In a space without a single point of light,
In darkness that made one forget the passage of time,
I found peace, and my soul rotted to its deepest depths.
A void with no front or back, no up or down.
There, I existed within stories created by countless others.
Clearly, they were not beings that existed in this space and time, yet somehow I could see and hear their stories.
It was like an illusion created by a bonfire, like a mirage on a summer day.
They were all different. Different races, genders, ages. Some lived in cultures so mysterious and unfamiliar, while others lived in strange civilizations I had never even heard of.
Yet they had something in common.
Their stories had something in common.
A terrible tragedy.
Without exception, they were all protagonists of stories that were like horrific tragedies.
If I had to guess, I thought they might be practitioners who came before me. Of course, there was no way to confirm this.
Time continued to flow.
At some point, there were no more stories.
Come to think of it, perhaps there had never been any voices from the beginning.
Were they stories I made up out of boredom, or merely hallucinations created by a mind driven mad by that endless torture?
Such unfathomable time passed.
It could be described as an eon, or even as an incalculable span.
If time doesn't flow here, perhaps it could be called just a moment or an instant.
Then at some point.
Far away, a small light appears.
From that light came a faint warmth originating from the living, and the vitality of the mortal world could be felt.
I approached it as if enchanted. And when the light was close enough, I realized.
That this cold, desolate, and terribly lonely darkness was the deepest part and essence of my soul.
Though I was moving toward the light, I was no longer a being that belonged there.
I had been newly assembled and constructed by an ancient demon called the Dark Scripture, whose origins were unknown.
And when I realized this, I knew.
That I was now ready.
***
He woke up feeling refreshed, as if awakening from a sweet afternoon nap.
As if all that time of pain and shock had been a lie.
As if it had been a brief nightmare during sleep, he got up without any trouble.
His body was in such comfortable condition that the memories of being tortured and losing his limbs seemed embarrassing.
Like that, as if he had gotten sufficient sleep, he awoke.
"...Was it a dream?"
Of course, he knew well that couldn't be the case.
The heavy and evil energy coiled in his dantian as if it belonged there.
It was undoubtedly the energy of the 'Dark Scripture'.
That terrible demonic energy he had encountered that day in the underground prison was now residing in his dantian.
Currently, it was only allowing him access to an extremely small portion of its total energy.
Nevertheless, the pure demonic energy of the Dark Scripture made him acutely aware that everything had been real, as vivid as sparks falling on clothes.
"Hmm..."
His body, which had once been damaged to the point of death, was now in perfect condition.
He felt almost uncomfortable with how naturally his body moved.
He raised his fist in front of his eyes, clenching and unclenching it.
There were five fingers attached to a white and fair hand, without even a single blemish, let alone scars or wounds.
"This is..."
He sat up.
An elegant bedroom permeated with the strong scent of ink.
Despite being a bedroom, the walls filled with books revealed the owner's disposition.
"...My room."
He felt he could know which book was placed where without even looking.
It was the most comfortable space for him throughout his entire life.
This was his bedroom that he had used since childhood in his family home.
"...Said it would give me one more chance."
The Dark Scripture had clearly said it would give him one more chance.
But to return to the past...
He would have been satisfied just to escape from that terrible purgatory.
He had planned to start by escaping from there.
Though all those who were precious to him had died, it would have been fine.
He would have considered it a new chance just to have not died without doing anything in there.
But to return to the past...!
"...Khuhuhu."
Without realizing it, laughter escaped his lips.
The Dark Scripture, that which called itself the scripture of defying heaven, was an even more terrifying being than he had imagined.
It had shown him the power to turn back time in a way he couldn't even comprehend.
Though he suddenly became curious about the true nature of the demon called Dark Scripture, none of that mattered now.
He had returned to the past.
He had been given the greatest opportunity.
"Kahahaha...!"
As if responding to his laughter, the demonic energy of the Dark Scripture growled and howled.
***
He sat on the edge of the bed.
He knew he had returned to the past from his hands that clearly looked like those of a teenager and the sight of his family home's bedroom that had only remained in his memories.
But he needed to know more precisely which time period he had returned to.
It was a simple task.
The clues were already abundantly present in his surroundings.
"Hmm..."
He quickly scanned the books crowding his bedroom.
Though it seemed like he was just quickly glancing over them, that wasn't actually the case.
In his mind remained precise information about every book that had been in his bedroom.
When each book had entered his bedroom.
At what point and in what position they had been organized.
He accurately compared the scenes in his memory with what he was seeing now.
It was a simple task.
He completed the confirmation in the time it took to take and release a few breaths.
"...Seventeen years old, February."
His youthful voice felt unfamiliar.
His eyes deepened.
He reflected on his eventful life.
And reconstructed it again and again.
It was like the gaze of an immortal who could read countless future moves at a glance just by looking at the initial board position in Go.
"..."
What brought him back to reality from his long contemplation was a small noise from outside.
"...Has the First Young Master risen?"
"What does it matter? He'll just be holding onto his books again as soon as he wakes up anyway."
"...My word. To think the First Young Master of the Luoyang Sword Clan, called the First Family of the Central Plains, would be like this..."
"No wonder people call him the Swordless One. It's truly pathetic."
"Yet he used to be famous for his brilliance..."
"That was all just rumors, I suppose."
"Well, being born as the First Young Master of the great Luoyang Sword Clan, worthy of being called the Heavenly Family, he can do as he pleases, can't he?"
It was none other than the conversation of servants speaking ill of him.
Though one might get angry hearing such talk, his eyes remained utterly indifferent.
Originally, he had never cared about or been swayed by worldly gossip.
But now his soul was dyed to its very edges with the madness and demonic energy from the Dark Scripture.
In other words, the surface of his current mental state was like the calmness of a lake of unfathomable depth.
Yet deep below, it was in a state like holding a volcano that could erupt at any unknown moment.
"...Is anyone there?"
He deliberately called out loudly for the servants.
But no one responded to that call.
It was natural.
His quarters were one of the secret places of the Luoyang Sword Clan, and the soundproofing technology applied here was undoubtedly the best in the Central Plains.
Yet he could hear the servants' whispers from outside so clearly.
"Is this also power derived from the Dark Scripture..."
Likely it wasn't just his hearing that had been affected.
He took his time carefully.
He repeated experiments and observations.
It didn't take him long to reach a conclusion.
A dramatic increase in overall physical abilities.
Including stamina, strength, the five senses, and more - all physical abilities had been enhanced.
"...Impressive."
He looked in the mirror.
What was there was not the weak body from before.
There was a steel-like body that only those trained to the extreme could possess.
His body, with each muscle fiber clearly defined, felt almost grotesque.
After briefly admiring his physique, he soon noticed something new.
"Oh...?"
The mirror reflected his face wearing an expression that looked eerily twisted.
Could this be how a demon person looks, pickled in killing intent with demonic energy penetrating to the marrow?
"My, my."
Looking in the mirror, he tried gradually changing his expression.
"Like this..."
He lowered the corners of his mouth a bit more.
He also tried smoothing the wrinkles on his forehead.
He lowered his bulging eyes slightly.
"...It became an even more grotesque face."
A phlegmy laugh escaped: "Kukukuku."
The laugh needed correction too.
"Since there's plenty of time..."
He raised his hands and kneaded his face as if working dough.
First, he needed to relax the muscles a bit.
He felt his facial muscles becoming more flexible as heat rose from his roughly massaged face.
Then he looked in the mirror again and began practicing expressions.
"Hmm. I need to make a more 'human-like' expression..."
After staring in the mirror for a while, he naturally laughed at how ridiculous he looked.
It was a dry laugh mixed with metallic sounds: "Kukukukuku."
After wrestling with his face while looking in the mirror, he spoke.
"...Come to think of it."
In the mirror was his face wearing an expression that could give a child seizures.
He muttered in a puzzled voice.
As if seeking an answer from his reflection in the mirror.
"What does it mean to be human-like?"
What the mirror reflected was his face that anyone would have to acknowledge as that of an unparalleled beauty, no matter how grotesque an expression he made.
But what he was looking at was different:
Where two eyes should have been was empty space twisted in agony and shedding bloody tears,
Where the nose should have been were just two holes leaking bloody pus,
Not a single spot of intact skin could be found on the face,
And in the throat dangled a tongue with barely its root remaining.
This wasn't what the mirror reflected.
This was the mental image he saw of himself.
Wounded, twisted, distorted, and corrupted...
It was the madness of the Dark Scripture that he harbored.