Chapter 51

# 51

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Feeling the passage of time was a considerable torment for Lark, an infinite regressive.

He had forgotten how many times he had regressed.

He could not even remember whether he had lived for thousands or tens of thousands of years.

Becoming a regressive was not a mere coincidence.

The Eselred family was so engrossed in magic that they earned the nickname "Law."

They pursued strength.

Absolute strength that transcended human limits.

So they modified humans.

They succeeded.

They tried more modifications.

They succeeded again.

Ah, humans are such perfect experimental subjects!

The Eselred magicians continued their experiments.

Data accumulated. Growth curves became gentler. And at some point, the graph drew a straight line.

Growth had stopped.

Disappointed by the existence of a limit to human growth, the Eselred family sought other powers.

It was the power of the "Outer God."

They failed.

They tried more experiments.

They failed again.

What was the problem?

Was it because the human body, composed of bones, muscles, flesh, and blood, had a weak exterior?

No, it seemed the problem was with the system for absorbing magic.

"This seems to be a limit of the species."

They began to seek a more cruel solution.

"I found it."

The leaders of the Eselred family, including the former head, were ecstatic when they finally completed the theory to create a perfect "human weapon" in their generation.

"Bring forth the power of the gods from the pre-embryonic stage. Let it be born in human form."

A human made of the power of the gods—wouldn't that be perfect? They selected the necessary experimental materials.

"Did you know that humans with silver hair have special traits?"

"Oh, really?"

"Experimental results show that silver hair accepts 'abilities' better than others."

"Then a 'mother' with silver hair would be best."

They brought in a woman with silver hair to be the head's wife.

And the former Duke Eselred implanted the power of the Outer God into his wife.

"We succeeded!"

The long-standing experiment passed down through generations of the Eselred family finally succeeded.

They joyfully named the child.

Lark Eselred.

The name of the one who would become their excellent weapon and devour this world.

"Lark, your role is to listen to your father well."

They raised Lark, the monster, in every possible way.

They imposed strong mental control over Lark to make him their hunting dog.

But they did not know.

They did not know that the power of the Outer God implanted in Lark included 'regression.'

Lark broke free from the brainwashing with his increasingly powerful regressive abilities.

And he tried to save his poor mother, who was also an experimental subject like himself.

"Who is your mother? You monster brat!"

But his mother had gone mad from the moment she conceived him, carrying the power of the gods.

"Die, you monster! You ruined me. You ruined me…!"

In the end, his mother committed suicide.

"Bring my mother back! If you can create me, you should be able to do that much!"

His father laughed, his throat constricted.

"Does broken glass mend?"

Lark regressed dozens, hundreds of times.

There must be a way. There must be a way to bring his mother back, even if he hadn't found it yet.

He searched the world. He mobilized all his resources.

But it was impossible.

Because the beginning of the matter was before Lark was born. It was impossible to regress to that time.

After thousands of regressions, Lark finally admitted.

It was impossible to save his mother with his abilities.

After that, he would immediately end her life upon regression to ensure she died without suffering.

He executed the Eselred humans and burned the research materials.

He focused on using his strength to benefit the world.

As if trying to wash away his original sin.

At first, it was effective.

He found vitality, received the respect of all, and punished corruption.

But then traitors appeared.

Those who were his comrades during dozens of regressions, his disciples during hundreds of regressions, and his… during thousands of regressions.

Lark gradually went mad.

He tried to destroy the world and die endlessly.

There were times when he just wanted to be an ordinary human.

But it was impossible, no matter how many lives he poured into it.

Because the foundation of Lark was the power of the Outer God.

It was a body that refused death and had to bear the curse of his mad mother, regressing to a toddler who could barely walk.

Hope turned to despair.

Despair turned to apathy.

Lark died and came back to life countless times and witnessed even more deaths.

Something wore down, was forgotten, and disappeared. Finally, it was completely twisted.

He was becoming a complete monster.

Crack!

Lark looked down at his arm.

A red crack appeared and disappeared on his skin between the sleeves.

It was his physical body breaking down, reaching the limit of its maintenance.

His body always died before it reached thirty-one years old, with such massive cracks appearing and then regressing would begin again.

Lark muttered.

"Is it time to regress again?"

The reason he readily granted Nabea a year was because everything would disappear anyway.

Lark idly killed time. Then he suddenly thought.

'Come to think of it, I'm not bored.'

His usual thought was 'boredom,' as he had repeated the same life endlessly.

There was no one he didn't know, no event he didn't know, and no place he hadn't been.

Everything was stale and boring.

But since yesterday, his irritation had soared, yet he wasn't bored.

The child with a face he had never seen before—perhaps it was because of that child.

He subconsciously murmured.

"Nabea."

The name of the white flame that entered his domain.

Crack!

At that moment, a red crack split from his spine to his cheek.

A groan escaped his lips as the sensation of his body being split by a red-hot iron, which could boil cold water instantly, persisted.

Why didn't his tolerance for pain develop?

Lark lifted a vial and drank the concentrated anesthetic liquid. Familiar curses slipped through his teeth.

"Damn it…."

He abruptly stood up and threw the vial in a fit of temper.

Clang!

The vial shattered against the full-length mirror, which also cracked in several places.

As he approached, his reflection appeared in the cracked mirror.

A vivid red crack writhed like magma. His body was also cracked like the broken mirror.

Even though the marks would disappear quickly and wouldn't remain as scars, the sudden warning lingered in his body for a while.

'How much time is left?'

In this life, he was trying to live longer by using anesthetics and various methods to maintain his body.

He had survived, but there had been times when he had died and started over.

This was truly a death sentence.

He lay down on the black sofa.

The black ceiling filled his vision like darkness.

The mansion was always black.

Lark had dyed everything black with magic.

He had become accustomed to this darkness.

Continuously dying and coming back to life, and the fact that he was a monster, had become familiar.

But the eternal inability to die and the continuous repetition of life were always painful.

He wanted to die.

That was Lark's wish.

What would happen to the child named Nabea when this life ended?

Lark only allowed certain people around him.

Those who could be controlled and had never betrayed him, even after thousands of lives, were allowed to enter the third floor.

The attending physician, Minerva Hart.

The chief administrator, Margaret Romanov.

The advisor, Schleman Jeneger.

The head of the knights, Nero Silas.

And…

He strictly controlled the entry of servants.

In fact, there were hardly any servants to control.

Therefore, if he stayed locked up here, he would never encounter the child.

He wouldn't have to see that damn silver hair.

Lark curled up on the sofa, clenching his fists tightly.

Silver hair. Damn silver hair.

Small cracks appeared and disappeared repeatedly all over his body.

His physical body was constantly breaking down.

In other times, he would have just died and started over, but he was surviving.

He was waiting for someone.

Thud.

Lark lay back on the sofa.

His gaze fell on his left ring finger. Focusing his senses, the silver ring appeared.

It was the symbol of a wizard's contract.

"I promise, by the wizard's contract, never to kill my family."

Family…

Lark stopped thinking.

Thud.

He lowered the hand he had stared at for a long time, covering his eyes in darkness.

As if trying to erase the brilliant silver light that flickered before his eyes.

#09.

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