Myth: The Ruler of Spirituality

Chapter 273: Chapter 66 Historians_2

Because his mindset was such, he harbored a desire to explore all things, had his own goals and yearnings, and would occasionally act on a whim. These qualities far more than the mere length of existence determined whether one was young.

“Wait, you wrote that wrong,” Laine pointed out a mistake after listening to the old man’s rationale.

“Wrote it wrong?”

His right hand paused, and the old man amiably accepted the critique:

“Then may I know what the issue is?”

“It wasn’t that the Goddess of Law approved of Mephisto’s Speech and then elevated him to a Holy Spirit. The punishment of humanity by the gods did not begin from there. From the very day Prometheus created humans, their destruction was already destined,” Laine explained.

The old man’s slate seemed to link the collapse of the Temple of Law, Mephisto’s ascent in flames, and the subsequent events together. But Laine knew that the connections between these events were not so strong.

“The Bronze Humanity was destined for destruction, as it was the will of the Olympian Gods,”

“…Why?”

“Because it was the Forethinker who created man,” Laine smiled in response, “and not the Divine King.”

In the high tower filled with parchment scrolls and stone carvings, silence ensued for a moment. After a brief pause, the old man considered Laine’s words, which had indeed crossed his mind before, as the oracles had suggested.

It seemed that the Olympian Gods deliberately made humans believe that their calamities were linked to the two deities who created them. Perhaps the younger generation couldn’t see it, but he could read the hidden meanings behind it.

However, the two godly figures had left too deep an imprint on humanity; even when faced with divine oracles, people subconsciously blamed Pandora, who played an unknown role. This seeming respect for the creator instead became their path to doom.

“It seems that the Bronze Humanity really has no chance of enduring… Only a new breed of humans, one that does not hold an inherent reverence for the two creators, would survive,”

The old man sighed, looked at the half-finished slate before him, and then pushed it aside.

He had wanted to leave something for posterity, even if that posterity belonged to a new era of humans. He had hoped that, just as the Bronze Humanity had learned the skills of the Golden Humanity, future generations would also gain something from the remnants of the Bronze Age. But if these records were flawed, then there was no point in continuing to document them.

“If that’s the case, you are not a deity from Olympus.”

Finally looking up, the old man turned to his side.

Black hair draped over his shoulders, with an exquisite, lush ring on his finger. Dark robes embroidered with dark gold thread that seemed not fixed but constantly shifting, leaping.

This deity appeared young, but the elder knew better than to judge a god’s age by their appearance.

“May I know the purpose of your visit today?”

His voice calm, the old man felt some regret but was neither disheartened nor servile.

Being spoken to as an equal by a god probably meant that the deity needed something from him. With this in mind, he felt no need to be lesser.

As someone who documented this knowledge, he had read the Speech of the one consumed by fire as recounted by others. Some points he agreed with, others he thought incorrect, but there was one in particular that the old man deemed quite sensible.

If one desires nothing, then there is equality of the spirits. Gods can threaten the living with death, but not someone who is about to die.

“A command? There is none,”

Shaking his head and under the old man’s somewhat surprised gaze, Laine inquired:

“Speaking of which, I still don’t know what you’re called.”

“My name is Humar.”

“It’s said that during the Golden Age, those tasked with recording history were called Hewa, so I gave myself a similar name. Rumor has it that in that age, he did the same, inscribing the past of gods and men on stone tablets. Unfortunately, I never had the chance to witness it.”

The old man seemed somewhat wistful.

“Hewa… I remember him.”

With a look of recognition, Laine recalled the name.

“Among the Golden Humanity, he was the outstanding one, perhaps because he spent more time with their king. He could have become an immortal Heroic Spirit, but later he gave that up voluntarily and asked to enter the Well of Reincarnation to become a new life.”

“Reincarnation?”

The old man was not surprised that the deity before him had met the chronicler, for the Golden Humanity was rumored to be closely connected with the gods. Rather, he was more interested in this unique concept of ‘reincarnation.’

“Yes, the souls of this world return to the Spirit Realm, and what determines their next life is Samsara.”

“Although he was responsible for recording history, he preferred to explore the unknown. I granted his request and gave him an additional reward, in return for his diligent work in the starry sky for a thousand years. I blurred his perception of time, allowing him to stay by the Well of Reincarnation for a while, waiting for the next human era to arrive, when he would start anew in the form of a human.”

“So, many eons ago, had you foreseen our birth and demise?”

Unaware that the time of Samsara’s birth was actually very short, Humar believed that the others had anticipated the arrival of the next human era even before the birth of Bronze Humanity.

With a self-deprecating smile, the old man suddenly asked:

“Forgive my boldness, Your Highness, but if fate truly cannot be changed, does that apply to gods as well?”

“In the past, that was the case, deities were but puppets to the world itself; now, it’s different, but there are still some things unchangeable.”

Laine smiled, the impact on the destiny of Chaos increased by the day, larger and more numerous. Even his understanding of future myths might no longer hold true.

For instance, Athena and the Fire God, they had yet to come to this world.

“Enough idle chatter… I promised Prometheus that I’d come here on the day humanity was destroyed, so here I am. Meeting you was just a coincidence.”

“Then, follow me,” Laine said cheerfully, “while I’m still in the Mortal Realm. You can tell me about your past, your perceptions, and the gods as you see them; in return, I promise to grant you rebirth and keep you safe in this catastrophe.”

“Will humanity then continue?” the old man asked.

“Probably not.”

Shaking his head slightly, Laine had agreed to help some people survive the calamity, but that was as far as it went.

Even if all survived, without women, they would be unable to continue civilization, let alone that Laine didn’t think he’d meet many mortals worthy of saving.

“Then there’s no need for that, I don’t require a new life.”

The old man stood up and struggled to lift a stone stele from the side.

“If you permit, let me record today’s events as a historian of Bronze Humanity.”

“I will inscribe your deeds on a tablet, just as Hewa did during the ancient Golden Age of Humanity. This is my gift to you, and I hope it will represent Bronze Humanity and endure eternally alongside you.”

“Hmm?”

Taken aback, Laine seriously regarded the ordinary old man for the first time upon hearing his request.

In his eyes, Laine saw no fear of death.

“…If that is what you want, then I permit it.”

“But, there’s no need to give it to me, leave it for humans instead.”

The tide of the ages surged forward; perhaps those resplendent souls were never limited to just the epic sagas.

In past lives, as well as the present, Laine had never been one to throw himself into ‘ideals’ recklessly, but he had always respected the decisions of these idealists.

So he glanced around, and his gaze ultimately pierced through the walls to behold the entirety of Aurora City.

The city was thrown into chaos, people venting their fear, with only a few places as exceptions. Like that grand and imposing temple, and the charred figure kneeling on the ground.

“Divine King’s temple, is that where your former High Priest is kneeling?”

“Yes, that is the sanctuary of the Divine King.”

“It used to belong to humans, but now, a miracle has manifested there—”

The old man seemed to understand something, but he was about to die, and humans were on the brink of extinction. Now, all he wished to do was leave as much of his own mark on the future, as much of the Bronze Age, as possible.

And Laine’s response did not disappoint him.

“Then let it be placed there, in front of the Great Temple where Bronze Humanity worshipped the Divine King, display the final verses of this age.”

“All began with Prometheus, born from deceit, and thus the end of this era should be buried with them.”

With a smile, Laine spoke slowly:

“Let your record accompany that ugly soul.”

“Nobility and baseness complement each other.”