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HELHEIM SCANS
[Translator - Peptobismol]
[Proofreader - Demon God]
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Chapter 120 - What Winter Left Behind (2)
Years ago.
At the time, I was enduring a cruelly lonely season.
It had been months since I was abruptly dragged into this world.
This fate—this so-called "Transmigration"—had been forced upon me without warning, leaving nothing but confusion in its wake.
Perhaps it was destiny’s cruel joke. Or maybe it was an inevitable execution of fate.
Either way, one thing was certain.
There was no way back.
In the end, I had no choice but to struggle, again and again, just to survive.
"What… is the role I am meant to play?"
A world on the brink of destruction.
Then, the outcome I had to change was painfully clear.
Maybe it was nothing more than self-indulgence—an interpretation born from my own greed.
But even so, I resolved to live, upholding that uncertain calling.
That was why I stepped forward onto a path of thorns.
That choice was the beginning of a brutal life.
The Usurpation War.
It was the first major event looming ahead, the closest in timeline to the moment I had been thrown into this world.
And if I considered the future of the original story, there was no choice but to intervene.
A brutal power struggle between crime syndicates, each vying to devour the underworld for themselves.
But calling it a simple battle would be a gross understatement—this was a conflict so vast that even the empire’s political landscape trembled beneath its weight.
Countless names clashed, driven by greed, and in doing so, they altered the course of the original story itself.
At the forefront stood [The Sovereign], the one who had long ruled the shadows.
And against him, powerful figures of the underworld rose to challenge his throne.
Alongside them, an endless array of crime syndicates, drowning the shadows in blood.
A world overflowing with filth—
And filth was meant to be cleansed.
Originally—
This war was not supposed to end for another five years.
The allure of ambition was a madness that could not be easily extinguished.
Violence and greed twisted the weak into devils, pushing them toward an endless hell.
People clung to sin as though it were a lifeline, desperate for a better life.
How terribly… adult.
"…I have to stop it."
A world set ablaze by blood and fire.
Slaughter, unfolding in relentless horror.
Bodies piling beneath a hail of arrows, while barbarians, grinning cruelly, stood atop rotting corpses.
A tragedy—or perhaps a farce—lay bare in its rawest form.
And yet, the ones who wept the hardest…
Were always those who had committed no sin at all.
My first step had to be toward saving them.
Of course—
My true goal remained unchanged.
Preventing destruction.
Because in the original story, this war was the root of tragedy.
A war that festered the empire’s underbelly, corrupting it beyond repair until even the imperial family was powerless to intervene.
And to make matters worse—
The black mages had aligned themselves with the underworld.
In this world, the Usurpation War…
Was the catalyst for everything.
"And besides… I need to find "it" before it awakens."
It.
The first trigger that would lead this world to ruin.
A disaster that had to be dealt with before it could unfold.
With that thought in mind, I left behind the comforts of the mansion—
And stepped into the filthiest depths of society.
At the time, I had no better plan.
I had no one to rely on.
Suddenly, without warning—
I had been abandoned in a lonely world.
Startled by the life I had been given once more, I hesitated, wavering between fear and regret.
But in the end, I chose to move forward.
Resolving that this would be my last game.
Forgetting you.
"I’ll be back."
A house that offered no response.
The struggles of a "possessed" soul—of living as someone else—meant nothing to me.
Nor did I feel the need to deceive the connections this body had built before me.
The family didn’t care about me anyway.
No, to be precise—
They treated me as if I didn’t exist.
The months I spent in that mansion felt like a bitter winter.
Aside from the bare minimum—meals, washing—there was no conversation, no warmth.
Even when I vanished for over a week, no one bothered to look for me.
It was as if I were living in a dollhouse, where everything was a hollow imitation of reality.
"Judas… what kind of life did you live?"
The untold past of the betrayer.
At the time, I had questioned it.
But soon after, I erased that thought from my mind.
Because the storm before me was already more than enough to handle.
And so—
I walked through the storm.
"Haa… Haa…!"
A war I had recklessly thrown myself into.
From that day forward, it was nothing but pain and relentless struggle.
I was bathed in the stench of blood.
I was alone.
Struggling to control a power I had yet to master, I slaughtered the filth littering the streets, evaded pursuers in the dead of night, freed those who had suffered—
And kept moving forward.
The first time another’s blood soaked my hands—
It was sticky. Lukewarm.
I vomited again and again.
But—
If I wanted to survive, there was no room for hesitation.
At the time, my Lie was not as refined as it is now.
When my strength failed, I had to hide in places that reeked of sewage.
The stench was unbearable, but I had no luxury to complain.
"Ugh… cough…!"
That was the law of the underworld.
The depths did not tolerate the virtuous.
Only those willing to discard their dignity and morality could survive.
Society had a name for those who had rotted so completely.
Trash.
We were nothing more than waste, piled atop a landfill.
Killing, stealing, hunting, trampling over one another—
It was a never-ending cycle, like a sick game to see who could drag the other down first.
And I—
Was no different.
In the name of purging evil, I wore the very same evil upon my skin.
That was why…
I despised my memories of that time.
"…Should I just give up?"
A fleeting doubt.
I had thought myself familiar with the cruelty of the adult world from my past life.
But this world proved that depravity knew no limits.
Even the last remnants of my once-pure heart had been devoured whole.
All I did was fight through an unending winter.
"The bleeding won’t stop… Do I have to stitch it again, like last time?"
Sometimes, I felt alone.
Leaning against a damp wall in a sewer, tending to my battered body—
That was when I felt it most.
The emptiness that gnawed at me.
But even in that hollow silence, I never shed tears.
Perhaps my emotions had long since dried up.
Life only grew colder.
And yet.
Time marched on.
One by one, I wiped out the crime syndicates that had taken root in the underworld.
One by one, I erased the seeds that would threaten the future.
The war—meant to last five years—
I ended it in less than three months.
A reward for relentless struggle.
"Haa… Haa…"
A ragged breath escaped me.
Only after eradicating every faction that had thrived in the underworld did I finally bring down the last remaining [Kingdom].
That kingdom—
It was the domain ruled by the Sovereign.
The old man, his hair stark white, coughed up a mouthful of blood.
"Kuhh…!"
The man who had been my greatest obstacle throughout the war.
His influence stretched across the continent. His personal strength alone was overwhelming. And with his cunning, he had overturned countless opponents through sheer strategy.
If anyone deserved the title of the strongest in the shadows, it was him.
Even if, in the end, he had fallen.
"It’s over now."
The aftermath of battle still lingered in the air.
The ruins of a shattered castle. The streets, reduced to rubble.
The Sovereign knelt before me, his body tattered and broken.
Blood drenched him from head to toe. His once-pristine attire had been reduced to rags. His severed right arm lay discarded on the ground.
And most of all—
A sword had pierced through his left chest.
I stood there, gripping the hilt, my blade still buried in his heart.
A faint pulse trembled beneath my fingers.
"Don’t struggle."
"So… this is how it ends."
The old man murmured to himself.
He had accepted his fate.
His resignation was written in his weary eyes.
I gazed down at him, my expression unchanging.
His body was a mangled mess, soaked in blood—
But I wasn’t in much better shape myself.
Even breathing had become a painful effort.
And with my energy completely drained, even the simplest first aid would have been impossible.
All I could do was grit my teeth and swallow the pain.
"The wretched Usurpation War ends today."
"And how does it feel? To be the last one standing at the end of a war?"
"…Empty."
I answered quietly.
Blood stained my hands.
The lines I had drawn between life and death had been simple.
I had crushed the factions that would later aid the cultists in the original story.
As for the others—
I had left them broken beyond recovery.
The same reason applied to why I wasn’t killing the man before me now.
He was one of the few in the underworld who had never aligned himself with the black mages.
Whether it was out of sheer distaste for their dark arts, or because of some past conviction—
I couldn’t say for certain.
But whatever the case, if left alive, he would make for a valuable asset.
I slowly withdrew my sword from his chest.
—Schhk.
As the blade slid free, the wound began to close.
I had restored it myself.
But—
"This is not mercy."
A spell, woven from Lies, remained within his heart.
An enchantment, ensuring he could not act of his own will.
At my command, it would detonate instantly.
Even if my own life were to be cut short, the spell was designed to trigger regardless.
There was no way for him to preemptively strike first.
The old man seemed to grasp the magic now constricting his heart.
A weary chuckle slipped from his lips.
"Heh… And yet, you let me live. You truly are an amusing one."
Still kneeling, he spoke.
His aged eyes, sunken deep, held a chilling depth to them.
I responded, my voice even.
"From now on, you are nothing more than a puppet."
"A puppet, you say…?"
"If you do not follow my orders, I will claim your heart without hesitation."
"So it’s a negotiation, then?"
"Think of it as paying a price."
"And I assume there’s no room for refusal… Well, the vanquished must abide by their fate."
"You understand well."
"What a shame. I was so close to winning… Just a hair’s breadth away."
"You truly were formidable."
It was the truth.
I had faced death multiple times during our battle.
It was only after exhausting every ounce of my strength—only after pushing beyond my very limits—that I had finally been able to pierce his heart.
Had I faltered even slightly—
The one lying in ruin would have been me.
A painful sigh left my lips.
The old man tilted his head, studying me, before speaking once more.
"And now, victor… As is the right of war, is there anything else you desire?"
"Of course."
I answered without hesitation.
It was only natural.
From the very beginning, I had set my sights on one goal above all else.
And now—
I spoke the name of destruction itself.
"The last member of your hidden force—the one you’ve kept locked away."
The Sovereign’s personal guard, composed of five elite warriors.
But throughout the war, only four had ever been seen.
The last—
Had been imprisoned deep underground.
A monster—one whose sheer talent for slaughter had made the Sovereign desperate to keep her at his side.
Yet, unable to control her, he had chosen to lock her away instead.
And now—
I uttered her title.
"Disloyal. I will be taking her."
"…Hah."
A disbelieving laugh.
The old man stared at me, his gaze distant.
"I kept that secret well… And yet, you always seem to know everything. Almost as if you can see the future."
"So? Your answer?"
"It hardly matters anymore."
He gave a dismissive nod.
"Do as you wish."
Without resistance, the Sovereign recited the coordinates.
A prison, isolated from the world.
As soon as I confirmed the location, I turned away.
My unsteady footsteps carried me past the shattered throne.
Away from the ruined underworld, now nothing more than a graveyard of war.
Now—
It was time.
Time to meet the seed of ruin.
And fittingly enough—
Winter had just begun.
The coldest winter of all.
Three days of wandering.
Through barren landscapes, following the path to my destination—
I finally arrived.
A ruined prison, hidden deep within the wastelands.
Dragging my still-aching body forward, I approached.
The distance shouldn’t have taken this long, but exhaustion had slowed me down.
I would need to come up with a better method of travel in the future.
"Come to think of it… was it ‘Injustice’?"
A space-manipulating ability user.
Perhaps I should seek one out.
I pushed aside my stray thoughts and stepped into the underground chamber.
At the end of a long staircase—
Rows of thick, rusted bars came into view.
Magic suppression devices hummed softly, lining the walls.
There was no doubt.
I had arrived.
—Clink.
A faint noise stirred beyond the iron bars.
And then—
A whisper.
"Who…?"
A shadow shifted in the darkness.
Even in the dim light, silver hair gleamed brilliantly.
A girl—
Bound in layers of chains.
"We finally meet."
I took a moment to observe her.
A face that held an almost inhuman beauty—
Marred by the remnants of past violence.
Bruises, scratches.
The Sovereign must have kept her restrained through force.
Seeing her battered form—
For the first time in a long while, I recalled memories from my past life.
A childhood spent under the fists of an abusive parent.
Perhaps that was why…
"I’ve come to take you away."
"…?"
I slowly reached out, slipping my hand through the bars.
What met me in return—
Was a wary, guarded stare.
But I paid it no mind.
Instead, I smiled.
Soft, patient words—
"Don’t you need a name?"
A question, seemingly out of place.
And yet—
That was how it all began.
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HELHEIM SCANS
[Translator - Peptobismol]
[Proofreader - Demon God]
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