Chapter 4: As Complicated as I Am

Audio version

In the warm and opulent living room, Anselm casually tossed his wolf-fur cloak to the floor and threw himself onto the sofa by the fireplace, curling up lazily as if he was boneless. 

　　

Outside, the shouts of Hydra continued unabated. He sighed and dug his fingers into his ears: "So noisy... Savile."

　　

The elegant old man standing in the corner of the living room smiled: "I thought you enjoyed such scenes."

　　

"It's entertaining to observe now and then, but enduring it perpetually is beyond my tolerance."

The young man, who seemed to have lost all his wickedness and regal aura, lazily watched the roaring flames in the fireplace: "A handful of faithful hounds suffices; an excess breeds trouble."

　　

"But it is your duty."

　　

"It's too much to bear," Anselm sighed again.

　　

Savile shook his head: "You'll need to get used to it sooner rather than later."

　　

"I know."

　　

Anselm carelessly stretched out his legs, slumping into the sofa in the posture of the bald man from the Great Library in his mind: "Yet, that day remains distant, Savile."

"Master's time is running out, as is the Empress's," the old man said, looking at his young master's casual demeanor, only able to advise with resignation, "Even if not for the sake of responsibility, for your own sake, you need to quickly gain control of the eight Contract Heads."

　　

Contract Heads were a special existence related to Hydra, involving the essence of Hydra and the supreme Feastflame royal family within the Empire.

　　

Legend had it that ten thousand years ago, the ancestor of the Feastflame defeated the unstoppable Terminus-level beast Hydra that was ravaging the continent, and successfully tamed it. The two signed a contract under the witness of the gods, becoming eternal allies, and established the great and prosperous Conquest Dynasty, which was the predecessor of the Empire.

　　

Of course, Anselm himself knew very well that the so-called legends were nonsense. Although the part about the ancestor of Feastflame and the beast Hydra was roughly correct, there was never any so-called "contract," nor any connection with the so-called gods.

　　

No contract could bind them.

　　

The singular reason Hydra had pledged allegiance to the Feastflame royal family, spanning the millennia of the Empire's existence and even beyond, was unequivocal.　　

Only the Feastflame royal family could burn the madness within the blood of Hydra—the ancestor of the Feastflame, turning Hydra from a beast of madness and ignorance into a "human" with intelligence.

　　

And intelligence is a poison that any beast cannot resist, a million times more addictive than power.

　　

Any creature with intelligence cannot accept becoming a beast again, which is the bridle around Hydra's neck.

　　

Over the long years, the burning of Feastflame even changed the essence of Hydra, truly transforming them from beasts into creatures almost indistinguishable from humans, except that the madness in their blood still flowed.

　　

As time went on, the Feastflame clan believed that it was too extravagant to suppress Hydra's madness with their own strength, not only consuming their lifespan and slowing their progress in becoming stronger, but also being infected by that extreme chaos and insanity, all falling into madness in their later years. 

　　

Thus, the founder of the Empire, Norlandrake Caesar Feastflame, with his astonishing talent, opened up a new path for Hydra.

　　

Newborn Hydra would be smelted with the Feastflame fire in the embryo, dividing their unformed power into nine parts, with the Origin held by Hydra, and the other eight parts preserved in the form of "seeds," which would not stop growing but would grow stronger along with the expansion of Hydra's Origin, and most importantly... they could be bestowed upon others.

　　

Those who accepted Hydra's power became the Contract Heads of Hydra, and only a Hydra whose every part of power found its owner could be considered a complete Hydra.

　　

Through this method, the pressure on the Feastflame royal family was greatly reduced, although there were still negative effects, but they were no longer a significant burden.

　　

As for Hydra? Hydra initially indeed resisted this method vehemently, their beastly nature unable to accept dividing their great power into nine parts, and the founder of the Empire also almost completely severed ties with that generation of Hydra.

　　

What exactly happened in the end, even Anselm did not know. All he knew was that his ancestors... lost to their desire for rationality and humanity.

　　

"However, were I in their stead, I too would undoubtedly choose the same path."

Anselm muttered to himself while idly browsing the Great Library in his mind.

　　

"But, the Contract Heads..." He rubbed his temples.

　　

For Anselm, deciding on the candidates was not a problem, or rather, it was too simple.

　　

His mind contained the most suitable people in the world to become his Contract Heads. As early as when Anselm was ten years old, he had already determined the candidates for his Contract Heads.

　　

But the problem was, to make these candidates willingly prostrate themselves at his feet was not something that could be accomplished overnight.

　　

"But indeed, time is not on my side."

　　

A few seconds later, Anselm stretched, pounded his own head vigorously, as if switching to a different persona, dispelling all the laziness from before.

　　

"Savile, bring those two sisters to me." Anselm waved his hand behind him to Savile, "Have the maids prepare wine, cake, and jerky."

　　

The butler in a tailcoat bowed and left, while the young nobleman in a black dress waistcoat and shirt continued to gaze at the firelight.

　　

He saw the future in that firelight—his mad father indiscriminately slaughtering everything in a blaze, the thousand-year glory of the family reduced to ashes in blood and fire, and he survived, only to fall into a place more despairing than the abyss.

　　

"No matter how many times I see this scene, it remains profoundly vexing."

　　

Anselm chuckled, murmuring in a casual tone.

　　

"If it weren't for my transmigrator friend, I wouldn't know that such despair awaits me."

　　

A transmigrator, yes, a transmigrator. 

　　

An unfortunate transmigrator, who at the moment Anselm's embryo was formed, when the current Empress smelted his Origin with the Feastflame fire, unluckily transmigrated into Anselm's body.

　　

Under the combined assault of the Feastflame fire and the vast, terrifying soul essence of Hydra, he perished on the spot.

　　

And his memories were burned away by the Empress's fire, nearly forty percent destroyed, with the remaining sixty percent... absorbed by Anselm in a very peculiar form.

　　

His memories became books with images... accurately, using the terminology of that world, they were akin to "movies" stacked in Anselm's consciousness, accessible by Anselm at will, and because they were merely "image books" and "movies," they could not directly force their way into Anselm's consciousness and thoughts.

　　

Even so, these memory books have had a profound impact on Anselm, despite his upbringing in the most orthodox, um... as per the library's content, the most orthodox "feudal noble" education. From the time he was a fetus, he began reading memory books, rendering him largely disinterested in the conventional norms. Even though these memories, burned by the Feastflame fire, with only nearly sixty percent remaining, were incomplete in many aspects, Anselm's way of thinking did not belong to this era.

　　

—The most straightforward example, compared to his almost tamed ancestors and his father, he himself had no loyalty or reverence for the royal family and the Empress.

　　

However, due to the incompleteness of the memory books and the influence of the growth environment, his way of thinking was not entirely that of the transmigrator's world either.

　　

And for Anselm, these things were secondary. The most important thing he saw from those memory books was—

　　

"Young master, they have arrived," the voice of Savile came from outside the door.

　　

"Come in."

　　

The old but upright butler brought two young girls in, they were about the same age, both with snow-white flawless hair, one long and one short, and their looks were beyond description. Even Anselm, who was a seasoned warrior, was stunned by their beauty at first sight.

　　

Anselm stood up and changed to another sofa, resting his chin on his hand as he sized up the two girls.

　　

The short-haired girl shielded the timid and weak-looking girl behind her, her face twitching, baring her canines, reminiscent of a wolf running and hunting in the cold wilderness.

　　

Anselm's mouth could not help but curve upward.

　　

Ideas, thoughts, any science and technology or art and poetry from the other world, Anselm didn't care about them, or rather, in the face of that one thing, these were all insignificant.

　　

—Fate.

　　

Anselm saw the knife marks of fate carved into this world.

　　

The fierce-looking, seemingly weak and powerless girl in front of him, her name was Sitana Rancemalos.

　　

The future queen of myriad armies, the conqueror of the harsh winter, the eternal ally of the dragons, the divine warrior walking among mortals, the undying and invincible Wolf Empress of the Azure Sky. 

　　

The destined protagonist and... hero.

Author's Notes:

ps:

A friend told me I'm writing too much, that each chapter should be around two thousand words, and that writing three thousand words per chapter like this is a loss... Can writing more actually be a loss?

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