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With the help of his powerful silver-level magical energy, Russell made rapid progress learning the demon language. After just a few days of intensive study, he could parse the general meaning of their script. The characters had started as incomprehensible scratches, but now they flowed together into coherent thoughts.
"Time to see what these demons actually wrote," he murmured, settling into his desk chair.
He possessed two demon written records: the diary obtained from Sword Lake, and the ancient book from his recent training mission. Russell decided to start with the diary. After disconnecting his computer from the internet - a precaution that had become second nature - he imported the scanned images from his Mark 3 device.
The opening sentence immediately puzzled him:
The elders in the family said that since that day, our original calendar is no longer needed. Our current calendar is called the Servitude Calendar, which is said to have been chosen by His Majesty. Why is it called 'Servitude'? I always feel that the name is strange.
December 3rd, 378th Year of the Servitude Calendar. This is the first day I have started writing my diary. I am 29 years old today. There is nothing interesting to record in the days before this. I don't know if I am lucky, but until this year, I have not encountered the 'great event' that the Old Ancestor mentioned.
The first page ended abruptly there. Russell frowned, running his fingers along the translated text. For many subsequent pages, the diary chronicled mundane daily life - meals, weather, clan politics. Nothing revelatory emerged from the routine entries. He continued reading patiently, occasionally pausing to double-check his translation of particularly archaic phrases.
Fourth day of the sixth month, 387th Year of the Servitude Calendar. Emil is already twelve years old. I am very happy because he has grown up so much and has not yet encountered the 'great event'.
Emil is very sensible and talented. According to the Old Ancestor, if it were in the past, he would have been a direct disciple in a small sect. Strange. Being a direct disciple in a small sect is not as prestigious as being the head of our Sorrow Clan. It's just that the Old Ancestor is very strong, and I don't dare to refute what he said.
Russell felt certainty crystallize in his mind. The diary's author was definitely Silas, the former head of the Sorrow Clan. But this "Old Ancestor" presented a mystery - Russell carefully recalled the events at Sword Lake, and no such figure had appeared among the clan members. Dead of old age, perhaps? With growing curiosity, he continued reading.
July 8th, 392nd Year of the Servitude Calendar. Today, the Old Ancestor told us that the so-called 'great event' will come in three years. This is the date set by His Majesty and ■■.
It was also at this time that I first learned of ■■'s existence. I originally thought that His Majesty was the strongest being. But the Old Ancestor said that compared to ■■, His Majesty is like a newborn baby. How is this possible? His Majesty's sword can destroy mountains and break peaks in the blink of an eye.
Several characters throughout the diary appeared as solid black marks. Russell stared at the redacted sections, his pulse quickening. This had to be the mastermind behind the pocket dimensions' arrival on Earth.
January 16th, 393rd Year of the Servitude Calendar. There are still two years to go, but the Old Ancestor told me some bad news. There is a being called the Four Great Evils who has declared war on His Majesty. ■■… won't he stop them? They are all under his control. Killing each other won't do him any good, right?
March 1st, 393rd Year of the Servitude Calendar. I was called up. The Old Ancestor took me and the Sword Sovereign to the front line. It was only then that I realized that the one confronting the Sword Sovereign was not one of the Four Great Evils themselves, but a Plague King under their command. According to the Old Ancestor, the Four Great Evils have four great kings under them. Do we really have a chance of winning?
Russell's thoughts immediately jumped to the Flesh and Blood King from the Demon's Nest pocket dimension near New Metro. The similarities couldn't be coincidental. He turned the page, noting how the previously neat handwriting had devolved into hurried, shaky script.
December 24th, 394th Year of the Servitude Calendar. His Excellency was defeated. The Old Ancestor also died in front of me. There is no need to continue this battle. Fortunately, the Plague King doesn't seem to care about us little minions.
Just like that? Russell wasn't surprised the Sword Sovereign had fallen. The broken blade at Sword Lake's bottom must have been his final remnant. Only a few pages remained in the diary.
December 31st, 394th Year of the Servitude Calendar. It has been several days since I returned to the Sorrow Clan. Since the fall of His Majesty, our lives seem to have not changed much.
But the following words were written in completely different handwriting:
The sky cracked! I saw it! It's the Four Great Evils! It's definitely them! I seem to have seen His Majesty's sword! What happened after they left? I don't know…
The messy scrawl revealed the writer's panic and terror. Only one page remained.
After that day, I realized that our world seemed to be reduced to just this lake, near the Sorrow Clan. The place where we live now is like... a residue.
The diary ended there, leaving Russell staring at the final entry. He leaned back in his chair, processing the implications. The diary provided information, but most of it seemed like historical background rather than actionable intelligence. However, recalling Marcus's reaction upon seeing the diary, a troubling possibility occurred to him.
"The Spirit Begging Society's target... it's not these Four Great Evils, is it?" he whispered to his empty apartment.
Suppressing the growing unease in his chest, Russell opened the ancient book. Unlike the diary's lengthy entries, this contained only a single story - but its contents made his blood run cold.
[In the unknown distant past, there was a being called the Demon God on an unknown continent, who possessed great power that could reach heaven and earth. One day, pocket dimensions of all sizes began to appear on this continent, and within them were strange creatures full of aggressive desires. Fortunately, thanks to the existence of the Demon God, the creatures in the pocket dimensions did not completely invade the continent.]
[However, as time went on, the major forces under the Demon God gradually began to feel dissatisfied. Because some creatures in the pocket dimensions secretly told them that if there were no Demon God, they would not have to fight this bloody war. Under the secret instigation of these creatures, in a great battle, the Demon God held back an opponent of the same level, but the people he protected behind him betrayed him.]
[The Demon God died, torn to pieces by the creatures from the mysterious realm. That day, blood rained from the sky, as if the whole world was crying for him. Later, the creatures on the land no longer had to fight bloody battles with the creatures in the pocket dimensions.]
[Because they had become one of them.]
Russell closed the book with trembling hands. The room felt suddenly cold despite the afternoon sunlight streaming through his windows. He finally understood the true nature of pocket dimensions. They weren't just magical dungeons or training grounds.
They were planets. Worlds like Earth.
Or rather... they were worlds that had already fallen.
The weight of this revelation settled over him like a heavy blanket. Every pocket dimension he'd entered, every "cleared" realm, represented an entire civilization that had been consumed. The creatures within weren't just monsters - they were the corrupted remnants of people who had once lived, loved, and hoped just like humans did.
Russell sat in silence, staring at the ancient book as the implications cascaded through his mind. If this pattern held true, then Earth itself might be walking the same path toward destruction.
(End of this chapter)
PLZ Throw Powerstones.