Chapter 51. Forgiveness
The initial confession unleashed the floodgates.
The words tumbled out one after another before Levi could even think twice. His newfound loquaciousness surprised even himself. He hadn’t realized it until now, but keeping his very identity a secret from everyone in this new world had gradually been weighing down on him.
While he was no stranger to assuming a cover identity, having had to go on several deep cover missions in the past, it still strained him to pretend to be someone he wasn’t. As such, with him finally able to tell someone who he really was…
It felt oddly nice. Levi talked, and she listened. He told her about how he was from another world, how he had been recruited by Death to act as his proxy in the mortal world, how he had entered a self-imposed exile after his final task, and how Death had finally shown up offering to send him into another world. As he spoke, her expression remained relatively composed, though her eyes widened several times.
Levi was still vaguely curious about what the second half of her ability had done. He was pretty sure that it had established some sort of empathy resonance between them, or perhaps reflection was a better word, but it had ended before he could conduct a full analysis with his True Sight.
Whatever the case, after the skill finished running its course and the connection between them finally dissipated, Anastasia had looked downright shaken, her skin pale and sweat running down the sides of her face as she stared at him.
Unlike before, though, she no longer looked at him with horror and anger. Instead, he swore he could see a glimmer of sadness in her eyes.
No doubt it was because of all the lives he had killed. He didn’t blame her for reacting that way, nor did he try to explain or excuse it. Instead, he just evenly told her about his past life in as straightforward a fashion as he could manage.
His present life, too. He told her about how he’d awoken in his alternate self’s body, how he’d concealed himself while putting out the fires his counterpart had caused, how he had decided to attempt embarking on an adventure despite not really knowing how…
“And here I am now,” Levi said, finishing his tale. He’d been talking nonstop for nearly ten minutes. Anastasia hadn’t interrupted him a single time. “For better or worse, that is who I am.”
“Just Levi,” she said softly. “But Levi Ironwood all the same. I see… That is quite the story. Ordinarily, I would send you off to the mind healers, but…” She regarded him, and her vibrant green eyes glowed once more with holy magic. “My [Lie Discernment] allows me to determine whether the words someone utters are a truth or a lie. You’ve been entirely truthful so far.”
Hmm. That was curious. Most lie detection magic relied on some form of mind-magic to determine intent. However, Levi hadn’t sensed the telltale signs of something probing his mental defenses. The phrasing of how she’d described the ability…
Was Anastasia’s [Lie Discernment] determining the ontological truth of the words instead? In which his intent didn’t matter at all, and instead the magic was evaluating the fundamental essence of the words themselves? If so, that was some extraordinary advanced magic that was even beyond Levi’s scope of abilities… but then again, it was the Goddess’s power.
At any rate, Levi nodded. “There’s no reason for me to lie.” He scratched his head. “I admit, part of the reason why I’d concealed myself was because I was worried that the authorities in this world would… take offense to my continued existence.” He coughed. “Exorcism, specifically, was something that I was worried about…”
He gave Anastasia a meaningful look. She stared back at him blankly for a moment before she finally received the hint. Her eyes widened before she broke into amused laughter.
“Goddess, no, I’m not going to exorcise you,” Anastasia giggled. “Were you truly worried about that?”
“Well, you know… I wasn’t aware of this world’s policy regarding interdimensional transmigrators,” Levi shrugged. “Better safe than sorry.”
In his past life, he’d once had the distinct pleasure of meeting a shrine priestess responsible for guarding a sacred jewel. He’d underestimated her at first, until they’d been attacked by an archdaemon and she’d purified it with a single arrow, not looking even fazed. He’d gained a healthy dose of respect – and wariness – for priestesses as a whole after that.
“Well, I suppose your worries may not be unfounded,” Anastasia mused. “We do have some standard operating procedures for dealing with dimensional intruders.”
“Ah? And, err, what standard operating procedures would those happen to be, exactly?”
“Typically immolation via divine fire,” Anastasia said casually. “Though we do perform exorcistic purifications from time to time.” She saw the look on his face and hurriedly went on to clarify, “Though every dimensional intruder we’ve had so far has been a non-human entity, generally of some dark or eldritch variety. I don’t believe we’ve ever encountered a human dimensional traveler before.”
Levi relaxed slightly, nodding. “I see.”
That made sense; the gap between dimensions was an unforgiving one. He didn’t believe it was possible for a physical human body to survive the trip. Even Death only relocated his soul instead of transferring his entire body.
“But then again, it was Death who oversaw the transmigration, wasn’t it?” Anastasia said. Her gaze turned contemplative. “I didn’t even know he existed. There’ve been myths and theories, of course, but…”
Hmm. Well, that answered one of his earlier questions he’d had when he first reincarnated. It seemed that Death had never descended to the mortal plane and recruited a servant in this world — or if he had, it had been long forgotten.
“What is he like?”
Levi blinked. “What?”
“What is Death like?” Anastasia asked curiously. “Gloomy? Scary? Super serious all the time?”
Levi snorted. “Definitely not serious. Death is…” He hesitated, unsure on how he should answer that. “Well. You’ll know when you meet him, I suppose.”
Anastasia paused, her green eyes flickering slightly. “I see. Fair enough.” Then she paused. “Oh, and that’s right – you mentioned you couldn’t access your System? What exactly does it say?”
Levi used [Status], and once again the same error showed up:
*****
[SYSTEM WARNING: User account is currently under restricted status]
*****
“It says that my account is currently under restricted status,” Levi told her. “I’ve had this ever since the day I woke up. I’ve attempted a few times since then to gain access, but nothing’s worked. I assume it’s because while this body is Levi Ironwood’s, my soul is my own, and since the System’s authentication process is likely linked to the soul, that’s why I’m unable to–”
He cut off when he noticed the look of immense confusion on her face. He frowned. “What’s wrong?”
“No,” Anastasia said, her voice low. “That’s not how it works. If that were the case, then you simply wouldn’t have access to the System; you wouldn’t even be able to use [Status]. The System is bound to the physical body. That’s why, in cases of high-level possession, the spiritual possessor is capable of using the body’s skills as if it were their own. Nor is it possible for some external force to interfere with the System. The System is the manifestation of the Goddess’s will – though Mythmaker Ravenbane may disagree – and it is sacred to a person.”
She shook her head. “No, for your System to be under restricted access…” She bit her lip. “There’s only possible explanation. But it doesn’t make any sense. Why would he…?”
“Who?” Levi frowned.
Anastasia looked at him. “Levi Ironwood, the old Levi Ironwood, must’ve somehow disabled his System.”
Levi froze.
“I don’t know why, or how, he did it,” Anastasia said. “There has never been a confirmed case of a human getting locked out of their System before; before today, I didn’t even know it was possible. However…” Her eyes flickered uncertainly.
“What is it?” Levi asked.
“Eight centuries ago, the Church once faced a Hollow cultist who attempted to sever his connection to the System in his efforts to become an artificial daemon. By the time we tracked him down, he had already lost most of his humanity and was more daemon than man. The Church easily cut him down – he was far weaker than when he was a human, and didn’t use any of his normal abilities. The Church believed it was a result of the daemon transformation, but what if it wasn’t? What if it was because he did manage to sever his connection to the System while he was still a human?”
“Implying that it’s possible to cut off your own connection to the System,” Levi said. “Thus no longer being able to cast any skill or gain any XP. But…” His brows furrowed. “Why would the old Levi Ironwood have done this?”
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His mind raced a mile a minute as he tried to figure out why his counterpart might’ve cut off his own access to the System. Had he done it in protest of Lord Ironwood? Or because he didn’t want to become an adventurer?
Though at the very least, that certainly explained why his counterpart had been such a failure. It wasn’t that he was lazy or unmotivated, but rather he was literally incapable of growing stronger through the only method this world provided. But then, if he’d somehow intentionally disabled his access, why would Levi Ironwood have killed himself afterward?
It didn’t add up. Something else had to be going on here.
There was no point in speculating on it, though. What mattered was that after a month or so after waking up in this new world, he’d finally gained a lead. He admitted he hadn’t exactly expected the answer to potentially lie in his counterpart’s past, but it was still a start.
“Putting all that aside, however…” Anastasia suddenly said, her tone suddenly becoming serious. Levi tilted his head. “We need to talk.”
“Oh?”
“I told you about how [Judgement] makes you feel the emotions of everyone you've killed. However, I didn’t tell you about the second part of the ability,” Anastasia said, her gaze seeming to lance into him. “It allowed me to feel your current emotions to Judge whether or not you felt adequate remorse.”
Ah, so he’d been right – it was some form of emotional-based magic. Rather impressive.
“I see,” Levi said. “I figured it was something along those lines.” He chuckled. “Well, I hope my emotions weren’t too unpleasant. Do forgive me… if…”
His chuckles slowly died out as Anastasia looked at him with an expression that almost resembled glass, as though she was about to cry.
“You’ve suffered so much,” she said quietly.
Levi blinked. “What?” Where was this coming from?
Slowly, he realized. Earlier, when she’d looked so sad…
Had she been feeling sad for him?
It didn’t make any sense. He was a mass murderer. Someone who’d completely annihilated nearly a million souls. Why would she feel sad for him?
He told her as much, and she shook her head.
“Of course I’m sad,” Anastasia said. “I wasn’t able to see it before, but now that I know what to look for…” She stepped forward until she was standing right in front of him. She had to tilt her head upward to look in his eyes, green meeting grey, and her eyes carefully traced his face. “You’re crying, aren’t you?”
Levi blinked. “... do my eyes look wet to you?”
She smiled sadly. “You don’t need tears to cry, you know.”
Levi had no response for that.
“You hide it very well, of course,” she continued, her voice gentle. “Your eyes are completely dry, and your face looks like it could be made from stone. It’s almost empty. And yet, I can tell. You’re crying even right now, aren’t you?”
“I…” Levi shook his head. “I don’t know what you’re talking about–”
“So much guilt,” Anastasia whispered, her voice turning pained. “When I felt your emotions, there was so much guilt, so much self-hatred and self-loathing and sorrow, that I would’ve gone insane were it not for the Goddess’s magic protecting my mind. That’s what you feel at all times.”
She lifted her hand hesitantly. When Levi didn’t pull back, she reached out and cupped his cheek with a gentle palm. Her hand was soft and warm. Not even a single callus.
“At first, I thought that it was because of the echoes of the souls imprinted on your own,” she continued. “But as you told your story, I realized that wasn’t the case.” She scanned his face intently, and whatever she saw there must’ve confirmed what she thought. “You mourn their deaths, of course you do, but when you look at them, you don’t see them as necessary sacrifices or even tragic victims, do you? No, you see them as something else entirely.”
“And what would that be?” Levi asked.
“I don’t know,” Anastasia said. “I think you’re the one who should be answering that.” She looked at him. “What do you see when you look at them?”
Levi met her steely gaze for a long moment. When he saw that she wasn’t going to back down, he decided to humor her. He closed his eyes, a complicated cocktail of emotions swirling up from within the deepest parts of himself.
His younger self, the Levi who existed before his final task, was dead and gone. His usage of soul magick had destroyed not only nearly a million souls but also the person he once was. Who he was now was little more than a shadow.
But for every shadow existed a source of light, and as Levi stood in front of the priestess who’d somehow brushed past all his deceptions and walls and seen through to his very core… He came to realize that who he was wouldn’t ever change. His light would always be a certain dream.
Levi opened his eyes.
“All I see are people I wasn’t able to save," he finally admitted.
And there it was. The truth at last.
That seemed to be the answer Anastasia was looking for, because she gave a satisfied nod.
“I see,” she said. A silence fell over them for a moment. “It wasn’t your fault, Levi.”
Levi tensed up. “What do you mean?” His voice sounded hard, harsh even. “Of course it was. I was the one tasked with stopping the threat, I was the one who had the chance to save all their lives, and I was the one who failed them and had to slaughter them instead–”
“But you did everything you could, didn’t you?” Anastasia asked. “You may have failed, but you failed having given it your all. You tried your hardest to save them. That means something, doesn’t it?”
Levi laughed. It wasn’t a pretty sound. “Do you think that would’ve meant anything to them–?”
“Yes,” Anastasia said. “I think it would’ve.” Levi stared at her, his eyes slightly wide as she continued speaking, not giving him any space to recover. “What is your purpose in this new life, then?”
“To have an adventure–”
“Is it really?” she asked. “Is that really what you want?”
Levi was quiet for a long moment.
“I don’t know what I want anymore,” he finally said, his voice barely a whisper. “I originally accepted Death’s offer because it was my duty to protect this world from whatever threat it faces. But then I decided to try embarking on an adventure. Going with the flow and seeing where life took me. That’s what I’ve been doing this entire time. However, all that resulted in was me watching my teammate get taken away in front of me.”
It might have been Liliya’s decision, but letting her be dragged away like a criminal had still burned. She had worked so hard for all her life, and she was getting rewarded for it by getting falsely accused and forced into an arranged marriage.
And it was that familiar burning anger at seeing something wrong in the world, of his entire heart and soul lighting up with an unyielding indefatigable drive to right that wrong, of seeing the desperate silent plea in Liliya’s eyes even as she courageously sacrificed herself, that finally made him realize what he wanted.
Ever since the final task, he’d tried to turn away from that dream. A mass murderer like him no longer deserved to pursue such a pure dream lest he ended up corrupting it. And yet…
It still drove him, didn’t it? It was why he’d been so moved by Liliya’s display of selfless heroism back in the wyvern cave. It was why he’d chosen to partner up with her. And it was why he’d decided to heal Emma’s soul and grant her a final goodbye.
He thought he’d given up on the dream, but perhaps he’d just been lying to himself all this time.
Because when it came down to it…
“Before I became an adventurer, before I became a servant of Death…” Levi trailed off quietly. Then, he smiled. “Once upon a time, I really wanted to be a hero.”
From the very beginning of this whole journey, back when Death had first approached him in that teahouse, he’d been lying to himself. No, forget that – ever since his final task three years ago, he’d been deceiving himself into thinking the dream no longer mattered. Partly as a defensive mechanism, partly because he felt like he no longer deserved to be a hero with his hands so stained with blood.
Yet here he was, three years later, finally admitting the truth for the first time in a very long time.
And the priestess before him responded.
“Then be one.”
Anastasia said that like it was obvious.
… Perhaps, Levi reflected, it was.
“This may be a new life for you,” she continued, “but you have people to save in this world, don’t you? You’ve formed bonds, haven’t you?”
And suddenly, Levi realized he had.
Qorbin. Liliya. Ayla.
Hell, even Andevar and Winthrop.
More than that, he now knew just how corrupt adventurers were in this world. Phantasm and the Crucible were still out there. Montague was freely fucking around with full impunity.
Up until now, Levi had been relatively passive so far because a part of him hadn’t truly viewed his life as his own yet. He had always felt like an outsider piloting a foreign body, pushed around by external forces and just reacting to whatever happened. But now…
I’ll take it from here.
He’d made a promise on a burning note, hadn’t he?
Perhaps it was about time he fucking got his ass into gear and followed through on it.
“You’re right,” Levi said, feeling as though a renewed clarity had settled over him. “I have formed bonds. And there’s a teammate – no.” He smiled. “There’s a friend I have to save.”
And Anastasia smiled back. “Excellent.”
Then Levi hesitated. “But… Do you truly think it’s still possible to be a hero when I have so much blood on my hands? I mean… What would you do in my shoes? If you had to sacrifice a million lives?”
“I’d ask them for their forgiveness, carry their sacrifices in my heart, and forge onward.”
“You would ask them for forgiveness? Even after ending their lives? You think they’d grant it to you after that?”
“Of course,” Anastasia said. “After all, I gave it my all, didn’t I? Besides, their sacrifices saved their loved ones, their homes, their countries. I think they’d be okay with it. This entire time, you’ve been assuming that they’ll curse out your name, but…” She smiled. “Don’t underestimate humans. You’d be surprised by what people are willing to do to protect the ones they love. Give them a little credit, will you?”
Levi drew in a sharp breath, staring at her with wide eyes.
With that, she stood up. “I’ll have to take my leave for now. I’ll get debriefed by Qorbin – I think you need some time alone. I’ll see if I can research more about your locked System. And, don’t worry, I won’t tell my superiors about what happened today.” She smiled, pressing a finger to her lips. “It’ll be our secret.”
“I…” Levi swallowed. “Thank you.”
She left the room, the door shutting behind him. He waited a few moments, but neither she nor Qorbin re-entered. Finally, he slumped against the wall behind him.
Then he closed his eyes.
As always, he heard the sound of screams, felt the negative emotions slam into him.
This time, though, he addressed them directly.
I should’ve said this a long time ago. Forgive my lateness, but…
Three years ago, I had to kill you all to prevent billions more from dying. To put it simply, it was to save the world. I wish there had been some other way, but no matter how hard I tried, I couldn’t find one.
But your sacrifices meant something. It meant the people around you were able to live on. It meant that even as they cursed my name for killing you all, your families, your friends, and the people precious to you were able to survive.
For that, I thank you.
And for the first time in three years…
The screams finally fell silent. Not all of them, but enough. Levi blinked as a wave of what felt like solemn gratitude flowed through him.
And he smiled.