Chapter 1124: The Visitor
“This damn book finally has some use,” Lumian said, showing the contents of the Post-Apocalyptic Scripture to Franca and Anthony.

Franca pondered for a moment before saying, “Given the nature of the Post-Apocalyptic Scripture, even if this prophecy is false, as long as we believe in it and prepare accordingly, it will eventually come true.

“The question is, if it’s a false prophecy, can it even affect a true god like the Primordial Demoness?”

“I don’t know,” Lumian replied, shaking the central head of his three. “Anyway, we’re not relying solely on this for predictions.”

“Then should we contact Ma’am Hermit now?” Franca suggested.

In this matter, splitting up wasn’t an option. The critical medium for prophecy or divination was Lumian’s Cheek face-the Sequence 1 Beyonder characteristic of the Demoness of Apocalypse already integrated into his body.

Lumian nodded at first, then gave a self-deprecating smile. “Not yet. The ‘occasional’ state is about to end.”

Franca pursed her lips, stood up, and said, “Then let’s head outside the protected zone.

“Anthony, you’ll handle the matters of the Sick Church for now. You still have Ice Mirror Charms, right?”

“I do,” Anthony replied steadily.
After Lumian and Franca left the villa, Anthony retrieved the mirror representing the Sick Church’s pope from his Traveler’s Bag. He reviewed the accumulated messages and replied to each one using the Ice Mirror Charm.

Meanwhile, Ludwig sat on the sofa, eating roasted sweet potatoes while casually watching Anthony work.

After a while, just as Anthony was about to put away the mirror, Ludwig suddenly asked, “Is human life always full of suffering?”

Anthony lifted his head, looked into Ludwig’s brown eyes, and nodded. “Yes.”

Ludwig continued, “If you had a chance to start over, would you still choose to be human?”

“Probably,” Anthony said with a small smile. “After all, I have no experience being another species.”

“But if human life is so full of suffering, why would anyone want to be human?” Ludwig asked, puzzled.

Anthony thought for a moment before answering.

“Most of humanity’s suffering comes from the brevity of life and the frailty of our existence-from constantly thinking about these things. But if we stopped thinking, our existence would lose all meaning.

“Perhaps it’s precisely because life is short and fragile that we always want to do something, to create something. We have no choice but to rely on and help others. We huddle together for warmth, dream together, and create fragments of beauty. And because of that, we suffer.

“A poet once said – I don’t know who, but it wasn’t Emperor Roselle. I wholeheartedly agree with what he said: ‘If I have never felt pain in life, it means I have never truly loved my life’.”

Ludwig’s face was filled with confusion.

Anthony added calmly, “Pain comes from love and desire.

“Words like beauty, hope, and yearning are like flames – they make humans feel pain, yet they also make us like moths drawn to the flame, burning brightly for a moment before turning to ashes.

“Franca once told me that the fundamental tone of the universe is darkness. We short-lived humans exist to create moment after moment of light, generation after generation.”

Ludwig, chewing on a roasted sweet potato, earnestly summarized, “I still don’t understand why.”

Anthony laughed.

“Honestly, neither do I.

“If someone claims to truly understand humanity and life, it means they don’t understand it at all.

“Perhaps it’s precisely because we don’t understand that life is so intoxicating.”

With that, he stood up and walked toward the edge of the living room.

Ludwig didn’t ask where Anthony was headed. He remained on the sofa, quietly repeating two words to himself, “Beauty… pain…”

The young boy seemed to be pondering some philosophical question, muttering to himself, “These things aren’t unique to humans…”

After finishing his roasted sweet potato, Ludwig shook his head and picked up an Intis general education textbook from the coffee table.

Flipping through it, he muttered, “Inefficient method of transmitting knowledge…”

Outside the villa, Anthony strolled aimlessly along the shadowed streets, basking in the bright sunlight.

For now, he had no main task.

He was responsible for two things:

First, managing the Sick Church’s affairs when Franca was busy. He was effectively the pope, though he could tell Franca hadn’t truly come to terms with Jenna’s death. She still held onto the hope that Jenna might one day return, which made her reluctant to officially pass on the title of pope.

Second, assisting the official Beyonders in identifying corrupted humans or latent anomalies via monitoring the sea of collective subconscious. The symbols and powers of the Great Mother had broken through the barrier. Even though She wasn’t currently focused on the protected zones, Her influence naturally caused sporadic mutations, especially among Beyonders of the Planter and Apothecary pathways.

As Anthony walked, he noticed a street musician performing in a small square. Many Trier citizens had gathered to listen, some even dancing joyfully.

Anthony gazed at the scene, his expression turning adrift.

He decided to treat himself better.

The time to enjoy life before the apocalypse was growing shorter.

He sat at an outdoor table at a café, ordered a strong cup of Intis coffee and a pork sausage, and let his thoughts drift while enjoying the music in the square. Occasionally, he’d cut a piece of sausage to eat or take a sip of coffee.

The bright sunlight carried the heat of summer.

Just as Anthony was about to leave, an elderly man in a worn blue military jacket and white trousers approached.

The old man glanced around and saw that Anthony’s table was the only one with an empty seat.

Without hesitation, the man sat down and ordered a glass of Nepos liquor with tomato juice – a drink commonly referred to as “Harlot” in Trier’s bars and dance halls.

The white-haired man looked at a barricade in the corner of the square and said to Anthony, as if they were old acquaintances, “Don’t you think Trier has changed? It’s not as lively as it used to be.”

“What makes you say that?” Anthony, while already understanding his meaning, played along.

The old man tapped his cane on the ground and said, “In the old Trier, there wasn’t a year without some ambitious fellow planning a riot, no year without chases over barricades, gunfights, and thrown projectiles.

“And now? The young people today have no vitality. They only dare to sneak around and pickpocket.”

This has to do with the unique nature of the protected zones. An individual’s outburst might implicate thousands, so every individual in the protected zones has their subconscious minds subtly influenced, providing them guidelines on what and what not to do… But this can only decrease the Great Mother’s influence the frequency of mutations-but can’t eliminate them entirely… Anthony answered inwardly.

“Did you participate in those street riots?” Anthony asked.

The old man snorted, “When I was in the military, I was responsible for suppressing those riots and demonstrations. Overnight, they’d build up barricades and resist with everything they had-Molotov cocktails, makeshift weapons.

“Later, I left the army, suffered injustice in Trier, and became a demonstrator myself…”

The man reminisced about his past, speaking at length.

Anthony didn’t show the slightest impatience, treating it like reading a biography.

After the man finished and began sipping his Nepos liquor mixed with tomato juice, Anthony asked, “Why did you join the military in the first place?”

The old man laughed.

“For wealth, women, and becoming an officer, of course!

“I came from a poor background. Whether as a farmhand, shepherd, factory worker, or laborer, I couldn’t make a living, let alone get rich. Joining the military at least gave me a chance-be it earning merits or looting corpses. At worst, I’d die early.”

The man looked at Anthony, “You were a soldier too, weren’t you? You have the air of one.”

“Yes,” Anthony admitted.

The old man grinned. “And why did you join?

“Surely it wasn’t for wealth and women?”

Anthony shook his head and redirected his gaze to the musicians and onlookers. He didn’t answer.

Draining his coffee before the man could ask further.

Anthony stood up.

Suddenly, a four-wheeled carriage stopped near the café.

The carriage door opened, and an elderly man in a black suit with a dark tie and a half-height silk top hat stepped out.

His neatly trimmed white sideburns framed a face with sharp features and icy blue eyes.

Anthony immediately recognized that this elderly man had come for him.

“Excuse me, are you Monsieur Anthony?” the man asked politely.

His icy blue eyes were surrounded by faint but visible blood vessels.

Anthony carefully replied, “I am. Who might you be, and what business do you have with me?”

The elderly man smiled and said, “You may call me Naboredisley.”

Naboredisley? The suspected incarnation of one of the ancient gods-Devil Monarch? Anthony was taken aback.

He recalled Lumian mentioning that Naboredisley’s true body resided on Hanth Island, protected by Earth Mother to prevent full corruption from the Mother Tree of Desire. However, with Earth Mother now dormant, it was unlikely She could provide the Devil Monarch’s avatar any further assistance.

Lumian had speculated that Naboredisley might have been dragged into the Abyss and destroyed.

Yet here he was, alive and seemingly well, in the protected zone!

The icy-blue-eyed elder who self-proclaimed to be Naboredisley smiled and explained His purpose, “I wish to meet Monsieur Lumian Lee.”