Chapter 74 Memories of the Truth
The implication was too obvious, and Reinhardt could certainly tell that there was a hidden meaning in the sentence. However, under Buster's guidance, he had become accustomed to the straightforward approach, and the euphemistic way of speaking no longer suited him.
Facing this man who claimed to be an old friend, Reinhardt remained composed and clearly stated his purpose: "You seem to already know about my past, so you should also know why I have come."
The voice let out a barely audible laugh, seemingly speaking with a sense of helplessness.
"Don't you want to know anything more besides where the eyes are?"
It's a lie to say you don't want to.
As a young boy, Reinhardt was trapped in the dark underground, and his curiosity was gradually extinguished by the daily torment. At that time, he truly fell into a brief period of isolation, resisting all the unknown and contact with the outside world.
But after being pulled from the execution ground, Buster let him feel the wind.
It's still a storm.
Carrying heavy moisture, the oncoming gale brought down a sudden downpour, forming a vast curtain of water that covered the rocking boat in the blink of an eye.
The surging waves crashed against the ship like ferocious beasts. Even now, Reinhardt still remembers the pounding of his heart as he stood on the observation deck, held in Buster's arms, experiencing it all.
It was at that moment that he realized he was still alive, and he also clearly understood that he was actually full of anticipation for the unknown.
Even the painful truth.
Reinhardt sighed slowly.
“I was persistent in that area. I still retain a certain thirst for knowledge,” he said. “But that’s in the past for me now, and I’m more inclined to face the future.”
"A very positive attitude, unlike the kind of thoughts that someone as taciturn as you would have."
Reinhardt thought for a moment, then frankly told the other party about his changes.
"In fact, I was influenced by my lover, Buster Grand, the leader of the Storm Bandits."
...
The silence was deafening, and Reinhardt sensed a sense of relief from it: 'No matter what you do, I won't be surprised.'
The other person's tone became calmer, and he sighed: "That's good. Love is a compulsory course for you as a human being."
Reinhardt didn't want to waste time arguing with him, and his next sentence steered the conversation back to the main point.
"So you want to see me to tell me the truth about what happened back then?"
There was no need for further pleasantries; the voice understood this perfectly and slightly altered its communication style with Reinhardt.
“In fact, our meeting now is an arrangement made by you in the past,” he said. “Yes, I kept my promise to you, waiting for you here, and will tell you the truth about what happened back then.”
"You were the murderer who massacred the main city of the Harlin Empire back then, Reinhardt."
The lace-covered gloves silently clenched into fists, Reinhardt's breath hitched for a moment, and his tightly closed eyelids under the brim of his hat trembled slightly.
But he stood firm, not defeated by this so-called truth, but instead held his breath and waited for the other party to continue.
"That massacre was not a spur-of-the-moment act, nor was it a punishment carried out to solidify the god's position. Rather, it should be said that the massacre was your final act of devotion to the world, as you, a god who was already in the twilight of his life and was about to fall."
The cosmic galaxy surrounding Reinhardt suddenly distorted, and a vividly colored scene appeared before the blind man's eyes.
A shocking crimson figure burst in, and a human corpse with its head and body severed suddenly fell before Reinhardt, who was wearing a long dress.
He paused, instinctively wanting to call out Storm's name. But the corpse that had fallen before him suddenly came to life, drawing Reinhardt's attention.
It was the corpse of an elderly man, judging from the wrinkles in his skin. His head had been completely severed, and the cut at the neck was smooth and clean, still gushing blood.
Reinhardt could almost feel the hot flow of blood splattering on his body. But what was terrifying was that along with the blood, an evil aura that made him extremely uncomfortable also gushed out.
Just like... the aura of the Demon's Eye.
He saw that the decapitated corpse was still moving; after getting up from the ground, it touched the blood-stained long blade on the ground.
But the next second, its body and the long blade were covered in intense light.
It disintegrated in a grid-like pattern, and golden light split it apart, splattering it on the ground along with gushing blood.
A foul stench emanated from that body, rising like smoke from a chimney, winding its way up and merging with the dark clouds that still lingered in the sky.
Reinhardt opened his eyes.
A ripple appeared in those empty, pupil-less eye sockets, and slowly the figure of another person emerged.
A guy who looks exactly like Reinhardt, whether in appearance, height, or hair color.
The difference is that the other party is complete.
His skin seemed even paler than Reinhardt's now, devoid of any color, as cold as the indifference in his eyes.
Emerging from the light, the 'he's' pristine white robes and bare feet were stained with blood, utterly filthy. His long golden hair was also covered in crimson stains, as were his fingers, collar, and even his cheeks.
He had no weapon in his hand, yet the light emanating from him was so sharp it could slice through any god at any moment.
Reinhardt could only watch helplessly as he approached from afar, slaughtering all the humans who stood in his way.
Then, they passed each other by.
His long, golden hair, stained with blood, flew in the wind, and the 'Reinhardt' seemed to completely ignore him.
Reinhardt followed him with his gaze, and only after turning around did he realize to his horror that behind him was already a sea of corpses!
Countless grotesque, mutilated, and twisted corpses piled up into a mountain of corpses, while a man who looked exactly like him walked step by step toward the mountain.
Reinhardt's usually calm expression finally cracked. His fingertips trembled as he tried to embrace the other person, but after his fingers missed, he realized with a start that the so-called god who had slaughtered countless people was none other than himself!
Reinhardt could feel the resonance of their souls, could sense the calm and decisiveness of the other party during the slaughter, and... and a strange, gratifying satisfaction that the great deed was done.
For a moment, Reinhardt was gripped by fear and shock, and his breathing became rapid.
The stench of rust, rotting flesh, and more—smells Reinhardt had never smelled before—rushed into his mouth and nose!
Reinhardt couldn't stop gagging and almost lost his footing. But he managed to steady himself and keep from kneeling.
The sheer absurdity, fear, and guilt overwhelmed Reinhardt like a raging inferno, and he felt as if he couldn't breathe.
Only when the mountains of corpses and seas of blood around him faded away, and the nauseating stench was swept away by the current, did Reinhard regain the chance to breathe fresh air.
A long silence fell over the air.
It was enough for him to calm down, enough for him to think, enough for him to search.
Searching for the singularity in that terrifying memory, Reinhardt closed his eyes.
"The massacred people were not human; they were... corrupted and assimilated demons?"
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Author's note: I accidentally posted this. I was planning to save it until 9 PM tonight. (slaps thigh)
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