YM778.TV Chapter 1008: It Is Called Love
Chapter 1008: It Is Called Love
Translator: EndlessFantasy Translation Editor: EndlessFantasy !Translation
Death is the one calamity that most intelligent life have to face, no matter how they try to evade it.
Generals who had been ever victorious, emperors whose rule stretched across all beneath the heavens, researchers who transcend the eras they were in... no matter who it was, no matter how outstanding the individual had been, all of them would feel helpless in the face of death.
Therefore, death—as well as the inability to gain immortality—were the reasons that all vulnerable mortals had to procreate, to give birth to the next generation, and to pass on their knowledge to their successors.
Because of death, all life guilty of selfishness would either be forced to or willingly choose sacrifice. Because of their fated end, and so as to not be forgotten, they would choose to pass on all that they were, giving it to their progeny or successors who would perpetuate their ideals—such was the initial form of legacies and education.
Indeed, one could say that death was the foundation upon which civilization was built.
But, if... just if...
If a civilization had triumphed over death, would its people redevelop their natural selfishness, giving up on millions of years’ worth of partnership and legacies to become an isolated but complete individual, living on without any regard for anything but themselves?
Who knows?
***
“It has been so long since my own parents have passed. And yet, even after centuries and my flesh begins to wither, I still miss them.”
The ancient voice echoed in the immeasurable vastness of the chamber. It was not deliberately deafening, but was simply the obscure mutterings of an aged person. “I have always desired to tell them of each vital choice I have made. I want to let them know about the life I have l lived, and I want them to be proud of all that I am.”
“But I have made a mistake.”
The voice that carried a hint of regret echoed and then dissipated, as if it had never spoken.
***
The Canopies—the Twelve Sanctuaries of the Takur Ruin Cult—were twelve remarkably unique artificial realms, molded entirely from psionic energy.
There had only been a single Canopy before the war against the Amos that stretched across dozens of thousands of years. It had been the merely capital of the Cult at the time, but now, the cluster of Twelve Sanctuaries was a great object that was at once the heart of the Cult’s politics, culture and trade... in a nutshell, it was the hub of all Takurian civilization.
It was also the pride of all Takurians, for both Amoses and Takurians knew well that the Twelve Sanctuaries were the Takurians’ last and most powerful bastion. In the faraway past, in the moment when the Amos Court managed to break through the Takur Ruin Cult’s defensive perimeter and had set the Cult’s capital aflame, the great Canopy had completely stopped the menacing legions of the Court in that lengthy seesaw battle. In the end, the threat of reinforcements forced them to retreat, dejected without the prize.
In the rumors that were laced with disgust and fear circulating amongst the Amoses, the center of which the Twelve Sanctuaries protected and the core hub of which no foreigners knew of was also where the greatest secret of the Takurians had been concealed.
They were not wrong, for at the center of the Twelve Sanctuaries, the Thirteenth Canopy unknown to any foreign party certainly existed.
It was a small world at the heart of the Takur Ruin Cult’s Twelve Sanctuaries in the Galaxy of Bloodbath, rotating in serenity within a Void covered with surging tides of Psi and ripples of divine energy.
And now, Galgur Takur, the Grand Patriarch of the Takur Ruin Cult, was slowly advancing inside of a supermassive cosmic shrine that occupied over 90% of the surface in that small world.
It was the majestic hall forged entirely from silver-blue psionic medium, designed simplistically but primly with no excessive décor or runes. Save for the almost innumerable platforms and the seats on two sides of the hall, there were pillars and two stairs that stretched on endlessly into the skies, forming a descending path into the world’s core.
Meanwhile, at the skies overhead but below the dome of the shrine, a compound supernatural sun composed of azure hue and divine strength was illuminating the world with its radiance like a chandelier.
[Faith leads the way; wisdom forges the path.]
[Do not feel loss, let your doubt spill away.]
[For we are always with you.]
Soft sacred chants could faintly be heard echoing in the World Shrine which was filled with Psi and divine energy, before silence returned once again.
Amidst the faintly echoing voices and the light, the Grand Patriarch moved forward in stillness, heading below one step after another towards the core of the world. There was agony and tiredness in his face, and his heart appeared to be enduring a supreme torment.
“I was a fool who made a mistake...”
He muttered softly, “But it was my brethren who was struck by the calamity.”
***
Wisdom and folly were opposites.
Life which held wisdom would assuredly act in folly: over emotions, over stupidity, over impulses, over instincts... and lastly, over faith.
Faith itself was zealous worship, the spot that was furthest away from truth. It was hard to believe that the most primitive of religions remained in a superior profound faction that stretched across a galaxy, save for worlds and civilizations where True Gods existed, for the True Gods of those factions were nothing other than a dictatorship enjoying zealous worship, no matter how vile it could be.
When being a god is merely a position at the top of the hierarchy and a threshold that mortals could reach with diligence, their separation from the mundane would be blurred. Hence, the so-called faith would dilute into a regulation of correctness and doctrine of the Truth.
However, the Takur Ruin Cult was different.
Their faith was a true faith, not levied towards an idol but instead towards a god who existed in truth and in reality, an offering of reverence and worship towards the genuine might of that True God.
More than that, what they believed in was neither ruin nor prophecies, nor a form of concept. In fact, their faith was not even a form of belief.
Instead, they believed in themselves.
“Ah, greetings.”
“Greetings to you as well.”
Having walked very deep below ground, the silent Grand Patriarch suddenly spoke out over the shrine stairs that were becoming ever darker. He turned towards a seemingly empty spot and mustered his own spirit, raising his hand in salutation—surprisingly, however, a gently voice had actually responded, and a colorless, translucent silhouette even appeared obscurely before vanishing in a flash, a vague smile visible on its face.
Intelligent life perpetually refuses death. Save for the lust to live on, their greatest desire is perhaps to defeat death.
Most of them have failed, dying and hence diminishing from this world. Some have succeeded partially, and though their flesh are rotting, their spirits continue to exist.
There are uncountable predecessors, with the predecessors being the elites who have stood upon the pinnacle of history. Perhaps due to this, or perhaps not, but one must admit that the motivation propelling all intelligent life into seeking eternal life is partially due to the people’s desires to become an elite and carve their names into history.
It is because of such spurring on that civilizations would progress for all time and remain ever-changing.
To triumph over death, to not be forgotten...
To prove one’s own existence.
I live, whether now or in the future.
Though the Grand Patriarch appeared to be moving slowly, he was actually advancing very swiftly in the realm forged from psionic energy. The progress, and his very speed, were solely determined by ‘thought’, and while he was existentially moving in the world, it was merely symbolistic—a ritual that animated a certain thing.
And that ritual itself was slowly reaching its end. The translucent silhouettes that were abruptly materializing around him in the World Shrine was increasing, with ranks of those shadows filling the endless seats, seemingly in contemplation, prayer, or meditation.
Until, in the end, when the skies, earth, and every inch in the hall was filled with the translucent presence and the entire world itself was about to awaken, the Grand Patriarch incidentally arrived at the very center of the subterranean depths of that mysterious temple world.
He looked up, towards the very heart of the grand shrine that had been carved out using a world as its raw material.
There lay an incomparably massive, translucent, and glimmering colorless splendor, a shining orb that was aflame.
***
Uncountable faces were appearing upon the surface of the shining orb, with boundless translucent silhouettes entering and leaving it as if it were a doorway. The Grand Patriarch gazed upon the orb itself, and soon, his once fatigued expression changed slightly, showing a hint of pride and self-accomplishment.
For the orb was the greatest creation of the Takurians and the subject of their Faith.
It was the miracle made by their own civilization, and proof that the Takurians had reached the step in which they triumphed over death.
The Infinity Dynamo of Divine Energy.
***
Psionic powers required intelligence and minds to charge and manifest into genuine strength.
On the other hand, divine powers necessitated extreme emotions, concepts, and thoughts so as to be released from the Root, flowing into the real world.
The two powers shared a single common origin and were Extraordinary powers that were naturally of one body. That was why both Psi and divine power, which were said to be almost infinite, also symbolized near-infinite minds and wisdom...from a certain point of view, it was a place that would provide unlimited psionic energy and divine power to a civilization that was either psionic or divine, and that place would indeed be a kingdom of heaven that exist in the mortal realm, the truest paradise without any shred of duplicity.
And the Infinity Dynamo of Divine Energy was the paradise that the Takurians had made for themselves.
Now, the Grand Patriarch stood in front of the Dynamo, able to see the inexhaustive translucent silhouettes appearing in the burning shining orb. They were surrounding him from every direction possible, and while appearing harrowing and very frightening, the Grand Patriarch looked upon them with a kind gaze, his eyes not reflecting any hostility at all.
“Greetings, Grand Patriarch,” they thus said, their tone carrying friendliness and affection as if saluting the old person next door. “What happened? You seem to be tired.”
“...I hope all of you are well...”
The old Grand Patriarch could not help but gulp at the voices that so utterly lacked hostility. He forcefully held back sadness and guilt, and shakily said, “Really...I hope all of you are well.”
“Of course we are well.”
All of the silhouettes answered as one, their voices overlapping and echoing simultaneously as if the world itself was bellowing. Even so, all of them said nothing at the very instant, leaving the entire World Shrine in silence—even so, the voices had been so sonorous, synchronous, and yet so pure that they appeared to be the collective will of Takurians.
In reality, it was the collective will of the Takurians.
Then, as all the silhouettes looked on, the Grand Patriarch heaved a breath and kept moving forward without pausing, and was about to touch the surface of the Infinity Dynamo of Divine Energy, just like an ant that was about to touch an ocean of souls.
But suddenly, as the Grand Patriarch was about to reach the Dynamo, some of tender voices spoke out.
“Careful. So many of our brethren had died just a while ago, and their vengeful consciousness have yet to subside. You would suffer terribly—for their perished memories lie therein,” they warned. “Do you need our help to shoulder them?”
“There is no need. Because this is my duty.”
With neither pause nor hesitation, the Grand Patriarch reached out and touched the light. “Because all of their deaths are on me.”
“I alone must shoulder it all.”
The finger of flesh touched the radiance of psionic energy and divine power, causing ripples like those upon the surface of a lake as rain drops dripped from the sky—in the instant when the Grand Patriarch touched the Infinity Dynamo of Divine Energy, psionic energy burst out, compounded with boundless memories. In no time at all, the elderly being felt the recollection from billions of souls that had been consumed entirely by the supernatural plague surging in his direction, with all torment converging upon him.
Even so, he made no effort to evade it. He simply spread his arms, composedly accepting it all.
***
The Infinity Dynamo of Divine Energy referred to an artificial psionic world created by condensing the power of every Takurian, a paradise of the mundane that belonged exclusively to them.
It was unlike the Canopy realms, because the Canopies required both sturdiness and stability, which in turn was why the generations of Takurian Grand Patriarchs would forge them with their own power, without mixing the psionic energy and souls of other individuals. The Infinity Dynamo, meanwhile, was essentially a backup of the minds of every Takurian, and was was a combination of their souls, Psi, thoughts, and memories.
Strictly speaking, the backup minds did not require the presence of genuine souls, as souls would often disintegrate due to conflict or various other reasons over extended periods of time. However, Infinity Dynamo of Divine Energy could keep track of all of them in real time, with the ability to preserve backups of any Takurian mind who embodied the ‘True Religion’ and held ‘belief’ perfectly, regardless of whether their souls had been destroyed.
And that was enough—there was no question that the existence of the Infinity Dynamo of Divine Energy was a victory over death. Its presence made evident that every Takurian: successes, failures, mortals, or elites had all indeed lived or were alive, and there would always be those who remembered them.
As long as their civilization survived, they lived eternally.
In fact, even death itself was no obstacle against the Takurians, but an aid for them instead.
Moreover, the miracle that had broken the boundary between living and dead did not split apart the Takurians, but instead keep them intricately linked.
Now, that near boundless energy was erupting, because the combination of infinite minds and intelligence had created infinite psionic energy and divine power. It was how the name ‘Infinity Dynamo of Divine Energy’ itself came to be, and with the collective civilization of Takurians being chained to that profound source, it was very much a deity called Takurian given form through their convergence, an eternal wonder as well as the pinnacle creation in the aspect of Psi and divine power.
Certainly, it was not without cost: it was precisely because every individual mind and memory was stored within that emotion had accumulated as well, eventually becoming a shackle and a vortex that consumed everything. It was exactly due to the excessive casualties in war that unending vengefulness piled, affecting every living Takurian over an extended period—the obsession called ‘hate’ had turned the once friendly civilization into the present Ruin Cult, which massacred every foreign race they came in touch with.
But naturally, every Takurian took no notice of it. And because of their immortality, they would absolutely not forget that hate, nor do they intend to let it go.
Meanwhile, the Infinity Dynamo of Divine Energy was turning intensely. In one brief moment, the colorless luminous orb had casted all hues that existed in the Multiverse, presenting itself in a dreamlike beauty. Then, as the Grand Patriarch touched and connected himself to it, a door leading to the depths of the Dynamo itself opened.
Then, with a single rumble, eleven strongest souls inside the now white-hot orb led other powerful souls or minds out from within, to stand before the Grand Patriarch as he slowly withdrew his hand.
Compared to uncountable ranks of translucent silhouettes, the body of those powerful souls had color and could actually create actual forms with psionic energy—in other words, they had not actually died, and they could return to the physical realms in any moment they wished.
It was only to prevent their outdated mindsets from affecting the future of civilizations that they chose, by their own will, to fuse into the Dynamo.
Despite the choice of eternal life, those souls had chosen to leave a legacy instead, gifting a better future and hope to future generations.
And the Grand Patriarch knew that such was his fate as well.
He looked up at the other Grand Patriarchs of generations past and the other Prophet champions whose souls now appeared and stood before him.
“This is the successor whom I have chosen. What do you think? Isn’t he stronger than all of us?”
“Hahaha, not a bad choice.”
“As expected of my successor—even the successor you have chosen is stronger than my own candidate!”
“He would suffice. Just a little stronger than I myself was.”
The bustling voices echoed in the heart of the World Shrine as the elderly being exchanged gazes with the souls. He could feel the encouragement, the cheering, the appreciation, the pleasure, and the pride. All forms of positive emotion were congregating, but it left him bemused instead.
Because the Grand Patriarch could not accept it.
“I am sorry.”
As the souls curiously measured himself, Galgur lowered his head and gritted his teeth, biting down on every word. “It is due to my error that we have connected to an unusual otherworld when we were probing the Root of Psi... the supernatural epidemic appeared out of nowhere, spreading and causing the deaths of countless brethren.”
The Grand Patriarch clenched his fists, feeling that his straight back was about to collapse due to the suffocating self-blame. He remembered the recent Extraordinary Pestilence that had spread from the Twelve Sanctuaries itself, overwhelming the Cult and killing endless Takurian civilians, including a significant number of elites and talents...there was great bitterness in Galgur’s voice, and he could only manage to mumble slowly, “It is all my fault...it is my mistake that has sliced apart our civilization’s ever rising future...”
***
The Ultimate Plague had spread at the speed of thought that even the swiftest measures to contain it led to the deaths of a quarter of the total Ruin Cult population. Given that they were the first to encounter the epidemic itself, there was neither warning nor countermeasures—by the time the Grand Patriarch and the other champions had finally found a way to stop it from spreading, one-fourth of Takur’s finest had perished.
Even with their most advanced soul preservation techniques, only a small piece out of entire souls could be retained due to the Ultimate Plague. The victims’ soul would either disintegrate with only recorded thinking and memories left, or an entire chunk would be missing from their souls—a long period of nourishment was hence needed to recover it from the Infinity Dynamo of Divine Energy.
It was the single greatest disaster in the history of the Takurians, and being Grand Patriarch as well as the leader who caused it all, Galgur could hardly excuse himself.
And yet, no one would lay the blame on him.
“It is alright, Patriarch. All of this happened because of the decision we made together, it is not your fault alone.”
Tides of voices echoed—it was not only the eleven most powerful souls, but also every former Prophet’s souls along with the translucent silhouettes that filled the World Shrine that had responded in a single voice, “Even if you were at fault, we all forgive you.”
“Do not blame yourself; do not regret. The future is ever-changing that even if faith guides us and wisdom forges the path forward, none of us can ever foretell what we will encounter in that path.”
“It is all the aliens’ fault. It is all those hateful aliens’ fault.”
“Blood of my blood. Blame not thyself, for it was a necessary sacrifice in the face of the unknown. It is truly regrettable, but you have been very careful and there had been no errors at all...the enemy was simply too powerful beyond our own imagination.”
Amidst the tides of voices, the former Grand Patriarchs all nodded—those were their genuine opinions.
They all knew that their successor had done his very best, and not even them would have been able to prevent that calamity itself. Indeed, if they had wanted to reach the Root of Psi as well, it would have been certainty that the Ultimate Plague befell them as well. Furthermore, limiting the sacrifices to a quarter of the population and already rescuing the entire Ruin Cult from the Ultimate Plague only made Galgur’s ability even more evident, instead of the fact that he had done poorly.
Then, as the Infinity Dynamo of Divine Energy reverted to its colorless form, a female Takurian stepped out from the sea of souls. She watched the Grand Patriarch with an affectionate gaze as she arrived before him.
“You have already done well enough, my child.”
In return, the elderly being started to speak, and yet for all his power knew not what he should say at once...because the elderly woman was his mother and one of the former Prophets, the strongest psionic serving under the former Grand Patriarch, who perished as she stayed behind to cover a retreat in a major border conflict against the Amos Court.
On the other hand, although his long-dead father did not have such profound ability to manifest a complete psionic form, his silhouette could be seen nearby, smiling as he watched his wife and child.
“We are always watching over you, son.”
In spite of the very flesh of his body having already aged and withered, the Grand Patriarch remained a child in the eyes of his mother, with her own appearance being equally elderly. At the moment, she was gazing solemnly into the eyes of her own progeny, and she was aware of his purpose in coming, what he had come to do—without needing a single word.
“Galgur Takur. The champion to inherit the title of the Grand Patriarch, my son whom I am proud of...do you have more to say?” she asked gently. “In the very end, at the final juncture of life...do you have anything you wish to say?”
We will help you remember it—to remember all that you are.
“...Thank you, mother.”
The elderly being called Galgur, whose last name was his civilization’s, looked up, his single eye leveled at his mother before turning towards the other Grand Patriarchs who were solemnly watching him.
“Thank you, blood of my blood.”
He then moved on to gaze upon the translucent silhouettes and the colossal World Shrine within which all Takurians resided, including each and every Takurian soul and memory within the great hall.
“Being able to be granted your forgiveness, being able to fight for our civilization, and alongside all of you...that is the only duty I have in life,” he murmured. “I am truly blessed.”
Thus, the infinitely massive world core—the Infinity Dynamo of Divine Energy—began to whirl. The colorless shining orb was now ablaze, and as the Grand Patriarch affirmed his resolve, unlimited power was being imbued upon his body.
On the outermost cloister of the World Shrine, the ethereal soul silhouettes vanished one after another as they willfully entrusted the energy that maintained their forms unto Galgur’s body. Although they would not really perish, as they would continue existing in the Infinity Dynamo of Divine Energy, they handed over the power and authority that determined the future to their Grand Patriarch with ease of heart.
Do your best.
Do not give up.
You are our greatest champion...
So please, keep moving forward.
The silent message spread and resounded upon the domain of souls. In the heart of the world and enveloped by every Takurian soul, Galgur Takur’s power arose exponentially, as if all water from the seven seas had been poured into a single lake, allowing it to increase without limit.
“I know...I know...I know that what lies behind the infinite worlds are ever dark and unreasonable.”
“I know that this Multiverse is full of hostile foes and dangerous beasts.”
“But I know—I know! My kin who love me, friends who support me, and brethren who would journey forward with me are beside me!”
Over the Grand Patriarch’s head, a twelvefold crown shone as boundless psionic energy and divine power converged, conjuring a smaller colorless fireball and a smaller Infinity Dynamo of Divine Energy that appeared at the center of the crown, eventually becoming the most dazzling gem embedded upon it. Hence, Galgur’s aged body began to turn transparent as his body melted under unlimited divine energy, because he was using his individual body to embody the full power of the Takurian civilization.
It undoubtedly wrought ceaseless anguish and torture that would leave one insane—but it was all insignificant.
Because he knew the conclusion to all of it.
“I know of the foe that could not be more powerful on the other side of the dimensions, a great adversary that could ruin the future of which I have foreseen.”
Now, most of the translucent silhouettes were fading. Even the former prophets and the other colored silhouettes were slowly waning, while in front Galgur, the aged woman serenely extended her hand to touch her son’s wrinkled but endlessly firm cheeks.
“I know that this journey of mine is necessary. I will do all I can to destroy the enemy that has killed a quarter of our own kind, the enemy who is far more terrifying than the Amos which threatens all of our cult.”
Because I am the Grand Patriarch of Takur, and this is the life that I have chosen.
Because of memories eternal, Takurians never once forget any grudges.
Because of memories eternal, no love would be forgotten.
The Multiverse, covered in cruel malice, is positioned in the ever-revolving Cycle of Misery.
Even so, the heart must carry hope in anticipation of tomorrow.
Whether in the face of an end where death is certain, or a future where ruination is destined, the hearts of every Takurian would never be alone or isolated.
For within the Canopy realms where beliefs and souls are connected, all things are bound to the deepest of love.
Therefore, do not show such a miserable face. This is my most honest, my most sincere choice.
Having assumed a complete psionic form, the elderly man, who was now a physical psionic singularity, raised his hand and wiped away the incorporeal tears that were flowing down his mother eye as she began to fade away.
Then, the radiance all vanished, dispersing as obscure specks of light.
“I will protect all of you.”
The voice, which was brimming with lucidity and immeasurable determination, echoed as the souls of the former Grand Patriarchs began to vanish as well, whereas their powers were all projected into the body of the incumbent Grand Patriarch. “I am already very content that I can be forgiven by each and every one of you.”
To life, to myself, I am already very content that I was born as a Takurian.
So, thank you, mother.
Goodbye, brethren of mine.
I am going to fight.
***
In the Void of the Galaxy of Bloodbath, the center surrounded by the Twelve Sanctuaries...the light from the World Shrine went out.
The once brightest light that represented the Infinity Dynamo of Divine Energy was rapidly darkening.
Even so, in the very next moment, a light far more radiant than any other shone, illuminating all of the Void!
In that single split second, even the collective light from the Twelve Sanctuaries were completely repressed—that light transcended all of the dimensions, causing another profound will that existed in the Galaxy of Bloodbath to awaken as well.
At the very bottom zone of the Galaxy of Bloodbath, the incomparably majestic consciously lifted its gaze in surprise, and looked on in sheer astonishment.
“Setting off—”
Around the World Shrine at the center of the Twelve Sanctuaries, there were still clumps of silhouettes that had yet to fade off. Those translucent psionic shadows encircled the world from the outside, patiently waiting.
Because of the losses incurred by the Plague, the memories of the warriors are waiting to exact their revenge.
And now, they were rewarded, for the voice that would lead them forward had arrived.
[When the greatest threat struck, a quarter of all national citizens of the Ruin Cult had died out in a brief seven days. All interior production constitutions had been left in disarray, with significant gaps cutting into the entire body of civilization itself. Even if legacies were not actually lost, they no longer had the depth to stand against the Amos, not to mention the great unknown entity that had caused all of this.
Therefore, from here on, the Twelve Sanctuaries—the Canopy Realms would lead most citizens away, abandoning what was once their homeland, and to give up on the prolonged war against the Amos, which had stretched on for dozens of millennia. Meanwhile, Galgur Takur, the former Grand Patriarch would carry with him all powers that could be used from the Infinity Dynamo of Divine Energy, along with the warriors who had set their wills on to giving their all in the name of vengeance, thereby heading towards the Root where they would slay the enemy, ensuring the safety of all citizens as they evacuated. Even if there was truly no way for them to gain victory, they would utterly destroy the trail of teleportation they had unwittingly left behind...the one they had once used to explore the very origins of psionic energy.]
“...Goodbye.”
Outside the Twelve Sanctuaries, the former First Prophet and current Grand Patriarch stood in the blankness of space. He silently watched as the former Grand Patriarch and the legions of souls became light itself, opening the doorway headed to the faraway place on the other side of the dimensions.
It was only until the single second just before leave that he softly voiced a word of parting, “I hope we will see each other again.”
It was not merely the Takurians who saw that light.
Near the Amos Court in the Galaxy of Bloodbath, a human captain and a foreign traitor both saw that same light, and stared blankly as the comet-like radiance glimmered amongst the stars until it disappeared.
More had seen it as well.
...at the star and the end of causality...
...on the other side of fate, as well as love and hate...
Because of the selfishness called egotism, because of the sacrifice called love, two clearly different wills—the individual whose name was beast and the collective which name was civilization—were thus developing a connection and causing a collision.
Therefore...
Starting from the black hole with a silver core, and from that place of a struggle between life and death as an origin point...
All possibilities were ceasing to be.