novelraw 467 The Race to Kill Death
467 The Race to Kill Death
467 The Race to Kill Death
[POV: Pestilence]
“It looks like he has gotten his guard down,” Pestilence murmured softly.
She stood alone at the edge of the forming city, white robes fluttering faintly in the artificial currents of spiritual energy. Her gaze remained fixed on the distant figure of Da Wei, who was currently occupied with reorganizing the newcomers and stabilizing the faith construct that had begun to take root.
From deep within the well of her being, something stirred.
A pressure.
A suggestion.
An intimate whisper woven into the marrow of her existence.
“Ingratiate yourself. Attach. Submit. Bind to him.”
Pestilence rolled her eyes.
“Oh, do not be like that,” she muttered under her breath. “He will see through it immediately if I attempt anything suspicious. What? Open my legs to him? Do not be foolish. He will see through that as well. Be patient.”
The presence quieted, though it did not vanish.
Conquest had died so that he could live.
It was a crude but accurate approximation.
What exactly was Pestilence?
She was a byproduct of obsession. A splinter born from an overwhelming desire for survival. A borrowed existence carved from mythology and necessity, created to avoid an inconvenience Conquest refused to shoulder.
If he had been sealed completely, he would have lost any chance in the race among the Four Horsemen. Even unsealing himself would have cost him thousands of years. That delay would have been fatal in the long run.
Among the Horsemen, it had long been an unspoken truth that their creator was not long for this state of being.
The Supreme Death.
The concept of life did not apply neatly to such an existence, yet even they understood that their creator desired something final. The ultimate death.
And if the Supreme Death truly perished, who would inherit his place?
That was the race.
That was why Conquest gambled everything even at the cost of humiliation and fracturing himself in the process. He summoned his “counterpart” born from the myths that shadowed his name.
Pestilence.
To manifest her required an identity.
In his long existence, Conquest had suppressed that counterpart relentlessly, fearing erosion. The Age of Divinity had recorded many tales of gods reshaped by faith, altered by their own mythology until they became unrecognizable. They did not die in the conventional sense, but they changed.
Most modern cultivators were insulated from such transformation by the precision of their cultivation systems.
Conquest was not.
His essence was closer to the gods of old than he cared to admit.
Pestilence understood that intimately.
She intended to exploit it.
She did not care about Conquest’s pride, nor his place in the race. She wanted survival. True survival. Independence.
She could see through him easily.
Her current form, her beauty, her carefully tuned femininity meant to catch the attention of a certain Supreme. The pounding in her chest that screamed devotion whenever she neared Da Wei. The overwhelming desire to serve him.
They were all fabrications made by Conquest.
All were designed to conquer the existence known as Da Wei in a manner different from brute force. If she could not defeat him, then she would bind to him. Ally with him. Let Conquest piggyback on that alliance.
And when the opportunity arose, she would cleanse herself of Conquest entirely.
She would become real, independent, and free.
“Oh, how may I help you, young miss?” asked Pestilence at the small figure that appeared before her. “My name is Pestilence. You? I believe this is our first meeting…”
A small toddler floated before her, calm and composed beyond her apparent age.
“Please call me Gu Jie,” the child said evenly. “I’m the daughter of Da Wei. He wishes to speak with you.”
Pestilence suppressed the grin threatening to curve her lips.
So.
The real negotiation was about to begin.
She inclined her head slightly, adopting a respectful posture.
“Is there anything I should be mindful of when addressing His Holy Majesty?” she asked lightly.
Gu Jie stared at her without expression, then she turned and floated away without answering.
Pestilence’s smile twitched.
Rude.
Pestilence located the tent with little difficulty.
She followed the faint conceptual “mark” she had embedded into Da Wei’s existence during one of her earlier embraces. It was subtle, woven into the edges of causality rather than his flesh or qi. She was confident he should not have been able to perceive it.
Even if he did, he should not have had the means to remove it.
A Law outstripped nearly every power below the level of a Ruler of Laws. Immortal Arts, ultimate techniques, layered immortalities… Before a true Law, they were blunt instruments striking at the ocean. Unless one possessed something anomalous, something like a supremacy trait, subtle and insidious in its influence.
She paused briefly outside the tent, smoothing her robes before stepping in.
Inside, Da Wei sat upon an oversized chair that looked suspiciously like it had been designed to exaggerate authority. The lighting was soft, almost ceremonial.
She entered gracefully, then dropped to one knee.
“Greetings to His Holy Majesty,” she said smoothly. “Your faithful servant, Pestilence, stands at your command.”
Da Wei nodded once.
“Kill yourself.”
She blinked.
“What?”
“Kill yourself.”
Pestilence lifted her head slightly, searching his expression for humor.
“Lord Wei,” she said carefully, “is this a test of loyalty?”
His eyes lit up. They did not glow in a crude, luminous way. Instead, the space around them seemed to deepen, as if cause and effect themselves were being peeled apart and inspected.
“Kill yourself,” he repeated.
The absurdity of it irritated her.
Still, she complied.
Her head exploded in a violent burst, fragments scattering briefly before dissolving into nothing. For a moment, her body slumped.
Then flesh regenerated from the stump in an elegant, almost floral bloom of white light. Her features reassembled perfectly.
She bowed her head again.
“My apologies, my lord. It seems I have failed. Like every life in this universe, my survival instinct clings to self-preservation. Even I cannot truly kill myself, no matter the magnitude of power I wield. I dare argue it is impossible unless another Ruler of Laws performs the act. I would gladly offer my head to you if it proves my undying loyalty, but that would simply waste time.”
She raised her gaze.
“Instead, allow me to be useful. I only wish to serve.”
Da Wei scoffed.
“Enough with the pageantry. My time is precious. I have an important meeting after this. It would be convenient if you were present, if you truly wish to serve.”
His expression hardened slightly.
“But let us be frank. There is no way in hell you would serve me with all your being.”
The words were blunt, unadorned.
“You possess a powerful will,” he continued. “Stronger than Conquest in some respects. I can tell. Even after experiencing repeated deaths through Ophanim and Divine Possession, you remain intact. Headstrong. Bold enough to throw yourself at my feet and offer service.”
His gaze sharpened.
“I admit I am interested in what you can offer. However, I have no intention of harboring a snake. If you wish to convince me, then be honest about your desires.”
The tent seemed to shrink.
His eyes pierced through her, dissecting her layers one by one. It was not merely perception. It felt like exposure, as though the scaffolding of her identity was being inspected for fractures.
Was this person truly only an Ascended Soul?
She had not felt this naked since—
No.
That was Conquest’s memory.
Or perhaps her own.
There was still confusion there.
Her creator—no, his creator—the Supreme Death, had once looked upon him and deemed him unworthy of attention. That distant indifference had carved something deep.
She paused.
To call herself an infant would not be inaccurate. She had only just been born, and yet her will was already sharp, cohesive, and ambitious.
Conquest had done more than she realized.
Pestilence lifted her chin slightly.
No more coyness.
No more flirtation.
“I desire survival,” she said plainly. “True survival. Not as a fragment. Not as a compromise.”
Her eyes met his without wavering.
“I want to replace the Supreme Death.”
Da Wei laughed.
“Ha ha ha~! You? Death? I am sorry, this is ridiculous. I have not even met the guy, but if he is anything like me, Ru Qiu, the Supreme Void, or that asshole, then I do not think you stand a chance—”
“I do.”
Her interruption was calm, but firm.
“The Supreme Death desires to perish,” Pestilence said evenly. “We do not know why. However, he has been searching for a method to kill himself for a very long time. The Four Horsemen are a byproduct of that obsession. His desire was so extreme that he attempted to kill himself with life. In the process, he created us.”
She stepped forward slightly, her gaze unwavering.
“I was formed from his blood, skin, and hair. My creator promised the Four Horsemen that whoever finds a way to kill him would inherit his place.”
The air in the tent seemed to grow heavier.
“For ages, the Four Horsemen sought a method. Every conceivable approach was attempted. Eventually, they grew weary. They recognized the futility. Even so, the promise remained. Because none of them could fulfill their creator’s greatest wish, they turned upon each other. That is the true origin of the division in the Underworld.”
Her voice did not waver.
“Conquest expanded his forces and manipulated his siblings. War did what he understood best… he waged war. Famine secluded himself and schemed. Death quarantined a portion of the Underworld and claimed inheritance by virtue of being the eldest.”
She lifted her chin slightly.
“If I wish to survive, I must win this race.”
Within her, the remnant of Conquest stirred warmly in approval.
She did not clarify one detail.
When she spoke of inheriting the Supreme Death’s place, she did not mean Conquest would do so.
She meant herself.
If another sibling won, Conquest would simply reassert dominance and conquer her existence from within. She would dissolve into irrelevance.
This was survival.
Nothing more.
A faint sheen of sweat formed along her brow. She had not expected that.
Da Wei watched her quietly.
Then he smiled.
“Good,” he said. “You have been honest. Let us see how useful you can become. Consider this your first test.”
She grinned reflexively, slipping back into theatrical confidence.
“Tell me what to do, Your Majesty.”
His expression sharpened.
“I need you to investigate something for me. The Seventh Supreme. A hidden Supreme Being.”
Her spine chilled.
A hidden Supreme Being?
Since when?
Da Wei himself could be considered hidden in certain respects, but his tone implied something else entirely.
“It will be dangerous,” he continued. “It may result in your death. Will you still accept?”
The possibility did not frighten her.
Being irrelevant did.
“I accept,” she said without hesitation.
He leaned back slightly.
“This should be obvious, but I would appreciate it if you refrained from informing others that I am investigating this matter. Of course, if you do, I suppose that is fine as well. The only consequence would be the possibility of you being baited for information. It is not as though I can impose my will upon you.”
He tilted his head.
“Now I have a question. What is stopping you from threatening the people around me? This is my base of operations. I intend to use it as a foothold for my invasion of the Greater Universe. My comrades are not as sturdy as I am.”
Pestilence smiled faintly.
“Nothing.”
Da Wei sighed. “Yes. I thought so. I appreciate the honesty.”
Their relationship, despite appearances, was more equal than master and servant. He knew she was dangerous. She knew he was capable of ending her current existence in ways she did not fully understand.
The only thing restraining her from employing more aggressive tactics was not fear.
It was utility.
She needed him.
And he, perhaps, needed her.
“You are dismissed,” said Da Wei. “Don’t fail me.”
Pestilence left Da Wei’s tent without protest.
The moment she crossed the threshold and the fabric flaps fell shut behind her, the smile she had restrained blossomed freely across her face. She ascended above the budding city and hovered there, overlooking the steady reconstruction of what had once been ruins.
Mortals and cultivators moved with purpose below. Faith drifted invisibly through the air like pollen, subtle yet nourishing.
“Ah, that felt amazing,” she murmured.
She had gained more than she initially expected. Access to the base alone was a significant concession. Proximity bred familiarity. Familiarity bred trust. If she ingratiated herself with those around Da Wei, then trust would follow naturally.
Da Wei was not a fool.
He understood the danger she represented. In some ways, she was more troublesome than Conquest had ever been. He could not bluff her with the same psychological gambits he had used against her predecessor. She did not fear sealing. She feared irrelevance.
Her form blurred, dissolving into a streak of pale light as she departed toward the Greater Human Realm. If she wished to investigate a hidden Supreme, scholastic organizations and ancient archives were the logical starting point. The Underworld, fractured by the Horsemen’s conflict, was hardly conducive to organized knowledge.
As she traveled, a warmth bloomed in her chest.
Ah, Da Wei.
So perfect. So decisive. So—
She faltered mid-flight.
The feelings intensified.
Tender.
Sincere.
Devoted.
Her lips parted slightly. “Ah… I am falling for him.”
The thought rang sweet and true.
Then clarity struck like ice water.
“This is not me.”
She halted abruptly near the border of the Underworld, the void stretching endlessly before her. Her expression darkened.
“Conquest, is that you?” she demanded inwardly.
Silence.
No.
This did not feel like Conquest.
With a sharp motion, she tore her own heart from her chest. Divine ichor did not spill; instead, the organ pulsed in her hand, radiant and alive.
Upon its surface, her own face manifested with eyes dreamy and cheeks faintly flushed.
The heart spoke in a breathless voice.
“Ah, Da Wei! I want to take you into my embrace! Open my legs wide and accept you!”
For the first time since her birth, Pestilence felt genuine fear. She examined the heart closely and perceived so many of them. Laws. They wrapped around the organ like delicate threads of silk, subtle yet absolute.
“Since when?” she whispered.
“Around the time you visited the Hollowed World,” a voice answered lightly beside her. “I saw you lurking about and thought, why not?”
She turned sharply.
“Who are you?”
A plain man in plain robes stood there as if he had always existed. His presence was neither overwhelming nor subdued. It was… ordinary.
Too ordinary.
“I am the heart that speaks to all, darling,” he said with a gentle smile, tapping her forehead.
The world fractured.
Her sense of self slipped.
She found herself suspended behind a glassy barrier, like an insect trapped within amber. Memory became prison. Awareness remained, but agency vanished.
Outside the translucent wall stood the plain-robed man.
“S-Supreme Heart?” she breathed, her voice muffled within the prison of recollection.
Beside her, within the same glass confinement, Conquest manifested in partial form. For once, he looked genuinely unsettled.
“We have been had,” Conquest muttered.
Supreme Heart sighed faintly. “Do not tear your heart out like that again. It is a precious organ.”
With casual ease, he took the pulsating heart from Pestilence’s frozen grasp and returned it to her chest. The wound sealed instantly under his touch.
“Now,” he said pleasantly, “let me review your memories.”
He tapped her forehead.
In an instant, entire lifetimes unfolded before him. Her birth from Conquest’s split. Her ambition. Her negotiation with Da Wei. The mention of the Seventh Supreme.
He laughed.
“Ha ha ha. Surprises after surprises. He is already aware of Project Seven? That could become troublesome.”
Project Seven.
The words echoed faintly inside her prison.
“Pestilence,” Supreme Heart said lightly, “you will mislead him. Provide information about Origin instead. Perhaps mention the Shén. That should satisfy his curiosity for now.”
He tapped her forehead once more.
“And now, to erase my tracks.”
Reality snapped.
Pestilence blinked.
She stood near the border of the Underworld, whole and uninjured. The void stretched endlessly before her.
“What happened?” she murmured.
A strange sense of discontinuity lingered, like a dream half-remembered. Something felt off. A subtle misalignment in her internal narrative.
Within her, Conquest stirred urgently, projecting an indistinct feeling that urged haste.
“Oh, Conquest,” she chided softly, resuming her forward motion. “You should learn patience.”
The warmth in her chest returned.
She pressed a hand lightly against her heart.
“What is this strange beating?” she wondered aloud. “I feel excited… for some reason.”
And with that faint, unplaceable unease trailing behind her, Pestilence disappeared into the Greater Human Realm.