—Rexdeus, who has lost his name—
I am an Anathema.
Even though my mother was human—
the blood flowing within me is still cursed blood.
Thicker. More dominant. Anathema blood always prevails.
That is why I remain cursed. Still hated by the Gods.
However…
This human blood left a fatal weakness within me. My regeneration is slow. Far too slow.
For immortal beings like us—
even feeling pain is already unnatural. Feeling exhaustion… that should not even be possible.
But now—
I feel both. Fatigue and pain.
My body feels heavy. Like ordinary human flesh. Every step feels real. Every wound feels deep. Every breath… feels limited. This feeling—
Is not unfamiliar.
I have felt it before. Long ago. When I was still a child. When my blood had not yet awakened. When I had not fully become an immortal being. When I was still…
Fragile.
That memory resurfaces clearly. Far too clearly. And because of that—
I understand.
This is not merely a temporary weakness.
This is a sign.
That something within me… is collapsing. Or worse—being returned into something I should have long since left behind.
A truly bad omen.
My vision begins to blur. The world around me trembles faintly—as if reality itself is losing its shape. The lines of the trees bend. The ground and the sky seem to exchange places.
My steps slow down. Heavy, unsteady and every footing feels unfamiliar—as if this body no longer fully belongs to me.
And then—I feel it.
Something that was never there before. Something that should not have returned.
A beat. Slow, irregular, but real.
My heart—
which should have long been dead—
begins to beat again.
Slowly, unevenly, and half-ruined.
Pumping black blood throughout my body with a torturous rhythm.
Each beat feels like a blow from within.
Forcing, tearing. Reviving something—
that should have remained dead.
Every pulse carries pain that spreads.
From my chest—to my neck—to the tips of my fingers. As if my body is being forced to remember how to live…
Something I abandoned long ago.
And yet—
I do not stop walking. I cannot. If I stop now
—
I will fall. And if I fall—I am not sure I will be able to rise again.
My steps falter.
My breathing grows heavy.
This body resists.
Then—
Something inside me…is more stubborn than the pain. Something keeps pushing me forward.
Even though I do not know…
whether it is the will to live—
or merely a refusal…to die like this.
I do not know.
The instinct of an Anathema still guides me.
Pulling me toward a direction I do not even understand. Forcing me to keep moving—
even as my vision begins to fill with shadows.
Step by step.
More uncertain.
More fragile.
Until—
One wrong step.
My foot lands on nothing. No ground, no support.
—
My body falls.
—
"Damn it."
The ground beneath me vanished.
My body drifted—light.
Empty.
Powerless.
The wind pressed upward from below.
Cold, hollow.
For a moment, a thought crossed my mind:
Will my body shatter upon impact… like a human's?
I closed my eyes.
Maybe…
This is the end.
...
—
Or not.
Plunk
Water struck my body. Is hard and cold.
My body sank instantly—swallowed by the depths without resistance. I swallowed the cold and the darkness all at once.
Water filled my mouth. Slipped into my throat. Burning from within—in a different way.
The air escaped from my lungs—in small bubbles. Rising slowly…Drifting away from me.
Farther. More distant. More unreachable. Like something that would never return.
My body kept sinking. Deeper, darker and quieter.
And for the first time—I felt something unfamiliar. Not pain, Not exhaustion. But—nothingness.
I did not move. I did not resist. My body was too tired. Too empty.
The cold sensation crept in. Wrapping around me. Pulling me deeper. Further from the surface. Further from the light—
that I could not even see.
Damn you…Gods…
The river's current seized me mercilessly.
Dragging my body like a corpse.
The cold water pressed from all directions—
the deeper it went, the stronger it became. The river and its current were far too violent to resist.
The cloth covering my wound was swept away. Torn loose. Black blood began to flow again. Thick and rotten.
Polluting the water around me—spreading like a living poison. Small creatures that drifted too close— did not even have time to die. Their bodies dried out in an instant.
Flesh collapsing. Shriveling. Cracking. Only brittle bones remained—then shattered. Turning into fragments. Dust. Fine grains—
that dissolved into the current.
The water around me changed. Darkening. As if even this river rejected my existence.
But—
I ignored it.
Because that was no longer what mattered most. I was no longer an immortal being.
My immortality…had been stolen. And ironically—amid all the death I carried—I was the one closest to dying.
My body now needed air. Not merely to endure—but to truly live.
My lungs screamed. Demanding something I had never needed before.
Air.
I was forced to swim. Upward. Against the current. Holding back the water that kept forcing its way into my body.
My arms moved—
slowly.Heavy under the crushing pressure of the current. As if every drop of water resisted me.
My legs kicked—
without direction. Almost useless. Yet I kept trying.
Cause for the first time—I could truly die. And I…was not ready for that.
—
When my head finally broke through the surface—I vomited water mixed with the taste of blood. Bitter, rotten and very disgusting.
"COUGH—!"
My lungs felt as if they were tearing apart. Every breath hurt. Fighting the current…
was a foolish idea.
I stopped resisting. Letting my body be carried away.
My eyes scanned the surroundings—
searching for anything. Roots, stone or soil.
Anything I could grasp. Anything that could stop me. But the current gave me no time.
It kept dragging me.
Without pause. Without mercy. And with my body growing weaker—I only had one choice. To find something…
Before I sank again.
—
Then—
The world dropped.
A waterfall.
No time, No footing. My body had already been carried too far.
The only thing I could do—was surrender. And curse with everything I had left inside.
¥§%$#@!—!
My body was swept away again.
Falling. Dragged into a deeper darkness.
BULB… BLUB…
The water swallowed my voice. Swallowed my breath. Swallowed everything.
I could still hold my breath. For quite a while. Longer than any ordinary human.
But—I would never want to use it…In a situation like this. Not with a body half-destroyed, not with lungs already filled with water.
"Damn it…"
My thoughts spun, irritated, disgusted. And for some reason—angry.
I swear—
If I survive this—
On the day of the offering festival in the human world—
I will destroy the statues of the Water Gods. Shatter them one by one until nothing remains.
…Of course—
I won't spare the Goddess of Fate. Nor the Goddess of Earth. In the human world, they may pray. Beg and kneel.
But among my kind—
the Anathema—that day is nothing more than a day to curse. A day to vent and release hatred. A day to crush the symbols of the Gods—
with our own hands.
And now—I understand why.
Because when I am on the verge of death like this—
Not a single one of them…answers.
As always.