Chapter 216: Beginning (XVI)
Five days passed in complete silence.
When Erin Volter finally fluttered her eyelids open, the agony in her skull had subsided into a dull, hollow throb.
She was lying back on her bed, her pale skin drenched in a cold sweat, her body completely exhausted. The vomit on the floor had been cleaned away, and the soft, warm scent of pine filled the room.
"You have returned to us, my lady," a gentle telepathic voice echoed softly in her mind.
Erin turned her head weakly. Sitting beside her bed was the Doom Overseer, its emerald eyes watching her with a quiet, somber sadness.
Erin squeezed her eyes shut, a fresh tear spilling down her pale cheek. She curled her knees tightly to her chest, trembling violently under the wooden blanket.
"I died..." Erin whispered, her voice cracked and broken. "I saw... I saw myself dying on the floor... covered in blood..."
"I know, my lady," the Overseer replied softly. "I warned you that the ocean of time is treacherous for those who swim without purpose. A vision of death is the heaviest burden an Oracle can carry."
Erin gritted her teeth, her knuckles turning white against the sheets. A paralyzing terror took root deep within her soul. In that quiet room, she made a silent, unyielding vow to herself.
She would never use her talent again. Never. She would never peek into the dark void of fate, never attempt to lift the curtain of time. The horror of her own inevitable death had permanently broken her curiosity.
...
Eight months went by.
On the floating mountain of Hubin, time flowed with a surreal, tranquil rhythm. The apocalyptic war between the Overlords had long since ended, and no other external threats came to disturb the secluded sanctuary. The days bled into weeks, and the weeks merged into quiet months.
During this long stretch of isolation, Erin's daily life settled into a strange, peaceful routine.
With her vow to abandon her Oracle powers, she turned her focus entirely to surviving on the floating landmass. And as the months passed, her relationship with the Overlord underwent a profound, undeniable transformation.
Roshhide no longer treated her as a prisoner, nor did he keep her confined to the wooden house. He allowed her to walk freely across the floating mountain, through the glowing violet forests, and along the pristine banks of the warm lake.
Gradually, the Calamity Lord began to visit her regularly.
They sat together on the mossy grass beneath the twilight canopy, speaking for hours. Roshhide spoke of the tragic history of Rilth—of a dying planet whose core was failing, forcing its Rulers to make desperate, catastrophic choices to save their world from collapsing into the cosmic void. Erin, in turn, spoke of Earth, of human history, and of her life as a researcher.
Through these quiet conversations, the barrier of fear between them slowly eroded. Roshhide grew to deeply trust her mind, often seeking her perspective on the interactions between pure and dark mana. And Erin... Erin found herself unable to maintain her hatred.
She knew what he was. She knew he was the architect of the gates that had caused so much suffering on Earth. But looking at the quiet sorrow in his ocean-blue eyes, she realized he was not a bloodthirsty monster driven by malice. He was a Ruler carrying the crushing weight of a dying realm.
When she looked at him, her heart conflicted violently. She knew she should hate him, yet she could never bring herself to harm him. Even if a blade were placed in her hands while he slept beside her, she knew she could never kill him.
However, as the months progressed, Erin noticed a strange thing.
Roshhide was growing weaker.
It started subtly around the fifth month of her stay. At first, it was just a slight dimming of the dark smoke crowning his head. But as the weeks rolled on, the change became impossible to ignore.
The invincible, god-like entity who had killed the Lightning Overlord was slowly draining away.
Erin watched him with rising concern, her sharp mind quickly piecing the puzzle together. The cause of his weakening was not a disease, nor was it a lingering injury from his past battles.
It was the life growing inside her own body.
Her belly had swollen over the months, carrying a child—a hybrid born from the union of a Primordial Calamity Lord and a human. The baby within her womb was not of this nature.
The child did not have a heart... the only thing it formed was a core and from the moment its tiny core formed in her fifth month, it had begun greedily drawing upon the overlord's life mana, absorbing Roshhide's llife force through their cosmic bond to fuel its own extraordinary development.
Roshhide knew it, too. Yet, he never tried to stop the drain. He simply smiled gently whenever he rested his hand over her enlarged stomach, willingly surrendering his own power to feed the child.
It was the eighth day of the tenth month.
The night sky above the floating mountain was dead quiet, the violet leaves above glowing with a faint, peaceful hue.
Erin woke up abruptly in the middle of the night.
A sudden, blinding spike of agony ripped through her lower abdomen. It was so sharp, so brutally intense, that it felt as though someone had driven a dagger into her stomach and twisted it.
"AGHH—!"
Erin let out a choked gasp, clutching her swollen belly as a cold sweat instantly broke out across her forehead. The pain hit her in rapid, violent waves, tearing through her body with unrelenting force. Labor had begun.
Outside the wooden house, the Doom Overseer lifted its head, its ribbon antlers pulsing with a soft emerald light as it sensed the impending birth. Roshhide stepped out from the shadow of the forest, his face pale and exhausted, yet his ocean-blue eyes were filled with an intense, unyielding focus.
For hours, Erin endured the agonizing gauntlet of childbirth. Her sweat-drenched silver hair plastered to her forehead as she gritted her teeth. she was alone then. Save for the Doom Overseer.
As the first light of dawn broke over the sea of white clouds outside, a final, earth-shattering contraction seized Erin's body.
With a raw, breathless cry that echoed across the silent glade, Erin pushed with the absolute last dregs of her strength.
Erin collapsed back onto the pillows, her chest heaving violently, tears of exhaustion and overwhelming relief spilling down her cheeks. The Doom Overseer looked at the child with a sad look on his face before laying the child gently against Erin's chest.
At the moment the child entered the world, Roshhide had permanently lost his Authority over Space.