I Refused To Be Reincarnated-Chapter 883: The Regent of Lost Memories

Tonight, the rattle of chains and cackles echoed on the fifth underground floor of Brineheart's prison, where enforcers didn't dare to approach, and light never reached. They shattered the eternal silence, pervading the darkness with bony sounds.

Finger bones as thick as fleshy ones gripped the mana-suppressing bars of the third cell. Two blazing flames ignited in their owner's hollow eyes. His voice was deep, like the echo of a cavern.

"Oh, King Leoric Caelmorn, the fury that shadowed tyrants every step, the justice that crushed the demon invaders for hundreds of years, are you still howling your wife's death to the deaf stars like a wounded beast?"

Silence devoured the underground prison for a moment, the seven other cells remaining coated in silence. Unfazed, he tapped an alabaster finger on his temple.

"Since you started it, you surely won't mind me following your grand personal recounting, right? Far from the crystal walls and golden fields of the legendary Orrivandrel, far to the south, in a city of suspended gardens and beautiful aqueducts, I was born. A simple man destined to rule his modest county.

But what differentiated a good ruler from a terrible ruler? The question haunted my younger years. I asked father and uncles, mothers and sisters for an answer as obvious as the rising sun. It's the people. Did they want victories against werebeasts? Songs of heroes they would chant in bars along with the minstrels between two mugs of ale?

No, they'd rather savour our peaceful gardens. Did they, then, desire wealth, property, or endless recreation? I tried my idea in a nearby village and the answer... Hahaha. The people fell into horrifying yet fascinating depravity. No one found it useful to work the fertile lands anymore, and soon, all the wealth of the world became insufficient to buy the most common bread.

Not wealth. Then what could the answer be? I had to discover what the people truly wanted. It obsessed me, made me ignore the magic of my lineage to develop my own. Mind. If the answer was somewhere, it was in their minds. No, it was in their memories. Was it in mine, too?

I experimented with many, including myself, and realised that wealth or power were just tools to achieve what we truly sought, that the most cherished memories, even of the worst human beings, were things that brought them happiness. That was what I wanted—to rule happy people. But memories..."

He let out a disgusting chuckle. "They are more than what we think. I began by erasing traumas and sadness, believing I was doing the right thing. Yet, people... changed. Complaints arose, husbands failing to recognise their wives, and sisters who thought their brothers had become too different. Why? Back then, my research hadn't been comprehensive enough to understand that even the most brutal memory shaped us one way or another.

Didn't it also mean that controlling a subject's memories... could allow me to rewrite the very foundation of his identity? Fascinating. I discovered how to reshape humanity. A single country, a single purpose, all united, all happy."

He drummed on the bars of his cell for a moment, then smirked toward Leoric's cell even though neither could see the other in this deep darkness.

"Disgusting. That's not what my younger self wanted. That's not what I aspire to even now. Would Leoric the brave, the shadow that hides behind the throne of lying tyrants, have let me live had I pushed this experiment? Hahaha. Of course not, even if you hadn't turned into justice back then. But then, had I wasted decades pursuing something wrong? No, my memory magic had other usage. I had to develop them while letting the people figure out how they'd find genuine happiness. After all, fifteen thousand years later, I still don't have that answer."

He turned toward the sixth cell briefly.

"I holed myself up to develop my magic, leaving the people to decide how they wanted to live. Not by resignation. Because there is no greater wisdom than refusing to use a power that would corrupt my aspiration. A scholar... why not become one to use my experience as a guiding light for future rulers?

I took in my first disciple, a foolish prince from the capital. The question made him dream for years before he gave up. And then, Leoric rose from the smoldering ashes of Orrivandrel and the invading demons. Invading, they did—on a scale wider than we could have understood. They struck our country with all the cursed rage of their species.

My uncle raised the banner of grasping skeletal hands that emerged from shadowy mist over our walls. The army, my family, the people—we all fought to repel the invasion. I had memorised tens of thousands of spells, but even millions of them wouldn't have been enough against the demonic tide.

They set the suspended gardens aflame, shattered our walls, and devoured our people. My uncle died first, then my sister and her children. I fought with all the memories of happier times I could use to dull the despair growing in my chest.

But there would be no miracle for us, not when Nyxara sent one of her generals to the south. I lost my arms, then my legs. Crippled, I peered at the ash-covered sky. Wouldn't it have been romantic if I could have seen the twilight right as my life ended?

Hahaha. But that foolish disciple was still alive. I could die, but my knowledge could not. It would live through him. I called out to him. Find Leoric, join his crusade, I commanded as I raced through my most ancient memories. My father, the magic of my house. Too weak. Needs adaptation. Increase power to unnatural levels. Defy human limits, and..."

His deep voice rumbled with ancient wrath. "Bury the demons who took the people you cherished with them."

"I devoured mana until my muscles bloated. I didn't need them. They were my last weapon: the most terrifying corpse explosions the realm had ever seen! The fallen people and my bones turned into the sharpest arrows, and blood pierced dozens of miles in every direction. But, like you, Leoric, I didn't die. The world called. Justice wasn't enough; it wanted its tower, even though I admit it could have opted for a better form. Hahaha."

He waved his thick bones, cackling in amusement. They were not just his, but his family's and people's, woven together in the first undying body by the realm against his will.

"The rest you know about. My disciple pleaded for your help, and you found me—Serevan Dreadmarche, the eternal regent of lost memories. But these memories won't be lost for long. You've let the memories of your wife lower your standards, Leoric. How unlike you. How pitiable. Flexibility, chaos, courage—they mean nothing compared to a strong mind. My creation will find your heir, devour your legacy, then merge it with mine."

He glared at each cell until the sixth. "All of your legacies, old friends. I'll create the wisest and most powerful mage from the shadow of my cell. Hahaha."

For the first time in millennia, Leoric grinned. "We shall see, old lich."

"Indeed." Serevan skipped the seventh cell to glare at the eighth. His hands trembled over his bony arms. "You. Yes, you. Do you still wallow in self-pity after fifteen thousand years?"

Silence.

"Great. I wish to see you drown in it for another fifteen thousand years for the horror your unwise decisions unleashed upon my second disciple. Just thinking about you tickles my nerves."

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Hope you liked this chapter. Took me several hours, but I honestly enjoyed writing it. I wonder who can figure out who his two disciples are. I promise you have enough clues. :D