly completely consumed by the abyss, purple and black abyss plaguing it, yet a small shard of it persisted still. He could be saved. /How envious/

I spend over an hour surgically removing the abyss from his soul trying hard to damage whatever is left. I subsumed all abyss inside, raising the proficiency of Umbra in the process.

By the time it was over I collapsed a bit away from Artorias while drenched in sweat. While I was resting on a couch I summoned just contemplating my miserable existence a visitor decided to visit.

After all the action of course. It would kill any own Gwyn's subjects instantly if they did anything remotely productive or useful for once.

From a side glance, I saw a female figure slightly shorter than me in royalish assassin West with two color-coded weapons. Celery or whatever her name was. She looked at Artorias' (former) corpse, and then back to me.

"...Are you human? ...How did you...? I am immensely grateful for saving Artorias. I-"

"Sure, whatever. Just take him away, no need for any thanks for anything just count the big lug lucky. Just make sure he rests for a decade or so with that damaged soul of his."

A being incomprehensibly strong. Odds so impossible, aura so overwhelming that my body just stopped. The absolute rage and melancholy emanating from it were so impossibly dense that it made me wince.

A being out of my league. Just like the Asylum Demon. An actual god. Its soul not split like the four kings or seath. Its power not divided and mutated like the bed of chaos. Not deteriorated like Nito.

One of the 4 gods. Not just at his prime, but beyond it. A lord soul that has been pushed to a breaking point. Creating a monstrosity beyond belief.

This is the furtive Pygmy himself. This is Manus, a being comparable to Gwyn at his prime, maybe even beyond that. He sunk this entire land by himself, the progenitor of all humanity. Father of humanity and Abyss. A being of power incomparable to me.

The chances of me even being able to challenge it were abysmally low.

But do I even want to challenge it?

.

..

...

..

.

What do I do now?

I came here for answers yet there are none.

I sat atop the colosseum I defeated Artorias at. The very peak that overlooked nearly all of Oolacile. The sight was enchanting yet I felt... nothing.

What do I do...? There is nothing left here is there?

I guess there is the rest of the world to search a purpose for? And if I don't find anything.

*Sigh*

'...'

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