Lazy Salvation

The Twin Soul didn’t keep its hold on the body after launching into a sprint.

He knew the hardships ahead were many, and staying any longer would only worsen Ashen’s condition for no reason.

The moment Ashen felt the switch, he activated Blindstep.

Unlike every other time, when he only used the skill for no more than a second, this time, he didn’t even think about preserving the stolen time stored inside the Hourvault.

He ran and ran, then kept running some more. And through it all, he never dared to look back or think about what would happen when they finally caught up to him.

He devoted every iota of his thoughts to one thing alone: running faster and farther away from what could only be his certain death.

But Blindstep, despite being charged for hundreds of years back in the Vampire fragment of history, only lasted a little over five minutes before releasing its hold and exposing him once more to the flow of time.

How far…?

He felt like he had run for more than a hundred kilometers. Maybe much more, or maybe less. He couldn't tell for sure since he hadn’t even bothered keeping track.

One thing was certain...

‘I can still feel it…’

A wall of monstrous mana was still crashing against his mana senses when he extended them backwards.

It only meant one thing.

The Outer Gods were still close.

‘Damn it!’

Riven Convergence roared with mana, making his legs blur as he sprinted even faster.

But soon, he had to brandish his spear.

...A horde of Narkals was blocking his path.

He didn’t slow down, weaving past them, dodging what he could and knocking the rest aside with his spear.

Zigzagging through the horde, he burst out from the other side and accelerated once more.

More and more hordes kept appearing in his way, trying to slow him down, even if only by a fraction. Some tried to hold onto him, others threw themselves into his path, while many lunged for his ankles.

Ashen wasn’t inexperienced enough to fall for their tricks, but something else was beginning to weigh him down.

“Cough!”

A mouthful of blood burst from his lips.

He felt his insides turning to mush. If not for the adrenaline coursing through his veins, he probably wouldn’t have been able to move his legs at all.

‘Fuck... you really did a number on me…’

{What? Did you think killing an Outer God would come without a price?}

‘If I knew it would still wreck me this much, I would've been fine with him living, actually…’

{That one was sneaky. He was definitely going to stab us in the back when we least expected it. Be glad you won't have to think about him anymore.}

‘Will it even matter if I'm dead?!’

He didn’t get a response to that. But he wasn’t waiting for one anyway. He was already pouring all of his concentration into not collapsing right then and there.

But willpower alone wasn’t enough to heal his injuries, and what was supposed to happen happened in the end.

His legs started slowing down despite his best efforts.

Somatic Autonomy kept doing its best to reconnect his tendons and pump his muscles with vitality, but it was all in vain.

The damage had been inflicted by the conceptual powers of none other than the last guardian of Earth, the one who had felled the seven strongest Outer Gods.

It would take something of equal caliber to heal him now. Otherwise, months of recuperation.

He was now moving in a stumble, and the Narkals didn't miss the opportunity. So he also had to deal with them.

{Haah… it seems there's no choice but to do it.}

'Do… what…?'

{This.}

Suddenly, Ashen felt something deep within him change.

The soul linked to his, the one that had always radiated Sloth concepts so profound they resembled an abyss, began to change.

No… not change.

They were deepening… darkening… even further, if that was even possible.

And then… as if they had crossed some invisible threshold, they flipped in an instant, turning bright golden.

Like when someone feels so much rage that they suddenly become calm. Or when one goes beyond the peak of lust before succumbing to numbness.

He felt the Sloth go beyond itself and reach the other side of the coin… Diligence.

{Switch.}

He didn’t need to be told twice. The moment he did, Old Ashen utilized his inverted concepts.

{Path Skill Activated: Unyielding.}

Golden mana surged outward, coating his body, and what had been on the verge of giving out suddenly became unyielding in the face of exhaustion.

Ashen regained control of his body almost immediately, and he used his now-responsive limbs to resume running.

But confusion plagued him even as he did so.

'What did you do…?'

{Something I have been preparing for a long while now. I switched my pathway to Diligence.}

'That can be done?'

{Indeed. As long as you reach an extreme understanding of your own concept, it is possible to reach the other side of the coin. After all, how can one truly understand Sloth without knowing Diligence?}

Ashen felt like it somehow made sense and didn't at the same time.

He wasn’t overly shocked because he knew Seraphine had done something similar, but he also knew it had taken her months to convert all of her concepts.

His Twin seemed to have done it in an instant, but that was probably where the "preparations" he mentioned came in.

'Can you switch back?'

{I can. As long as I don't keep Diligence long enough for it to settle. But I won't.}

The tale has been taken without authorization; if you see it on Amazon, report the incident.

'Why?'

Ashen felt like his twin was making a mistake. No matter how thorough his "preparations" had been, they could never surpass the Sin he had wielded his entire life.

{First, because we would die otherwise. And more importantly… aren't you already here? Your Sloth concepts will catch up to me soon enough. There is no loss here.}

Ashen frowned.

'No… just switch back. It's still not worth—'

{Alright, focus on running. The matter is over.}

'Fuck!'

He did as his twin said. This really wasn’t the time to argue about anything.

Another five minutes passed, and the Narkals started crowding every inch of the earth.

He had to resort to stepping on their heads just to get through at times.

Other times, he was forced to use his mana and spear to carve a path open, even while doing his best to conserve mana.

But one thing kept grating on his nerves.

'Where are they…?'

It wasn’t like he wanted the Outer Gods to show up, but their absence was making him uneasy.

'It’s been ten minutes. More than enough time to catch up. Why aren’t they here?'

The answer was simple enough.

And it came from his Twin.

{You probably won’t be seeing them anytime soon.}

{They are afraid.}

***

Not far from Ashen’s position, four Outer Gods had gathered.

After their initial frenzy of rage, they managed to rein in their instincts enough not to charge at the blasphemer immediately.

Though they were still compelled to kill him above all else, they now had enough leeway to plan how to do it.

They stood in a circle, all four gazing down at a crater in the middle.

"He really survived," Self-Consumption remarked with a nonchalant tone.

"I told you. False Mercy is a cockroach. If it had been anyone else, they would've died, but him..."

Their gazes settled on the corpse as it twitched despite showing no trace of life.

Like a cockroach still moving after death, his body stubbornly refused to stop struggling.

This was Eros' effect.

A will to live so overwhelming that it transcended death itself, clawing its way back into the realm of the living.

Love approached him and placed a hand on what remained of him: half a torso and a twitching shoulder blade.

Her flesh flowed into his, reconstructing his body, restoring each missing piece one by one before finally forging a new brain and heart.

The body thrashed even harder.

The newly formed heart began beating immediately.

False Mercy found the faintest possibility of survival and latched onto it.

BADUM—BADUM—

BADUM—BADUM—

Eventually, his new eyes opened.

He pushed himself into a sitting position and leisurely inspected himself, as though he hadn't just escaped certain death.

He looked at his feminine form, his fair hands, his lone breast, and his long, flowing hair, then lowered his gaze to the still-male half of his torso before speaking in a feminine voice.

"Thank you, Love. I owe you one. Though I would've preferred to pass on this... mismatch."

But no one answered.

He was certain Mandate would normally have had something to say about how asymmetrical his new body was.

He lifted his head.

Only then did he notice the unusual atmosphere.

Even Reshaping wasn't switching genders.

"What happened? Did we lose?"

"They got away," Mandate answered. "And Hiding is dead."

“How surprising. Did we underestimate them?” He didn’t wait for an answer. Tilting his head, he continued with another question.

“And why do I still sense a living human nearby?”

“That’s the killer of one of our Masters,” Love answered simply, making False Mercy’s eyes harden.

“He was also the one who slew Fearless Hiding.”

"...Then... why are we not killing him already?"

"..."

"..."

“Are you... perhaps... afraid?”

“No,” Reshaping finally spoke. “If we all go now, even if we kill him, he will probably take two of us with him based on the might he displayed.”

“So?” False Mercy slowly stood and looked at him. “You are afraid indeed.”

“Not so.” Mandate was the one to deny it this time. “He is already stranded here without any allies. We plan to exhaust him with the thralls before finishing him off.”

False Mercy fell into thought for a moment before nodding.

“I understand. That is indeed a feasible strategy. One that would allow us to slay him without losing more of our dwindling numbers.”

They all nodded in agreement, only for False Mercy to interrupt once more.

“But what if he has a way to escape? We won’t be able to kill him if he seeks protection from the Sin Lords.”

“He doesn’t,” Love replied confidently. “He has been running in the opposite direction of the human territories for half an hour now.”

She continued, “If he had something of that nature, he would have already used it.”

“Very well.” False Mercy finally relented. “Now tell me the plan in more detail.”

“It would be better to discuss it while observing him. That would allow us to study our prey more closely,” Mandate proposed.

“Then... let's go.”

Fwhoosh.

The five silhouettes disappeared at once.

***

The Winding Wheel.

Ashen knew it as a tactic used in certain forms of human warfare.

The concept was simple: an army would be arranged in a large, rotating spiral-like formation. Instead of committing all its troops at once, successive units would be sent against the enemy in a continuous flow.

It was used mainly to deprive the enemy of rest, exhausting their morale, denying them sleep, or even the time to eat.

Usually, it was employed to break sieges or slowly wear down a cornered army.

Ashen hadn’t thought much beyond how cruel it was when he read about it in his high school history books.

But here he was... experiencing that cruelty firsthand.

And not from a human army, but from five deranged Outer Gods.

It had started after three days of constant marching and killing.

He first saw a glob of flesh appear in the sky before descending toward him.

He switched with his Twin, but after no more than three clashes, the fleshy being retreated, leaving him to face a rushing horde of bloodthirsty Narkals.

The next day, it was Self-Consumption.

Then it was Reshaping.

Each day, a different Outer God personally descended. And no matter how badly Old Ashen injured them, they returned fully healed after four days of recuperation.

Unlike them, he never had a single moment of rest in the meantime.

{He's coming.}

Ashen had long since learned to distinguish their mana signatures, and from what he sensed, today was Mandate's turn.

{Path Skill Activated: Sensory Lull.}

His vision disappeared, followed by his hearing.

In exchange, the exhaustion weighing on him eased by a fraction.

Normally, he would never resort to this. His senses were more precious than any power-up without Alice to guide him.

But he had already learned his lesson after accidentally looking at that creature.

It had nearly driven him mad.

"Hohoho... already learning, are we?" Mandate laughed before launching himself at him.

His powers channeled mainly through the senses, so without them, he had no choice but to rely on his overwhelming mana and fight directly.

But he wasn't entirely without options.

BOOM—!

Ashen felt as though a mountain had slammed into him.

He was flung back over a hundred meters before regaining his footing.

{Switch.}

He did.

And the one who charged back was far more troublesome to deal with.

Mandate recognized it immediately, but he still rushed forward.

BOOM!

BOOOOM!

BOOOOOOM!

Fists collided with spear thrusts, and the Outer God realized once again that despite his opponent's frail body and lesser mana, he was the one being pushed back.

But his trick was already working.

His suggestions were transmitted through touch as well. Touch was just another sense after all.

Ashen's face grew more and more expressionless as an irrational urge to destroy everything out of order welled up inside him.

He could suppress it through sheer willpower; the younger soul inside him couldn't, so he had to act anyway.

{Path Skill Activated: Indomitable Spark.}

The skill reinforced his mind, and when Mandate leapt back to avoid the slash, Ashen's eyes blazed with renewed clarity.

'Switch!'

He arched his back and hurled the crying spear.

Salvation.

Mandate blocked it and reached to seize the spear when—

{Switch.}

He suddenly found a hand already gripping its other end.

His eyes widened.

A strangled cry escaped his lips as the spear plunged deep into his stomach.

"AAAHHH!!!"

Before Ashen could land another blow, Mandate hurled himself backward and broke into a run.

In his place, a massive horde of Demon- and Great Demon-rank Narkals surged forward to hold Ashen back.

They switched once more, making sure his body endured the old soul’s concepts no longer than necessary.

Ashen didn't even have the leeway to feel frustrated.

He already had a new wave of enemies to deal with.

***

“Phew... how scary...” Mandate shook his head theatrically, none of the previous panic remaining in his mannerisms.

“Great work. I will be going next.” Love nodded with a lovely smile.

“Be careful of his power spikes,” False Mercy warned gently. “He becomes incredibly powerful for a few moments before returning to normal. It seems his body can’t handle that level of power.”

As the most scheming among them, he had taken charge of executing the plan. His role now was to observe the human, uncover all of his weaknesses, and refine their strategy accordingly.

“But to think that he is still going even now...” Love remarked in bewilderment. “I feel like his flesh is about to give up at any second. I've had that feeling for the last two days, yet here he is... still standing.”

“That is not all...” False Mercy added, drawing everyone's attention.

“Don't you all see it? Even on the verge of death, he is getting stronger.”

“Now that you mention it, you're right. I felt it when I clashed with him just now. It was different from the last time.” Mandate nodded in agreement.

“Hmm...” False Mercy fell into thought. “It's as if... the more we provoke him, the harder he lashes out. His technique is sharpening far too quickly for a human... and even the way he shapes his intent is becoming more and more lethal.”

“So? We can't let him use us as a grinding stone. Any ideas?” Reshaping asked.

“We will stop.”

“Hah? That can't be right. How are we supposed to exhaust him then?”

“Don't rush... we won't stop now. Even if he sharpens his technique for another ten years, it won't amount to much against us.”

“But sooner or later, he may evolve in an unexpected way. That is when we will stop… just long enough to deny him that evolution before resuming.”

“Oh.”

“Aha!”

“Mr. Mercy... how merciful of you, to give him a moment of respite!”

“Haha.” False Mercy let out a grandfatherly laugh and nodded good-naturedly. “Do not flatter me. It is my duty to take pity on and guide lost souls, even if they are balashamers.”

He looked at his four companions with a malicious glint, one shared by all of them.

“Now, let's keep throwing thralls at him. He seems to have a great fondness for them, judging by how much Mercy he has been granting each one.”

“Hahaha...”

“Hohoho...”

“Huhuhuu...”

“Ghehehe...”

CRUNCH—!