TuxedoTranslations

Chapter 56

Xiao Hei was training in a valley. In order to quickly gain control over his powers and avoid hurting Xiao Bai when he lost consciousness and turned into a monster, he hadn’t dared to be alone with Xiao Bai during training these past few days.

Usually, mornings were his time for solo training. Around noon, Jacques would come out from the forest to have some lunch with him. In the afternoon, Jacques would put him through (painful) training (a beating), check his progress, and then the two would head back together—sometimes even picking up dinner on the way.

To prevent another monster attack, Albin had been practicing magic around their place lately. His training sessions were in the mornings and before dinner; during the brighter hours of the day, he preferred to study and do homework.

Sometimes when he came across an interesting story during the day, he would happily share it with Xiao Hei.

Every time Xiao Hei returned and saw Albin, his exhaustion would miraculously vanish.

He loved seeing Albin rush toward him full of joy, just like in the past—especially when he was injured.

It reminded him of that time in the castle tower.

If Xiao Hei’s training injuries were bad, Albin would get all worked up and, like a little lamb, butt Jacques with his head until Jacques begged for mercy.

So cute.

Just thinking about Albin made everything about him seem unbearably cute—his happy expression, his serious expression while studying, his angry face, his worried face, his soft hair, his beautiful eyes… even his sleeping face was adorable.

He wanted to see him.

Xiao Hei looked at the sun and the shadows—it was almost noon.

His solo training was nearly finished. After eating and taking another beating, he could go back and see Albin.

Albin had told him to come back early today, saying there was a surprise.

When he said that, the corners of Albin’s lips had lifted, and his mysterious expression was also so cute.

Xiao Hei couldn’t wait.

While waiting for Jacques, he picked some flowers nearby.

Compared to Xiao Bai’s daytime life, Xiao Hei felt his own days seemed too bland. When he shared them with Albin, they always felt dry and empty, with no good stories to tell.

What if Albin thought he was boring?

His words always came out clumsy, so instead he tried to give Albin something every day.

This time, he gathered a whole bouquet of flowers.

Back in the castle, Albin had often complained about not being able to see greenery, so he should like flowers, right?

But no matter how long Xiao Hei waited, Jacques never came to bring him lunch and take him home. Unease began to creep into his heart.

He thought of the day he and Albin had escaped—and instantly grew restless, anxiously looking around.

At the same time, he noticed thick smoke rising from somewhere in the forest. It seemed a fire had broken out, and the smell of charred wood began to drift through the air.

And that direction… was the area Jacques had gone to explore today!

A terrible premonition seized him. Dropping the flowers, Xiao Hei immediately charged into the smoke-filled forest.

Frightened herds of beasts fled past him, but Xiao Hei pushed upstream against them, rushing deeper into the inferno. He searched desperately, but never caught sight of the man who should have emerged.

Until he reached the edge of the flames.

A steep slope briefly divided the fire, but the flames were already spreading upward, soon to devour the forest above completely.

And there, amid the smoke, Xiao Hei saw soil stained dark red with blood—and a severed arm.

With just one glance, Xiao Hei recognized whose arm it was.

Yet with trembling hands, unwilling to believe, he carefully picked it up.

It was Jacques’ arm. His foster father’s arm.

This very hand had rested warm and strong on his head that morning, hooked around his neck, and then Jacques would playfully cuddle him and Albin.

Xiao Hei’s whole body began to tremble. Clenching his teeth, he fixed his eyes on the bloodstains on the ground.

The blood trailed downward into the raging flames below the slope.

Without hesitation, Xiao Hei plunged into the sea of fire. His clothes quickly caught alight, scorching his body.

He frantically searched the blazing forest, but found nothing.

The severed arm had been cut cleanly. The blood showed signs of being dragged, but there were no traces of struggle. That meant Jacques hadn’t been able to resist at all.

This was an enemy so powerful that even his foster father had been helpless.

Even if he managed to find Jacques in the fire, it would likely only be a charred corpse…

A low, grief-stricken roar tore from Xiao Hei’s throat. His fingers curled tightly into fists, nails digging deep into his palms.

Who?!

Who killed his father?!

His fury boiled like a raging beast, straining to break free of its cage. His breath grew ragged.

He left the fire. Beside the flowers he had picked for Albin, he set down his father’s severed arm—but he had no idea how to explain any of this to Albin.

No matter what, he had to find the murderer!

That person couldn’t have gone far!

Where is it? Where is it?!

In the forest engulfed by fire, Little Black searched frantically, his heart blazing with the flames of vengeance.

All of a sudden, waves of dreadful energy rippled out, like the trembling of the earth, carrying a mysterious and terrifying aura.

He lifted his head and looked upward. The thick smoke had blotted out the sky’s original blue, and the fire painted the heavens blood-red.

Standing on higher ground, Little Black spotted a blinding light erupting again and again in a certain part of the forest. Deafening explosions followed, and in an instant the flames devoured vast stretches of woodland.

His heart tightened. Whoever could unleash such destruction must be unimaginably powerful—very likely the very one who killed his father!

At once he had his target. He charged forward with all his strength.

The closer he drew, the more intensely he could feel that terrifying power surging. Along the way he even saw the corpses of many violent monsters lying lifeless on the ground.

Golden light and white light clashed, flames tangled with flames, and the earth quaked so fiercely that even the dreadful monsters could only wail in despair.

Gritting his teeth, Little Black rushed ahead, but just then, two overwhelming forces collided at the battle’s center. The violent clash released a devastating shockwave.

The trees all around were shattered like brittle twigs. Little Black himself was flung into the air, slammed hard against a rock, and lost consciousness as darkness swallowed his mind.

Before fainting, he vaguely remembered glimpsing the corner of a garment lined with scarlet.

At the battle’s heart—

The old Pope’s body had already been consumed by fire. The Sun God revealed his true form. At that moment, he looked as splendid and heroic as the statues within the temple, his physique strong and handsome—but his expression was twisted and hideous.

Facing him, Zeman had shed all trace of reverence and harmlessness once shown as the Holy Son before his god. Now his sharpness was fully revealed, like a blade forged from ice, cold enough to freeze one’s very soul.

Zeman’s face was severe, his white hair disheveled. In his hand gleamed the Sunblade, its radiance dazzling. His scarlet-lined cloak billowed furiously, as though he were a raging blizzard trying to blot out the heavens themselves.

He stared at the blood upon his sword. In his half-lidded crimson eyes, dark tides surged.

“So even gods can bleed.”

Not only that—the blood was no different from that of humans or monsters.

Then… were gods truly gods at all?

His chilling words made even the Sun God reveal a flicker of fear and unease. But in the next instant, fear turned to fury.

His face darkened, brows furrowing deeply. He glared at Zeman with rage and vigilance, like a king with a shaky throne glaring at a usurper.

His dignity, his authority, everything he possessed—felt under threat.

“Zeman, you disgraceful traitor!” His eyes were as sharp as swords, his rage towering to the heavens, veins bulging at his temples. Divine might roared from him like fire, vowing that Zeman would pay a terrible price.

He must kill Zeman!

He could not afford defeat here!

But Zeman’s face was frozen cold, the sharp light in his eyes more piercing than ever. Every move he made carried the aura of destruction, his sword blazing like the sun.

The line between god and man blurred. Their battle entered its most searing stage, the heavens themselves seeming to burn. The aftermath consumed all, leaving only endless fire shining across the sky.

Meanwhile, Albin was waiting.

He had quietly decorated the house all by himself, just waiting for Little Black and Jacques to finish their training and come back to see his surprise.

Today was October 13th—his birthday, and also the day his brother had first taken him home.

In this otherworld there were no phones, so it was easy to miss special days if one wasn’t careful. Last year, he had accidentally let his birthday slip by.

But he had noticed that neither Little Black nor Jacques celebrated birthdays either. At first, he thought perhaps people in this world simply had no such custom.

Later, he learned that Jacques just wasn’t interested—his relationship with his family was distant, and birthdays were merely dull banquets with no meaning.

As for Little Black, he didn’t even know his own birthday. His mother had always been tight-lipped about his origins, and so never mentioned it.

The only thing he remembered was that once a year, his mother would light a special candle for him—but he never knew the exact date.

After learning this, Albin decided to share his own birthday with Little Black, so they could celebrate together.

He even thought that if Jacques was willing, next time he and Little Black could throw a real birthday for Jacques too—nothing like those boring banquets! Maybe even Jacques’s uncle’s friends could come join as well.

In the decorated house, Albin waited, adjusting the ornaments now and then. But no matter how long he waited, the two never returned.

Strange.

Perplexed, Albin stepped outside. He had clearly told them to come back early today.

By now, shouldn’t it be dark? Why did it still seem bright outside?

Stepping out, he saw it—the sky in the distance was glowing as if aflame.

No—it really was on fire!

And that was exactly where Little Black and Jacques had gone—the forest.

Realizing this, and that they still hadn’t come back, Albin’s heart burned with panic. He hurried toward the scene.

He tried to rush into the valley where Little Black trained, but the wildfire was spreading too fast. The roaring flames sealed off his path completely.

Fortunately, Albin had water magic to carve a way through, protecting him from the searing heat. He lowered his head and charged into the inferno.

Through the blazing sea of fire he ran. Around him, everything was consumed by flames. Trees swayed and collapsed, the entire forest caught in a cataclysmic battle’s grip.

The sight of the burning, crumbling woods stirred an uncanny familiarity in his heart.

As he pushed deeper into the fire, the scene before him made his chest tighten.

There, lying on the ground, was a familiar figure of white hair. But unlike the pristine image in his memory, this figure was covered in wounds. Torn clothing barely hid the fresh blood streaming from his body.

It was Zeman.

Albin’s pupils contracted.

“Dad!”

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