Tap, tap, tap...
A game controller, studded extravagantly with diamonds and amethyst, tapped idly against the man's right thigh. Perhaps he wasn't even aware of the motion.
His left hand supported his cheek, propped on the velvet armrest of his chair. With his fair face, framed by golden hair and blue eyes, one might easily mistake him for a woman, were it not for the slightly too square set of his jaw.
Hm? A woman?
Otto Apocalypse suddenly chuckled, the suppressed sound laced with self-mockery and a touch of madness.
A long, long time ago... no, perhaps not that long ago.
In that era he often recalled—yet wished not to, dared not to—one of the main reasons he was unpopular within the family was precisely because his features were as delicate as a girl's. Combined with his frail and sickly childhood, he gave off an air of weakness and incompetence.
But... was that truly the case?
Anyone from the Apocalypse family, man or woman, regardless of their original nature, if steeped in its ways for ten years—no, even just five—would inevitably be warped, twisted into a gloomy, cruel, heartless monster.
Those who couldn't manage that... heh...
Besides, what did weakness and incompetence matter? In the end, isn't he the Apocalypse who survived to this day?
Nikolas, Lisa, Marcel, Fabian... He'd even forgotten where their graves were, hadn't visited them in at least four hundred years.
People from the past should stay in the past. No need for them to trouble his present... except for...
"Huuuh..."
Otto Apocalypse let out a long sigh.
This was why he was unwilling, afraid, to reminisce about that era.
Over the years, it wasn't as if no one had unintentionally brought it up. Each time, he could maintain a false smile, brushing them off with elegant yet insincere grins.
But that didn't mean he enjoyed revisiting that time.
Click.
Otto squeezed the controller slightly, glancing at the sunlight filtering through the gap in the curtains. Estimating the time, he figured there was still a while before his scheduled work began.
He sat up straight, his eyes falling on the computer screen displaying his top-ranked game score. Suddenly, he felt a wave of ennui wash over him.
But it was currently leisure time. If not playing games, what else was there to do?
Work overtime just for the sake of it? Didn't seem like there was anything pressing.
But if he were to continue gaming, the enthusiasm had already waned.
Perhaps this was what that old friend once told him: "Immortality isn't a blessing; on the contrary, it's a burden."
He had experienced most things, felt most emotions. His anticipation for what the world held had long since eroded. His long past had become baggage he couldn't shake off, and the future, yet to arrive, was already taking shape in his hands, leaving little room for uncertainty. If not for that singular goal, he might very well give himself a— Ha, right. If not for her, he'd have absolutely no reason to live these five hundred years.
As for going out for a walk? Perhaps a good idea. Even after enduring five centuries, he still hadn't had the chance to see every corner of the world.
No, money aside, he certainly had enough time. Especially now. His authority within Schicksal was long past being questioned. Conflicts with Anti-Entropy certainly existed, clashes occurred sporadically, but it wasn't like the major incident in New York decades ago.
Ever since the forced alliance in Siberia over a decade ago, the two organizations, while seemingly irreconcilable, saw Anti-Entropy's American headquarters adopt a less hostile stance towards Schicksal. Nowadays, it was mostly just some overconfident Executors who liked to provoke Schicksal.
And with the resources an Executor could mobilize, they could only stir up minor, insignificant conflicts—small problems solvable by dispatching B-rank Valkyries.
Of course, besides Anti-Entropy, Schicksal wasn't without other rivals. While Mount Taixuan had shown no intention of expanding beyond Shenzhou for centuries, his old friend there consistently maintained neutrality between Anti-Entropy and Schicksal, refusing to allow either faction to infiltrate Shenzhou too deeply. It felt somewhat unreasonable.
Then again, her stance might lean more towards World Serpent. But maybe not. After all, in a sense, wasn't she the one who delivered the final blow five hundred years ago...?
Ah, dwelling on this was pointless.
In any case, he had enough time. Ample time to go out, walk around, forge more connections with this world.
He simply... didn't want to.
He was just afraid.
As a man who should have been buried by the dust of history five hundred years ago, his soul, his desires, the vast majority of his emotions—they were all anchored five centuries in the past. He wasn't truly adapted to the present.
His gaze swept past the computer screen, landing on the Kallen figurine beside his desk...
Yes, he enjoyed modern life—the advanced technology, the greater amusements. But enjoyment didn't mean adaptation, nor did it equate to happiness.
To adapt to a new life, one had to deal with one's past self.
Perhaps sever ties, perhaps accept it.
Those unable to do either could only remain hopelessly stuck in the past.
But severing ties with his past self, or accepting it, thereby moving towards and integrating into the future—was that truly difficult?
Difficult, certainly, but not impossible.
It might take time, might require enduring some pain, might necessitate losing something, temporarily or permanently. But it wasn't impossible.
He simply didn't want to, was unwilling to, dared not to.
Because if he chose to step towards the future, he would have to abandon the singular true wish he had clung to for five hundred years. Perhaps such a choice would bring him personal ease, but he knew it wasn't what he wanted.
That singular true wish was the only thing he would sacrifice everything else to obtain. How could he abandon it for his own sake... Otto Apocalypse's sake... Heh, accepting the future, moving towards the future—such pleasant-sounding words, yet they would only grant him a moment's relief.
In this world, the only thing he truly feared was death, yet death was also the only thing that could grant him eternal peace and relief. Specifically, the death that came from achieving that singular true wish.
Wasn't this, too, a form of selfishness...? Ah, yes, yes, he, Otto Apocalypse, was just an irredeemably selfish man, wasn't he? Trying to save someone who might not even accept such salvation herself?
"So, my old friend, sometimes I truly envy you..."
His gaze shifted from the Kallen figurine to a photograph, long yellowed but exquisitely preserved.
Four figures stood in the photo. He and another man flanked two women in the center. One woman—her—clutched an exaggerated half-mask, draped in a dirty cloak, yet wore the proud smile of a victor.
Otto stared at her smiling face for a moment before finally shifting his gaze to the old friend beside her, the one with melancholic eyes and a complex expression. His eyes then quickly slid over to the other man— "him."
"Tsk!"
No, it should be "Him."
Otto set down the game controller, placing his hands flat on the desk as if holding something. The next moment, a flash of light revealed a golden cube in his palms—the Void Archives.
He aimlessly fiddled with the rather unplayable cube, like turning a Rubik's Cube without purpose.
Inevitably, memories of everything that happened five hundred years ago surged forth unbidden. Otto frowned, letting out an almost imperceptible sigh.
"Fenghuang Down..."
No, the more he thought about it, the more envious he became.
The side effect of Fenghuang Down's first echelon power—memory loss—was a catastrophe most would avoid at all costs. But for someone burdened by an inescapable, heavy past, it was ironically a blessing, allowing her to shed the weight and embrace the future.
This was probably what the people of Shenzhou called "finding good fortune in misfortune" (因祸得福 - yīn huò dé fú), wasn't it?
Otto sat alone in silence for a long time, until the light filtering through the curtains shifted direction, even changing color with the descending sun. Only then did he press the red buzzer on his desk.
Almost simultaneously with the chime, the curtains in the room drew open, revealing the setting sun half-suspended in a sea of blood-red clouds.
Behind him, the door opened softly. A petite figure entered, placed a stemmed glass by his hand, and carefully poured a small measure of red wine.
"Overseer, Amber has completed all of today's tasks. The records have been uploaded to the terminal. Would you like to review them?"
Otto didn't reply immediately. He cupped the glass in his palm, holding the crimson liquid up to the sunset, squinting as he gazed directly at the refracted light.
"Hmph..."
Otto grunted softly, ignoring the question.
"Amber, Theresa brought the Third Herrscher and K423 back to St. Freya?"
Otto's thoughts jumped rather quickly, but Amber was accustomed to it. She replied emotionlessly:
"Yes. They haven't overly restricted the Third Herrscher's freedom, yet with her consent, they installed a miniature bomb in her heart."
"Pfft! Hahahaha! Hahahahahaha!"
Otto burst into unrestrained laughter, devoid of his usual composure. Wiping tears from his eyes, he shook his head repeatedly.
"Theresa... oh, Theresa... Is this what you and Cecilia truly believed in? Preaching about faith in love while resorting to cold-blooded methods to achieve it. So, the cold-bloodedness becomes a fait accompli. How different is that, really, from simple cruelty?"
Amber stood silently nearby, showing no reaction, making one wonder if she could even hear. Whether any turmoil stirred within her, no one could know.
After laughing for a while, Otto's breathing gradually steadied. He suddenly stood up, ignoring the untouched wine.
"Let's go, Amber. We'll go see how Theresa is managing St. Freya."
"Uh... Then, Overseer, the files for the next two days..."
"Just proceed with your handling of them."
"No, Overseer, I mean the files for the next two days."
"Hm? You'll handle those too, what's the problem?"
Otto retrieved his coat from the rack, draping it elegantly over his shoulders.
"But, Overseer, didn't you just say 'we'?"
"Mm... Hmm?"
Otto stroked his chin, seeming to only just realize how impulsive his previous decision had been.
"However, if we were to go to St. Freya now, even the fastest route from HQ's spaceport to the Far East Branch would take nearly half a day. Considering the time difference, it would likely be dusk there as well. Should we have Lady Theresa prepare—"
"No!"
Otto waved his hand dismissively.
"No, no, no! Definitely don't tell Theresa about this."
Otto placed his coat back on the rack.
"We'll have to find another way..."
He rubbed his smooth chin, a rather mischievous idea forming in his mind.
"Alright, Amber, I'll go alone after all. But... I'll need to switch bodies."
"Understood, Overseer. Which body do you require? I will prepare it for you."
Though completely unable to fathom the Overseer's thoughts, Amber followed her usual routine, preparing to do her duty.
"Haha, no need. This time, I'll have to use... a strange method."
"A strange... method?"
Amber tilted her head, clearly puzzled by Otto's meaning.
...
Thwack!
The basketball hit the rim hard, bouncing high into the air.
"Aahhh!! Mei, Mei! That one doesn't count, let me try again!"
The girl on the court, sporting two long pigtails, leaped easily three or four meters into the air, snatching the basketball back into her arms.
Otto Apocalypse sat on a bench just outside the basketball court, watching the scene with amusement.
He recalled, five hundred years ago, someone had pontificated to him, spouting words he couldn't comprehend at the time. One part went something like this—
"Love is a very strange thing... I'm probably not qualified to discuss it. But I think you... have the potential.
"It clearly stems from affection for and possessiveness towards that unique individual. But for some common folk, it's precisely because of their love for that single existence that they come to care deeply about everything related to her—her family, her dreams, the objects she possessed.
"And so, that singular love spreads outwards, centered on her, shared among many things that are not unique. This kind of behavior, in Shenzhou, is called 'loving the house along with the crow'."
Otto admitted, he was an incorrigible common man.
Perhaps. Perhaps it was because of her that he cared particularly for the Kaslana family.
Because of her, he cared deeply for Theresa, Bianka, even... No, no, no. His attention towards them, towards K423, was solely because Theresa and Bianka were external forces necessary for him to push open the door of truth, and K423, this girl destined to become the Second Herrscher again, was the indispensable key to opening that door for him. That was all.
There was no "loving the house with the crow." Never.
Because the Kaslana family's decline to its current state, with only these few remaining members—while not entirely his doing, he certainly played a major role.
"Heheheheh... Hahahaha... Hahahahaha!"
Once again, he let out that laughter, suppressed yet tinged with madness. But the sound that emerged wasn't the magnetic voice he was used to.
Quite the opposite, the laughter held a peculiar blend of childishness and ancient weariness.
Otto belatedly remembered—the body he was currently using was the same age as her when they first met...
"Alright, Kiana, stop playing..."
"No way, Mei! Let me play a little longer! I'll definitely make it this time!"
"Idiot Kiana, you haven't made a single basket all afternoon..."
"Okay, okay, let's go back, Kiana. It's dinnertime. The beef we made last time..."
"Ah! What! Time for dinner already! Let's go, let's go!"
Thump.
The basketball hit the rim lightly, then bounced heavily onto the ground. This time, no one picked it up.
Otto stared at the round basketball. For a moment, the image of the ball blurred, merging with the impression of the setting sun.
"Eh? Are you... lost from your family?"
"!"
Otto turned his head as calmly as possible, looking at Theresa standing beside him, tilting her head curiously. He spoke in an even tone:
"No, I just came for a walk alone. My family will pick me up later."
"Eh? Is that so..."
Theresa nodded. Although St. Freya High School was a Valkyrie training academy, like most universities, it was semi-open to the public. It wasn't strange for outsiders to wander in on holidays.
Still, a child this young, all alone, was indeed a bit...
"But, you little brat, aren't you a bit too serious? Pulling such a long face at your age?"
"I..."
Otto's mouth twitched. He swallowed the words he almost blurted out, opting for a more childish retort:
"Hmph! Who are you calling a little brat? Aren't you about the same age as me!"
"You... I!"
Theresa felt the sting of the jab hitting a sore spot, but found herself unable to retort. Her face, already flushed by the evening glow, puffed up like a balloon.
Growl...
Otto blinked, pretending nothing had happened. Theresa's gaze slowly lowered, settling on Otto's stomach.
"Sigh... Whether you're lost or just wandering alone, you must be hungry, right?"
"I... I'm not hungry!"
Otto turned his head away, showing Theresa the back of it.
But the next moment, his stomach growled again.
"Pfft!"
Theresa quickly covered her mouth. For some reason, this prideful little boy felt incredibly familiar. A typical tsundere?
"It's a holiday today, so the cafeteria is closed. We usually cook for ourselves... Eh, right! We made some extra beef earlier. It's not gourmet, but it's edible. I'll go get some for you!"
"I don't..."
Growl...
"Hahaha, alright, wait here. I'll go get the beef for you!"
Theresa gently patted his head, then scampered off on her short legs, disappearing from sight in a flash.
Otto Apocalypse could have slipped away unnoticed right then. After all, the longer he spent in close proximity to Theresa, the higher the risk of exposing his identity and causing unnecessary misunderstandings.
But...
He stared blankly at the lone basketball on the empty court.
He stared blankly at the setting sun, half-suspended in the sea of blood-red clouds.
The boundaries between past and present, illusion and future, began to blur. He vaguely felt unsure who she truly was anymore.
He remained rooted to the spot, until Theresa's figure reappeared in his line of sight.
(End of Volume VIII: The Year of Finality)