Chapter 287

Death is the end of life. What comes after is unknown to anyone.

That’s why people fear death. Those who have much, those who have little. Unless one is truly despairing to the bone, few can take death lightly.

Some, out of fear, turn their bodies into lifeless husks, seeking immortality through imperfect means. Such individuals once gathered in the Underground Castle. The Demon King knew of such methods but never practiced them. He had no desire to live on, reeking of preservatives.

“How strange. So this is death.”

Now, he floated, gazing at his own body. Though he wanted to utter a few words to his lifeless form, no words came. Reaching out to touch it, his hand simply passed through.

“Could it be that all the dead wander like ghosts? Or is it because I trained in Mental Arts for so long that I retain consciousness even after death?”

Perhaps Mental Arts had the power to nourish the soul? Surely, not all the dead became wandering spirits like him.

Or did he have some deep, unknown grudge? Did that power allow him to reincarnate as a Death God?

“I can see them, but they can’t see me…”

“Ugh, what happened…”

As Yanid woke up, groaning and clutching her head, he stood right in front of her. But she didn’t seem to notice him, getting up without a care. She even walked through him as she trudged through the snow.

“What’s that? No way…?!”

Seeing the wrapped corpse, her face paled, and she ran off, completely ignoring his own body lying nearby. He hadn’t expected condolences from the girl, but it still stung…

“Really…? No. How could this happen…”

Watching her tears flow like spring water, the man once called the Demon King felt a pang of sadness. He hadn’t realized how much it would bother him that no one would mourn his death. In life, he hadn’t cared about such things.

“Seeing others laugh, cry, share happiness and sorrow…”

But—it was all his own doing. He had never shown kindness to others, so why should they mourn him? Kindness is a two-way street. He hadn’t given, so he couldn’t expect to receive.

“Is this my punishment? To watch this alone for eternity? I lived as the Demon King, so it wasn’t a proper life. If this is my fate, I’ll accept it.”

He had lived recklessly, so paying for his sins in death wasn’t strange.

[Well, should I say he died well? He wasn’t a good guy, but he was something. Why did he die so suddenly? Was it old age…?]

“That person?! Could it be Grimudo? Why…?”

“I don’t know. He suddenly acted like he was about to die, and then he did…”

At least those three didn’t have any grudge against him, so they didn’t rejoice at his death. The dragon seemed a bit pleased but also conflicted, Yanid was indifferent, and Roka was even a little sad.

But—how many on this continent had suffered because of him?

Though he rarely roamed the continent himself, the monsters he created had wreaked havoc. The damage they caused was likely horrifying.

The news of his death would spread, and people would rejoice, celebrating the death of the demon.

Thinking of this, he felt a twinge of regret. In the past, he wouldn’t have cared, but now, regret was a rare feeling.

[Are you serious? You’re going to take that body back to the continent?]

“He helped me in the end. I should repay the favor.”

[Well, if you insist… But wouldn’t it be better to bury him here and leave?]

Watching Roka wrap his body and head south, the Demon King didn’t follow. He simply watched as they left for the continent.

Now, even his body was gone, and he was truly alone. All that remained was snow and ice, with only the biting wind passing through him.

With only his soul left, he could fly freely. Shedding his heavy body and returning all his magical power to nature, his weightless soul was no longer bound by gravity. He could go anywhere, but where?

There was no place for him on the continent. When news of his death spread, who would mourn him? So, he didn’t want to go anywhere.

But at the same time, he didn’t want to stay in this cold, desolate Arctic. He no longer felt cold, hot, hungry, or even breathless, but the lack of any sensation was its own kind of pain.

The human mind wasn’t designed for such a state. It wasn’t just boredom or idle chatter.

Humans are social creatures; without communication, mental health deteriorates. Persistent lack of presence, loss of identity, depression, anxiety—these are no joke.

The Demon King wasn’t that desperate, but he felt a suffocating weight in his chest. He could endure it now, but over time, it would only grow worse. The problem was that only the living could choose to end their lives out of boredom.

The living could commit suicide, but a soul couldn’t. What had returned to him was a new form of eternity—an eternity of solitude, unable to communicate, just existing. He would have to endure this loneliness, however long it lasted.

“So be it.”

He didn’t know why he was in this state or if other dead experienced the same. But screaming and wailing wasn’t his style. He was a living fossil, having survived since ancient times.

If he were the type to crumble under such circumstances, he would have ended his life long ago. What’s done is done. He forced a bitter smile and looked up at the sky.

Since this was his fate, perhaps exploring the night sky would be enjoyable.

“Even in this form, I can wander the infinite sea of stars for eternity. Something I never dared in life, but now, it might be possible.”

Though he couldn’t communicate with the stars. Their fiery flames would pass through him. But he could watch them, gaze at their burning light. That alone was a luxury most people never experienced. He could be content with that.

This world no longer welcomed him. The stars likely didn’t either. But at least, they wouldn’t hate him. To those massive stars, he was but a speck of dust.

After learning magic, he had occasionally sailed the sea of stars like the great dragon clans. But the stars remained distant, something he could only watch from afar, never daring to approach.

His immense magical power was nothing compared to the stars’ terrifying might. Even comparing it to dust was an insult. With such feeble power, approaching the stars was impossible.

Once, he had foolishly approached and nearly been pulled in by their immense gravity. At least now, he didn’t have to worry about that.

Now, the stars’ gravity couldn’t pull him in or tear him apart. That was the advantage of being a ghost.

Now, having shed the title of Demon King, he returned to being a pure explorer, as he had been long ago. Flying high, he glanced at the world below. Love it or hate it, that was his homeland, and he would never forget it.

“Farewell, world.”

But he would never return.

He didn’t have the courage.

Believing that the cycle would eventually sweep the world away,

he had lived as he pleased, committing countless sins.

Now, the cycle had stopped, and the world would no longer end. He couldn’t face the consequences of his actions. So, he chose to leave the continent entirely.

-In the world of the living, he had been a great being, holding the power of life and death over countless people, able to do as he pleased. But death strips away all pretenses. In the world after death, he was just a pitiful ghost.

Neither the dead nor the living were qualified to hear his voice,

so only one person heard it.

-Apostle, in your current state, you could crush that with one hand. But you didn’t. Why? Have you forgiven the grudges of the past?

That one person’s lips moved.