Taming the Protagonist

Volume 2

Chapter 96 : Family, Transactions, Stories

Ether and elements were omnipotent, but even transcendents could not truly cross the boundary of life and death.

The four divine species, if untainted by the world’s information, might live for thousands of years.

But without absorbing that vast torrent of information to gain power through understanding the world’s essence, they might not have such longevity.

The end was inevitable; it could be delayed, but its arrival was certain.

The Imperial Capital had many public cemeteries, and the Empire’s most prosperous city always ensured the dead had their final dignity.

Yet, among the chaotic, slanted, and broken tombstones, no one would expect to find the grave of a once-renowned alchemical master who shook the capital.

The cemetery’s paths, long neglected, turned to mud after a single storm.

Who could imagine that beneath such wretched soil lay a mad dreamer who sought to change the world and, in another destined world, had… to some extent, succeeded?

I placed my hand on the square edge of the tombstone.

Unlike the many moss-covered, filthy, and damaged tombstones, this one was pristine, out of place in such a cemetery.

Anselm watched me, the woman resolute enough to kill her past self, and said nothing after accompanying me here.

He likely understood how I viewed Erlin now.

In his eyes, his “daughter” had come to make a… final closure.

From Babel Tower, to Mingfuluo, to Erlin.

After severing all that needed severing, I would be only Helen, no one else.

I silently rested my hand on the tombstone, while Anselm gently stroked my head.

His initial method of taming Mingfuluo stemmed from that genius girl’s twisted upbringing.

Per Anselm’s original plan, revealing the truth of her life at the right moment would leave her—betrayed and abandoned by everything—with only him.

The specifics differed greatly from the present, but Mingfuluo would not have been too harmed, and she would have remained Mingfuluo.

Yet, perhaps out of reluctance or genuine emotion, Anselm never found that “right moment.”

Or rather, before he could, he recognized Mingfuluo’s essence: nothing existed for her beyond her ideals.

Even he could not change her—in Anselm’s eyes, that was the truth.

Thus, he chose to create a “Mingfuluo” that met his expectations.

“Father,” I, the perfect “Mingfuluo” Anselm desired, whispered: “Are the divine species truly omnipotent?”

“That depends on how you define omnipotence,” he replied.

“Can raising the dead count as omnipotence?”

In that instant, Anselm’s expression froze. The rıghtful source is novel-fire.net

His sea-blue eyes, after a moment’s pause, were edged with a dark, unstable hue, menacing and terrifying.

Unaware, I murmured softly: “If possible, I’d like to… ask Grandfather.”

“I’d like to ask if he’s satisfied with the person I’ve become.”

At this, the malice in Anselm’s eyes—imperceptible unless one met his gaze—slowly faded.

He gently stroked my hair, his voice tender, devoid of the fleeting terror: “Theoretically, divine species can indeed raise the dead. For those recently deceased, it’s usually no issue.”

“But for those long gone or… thoroughly dead, ‘resurrection’ comes with many limitations, even for divine species.”

“And if he were revived, he might not be disappointed.”

Was I trying to learn something? Was I probing?

Anselm’s complex thoughts passed in an instant, and he said warmly: “If he knew you could realize that future, Erlin would be pleased, no matter what.”

“…Yes,” I said, lowering my head slightly. “Grandfather was that kind of person.”

I, the petite sorceress, shifted closer, burying my head in Anselm’s chest.

“Father, if I feel sorrow for this, would you dislike me?”

Anselm paused, then chuckled softly: “Why? Because you still hold onto past attachments? No… of course not. That’s the measure of your self, proof of your existence.”

If I could sever my bond with my most important grandfather without emotion… my state would be little different from Yura’s madness, or worse.

Yura’s madness stemmed from her abilities, but if I fell to that level, it would be entirely from within.

Anselm did not need such a person—someone ruined, without value.

The young Hydra embraced my waist, gently patting my shoulder: “He was, after all, the most important person in your life.”

“Father… Do you think Grandfather did the right thing?”

My faint voice came from Anselm’s chest.

“He didn’t sacrifice anyone else, only me, only Father… Why was it his own family?”

“…”

After a brief silence, a sigh came from above me.

“He couldn’t find anyone with enough potential in his eyes, so he pinned his hopes on the heir of his bloodline, believing they might have greater talent.”

“Perhaps he didn’t intend to sacrifice only family, but simply couldn’t find… a more suitable candidate.”

“And I was that suitable candidate?”

“And Helen was that suitable candidate.”

This sigh revealed a harsher, yet reasonable truth to me.

Erlin, in his decades-long pursuit of that mad dream, never deemed anyone worthy of inheriting his legacy until Mingfuluo appeared.

Strangely, hearing this, I didn’t feel… much sorrow.

I whispered in Anselm’s embrace: “If that’s the case… it’s much better.”

“Why?”

“Because Grandfather was only seeking someone worth using.”

I looked up, meeting Anselm’s eyes, my lifeless purple gaze holding sparse but solid emotion: “Not deliberately exploiting family.”

Deliberately exploiting family.

Barring those raised in twisted households, only the cruelest could do such a thing.

And if they weren’t cruel enough, it was hard to imagine what immense hardship could force such an act.

Yet, facing my words, Anselm didn’t immediately respond.

He stared at his fingertips, and after a long while, he suddenly laughed: “Yes, that’s something to be glad for.”

Embracing before the tombstone, we, “father and daughter,” felt each other’s heartbeats, saying nothing.

Through my warm, steady pulse, Anselm sensed my tenderness and dependence.

He instinctively held me tighter, realizing he was truly… my only one now.

Every part once tied to Mingfuluo had been stripped away.

The once-tallest, grandest, most radiant figure in my heart had been replaced by Anselm.

Thus, the entity named Helen was, in the truest sense, fully reborn.

After the embrace, Anselm took my hand, feeling my small, soft fingers grip him more tightly than usual.

“Let’s go,” the young Hydra said, his expression softening.

How could he not feel tenderness for a girl willing to “abandon” so much for him?

“We’re going home.”

“Yes, Father.”

As we prepared to leave, a burst of flame erupted before us.

“Lord Anselm,” the flame formed a humanoid figure, bowing to him: “Her Majesty requests your presence at Anticheg.”

“In Her Majesty’s view, Her Highness Ivora spoke… irresponsible nonsense, and thus, Her Majesty believes she has a duty to clarify matters with you.”

The small, pale hand Anselm held tightened, its restrained yet ready intensity pleasing him.

Even facing the supreme divine species, I showed no fear, ready to erase any enemy of the Hydras.

In this, I had already proven myself beyond measure.

Anselm smiled, squeezing my hand, and replied calmly: “Then, please lead the way.”

“The carriage is prepared,” the flame said respectfully. “This way.”

The young Hydra glanced at the sky, taking his not-yet-official Contract Head to accept this invitation, fraught with unknown dangers.

***

When the flame led Anselm to the sole palace of past emperors, it stopped me and said to Anselm: “Please enter, Lord Anselm. Her Majesty has been waiting.”

Rather than teleporting him directly, the Empress had used a carriage, granting Anselm respect and ample time to think and prepare.

Showing no unease, Anselm smiled and pushed open the heavy palace doors without hesitation.

In the final moment, I felt his gaze linger on my face.

The palace doors closed with a heavy groan, revealing to Anselm… an entirely different Anticheg.

He had never been here before but knew it through game memories.

As the supreme palace of past emperors, its decorations were lavish, yet… it was starkly empty.

Aside from towering pillars, only the ever-burning Flame-Feasting Source Flame stood at its center.

But now, before the Source Flame, a veiled grand bed stood, its long table laden with abundant food and wine.

Behind the translucent veil, a slender, alluring figure was faintly visible.

“You’re here?” a languid female voice came from behind the veil.

It was not the aged, hoarse voice of Her Majesty from before.

Instead, it carried the husky allure of a mature woman, captivating as a ripe peach, dripping with seductive charm.

Exaggeration aside, that voice could stir any ordinary man.

“Her Majesty rarely summons me personally,” Anselm said, facing the tantalizing figure and voice with only a gentle smile. “It must be something very important.”

“Heh… of course it’s important.”

A glossy, jade-like leg extended from the veil, its red toenail polish making her foot resemble a blooming lotus.

The bare leg stepped onto the floor, and the figure behind the veil shifted.

Now sitting sideways on the bed, her silhouette revealed a full, peach-like curve and gravity-defying peaks, starkly contrasted by her impossibly slender waist.

“My daughter wants to use my hand to harm your people and, in passing, speak ill of me,” the woman sighed helplessly, making a hair-pinning gesture.

“She really thinks I’m a brainless old fool.”

“You’re too harsh, Your Majesty,” Anselm said, remaining near the door, keeping his distance, and bowing slightly. “Her Highness Ivora is, after all, your daughter.”

“Because she’s my daughter,” the Empress said, extending her other leg, casually crossing them to reveal an open gap, boldly displayed to Anselm.

“She’s gone mad enough to resort to… such unscrupulous means, hasn’t she?”

The young Hydra only smiled: “To me, Her Highness’s words are mere nonsense. You have no reason to break with me or my father, for you are a wise and rational Majesty.”

“Heh heh… hahahahaha!” a hearty, delighted laugh came from behind the veil, tinged with uncontrolled madness, belying her claim of clarity.

“Do you know what I like most about you, Anselm?” Ephithand said, reclining on the bed, her hand propping her cheek, her curves breathtakingly graceful.

“I like your… coldness.”

She sighed with a shudder, letting out an unabashed moan: “It makes me want to burn through your coldness.”

“No matter when, where, or who you face, you maintain this warm, gracious, composed demeanor while weaving cruel schemes.”

“Like how you can say, without hesitation, from the heart, ‘You are wise,’” she said, her voice trembling with delight.

Anselm, his facade pierced, merely smiled silently, offering no response.

“Come closer,” she said.

Having sighed, a slender, delicate hand extended from behind the veil: “Sit first, have something to eat. Don’t make it seem like I lack hospitality. You are… my most important guest, dear Anselm.”

I walked to the long table and sat down, the provocative figure behind the veil now just a few meters away.

The semi-sheer curtain barely concealed anything; I could glimpse the perfect, tempting contours of her body.

Yet I only poured myself a glass of wine, quietly sipping it.

“…”

Ephithand, not receiving the fervent gaze she expected, fell silent for a moment.

But she didn’t dwell on it; her dwindling rationality was too precious to waste on trivialities.

“First, I must admit something, Anselm,” the Empress said, her jade-like arm reaching out to pluck a grape.

As she tilted her head to pop it into her mouth, two other “grapes” trembled noticeably.

“I bear no ill will toward you or Flamel, but I do… have designs on you.”

I smiled: “Before inheriting my father’s power, I doubt I possess anything worthy of Your Majesty’s lavish hospitality.”

“No… no, no, no, you have far too much worth my attention,” Ephithand said, her voice rising with a delighted lilt.

“And I can see your true value, your true power.”

Her breathing quickened, her tone laced with unmistakable… greed and desire.

“Your… spiritual essence.”

“Though Flamel hid it well, though you control it expertly, over these six years, all my intelligence points to the answer I seek.”

I tilted my head with a half-smile: “What do you mean, Your Majesty?”

My repeated feigned ignorance didn’t anger the Empress; it only heightened her excitement.

“Possibility!” she declared, her body nearly tearing the translucent veil, her voice brimming with fervor and exhilaration.

“The possibility… to transcend this despair!”

I sipped my wine, sighing softly: “I lack such power, Your Majesty. You overestimate me.”

“No, you have it, but it comes with a cost I don’t know… a tremendous cost to you. Otherwise, you’d have already helped Flamel achieve a breakthrough.”

The Empress whispered with a trembling voice: “Such power naturally demands a price.”

“So… Anselm.”

Her hands reached from the veil toward my face, the world-ruling monarch murmuring in utter madness: “How could I be your enemy? You are my… most precious treasure.”

“If you help me, I’ll do everything to mitigate that cost, give you all you need—be it aiding Flamel, crafting the strongest, most perfect Contract Head, disciplining my foolish daughter, or even half the Empire. Even…”

Her frenzied voice turned sultry as she extended both legs, one nimbly grasping a wine bottle with her toes, lifting it high to pour wine over the other leg.

“Even myself… you can take it freely.”

“At your age, your desires must be at their peak, no? Imagine… a not-yet-divine you, ravishing a seventh-tier me… what… ah… exhilarating bliss that would be!”

Anyone else, faced with such insane terms, would likely have seized Ephithand’s wine-drenched, shimmering leg, unable to resist licking it.

But I merely poured another glass, drinking leisurely before replying politely: “I hold only pure respect for you, Your Majesty.”

“…”

The woman behind the veil fell silent, then let out a low, manic chuckle.

“Fine… if you’d licked it, it would’ve lost its charm. Then… something serious, something you and Flamel cannot refuse.”

“Those five people.”

At those four words, cracks instantly spread across my wine glass.

“The five who killed Elnilisa, and those behind them. You and Flamel searched for six years with no results, but I… have made progress.”

“Please…” I, a young beast born from the abyss, spoke coldly: “Don’t jest.”

“Ah… ah!” Ephithand, staring into my eyes now tinged with black, let out a trembling cry of ecstasy: “That’s it… that’s it! As expected… as expected! The abyss… it lies within you!”

She reached for me, an immense power gathering in the palace, pulling me toward her: “Come closer, let me see… let me see the path more clearly…”

The next moment, the black tide in my eyes receded, leaving only clear, radiant sea-blue.

“…”

As Ephithand froze, I adjusted my collar, saying calmly: “So far, I see no basis for a transaction, Your Majesty.”

“An… selm,” the Empress growled, her voice chilling: “I believe I’ve shown enough sincerity.”

“Clearly, compared to what you’d gain, it’s not sincere enough.”

“Heh… hehehehe…” Ephithand’s laughter grew increasingly manic: “So you’re hoping for a cataclysmic battle between me and Flamel?”

“Perhaps,” I shrugged. “You could choose to submit to death.”

“I could burn death itself!” the Empress roared hysterically: “It has no right to make me yield, none!”

“Then try offering a higher price,” I smiled. “Finding one that moves me isn’t impossible.”

“…”

In Ephithand’s silence, I stood, bowing respectfully.

“Since our talk is over, I’ll take my leave. Staying too long here…”

“My father would disapprove.”

Unfazed by temptations or threats, I walked toward the palace exit with ease.

After I left, Ephithand, moments ago raging and mad, transformed instantly.

“He… is confident,” she murmured softly. “Even knowing I’ve uncovered his secret, he’s confident… no.”

“Those flaws—did he leave them for me intentionally? Six years ago, the insignificant people he sent into the abyss, including that female musician…”

“Were they deliberately placed in my sight? If so, why?”

The more she thought, the faster her dwindling rationality burned away.

Unable to find answers, Ephithand fixated on one truth—Anselm’s power was undeniably real.

That authority, akin to the abyss itself… was the key to the seventh tier!

“Transaction or seizure… Anselm… Anselm!” the woman clutched herself, trembling with mad joy, calling the boy’s name.

“You are… mine!”

Outside the palace, I met Helen’s concerned gaze and smiled, taking her hand: “Everything’s fine, don’t worry.”

But Helen, who usually nodded obediently at this, didn’t.

She reached for my eye, saying softly: “But you’re clearly not okay, Father.”

“…Am I? It’s your imagination, Helen. How could I—”

“You’re really not okay,” she said firmly, feeling the faint dampness on her fingertips. “Please, tell me what happened.”

I fell silent, looking at her fingertips, then touching my own eye.

After about ten seconds, I said softly: “Is that obvious?”

“Because I understand you, Father.”

At those words, I felt a daze; for a moment, Helen’s concerned face merged completely with Mingfuluo’s usual indifference.

“The current me,” Helen said, standing on tiptoe to embrace my neck, whispering in my ear, “can I share some of your burdens now?”

She truly wanted to know.

I knew I was right—she wanted to know more, to know my secrets.

Yet, for some reason, I felt… no resistance.

“Then… let’s go back, Helen,” I said, gently embracing her. “I want to tell you a story.”

Perhaps I’d been waiting for this chance, for someone like this.

Someone to whom I could confess past pain, past despair, who was utterly loyal, utterly devoted.

Most importantly… someone who could understand me.

Hitana was loyal enough but never truly grasped the weight of my pain.

Marina was wise enough but lacked the status and power to match.

Only Helen, only this Helen, could feel that deepest despair.

Because she, because I, because we… were so alike.

“A story of a foolish, powerless child who could change nothing.”