TuxedoTranslations

Chapter 57

Albin hurried forward to check, and the badly wounded man was indeed his father, Zeman.

Why would Father be here, gravely injured like this?

He had imagined many different scenarios of reuniting with his father, but never in his wildest thoughts did he expect it to be like this.

Albin didn’t have time to think further—anxious and desperate, he immediately began to heal him.

Zeman lay unconscious on the ground, firelight flickering around him, casting unsteady shadows. His long white hair spread out, catching the glow of the flames like campfires scattered across a snowy plain.

Sweat trickled from his forehead, his brows furrowed, the once-calm, stern features now twisted. His lips trembled without him knowing, his entire body as though being devoured by some kind of torment, pain written plainly across his face.

The bleeding wounds weren’t many, nor were they the most difficult to treat. What covered him far worse were hideous burn scars left behind by searing flames.

How cruel…

Albin couldn’t imagine who had done this. His heart clenched painfully, eyes brimming, tears quickly spilling down.

Soft, warm magic poured into Zeman’s body, and his wounds began to heal rapidly before Albin’s eyes. Even the burns were smoothed over by the miraculous magic. Yet Zeman’s condition did not improve.

He remained trapped in a relentless nightmare, as if some force inside him was rampaging uncontrollably.

Albin bent down to listen. His father’s heartbeat was strong and forceful, not weak at all—if anything, it gave off a terrifying feeling, his entire being radiating a dangerous aura, as if he might transform into a monster at any moment.

Albin truly couldn’t understand what was happening.

He recalled their first meeting: his father’s health had never been good, and sometimes old ailments would flare up—until Uncle Edward seemed to have cured them.

Just like before, whenever he endured pain, his father would bite his lower lip. It was bitten open now, and just the sight of it made Albin ache.

Heart tightening, Albin pried open Zeman’s mouth. With no time to find anything else, he thrust his own palm in place, healing Zeman’s bitten lips in the process.

But Zeman, unaware, clamped down on his son’s hand instead, breaking the skin, pain shooting through instantly.

It wasn’t the first time this had happened, but this time Albin didn’t burst out crying.

He bore the pain, and though his magic could not cure illness, he stubbornly continued channeling magic into his father, refusing to leave his side, desperate to ease his suffering.

The reason he had ever studied healing magic was for this—to heal his father.

Perhaps his efforts had an effect—Zeman’s expression gradually softened, his state appearing to stabilize.

Seeing that his father was no longer harming himself, Albin carefully withdrew his hand and used a faint glow of magic to quickly treat his own wound.

But the fire around them was spreading more and more violently—worse than the inferno he had once faced.

Even with wind magic to disperse the smoke, and water magic to shield them from the heat, this place was no longer safe. Oxygen seemed burned away; breathing grew difficult, his head light, his strength fading.

He had to get his father out—fast.

Little Black and Jacques might still be in the forest—he had to find them too.

He had fired several signal fireworks along the way, but no one had appeared. He feared they, too, might be trapped by the flames.

With wind magic, Albin lifted Zeman to a place where the fire had not yet reached.

He thought of carrying him back to that cave he’d stumbled on before—but he had only found it by sheer luck, and now, with flames everywhere, he couldn’t even see where it was. With no choice, he settled on another safe spot.

He had expected to rely on brute strength to move his father, but wind magic made things far easier!

Times had truly changed.

Albin cleared away anything flammable around his father, then extinguished nearby flames to halt the spread of fire.

After finishing this, he rushed back into the inferno to search for others.

But suddenly, darkness clouded his vision. He felt himself being pulled, and faint voices echoed by his ear.

—Albin!

Albin froze.

Father?

—Little Albin.

Uncle Edward?

Confused, he couldn’t understand why he was hearing their voices.

Before he could think further, the darkness engulfed him entirely. He collapsed and lost consciousness.

—

【Albin~】

Jade avoided the wildfire zone, winding his way through the forest.

He had searched all day and still found no one.

Maybe Albin wasn’t even here. Jade yawned and decided to continue tomorrow.

Curling up beneath a safe tree root, he settled down to rest.

But even in his drowsy sleep, he felt a force tugging at his body, as if trying to drag his soul away.

Annoyed, he flicked his tail, but could not resist. Consciousness slipped from him.

At dawn, the green-scaled serpent opened its eyes again beneath the roots.

He stared blankly at the surroundings.

He remembered he should have been sleeping in the earth—so why was he under a tree root?

And when he went to sleep, it was clearly summer—so why, when he opened his eyes, had it turned into autumn?

This forest felt so unfamiliar.

The emerald-green snake couldn’t figure it out, but he didn’t dwell on it either.

Perhaps he was simply a “summer sleeper,” skipping straight ahead into autumn.

He stretched his body, then slithered out to get familiar with this new map.

As he roamed through the forest, he caught the scent of many companions.

【Oh! Companions!】 He charged forward in excitement, ready to greet the nearby magical beasts.

He saw a group of monsters gathered together, listening to a rat monster speak. Even among the crowd were some mid-ranked monsters.

Curious, the green snake slithered closer to join the commotion.

【Nearby, there’s a human child whose flesh and blood can ease the curse…】

As the rat spoke, the eyes of the monsters instantly grew feverish, blazing like a raging forest fire.

【Find him! Catch him!】

【Blood slave! Blood slave!】

Spurred on by the rat’s words, the monsters grew restless, shouting wildly. Desire and madness churned in their hearts—they longed to obtain this so-called “medicine.”

The emerald snake grew just as excited.

With a cure, his companions could retain their sanity like humans!

With such a good thing, of course he had to join in!

Howling, he threw himself into the rat’s plan.

At dawn, pale golden light fell upon the charred tree trunks, and a black-haired boy collapsed on the ground fluttered his eyelashes and slowly woke.

Breathing in the scent of burnt wood, his awareness returned, and his deep-blue eyes flew wide.

Father!

The bloody severed arm instantly came to mind, along with his pursuit of his father’s killer. Struggling, he forced himself upright.

Dragging his unbearably heavy body, he staggered forward, his vision swaying, his whole figure on the verge of collapse—yet he still refused to give up.

He searched around.

But in the blackened forest, only smoldering embers remained. There was no trace of a mighty enemy—he didn’t even see a single animal.

Until the weight of his body dragged him down again, slamming him heavily to the ground, as though pinned by a massive invisible mountain.

His gaze drifted. He faintly caught sight of a flash of scarlet against a white cloak.

Though the cloaked figure stood impossibly far away, utterly out of reach, he almost thought he could hear the cloak’s flapping in the wind at his ear.

Chin pressed against the earth, he strained to lift his head, focusing with all his might on that figure.

He saw the cloaked man holding a child. The boy’s soft white hair hung down; his body was weak and limp, clearly unconscious—whether sleeping or fainted, it was impossible to tell.

It was Albin!

Xiao Hei could never mistake that blurred silhouette.

That man—very likely his father’s killer—was carrying Albin away!

An uncontrollable fury surged in Xiao Hei’s chest, his blood boiling over. He struggled with all his strength to rise, to chase after them, but his body defied his will—so heavy he could not budge an inch, as though bound by shackles.

Even his head could not lift. He could not see clearly the face of the one taking Albin.

Damn it!

Move! Move!

Even if his teeth shattered from the strain, he still could not move. Instead, his consciousness sank once more into darkness.

Who knew how much later, he awoke in a completely unfamiliar cave, lying on a stone bed.

He stretched out his hands, flexing his fingers.

The heaviness had vanished; he could move his body freely again.

Xiao Hei slammed a fist into the stone wall, eyes full of hatred. One punch after another.

Why? Why had his body failed him at that moment?!

He had sworn he would protect Xiao Bai!

“You’re awake, Black.”

A strange voice came from the side. Xiao Hei looked past his bleeding fists and glanced over.

It was a man in a plain gray robe. Xiao Hei was certain he had never seen him before.

“Black?” Was he calling him?

The man tilted his head, puzzled, speaking as if it were the most natural thing: “Isn’t that your name?”

With the reminder, Xiao Hei dug up an old memory.

“Xiao Hei” was his childhood nickname, what his mother had called him. Long ago, when she introduced him to others, she had indeed used the name “Black”—that must have been his formal name.

But ever since, he had only ever been called “Slave No. 13.” That memory had long been buried.

Yet something even he had forgotten—something neither Xiao Bai nor Father knew—how did this man know it?

Xiao Hei eyed him warily.

“Who are you?”

“I was an old acquaintance of your mother,” the gray-robed man said, his whole being shrouded in mystery. “I know you possess the power of monsters. I can train you, make you stronger. You may call me—Master.”

Albin’s eyelashes trembled as his mind slowly returned from the fog of unconsciousness.

“Albin!” Several familiar voices called out at once.

He blinked open his eyes groggily and saw in front of him—Zeman, Edward, Padma, and beside them, Sutarnlai. His brain instantly froze.

“What’s going on?” He sat up in a daze.

Hadn’t he gone back to the past? How could they already be here before he even got to know them?

And then… he lowered his gaze to his wrist—there was the Godslayer Spear, still bound there.

Edward explained: “Earlier, you were struck by a time-reversal spell, which sent you into the past. That magic has now dissolved.”

“Welcome back.” Zeman’s crimson eyes locked onto him, brimming with gentleness.

Albin sat stunned for a moment. But then he remembered—he had seen plenty of cartoons that played with time and space. Just last New Year’s, he and his brother had gone to the theater for one.

Gradually, he pieced it together.

“So… the things I did in the past…” His eyes landed on Sutarnlai, and a sudden realization struck.

Could it be that Sutarnlai had offered him roasted apples because of something he himself had once said back then?!

The thought cleared his mind in an instant.

“I see!”

No wonder when he awoke in the fire, Father had been unharmed. No wonder he had somehow found the strength to carry Father out of the flames.

No wonder his magical power now far exceeded what it had been a year ago…

It was all because his past self had already paved the way!

The timeline had closed the loop!

He had seen this kind of plot in cartoons before!

But then he suddenly remembered what had weighed on his heart before he returned, blurting out: “Xiao Hei and Uncle Jacques!”

Were they safe?

If they hadn’t found him all this time, wouldn’t they be worried sick?

Albin’s heart clenched with worry. These people he now stood among wouldn’t even know who he was talking about—he would have to search for them himself.

But when Zeman heard the names, his expression changed.

“Jacques?” Edward too grew grave. “Little Albin, you know Jacques?”

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